I Coulda Been a Contender

I have been reading (and greatly enjoying) The (very long) Story of Edgar Sawtelle. In the section I just finished, Edgar meets up with a man named Henry whose fiance left him because he was "ordinary." It occurred to me that "ordinary" is the perfect word to describe how I've been feeling lately. Maybe with a touch of "jealous" thrown in.

I go through these "what have I done with my life" episodes every so often. I'll lie in bed at night and wonder if I could have been more and done more. I think the potential was there. And if the potential was there and I didn't accomplish great things than I haven't "lived up to my potential." But would living up to my potential have made me happy or would it have stressed me out and left me even more irritable and less maternal than I already am? Would living up to my potential have resulted in a completely different life? Would I want a completely different life? It depends on the day.

Yes, I realize all of those thoughts are in the past tense, and I know technically there's still time to live up to my potential, but really, now that I'm middle age with the shackles of a home and family, the odds are not in my favor.

You know what usually triggers these "I coulda been a contender" episodes? Social gatherings. When hobnobbing with others, "being all you can be" is critically important for your self-esteem. Well, for mine anyway. But I bet if you're honest, what others perceive you to be matters to you too. We all want to appear exceptional and fascinating, particularly when we're meeting people for the first time. I always envy my husband's ace in the hole:

So Rob, what do you do?

I work for the Phillies.

Nothing else matters after that. Rob could also be an ax murderer, but no one would care.

As challenging as it can be to feel worthy when socializing with new folks, it can also be difficult to maintain friendships with exceptional people. I have freakin' exceptional friends. Most of the time it doesn't bother me, but sometimes it really pisses me off bums me out. I had one of those bummed out occasions recently. I was with a few extraordinary women and a conversation about their recent career activities made me feel incredibly ordinary, insignificant, and downright dull. 

The internal acceptance speech I delivered at my personal pity party went something like this:

Woe is me. Graduate of a state college with no name recognition. Job at an itty bitty publisher which takes its non-profit status quite literally. Marketing other people's books. Driver of a Honda Odyssey mini-van like every other suburban mom and wife. Clothes that aren't worth sharing at a clothing swap. Incapable of playing tennis or competing in a triathlon like the cool girls. Going gray way too soon.Ordinary, ordinary, ordinary.

Ah yes, it's a delightful event, my pity party. I'll spare you an invitation.

I think that great philosopher Lily Tomlin spoke for me when she said:

I always knew I wanted to become somebody when I grew up. Now I realize I should have been more specific.

And Shakespeare sums it up best:

To be or not to be; that is the question.

If you prefer to see this post end on a high note (not sure why you're reading my blog if that's the case), here's a link to some inspirational quotes about personal potential. Enjoy.