On Desire and How to Accept Growth
Monday, March 2, 2015 |
| See Dance to Another Tune |
These
words came out of my mouth before I even knew I had said them. The
conversation arose when we were on the subject of children and
moving. One coworker wants to leave Kentucky for allergy and humidity
reasons. He wants a drier, healthier climate. My poor
bluegrass-allergic husband does too. The only problem is we have no
idea where we want to go. Austin? Omaha? Atlanta? Nashville?
Portland? Seattle? Somewhere else? We want a city – I've done
enough time out in the country to know that while it’s lovely, it’s
not what I want. Trips around the States and world have taught me
that I love the hustle and bustle of city life, only needing the
occasional retreat into a quieter space. I thrive on city energy. I
crave change and movement.
Then
the subject of children came up. Neither my wandering coworker nor
myself have children, and we aren't planning them anytime soon. I
casually mentioned how if my husband and I found out one of us was
sterile, we would probably move all over the nation. Spend 5 years in
Austin, two in Portland, make a pit stop in Omaha, and go God knows
where else – all because WHY NOT? I love travel, and even more I
love cultures. I love to live and learn in the culture and
become a part of it and just as soon as I begin to feel integrated
and understand their ways of living, I am ready to move on. I’m not
sure if this is a positive or negative trait, but that’s how it is.
So naturally, I was lost in my own thought as wanderlust dripped into
my toes and whispered what I have asked myself ever since I moved to
Lexington: where will we be going next?
Awoken
from my dance, I heard a quiet voice from the neighboring desk: Are
you actually concerned that you can’t have kids? What will you do
if you can’t have children? Wanting to feel snippy (I just said
what I would do if I didn't have kids), I instead considered the
question with grace. My desk-mate's children are her life and she is
a wonderful mother. Her whole world revolves around those three
amazing, glowing faces, and I both love and respect her for that.
Heck, sometimes I even envy her dedication and sharing nature. She
gets such a joy from parenting that it's only natural to wish that
kind of happiness onto anyone who can accept it. A true, sharing
person like her only wants to spread a little joy, so this is not an
offensive question nor even an intrusive one given my generally open
nature. Yes, infertility has crossed my mind as a possibility. A
possibility in that it's possible for anyone. I am nearly 28
and have never had a single pregnancy scare, so of course I have
wondered for a fleeting second. The fact is, I'm ok with that
possibility, however small that would be, and this boggles some
people.
So
many people have a be-all-end-all life goal and the possibility of
that not happening... well they don't have a flexible view of the
future, let's just say that. Personally, I find it unhealthy. It's
so, so important to not over-plan. The road of life will always be
filled with goals and plans but there will also be boulders blocking
a path from time to time. Sometimes, we can push back or chip away at
said rock, but it's also important to know when to cut our losses.
When to dry the tears, turn around, and find a clearer path. If I am
faced with the impossibility of fulfilled desire, I want to be
able to turn around, look up at the sky and say “what's next?”
with a smile. I want to pick up my beautiful feet, start walking, and
take joy in anything and everything I find.
So
for all you lovely faces, I ask that we create our own happiness and
thrive in it. This might be through travel, it might be in writing,
or maybe it’s just in making the best cup of coffee to share with
your mother every Sunday. Instead of wallowing in grief, I encourage
all to take pride and encouragement in anything that they can and to
remember that we are all looking to find joy – we may just be
looking in the wrong places. Crack a smile and remember that if we
can't have what we want most, we can find something else to want, and
maybe that was our destiny all along.
