Life:The Alternate Version

I used to have a plan. Well, it wasn't really a plan. It was more of an assumption. I assumed that life would go a certain way for me; that "things" would fall into place just as I imagined they would; that everything would be perfect and easy and lovely. That sounds like the fantasy of a spoiled, upper-class "society girl" (as my mother would say), doesn't it? Ironic. There was nothing in my childhood or adolescence that conditioned me to believe that life should be easy.

I was always loved...always supported...always respected. But there were always immense worries. Life without worry ended when I turned 10. Then, suddenly, the carelessness of childhood couldn't keep up with me. It grew heavier and heavier as I tried to pull it along with me; and, before I knew it, the cord snapped and it was left only as a memory. I worried about my father's health, my mother's happiness, my older brothers' increased responsibilities, what would happen if I got sick, how we would pay the electricity bill, how I would ever make it to college......there was always something. I suppose that in the midst of worry, the best relief I could find was in fantasizing about the way my life would be....eventually.

The concern I mentioned about making it to college was founded by financial insufficienties. When I was in the seventh grade, I visited the smalltown private college that I would one day attend. Strange as it sounds, I decided during that visit at age 12 that I was going to college there. Looking back, I know exactly how that decision was made. The life on that campus seemed the epitome of the fantasy I had already created for my future. Everyone looked so damn happy to be there. The buildings were clean and spilling over with positive activity. The grounds were primped and manicured. It was small enough to be cozy and familiar, yet large enough be exciting. I knew older kids who were going to school there, and I knew adults who were graduates. They all seemed to have it all together: pretty marriages, comfortable lives....the very things I wanted. They very things I knew I "deserved" could be found at that college. I just knew it. And....unfortunately, all this perfection came with an absorbitant price tag attached. Even at 12 years old, I realized that. So my main goal for the next six years was to earn my way there. It worked....I made the grades and got the aid I needed. And, inevitably, all those years of built-up expectations contributed to my fantasy.

When I graduated from highschool and prepared for my new journey to begin, this was the schedule I planned on seeing through: I would meet the "ONE" my freshman year (and neither of us would have the desire or the need to date anyone else), we would get engaged by the beginning of our senior year, we would marry immediately after graduating college, find fulfilling and lucrative jobs simultaneously.......babies would follow 2-3 years after.....perfection unfolding over and over and over in the same cycle I felt I had witnessed so many times.

So set was I on this schedule that I propelled myself into its pursuit my very first week at college. There was a certain swing on campus that was referred to as "the engagement swing". Actually, it was probably referred to as something entirely different, but, nonetheless, it was known for the many proposals that had taken place there. (Apparently there was an abundance of uncreative and unpassionate boys who recycled the dullness of many losers who had come before them.) My first week, I met a boy. I can see his face, but I can't even remember his name. He was baseball player. Had a cajun accent. Was significantly shorter than I. One night our walk together led us to the legendary swing. He insisted we sit on it. I found the whole experience to be incredibly romantic. He wouldn't possibly ask me to sit on the swing with him only days after our meeting if he didn't already know he wanted to marry me!!! I could hardly believe how quickly my plan was falling into place.

After that night, I think I only had several more encounters with that guy. But I wasn't disillusioned...oh, no! I could write for days about the many short-lived (and very, very, short-lived) romances I had over the next several years. I was convinced that any guy who showed an interest in me should at least be considered as the end-all, be-all of my romantic life. I guess I always feared that nothing better would come along. But the majority of the guys I chose to give a chance were remarkably the same in one way: they were boring as hell. Boring to me, anyway. Only a few ever "got" me, and I doubt I truly "got" many of them. Needless to say, I eventually accepted that my little plan might be altered by default.

I graduated college four years ago, and my life has made it clear that it is most definitely not going to follow any schedule that I may have for it. obstinate bastard. The funny thing is...I know quite a few girls whose pretty little plans did work out just as they planned. In fact, I ran into one just yesterday whom I hadn't seen in years. Many of my former classmates did, in fact, end up marrying boys they started dating freshman year. Many of them have kids. Many of them are living cliche' comfortable lives in the same town we went to college in. They have what I always thought I wanted. And, as it turns out, I truly feel sorry for them.

I've traveled. I've lived on my own....in several different cities. I've dated many men and have learned a great deal about myself (and about what I want) in the process. I've experienced hurts that both numbed and wounded me. I've healed. I've met a countless number of interesting people. I've laughed more than I've deserved to. I've held a random assortment of jobs that have fostered an impressive collection of skills and stories to tell. I've experienced God in ways that I never dreamed possible.

And none of this has happened inside the perfection I just knew awaited me.

My mother recently expressed her dissapointment in the fact that I'm not who I was when I started college. I'm elated by that same fact. I can imagine no greater tragedy than to be stuck exactly where I started (mentally....geographically......). My life was never meant to be easy and predictable. I'm too complex a person to be meant for a such a life. It would bore me. It would stunt my growth. It would dull my spirit. I do believe that the things I wanted eight years ago still lay ahead for me. But they don't look the way they used to. They look seasoned. They look worn. They look scarred.

They look better.