Aimless

I can’t imagine caring enough about anything to actually go to school to study it. I’m a stay-at-home mom with three children and a very part-time job as a substitute teacher. I work when I feel like it (which is seldom). I went to three different colleges in three different states. I had three different majors during those three chaotic years. And I ended that particular madness by dropping out and getting married (which, at 21, is madness in and of itself). I have no ambition, no drive, no deep yearning to know what I haven’t yet learned. There are things I’d like to be – like a family therapist for example. I’m a great listener and a really good friend. I think I’m already qualified on many levels. I’ve spent a lot of money and hundreds of hours “observing” counselors. Surely I’ve learned enough technique and skill to walk someone through a rough patch. But I’m not hirable because I don’t have a degree. And now they’re saying that to earn a position as a counselor I’d have to complete a MASTERS program. They’re raising the bar and I just don’t want it that bad. I don’t want anything that bad.

I had a counselor, my favorite in fact, who said that I was working out of my survival toolbox instead of my thriving tool box. Ken said that life wasn’t just about getting through the best you could, it was about thriving, enjoying life to the fullest…sucking the marrow out (or some such nonsense). He said that I needed to start dreaming more and thinking about what I could do, not only about what I should do. “Quit “should-ing” all over yourself,” he’d say. But there is within me either a lack of drive or a lack of confidence. I wish I was delusional enough to say that it’s contentment, a deep satisfaction with what has become of me and all that God has blessed me with. But, let’s be honest, that’s not it at all. In fact, even survival is negotiable.

When we watch “I Shouldn’t Be Alive” on TLC I think to myself, “I wouldn’t be alive.” Plane crashes, boat wrecks, grizzly bear attacks, safaris gone wrong…count me out. That happens to me and I’m taking the easy way out. No way will I walk 17 miles in the blistering hot sun with a fractured foot and pull over to roast a bunny for protein. Just leave me back at the crash sight. I don’t want to work that hard. And God forbid that Ben is rendered helpless because I wouldn’t last two hours “going for help”. He thinks I’m crazy, that I’m underestimating my gumption. “You’d do what you had to do,” he says. But he flatters himself. I’m telling you. It’s too much effort for no guaranteed happy ending. Think about all those people who shouldn’t be alive and, in fact, aren’t.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not lazy, per se. I cook, clean, do laundry, shop and keep a functioning household. I take kids to practices, doctor’s appointments, camps, lessons and sleepovers. I work out on occasion. But there’s something about ambition+education=career that just doesn’t work for me. I have my pride, believe me. I don’t like showing up at social gatherings and admitting that I have no career, no further education to speak of and no plans for achievement. It’s embarrassing. But not embarrassing enough to do something about it, or at the very least to make something up. I shuffle around and pretend like it’s cool to be an uneducated parent with kids old enough to look like my siblings.

My 12 year old son wants to build a monument to me when I die. He says that I deserve more than just a headstone, that there should be something to memorialize my life that is visible from a great distance. I just want one of those flat grave markers with my name and the important dates. He pushes me…”What would you want your monument to look like?” “What do you love to do?” “What would best symbolize you as a person?” Finally, just to get him off my back I say, “Just do something like the Washington Monument. I’m fine with that.” Why is that? Even in death I aim low. I am completely unoriginal.

And that gets me thinking… What if my life is half over? I’m only 37 years old, but that’s already half way to 74. I cannot believe that if I live to be 74 years old that this year marks the half-way point. Holy crap. What have I done with my life? A lot has happened to me. I’ve responded to certain situations and handled things, but I’ve not really gone after anything. I haven’t pursued life. I’ve made lists, but only because life demands it. Things become urgent…so I adopt a sense of urgency. But I don’t act, I react. Is this a personality type? or a major character flaw? or have I just not found anything that really inspires me? I want to be inspired. I want to wake up in the morning and think, “I can’t wait to______________!”