Striving Toward the Future

Do you ever feel that you've missed your moment? You could have been something bigger, better, more, if only you had done "this" instead of "that?" The frustration brewing under the surface of daily life, like a knife grating against your brain, a quiet yet steady reminder of your unfulfilled dreams and ambitions.

How often have I silently berated myself for missing my shot? How many days have I stared out the window at work thinking, "Is this it? Is this the whole of my life?" And then I have to close my eyes and swallow down the bile of regret and disappointment that rises up in my throat, knowing that the reasons, the blame, all lay at my own feet.

I tell myself there are still chances, there is still time. I say that someday I will go back to school, finish college, study the things that interest me, and someday have a career. A real career instead of just a job. Someday, I will find that fulfillment that is so lacking at work, and I will do some of the things I dream about. I will be bigger, better, more. I will be something to society, contribute something, be remembered. Someday, I will write that figurative song that will soar over the airwaves, and having been released into the universe, go on forever; a piece of me will always be part of everything. I will be immortal. And I will be more than a cashier, more than a mother, more than a wife, more than the me I am now. I will be the me of my dreams.

And yet, I still scream inside, feeling that I've missed my moment. It reverberates through out my head, bouncing and echoing, a constant refrain; "This is it, this is me. This is it, this is me."

My husband has a friend who has been very successful. He works from his immaculate half a million dollar lake front home that is completely paid for, goes on vacation when he wants, buys what he wants when he wants. He is intelligent, amusing and attractive. He is living the American dream.

Last week, he told my husband he was thinking of going to Afghanistan. When my husband laughed, he said he was only half kidding.

"Why?" my husband asked, bewildered.

"Because," our friend replied, "What am I doing? I sit in front of my computer at home and push buttons, and I make nothing happen. I contribute nothing. I make no real difference in the world. I am unfulfilled."

I was struck by this. I have wished for his security, his success. And he still wishes for the same fulfillment I want. With all his success, it is the fulfillment he wants and misses.

Just like me. Me, the cashier, the mother, the wife. And somehow, knowing that he is unfulfilled just like me helps me feel a little better. I feel better because I realize we are not so different. I feel better because he still has dreams, and financial security is only part of it. I feel better knowing that perhaps fulfillment comes not just from accomplishing goals, but from striving for them as well.

As long as I have dreams, as long as I hold onto my ambitions, I have something to work toward. I must never give in to the echo in my head that tells me, "This is it, this is me." I must always look to the future, and plan the realization of my dreams.

As long as I am alive, there are still chances, there is still time. I have just begun to write my song, my opus; this is just the beginning.