It’s a phrase we most often associate with kindergarten projects or awkward conversations with our high school guidance counselors.
“When I grow up, I want to…”
Even a gal in her thirties finds that answer difficult. Much of my formative adult, career-driven goals have been a bit dictated by the overarching medicine journey of the hubster. That’s not meant to be expressed with remorse or disdain; it’s merely a fact of life when you fall in love with a fella that wants to help people. The medicine journey is long and it’s full of cruel formalities that leave little room for partner flexibility.
I hear from so many partners and spouses that their careers, dreams or education have been placed on hold while on the medicine journey with the doctor in their life. Stories that will tear your heart out. Stories that will make you realize setting up a career that is flexible and putting off the wants/needs in life, isn’t just a by-product of being married to a physician–it’s survival.
When I did put my copywriting career first, something we both agreed would be a good decision in the long-run for both of our goals, that looked a lot like living 1400 miles apart for 2 long years. It’s not for the faint of heart, kiddos!
But, now we find ourselves a little over 8 months away from the finish line. 8 months away from what the hubster has been working towards for over a decade.
For me, it’s exciting. For him, it’s a bit unnerving, I gather.
The, “Now what?” question is looming overhead; an overwhelming grey cloud of many paths, each with its own set of uncertain answers.
We’ve watched our friends and family hit substantial milestones over the past decade that we’ve essentially had on hold. Choosing a place or city to live. Choosing a house to pay off for 30 years. Choosing whether to have kids (or not). Choosing to continue to pay off my student loans while his loom in the background like another mortgage. Choosing an iced coffee or hot coffee once it turns fall. What? I really want to know. That one is a toughie.
Over the years, as we moved from different states for medical school, into residency and those milestones have been in a holding pattern, I found myself using that phrase a lot.
“When we grow up…”
“When I grow up…”
It’s a funny thing to say in your thirties and it’s typically in reference to materialistic things, like declaring for the umpteenth time that you love Japanese toilets and when you grow up that’s all you want in your house.
What? They’re glorious.
But there’s an iota of truth to it. The things we’ve only thought about–backyards, a dog, a car that doesn’t sound like an airplane taking off when you start it–are now getting closer to reality.
Holy exciting. Holy overwhelming, too.
That “someday” attitude is all we’ve ever known. Looking back, it may not have been such a great mentality, but for better or worse, it got us through.
We recently went on a nearly 3-week road trip out west to see if any cities from Oregon down to California tickled our fancy. While I could do without the winding roads that did lead to spectacular views, we found out a lot about what we did like and what we didn’t like. (Maybe also that the idea of living in California was a bit more romantic than actually living there.)
We talked a lot about what our preferences are as individuals and also, as a small family. In my opinion, we’re pretty darn lucky that we even have the opportunity to lay it all out and see what areas may meet that flexible criteria. How many people actually get to do that?
So many of us are bound by ties both with family and friends, as well as careers, that those often dictate the places we choose to live. If moving 1,400 miles to Florida 7 years ago (and then back to Michigan last year) taught me anything–and boy did it–it was those forever friendships, some who have known you since your pimply days wearing Spice Girls t-shirts, will bridge the distance. The distance may certainly change some dynamics, but it doesn’t change the heart that provides life to a friendship.
We found out some things about ourselves that may have changed over the years on this trip too. For instance, I never thought I’d need to live near a Costco, but well…here we are. Costco aside, being able to be outdoors for a majority of the year, is big for me. More than I ever thought, in fact. The hubster, who is an avid golfer and an amazing one at that might I add, needs to be able to golf more than he can now in Michigan’s temperamental winters. Our wants for a better commute, diversity, being near academia and an open-minded community moved their ways to the top. Plus, again, a Costco.
Now we get to choose that, if an ER job opening presents itself.
Holy exciting. Holy overwhelming, too.
While on this road trip, as we drove around neighborhoods, downtowns and parks, as we went on long walks and fun hikes, as we sat silently on hours-long car rides, as we golfed in picturesque settings, as we sat in restaurants pestering waiters with questions, as we bellied up to local dive bars and talked to bartenders, we slowly unraveled what we wanted when we grew up.
Something that seemed out of reach for so long.
Something that was placed on hold while we got our ducks in a row.
Something that took a backseat to traveling and career choices and moving.
Something that is here, at our doorstep, now.
Holy exciting. Holy overwhelming, too.
Buckle up! Grown ups need to wear seatbelts too, you know.