Living through other people never works
Dear Carolyn: I used to date mainly wealthy, upwardly mobile doctors and lawyers and planned on spending my life not working, having a few kids and doing charity work, like many of my friends. Then I met my fiancé, a government analyst who, while not poor by any means, certainly isn’t wealthy. I fell madly in love with him for all the right, nonshallow reasons that I never had before.
The problem is that, although I’m overeducated, I work in a dead-end job I despise. I’ve been half-heartedly trying to get a new one, but I’d never put a lot of time into thinking about a real career before because I’d always assumed I’d never really have one. He is frustrated at me, I’m frustrated at myself, and we keep getting into fights because I’m not applying for a new job, but have the gall to complain about this one.
Last night we got into another spat, and he snuck out this morning without saying goodbye. He then sent me an e-mail that he’d had a dream I met some rich guy and was much happier, so maybe we should break up. I love him with all of my heart. He makes me a better person but he won’t listen to me right now. Please advise. – Va.
Sorry that whole sugar-daddy thing didn’t pan out for you.
Right. I’m not. But I’m not (just) getting my jollies at your expense, either. When your plan is not to have plans, you’re lucky to have it fall through. It’s definitely the happiest outcome for those poor doctors and lawyers who bought that you loved them; for those upwardly mobilized offspring-to-be, it’s fate’s answer to winning Powerball.
It’s not just the obvious moral/emotional bankruptcy of treating people as props in your little life play, though. It’s that the play you wrote would bore you catatonic. Money expands your options in life – it doesn’t spare you from having to think about which of those options you choose.
A husband for the sake of a husband, kids for the sake of kids, charity work for the sake of killing time between manicures. Without passion, how would any of these not have become the next “dead-end job I despise”? Think about it. If having more cash than purpose were a good thing, there’d be nothing for tabloids to print.
I’m picking apart the life-outline you’ve discarded because I’m not fully convinced you’ve discarded it. (Nor, apparently, is your fiancé.)
You need to discard it completely, though, every copy, because its weakness lies in its premise. Living through other people won’t work, whether you do it for attorney privileges or peer assimilation or analyst love. See it for what it is, crumple it, start over.
Starting with: What moves you, what are you good at, what will set you at peace as you die?
Take your time. You’ve got a blank sheet to fill and the rest of your life to fill it.
Which is the explanation your fiancé ought to hear. Knowing you need a “real career” is about 30 percent of an epiphany. The other 70 will take more than a good cover letter; he needs to grasp this, then choose whether to wait. You’ve got a long way to go inside.