The expectation to settle down and marry in my twenties isn't a 'thing' in my immediate family.
My parents didn't marry until my mother was 30 and my father was 33. In the time they were dating my mother graduated college at the top of her class and went on to earn a law degree. My father got a Master's degree and was well into a PhD program. They traveled around the country and through Europe. They lived together for several years before they wed. There was no romantic proposal. They were having dinner with a friend who asked, "Why aren't you married yet?" And they decided they should. It was practical and it was time.
And in so many ways I've unwittingly emulated my parents. Because they are awesome and successful, and I'm a melange of their experiences and values and dreams for themselves and their children. Because of their hard work, I, too, went to a good college and did my best to earn decent grades, even when my depression was so debilitating I couldn't go to classes. I felt so much shame--why couldn't I pull myself together like they did? I spent a year in Europe. I went on to get my Master's degree in the same field that my dad did. I'm embarking on a career that could evolve into the thing I do. And I intend to be damn good at it. Just like my parents are in their respective careers. I have a wonderful position at an agency but already have a vision of propelling myself forward. We don't stay stuck in this family. We evolve and better ourselves.
And then there's the matter of relationships in my family.
No matter who I dated, regardless of how long or how excited I felt about them, my parents never asked (to my memory), Are they the one? Do you think they'll propose? We'd talk loosely about engagements and weddings. A far off event. Practically a fantasy. They would remind me it's good to experience different kinds of people. That I don't want to be tied down when life could take me anywhere. They were open and embracing often loved the people I loved, too.
And yet, being engaged at 26 years old feels like the most rebellious thing I've done in my life.
I don't like being rebellious. It's terribly uncomfortable for me. I'm the girl who would call my parents in high school to come pick me up if there was alcohol at a party.
But I'm remembering again--like reading a worn, dog-eared book; like getting coffee with an old friend; like putting on perfume that smells of that one autumn in college when I was falling, falling, falling in so many good and awful ways--that what I experience as 'truths' and 'shoulds' are simply stories. Stories I've snipped apart and sewn together with age, a patchwork comprised of different people and conversations and TV shows and books and blogs and friends. Moments like when my mom would make an off-hand comment about someone getting married young that surely she doesn't remember, and maybe doesn't really believe in anyhow, and somehow I took it to heart to be true and reality.
And so as I wedding plan I look to my parents and can't help but think: What are they thinking? Do they approve? And when I sense they don't, I panic as though they alone have the ultimate answers. But they are only a piece of a larger story. A tremendous, wonderful piece. And a piece nonetheless.
How easy to forget that we are in charge of our stories. That we get to say, "No, this piece of fabric, this belief, doesn't feel right any longer."
There's no getting around feeling a bit of a fool for making a poor decision here or there. Maybe some big poor decisions. But this is how we build a life. We decide it's worth looking like a fool. And hopefully we also decide that we don't give a fuck if we do.
I also can't wait to marry this woman. And that's one hell of a thing.
My parents didn't marry until my mother was 30 and my father was 33. In the time they were dating my mother graduated college at the top of her class and went on to earn a law degree. My father got a Master's degree and was well into a PhD program. They traveled around the country and through Europe. They lived together for several years before they wed. There was no romantic proposal. They were having dinner with a friend who asked, "Why aren't you married yet?" And they decided they should. It was practical and it was time.
And in so many ways I've unwittingly emulated my parents. Because they are awesome and successful, and I'm a melange of their experiences and values and dreams for themselves and their children. Because of their hard work, I, too, went to a good college and did my best to earn decent grades, even when my depression was so debilitating I couldn't go to classes. I felt so much shame--why couldn't I pull myself together like they did? I spent a year in Europe. I went on to get my Master's degree in the same field that my dad did. I'm embarking on a career that could evolve into the thing I do. And I intend to be damn good at it. Just like my parents are in their respective careers. I have a wonderful position at an agency but already have a vision of propelling myself forward. We don't stay stuck in this family. We evolve and better ourselves.
And then there's the matter of relationships in my family.
No matter who I dated, regardless of how long or how excited I felt about them, my parents never asked (to my memory), Are they the one? Do you think they'll propose? We'd talk loosely about engagements and weddings. A far off event. Practically a fantasy. They would remind me it's good to experience different kinds of people. That I don't want to be tied down when life could take me anywhere. They were open and embracing often loved the people I loved, too.
And yet, being engaged at 26 years old feels like the most rebellious thing I've done in my life.
I don't like being rebellious. It's terribly uncomfortable for me. I'm the girl who would call my parents in high school to come pick me up if there was alcohol at a party.
But I'm remembering again--like reading a worn, dog-eared book; like getting coffee with an old friend; like putting on perfume that smells of that one autumn in college when I was falling, falling, falling in so many good and awful ways--that what I experience as 'truths' and 'shoulds' are simply stories. Stories I've snipped apart and sewn together with age, a patchwork comprised of different people and conversations and TV shows and books and blogs and friends. Moments like when my mom would make an off-hand comment about someone getting married young that surely she doesn't remember, and maybe doesn't really believe in anyhow, and somehow I took it to heart to be true and reality.
And so as I wedding plan I look to my parents and can't help but think: What are they thinking? Do they approve? And when I sense they don't, I panic as though they alone have the ultimate answers. But they are only a piece of a larger story. A tremendous, wonderful piece. And a piece nonetheless.
How easy to forget that we are in charge of our stories. That we get to say, "No, this piece of fabric, this belief, doesn't feel right any longer."
There's no getting around feeling a bit of a fool for making a poor decision here or there. Maybe some big poor decisions. But this is how we build a life. We decide it's worth looking like a fool. And hopefully we also decide that we don't give a fuck if we do.
I also can't wait to marry this woman. And that's one hell of a thing.