What Dreams May Come

Tomorrow is my birthday and I will be 37 years old. T-H-I-R-T-Y  S-E-V-E-N (said in a cheesy slow-motion Jim Carey sort of voice.) Now I know some of you out there are saying “Ha! What are you complaining about?! I’m 45 (or 55, or….),” but this is a big birthday for me because from my perspective I’m cruising down that hill toward 40 at a rapid pace and I am nowhere near where I thought I’d be at this point in my life. I thought 30 was a tough birthday for the same reason. I was just recovering from an ugly divorce, trying to pay off thousands of dollars worth of debt as a result, working in a crummy, dead-end security job where people screamed at me every day, and my body was having severe symptoms of the chronic illness that I had just been diagnosed with. Today, I find myself recovering from an ugly break-up, working a crummy, dead-end phone job where people scream at me every day, still suffering from fibromyalgia, and while I may not be thousands of dollars in debt, my finances are certainly not where I would like them to be at this stage. The only major difference between then and now is that I’m currently in college on my way to a second degree. (Yay me!)

When I was growing up, I pictured my 30’s as the period in my life where I’d be a college graduate establishing a career, married with a house, and working to make it into a home. When I came out as a lesbian in my late 20’s, none of those goals changed, only the gender of the partner in the picture. As I’m getting older, I feel this sort of pressure, like the clock is ticking down and I’m running out of time to fulfill those dreams. It’s not a “biological clock” sort of ticking because I’ve never had the desire for children, but it’s a similar sort of pressure. The older I get the greater the pressure is, especially when my younger siblings have already accomplished so many of the things I’ve dreamed of doing.

Now I love my family. They are good people and they care about me so don’t judge them, but we have very different ideas about what I should be doing with my life. I’ve had to fight really hard for the freedom to make my own choices, so when I introduce a partner to my family it means I love her and believe she loves me enough to have a future together. When that relationship then goes sideways it’s phenomenally humiliating and all I hear in my head is my mother saying “I just don’t think you’re ever going to be happy in this lifestyle, Sarah.” Sigh. Break-ups like these become even more devastating because not only do I have to explain to my family why they need to update their address books again, but with the end of the relationship the potential for the fulfillment of the dreams I’ve built with this person also ends, and that is probably the most painful part.

I’m discovering that I don’t like having to start over from scratch every time a relationship fails. I get lost and have to reorient, trying to put together who I am and what I want from the leftover pieces. It’s sort of like when you tear a photo in half to remove the picture of someone you don’t want to see. You’re still there, but the photo never looks quite the same. I’ve decided that I need dreams that don’t require another half to the picture. I understand that I don’t need another person to be complete, but the things I’ve always wanted have always included a loving, long-term relationship with a supportive partner. I need hopes and dreams that I can fulfill alone, where there might be room to add another person if the right one ever comes along, but that won’t be destroyed if that part of my life happens to remain vacant. I’m tired of having everything I’ve built be wiped out by a change of heart. I have no idea what these new dreams are going to look like, but I’m going to point my ship in the direction of the horizon and see where it takes me.

“Sail Forth- Steer for the deep waters only. Reckless O soul, exploring. I with thee and thou with me. For we are bound where mariner has not yet dared go. And we will risk the ship, ourselves, and all.”

~ Walt Whitman~

© Sarah Ultis 2011