A Dose of Realism

Lying on the couch with my husband of five months, two days before the turn of a New Year, I said in a daring but you know I am too chicken voice, “Let’s quit our jobs, cash out our savings, and go travel the world for one year”. My husband looked at me as if this was the most genius idea I had ever presented.

I rolled my eyes, laughed, and proceeded to explain why this was not realistic, why we could not partake in a twelve month journey of travel, exploration, education, and epiphany. Deep down inside I wish I were different. I wish I were a risk taker.

I grew up in suburbia New York where all families ate pizza on Fridays, attended Catholic mass on Sundays, and worked long hours the rest of the week. Each family yearned to establish the American Dream – defined as a consistent paycheck, decent sized home, college bound children, with yearly family trips that in most cases, were in driving distances. The overall theme of our parents American Dream was to institute a family of stability, success, and future advancement – none of which could occur by risky and uncalculated behavior.

And stability in any form was an early on goal of mine.

In pursuit of my growing up in the 80’s American Dream I have since resisted change, eliminated risk, followed all laws, and focused on generating a more than decent paycheck. But somehow, my own pursuit seems to fall short of internal desires that are regularly quieted by the realism that my childhood so strongly reinforced. Dream big, dream often, but dream within realistic boundaries.

Cautiousness keeps me on the couch but my journey of self will eventually get me out that door.