Education is both implicit and explicit. School teaches us things that are explicit. Math, grammar, and science are all examples of this. Families, on the other hand, teach implicitly. What appropriate behavior looks like, what food to eat for comfort, what groups of people to associate yourself with, your value in the world and what to expect out of life. These are generally implied and taught by repetition throughout childhood.
Future focus has always been a challenge for me. Most of my life I’ve ignored the future altogether. I didn’t even realize the extent to which I ignored it until someone close to me pointed it out. I rationalized my lack of attention on the future as a throwback to my depressive, isolated childhood. I developed a cursory understanding of it as a way of avoiding making decisions about things I thought I had no control over.
In all honesty, no one ever told me the future would be important in any meaningful way I could prepare for. My parents cautioned me about making bad choices as a teenager that would haunt me for the rest of my life. Things like using drugs or getting pregnant. I was cautioned against careless spending, but not educated about saving or investing money. I learned the value of hard work for the sake of working, but not for the goal of excelling in anything in particular. I grew up handling each new task that was put in front of me simply because it needed attention. The future was something that happened to me regularly and yet I never learned to anticipate it. That was a skill I would have to develop and practice on my own, as an adult, and it would take a good deal of effort to assimilate this new skill. Although I can’t say that I have mastered it yet. It’s more like something I know I have to do, rather than something that’s part of who I am.
I don’t remember my parents pushing education as a means to a better future. It seemed to me this was optional. They wanted me to go but had no idea what it took to get into college, how to pay for it, or how apply. I remember being so surprised to learn of parents who sent their kids to SAT prep classes or made them study. I studied to avoid confrontations with teachers and to avoid being grounded for failing grades. Not becasue it was important to me, but becasue I was supposed to. I never failed but I didn’t get good grades; in fact, I didn’t get into any of the schools I applied to. I took the SAT’s becasue that’s what everyone in my school was doing on a given Saturday. I don’t remember attaching any particular importance to them and I put in very little effort.
I wasn’t thinking ahead. I couldn’t decide what to study in community college so I took art and music classes, some psychology, and some philosophy. A mish mosh of things that interested me but nothing cohesive enough to build a career around. My interest in psychology coupled, with my own experience of therapy and my first job working at a half way house with the mentally ill, all came together at the right time and my career path was chosen.
About ten years ago, I was gardening with my mother. Something which I love and she hates. I like the immediate gratification of changing a landscape or clearing dead foliage to make room for new growth. I love pruning and training bushes so they are full and lush. I love the way things grow when there is space cleared for them. My mother does not like to throw things away, prune, or force discipline on a garden. We argue about cutting and clearing. I usually win. On this day I pulled out what I thought was a large weed. It was a small tree that had begun to grow in an area which made no logical sense to me. Therefore, I deemed it a weed and ripped it out. She was very upset by this becasue it had been given to her and not knowing what to do with it, she had planted it somewhere off near the tree line. I felt terrible and tried to apologize, but I couldn’t understand why she would put something so important to her in such a strange place.
I didn’t think much about her explanation until many years later. “I didn’t know where else to put it so I put it out of reach where I thought it would be safe.” I had unknowingly violated the safety of the small tree as well as hers. Since then, there have been other trees and household objects that I have inquired about the placement of. The answer is always the same. ” I didn’t know what to do with it so I stuck it there”. It hit me looking at a large pine tree on the edge of the driveway which in my opinion does not belong there. My mother has no sense of the future either. She wasn’t expecting years to pass and produce such a huge tree. She was only planning to get a sapling out of the way and into some dirt for the time being. It never occurred to her that time would pass and it would grow where ever it was put. In every drawer of her house you will find at least one small container, usually an old ashtray or glass candle holder with the same collection of random objects in it: pennies, paperclips, yellow sticky notes, nails or push pins, twist ties, or curtain hardware. These are things she does not wish to throw, away but has no other place for. These objects have no future but they obviously represent something to her and she chooses to hold them in a safe place.
There was a time when life’s’ milestones pointed a path toward the future like a beacon. Graduating high school led to a predictable cadence beginning with a new term followed by midterms, then finals, then a short break to rest and reset, and finally a new beginning filled with anticipation, new rules, and new challenges. I looked toward graduation, turning 21 and getting my first job after college. It seemed like the future was indelible and unfolded in front of me without paying it too much attention. By the end of graduate school I felt like the only thing I was really well suite to was school. I missed the heartbeat of a college campus and I missed the predictable routine that marked the recent years.
I continued on the path laid out before me. I met someone who wanted to marry me and I agreed. Even as I said “I do” I knew I didn’t. Everything I knew and felt leading up to the wedding told me I should stop it. I wanted to turn and run, but the ball was in motion and it seemed impossible to stop. I don’t know what made me think I could live like that for the rest of my life. I knew plenty of unhappily married couples but I have never been good at staying silently unhappy.
I wrestle with commitments. I wonder about what constitutes a commitment. I think about how long to honor commitments that don’t fit or feel abusive. Could it be that once a commitment has be made, fit and feelings are no longer a factor? I find evidence for this all around me as well as a contrary body of evidence that suggests that no one wants to remain committed to something that doesn’t work. I see marriages that last days and other that have gone on many years. People who spend a lifetime in jobs they hate and others who climb the ladder to success precisely because they are not committed to a company or a product. Looking back, I know that nearly anything can be stopped. Any commitment broken. There are very few things in life that can’t be corrected. You can change course at any time no matter how seemingly random it appears to be. It’s one of those lessons I wish I had known back then, becasue as soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I’d made a terrible mistake. Things unraveled very quickly from there and I set on my way to recover and reset for the future. But the future never happened. The natural path had become obscured and I couldn’t escape a constant repeat of Wednesday. Over and over. It seemed that no matter how my week was going, every time I turned around it was Wednesday again. There were no breaks, holidays or tests. No new material. No reset. Just daily work followed by weekend recovery’s and more work.
Work never seemed to finish either. Some jobs have a clear beginning middle and end. A dental hygienist sees the completion of a job every time she sits with a patient. The same cannot be said of therapy. It is slow and you may never see changes in the client you work with. You hope the client succeeds and make positive movement but you learn not to rely on it for your own sense of accomplishment. You are supposed to find your own paths and accomplish your own goals but I’ve found that difficult.
I have found things that make me happy. Traveling and spending time with a few close friends gives me a sense of purpose but I have not found anything that offers me a path toward the future. Time passes. Days are long and years are short. I see 20 somethings around me preparing for lives with partners and families. My father refers to this as “playing house” as if this is not real life, but some imaginary version of it. The anger and the derogatory tone in his voice when he says it offers me some insight into my avoidance of it. I could never fully grasp the line where playing at life ends and living life begins. My father was neither unhappy nor shamming about my divorce. He never said I told you so. On the contrary, he was supportive and said it was time to move on and start fresh. He has never pondered out loud about grandchildren, nor does he inquire about my dating or social life. He does not encourage me to buy a home, or invest or plan for retirement. Maybe those things also feel to him like a game that one should not play. Whatever his feelings about the future, he keeps them to himself.
I wonder about my sisters thoughts about the future. I was surprised many years ago to hear that she fantasized of getting married in a big poufy dress with Barry White playing in the background. This was so different from what I expected her to dream about. I never thought of her as the sentimental type but it turns out that her dreams were very traditional and very romantic. She has had several long term relationships. I think, like most people, she acknowledges that she is happiest in a relationship. I don’t know if she ever wanted children. I know there was a time in both our lives when we babysat and liked playing with kids, but that changed somewhere in our 20′s and both of us took an alternate path. I think she would have enjoyed being a mother and having a family. She used to love to bake and make craft projects and decorate her home for the seasons. She was creative and didn’t seem to feel tied down as easily as I did. I don’t think she left in search of freedom, I think she was searching for a path to success and adoration. Maybe she thought she’d find a knight in shining armor who would share his future with her and alleviate the pressure of planning one on her own. Maybe she wanted to play house until it became real. It seems to me that it takes a good deal of trust to move from playing, to living and if you can’t trust yourself to know where the line is, how can you trust someone else?
Filed under: Journal Tagged: childhood, commitment, courage, dating, families, father, freedom, future, Journal, relationships, self development, siblings, sister, therapy
