Sometimes I spend so much time thinking about my future that I fail to fully appreciate the present. I focus so intently on moving towards a goal - some hypothetical destination - that I take for granted the wonders of the moment. Sometimes I chase those dreams of a better life only to realize the life I tried to upgrade was a better fit all along. I know I do these things, and yet, I have been contemplating areas in need of change in my life. I have been taking stock of personal relationships and professional goals, and wondering if I'm getting as much from living near the City as I sacrifice to be here. I have had this debate before.
I had lived in New York City for a few years after college but left shortly before the birth of my oldest son. The move was supposed to signal the start of an exciting chapter. I had accepted a new job, and was looking forward to a slower, but still-fulfilling pace. In that new world, there would be grass lawns and starlit skies. My baby would fall asleep to the sound of crickets rather than car alarms. We would visit playgrounds found in sprawling, open spaces, eschewing those urban knock-offs, those nooks carved out of the surrounding jumble of concrete and steel.
But my plan was flawed. For one thing, I had thoroughly miscalculated my attachment to the life I had left behind. It was more than just my career and relationships and sense of self, though certainly all of those things loomed larger than I anticipated. I had not expected to miss New York. Then, every time I turned on the television during those late night feedings, the stories on screen would be set in Manhattan. First Friends, then NYPD Blue. Later, it would be Law and Order and Seinfeld. I ached for the chaos of Times Square, for the sirens of the FDNY. I wanted the kinds of bagels and pizza that you can only find in NYC. I craved my “light and sweet” coffee in those little Greek cups. I also misjudged the comfort I would find in that new sphere. Yes, the grass was greener. Literally...there was a lot of green grass! And there were crickets and stars. But for many reasons that deserve their own analyses someday, I never felt at home in my new environment. The nostalgia for a past life (that may or may not have ever existed) would wash over me and I would breathe it in nearly to the point of suffocation.
To be fair, settling into my new role as mother would have been hard anywhere. But it was exacerbated by the distance – physical and emotional – between my pre- and post-baby life. These were days before Facebook and FaceTime, so there was no opportunity for instant, virtual support; no digital lifeline to save me from sinking into myself. In so many ways, I felt like a pioneer adrift, all alone on the range. I was one of the first women in my circle of friends and peers to become a mom. It would be months if not years before most of them would truly understand the distinct brand of tired that comes from waking up every few hours to feed, clean, or soothe another human being; before they could sympathize with having to cancel plans or miss special events because the baby was sick or because I had no one else to take care of him. Most of them had not yet staked out a position on how to best balance work and family. Even if they had, they had not yet faced the reality that taking the mommy track may not be voluntary, or how even the most ambitious, career-driven woman might search for validation in the outsized giggles of a tiny babe.
Many times, I felt like I had stumbled into a perfect storm of isolation and disorientation. I had a hard time finding my footing, not sure I was doing anything right but certain I was doing it in the wrong place. Worst of all, I felt like I had to conceal my struggles. I didn't want to be the "hot mess" new mom. I didn't want to be the expat who couldn't assimilate into my new environment. I didn't want to accept that my visions of professional growth and fulfillment were more like holograms than attainable goals. I wore a heavy mask of stoicism, and it weighed on me. The very things I had looked forward to as I embarked on my new journey became the obstacles I had to navigate in my sprint towards sanity.
Eventually, thankfully, the stars realigned. I moved back to New York. I pursued a new career. I grew more comfortable in motherhood. I felt more like myself again. I vowed to make the best of my homecoming, to value the opportunities I had fought so hard to recover.
Yet, here I am, all these years later, still pondering alternate realities…wondering if there are different trails I should be blazing…new chapters I should be writing? Why is it so hard to find the balance between aspiration and appreciation? I want to keep moving forward, but savor each step. More than anything, I want to remember that life is not about getting to a certain destination. Neither is it the bridge between past and future. Life is a sequence of right nows. Still, learning to live in the now? That's something I just haven't mastered yet.
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