As a little girl, I wanted to marry my best friend. She and I loved to plan out our lives together. We'd have arguments over who was the husband. I have a sneaking suspicion that it was usually me. Our days were spent running around our nanny's yard and getting in trouble. Fault always landed firmly on my shoulders even though we did the same things. I believed that if only the grown-ups understood what we were doing their anger would just fade away. Strangely it never worked out that way.
Twenty-five years later, I find myself married to my best friend. He and I began planning our lives together a little over ten years ago. We have arguments over how we're rising our two little girls. I have a sneaking suspicion they're more in control than we are. Our days are spent maintaining our family, house and careers and planning for the next unforeseen detour. Perceived injustices chaff me especially when I see how easily they could have been avoided. I believe that if I deal with others openly and honestly that's how I'll be dealt with. Sadly, it doesn't always work that way.
I'm still that little girl. I look at my life and I know I can do better. More. Not better than my husband or my girls, mind you. Not better than anything. Just BETTER. I still have a future I haven't explored yet. This feeling isn't a fleeting one. I remember it as a child when I wasn't being understood. Then again as a teenager with big dreams of far off places. Once again as a young adult after I started learning my own things about the way the world works. And again as a woman realizing I wanted more than I could attain by myself. Most recently again as a mother feeling alone and clueless in a sea of others' experiences and advice.
Each accomplishment quiets it for a moment. In those times, I can rest and restore myself, get my bearings. Time passes as I recharge and before long I feel the dissatisfaction awaken again. It asks me to do more than I'm doing today. Push a little harder tomorrow. Search. Absorb. Modify. Stretch. Achieve. Ignoring it is painful and pointless. It is an insatiable thirst I was born with. A thirst for more. This thirst got me where I am today. It defines the text I'm working from each time I take a look around at where I am. As I've gotten to know myself, I've learned to accept this feeling. Now I plan to capture the process of embracing it.