Monthly Archives: January 2012

Alis Volat Propriis.

2012…how did we get here? And where exactly is here?

As the best stories begin, life is taking me on a journey I never expected…one fraught with unique challenges and¬†unexpected bumps {20 ft. deep sinkholes}. I am letting the current suck me in, pull me under and deposit me in unfamiliar territory. I’m arriving in a place I’ve never been before: one of equal amounts of uncertainty, hope, joy, life and to an extent, dependency. I am grabbing onto the right side of this wishbone, pulling with all my might and hoping it breaks evenly.

A daughter of parents who graduated from the School of Pull Yourself Up From Your Bootstraps, it’s ingrained in me to throw myself completely and wholly into the task at hand. Do your research, take a leap of faith, and work your butt off: that’s the three-step plan I’ve been taught. And now, {willingly} following my husband 2,200 miles away, I am preparing to root myself in the sandy soil of California, weave myself into the tapestry of the Bay Area, and build a new physical support system of adopted friends and family.

My husband has been offered a position to train as a professional athlete; to make his mark on a sport ripe for champions and establish himself as the next Cinderella story. I say this because I’ve witnessed this kid pull strength and power from places no one knew it existed in order to achieve the seemingly impossible. I am unbelievably proud that I am married to an Olympic hopeful, and from a selfless place I never knew existed in myself before, I want nothing more than for him to stand on the podium in Rio as a medal hangs from his neck. I’d be willing to do anything in order to make this dream happen.

And yet, watching from the sidelines as he chases the biggest dream any athlete can have, I feel a twinge of jealousy. It’s gauche to admit, I’m sure, but it’s honest. Six years ago, I thought the {new} American dream would apply to me: Sunday brunch with my sorority sisters from {too} long ago, a 9-5 climbing the corporate ladder {a 20-something female in marketing? unique.}, a picture-perfect marriage that would eventually lead to 2.3 kids in a house with limitless square footage. As much as I thought I wanted this, it’s clear now that it’s not enough. Watching my husband eat, breathe and sleep what others only dream about, I feel like a piece is missing in my jigsaw puzzle.

What that piece is, I have yet to figure out, but until then, I try to find the balance between supportive {trophy} wife and soul-searching expatriate. Strangely dependent, yet insistent on grabbing my half of the wishbone.

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