Wishing Life Away

With X as far away as he is ... even having a beautiful home, the best dog in the history of ever, some family - and a job I love ... it is hard, sometimes, not to wish this part would give way to the part where he and I are not so vastly separated.  I realize, he's hardly the first example of this.  All my life, I have spent waiting for the "next part".

An interesting aspect of this is the way it reflects the incredible sense of entitlement and expectation of my culture.  I grew up in a United States in which, by virtue of my birth and education, I presumed it was my right to reach a certain level of socio-economic success.  Heck, it wasn't even so clear a thing as a "right" - it was just this manifest destined given; the spoken *and* implicit evolutionary presumption of American development:  and of my middle class echelon.

The eighties didn't help - nor did the dents in the economy we took with trickle-down and in the 90s.  I simply assumed - for YEARS - I was "paying my dues" and the day was coming I would be more than comfortable.

As it turns out:  I am.  But not because I deserve it "more" - and certainly not because I worked hard for it, for a long time.  I learned how, yes.  I've become a highly accomplished and responsible grownup (even if I refuse to "mature").  But it took *many* years, and is even still a developing tendency.  In my nature, I am an underachiever.

But my refusal to depend on someone else (on a man - or, as much as possible, on my parent(s)) made it an inevitability; I had to sink or swim.  There were no other options; and I found that sinking caused dependencies I turned out to be unfit to tolerate.  So I had to swim.  And I was probably past thirty before I really learned much about how to do this very well.

So, a late bloomer.  The desserts of the kind of entitlement I grew up permeated with.

As proud as I am of the life I've been put in stewardship to live:  I still don't feel I deserve my comfort and success.  Even knowing how many people would pooh-pooh just how "successful" I call myself (she doesn't even have a smart phone - or cable - or a DVR - or a Mac, nor any iDevice of any kind! she drives a car she's paid off, and wears "pre owned" clothing from eBay and thrift stores!), my sense of how abundantly blessed I am is almost embarrassing when I allow myself any perspective at all.  I pay my bills.  I am down to almost no remaining credit debt, and hope to be able to pay it off 100% within two months from now.  I am more than adequately entertained, and materially - even with a couple leaky faucets and floors I dream of having beautifully refinished - is as comfortable as I could dare to ask for.  And, apart from my privilege and education - nobody gave this to me but my blessed ancestry and myself.  The autonomy both resulting in *and* resulting *from* what has been given me is never, ever lost on me.  I am grateful for this perhaps above all other blessings not tied up in the people I love.  And the people I love are deeply entwined with these gifts.

This is the privilege I come from:  that life is so sure to be rich in material and personal blessings, I can wish away the now until my mid-forties, pining away for the "next part" - that part which will be so comfortable, so good, so full of wealth "I can't wait" to get to it ...

This is both the rapture - and the trap - of being a white, middle-class American (of a certain age ... of a certain privilege).