And the trap of ‘things will be good when…’
Yesterday I found myself leaning against the kitchen sink, sipping coffee, looking around the apartment, and thinking to myself:
Things will be good when… we’ve hung up all the art that’s currently wedged between my dresser and the wall. When the frames we’ve bought are actually holding that art and hanging on the walls of our home. When the walls of our home don’t have so many blank, white spaces.
Things will be good when… I feel less worried, uptight, time-poor, and when I stop thinking, How will I ever have time to do everything I want to do?
Things will be good when… we have more of a community in Boston. When we feel rooted where we are. When we have more fun. Go out more, worry a bit less. (Should we look for a new wine bar to try? Go kayaking on the Charles river?? These are the things that float through my head when I’m on my 6th hour of work calls for the day.)
Things will be good when… we can afford to move to a bigger apartment or buy a house. And when we have more financial freedom than we have now.
When my project at work gets more staff, when I work less overtime.
When I finally have (make) the time to write my book!
Things would be good if my wonderful sister, and her husband and baby, weren’t moving away this fall. From a five-minute walk from my place, to several states over!
When I have a close group of girlfriends who I can see all the time.
When I figure out what I actually might want to do with my career?
When I can join a band (a new band, that is: the old one didn’t work out). And when I finally record and release that solo album I keep talking about.
When my husband feels a bit more recovered from the burnout he’s faced these past few years. The pandemic, the immigration process, and his mother’s illness all came together and sat right down on top of him.
When we start going camping more often, and spend more time out—wait!
Wait, wait, wait.
Two winters ago, when I was living in Jordan, before my husband got his green card, and before we moved to Boston, my things-will-be-good-when list looked so different.
And now, it’s a list of what is.
At that time I wrote:
Things will be good when… Raja gets his green card and the whole immigration saga is behind us. (Check. Here, you can read about the exact moment that happened!)
When we can move back to America. (Check.)
When we can get a break, a reprieve, from the grueling and emotionally draining work of taking care of my sick mother-in-law. (I don’t think “check” really applies here. While we haven’t been taking care of her like we were before, ever since moving – and we’re so grateful to those who are doing so now – she is still really sick and in Jordan, and we are still worrying about her, now from afar.)
When I can live closer to my family. (Check.)
If I could ever move back to Boston… (I don’t think I ever let myself think of this as a when – only an “if”. I didn’t know if Raja would want to move to Boston, which is where I wanted to be. But he did!) (Check.)
When we can finally plan our wedding. (Check and WOW.)
When we no longer feel stuck waiting on a piece of paper from the government. (Check.)
When Raja feels better and is not so burnt out. (Check.)
When I can live in a place where I feel comfortable. (Check. More than comfortable. I would go so far as to say happy!)
When I can go home.
When I can go home.
When I can get back home.
I was pretty stressed, then. Therapy and anti-anxiety medication both helped me make it through – among many other things. I felt so uncomfortable in Jordan during my last couple of years living there.
Every day, stepping outside my front door, I felt like a fish out of water. I just longed to get back in the water.
I got back in the water when Raja’s green card was approved and we moved back to the US and my things-will-be-good-when list…came true.
I can’t quite believe what a blessing that is.
How many people get to have that?
We are here now. We arrived at where I wanted to be.
Then, slowly, imperceptibly, my things-will-be-good-when list began to shift to include new things.
Years ago my friend, who had recently gone through a split from his wife, was talking to me about that split. “We were always living as if in rehearsal for something else,” he told me sadly.
“When we lived in California, we thought, ‘Our real lives will begin when we move back to DC.’ When we moved to DC for grad school, we thought, ‘After grad school, real life will begin.’” He no longer wanted to live life like he was in rehearsal, he concluded.
I, too, don’t want to live my life like I’m in rehearsal. I’m here now; and I don’t want to hold back from being lighter, freer, all because I’m waiting for that next apartment, next promotion, next step up the ladder (thanks, capitalism!), first house, next move.
It seems we all want to unlock the next level in the video game of life.
This seems to be programmed into us. Because of that, we seem to be tightly coiled like springs, always ready to jump to the next thing. But here we are, now. These are, as Kate Bowler puts it beautifully, The Lives We Actually Have (her new book, co-written with Jessica Richie).
I’d rather not be tightly coiled, like a spring. I’d rather be loosely lounging, like a throw blanket on a couch in the sun. Maybe it will help to think of the things I used to be desperately waiting for, that came true.
Then, maybe I can focus on what is, a little bit, starting today. Maybe I’ll go to Mystic Lake today and jump in. Maybe I’ll play guitar. Maybe I’ll bake a chocolate cake later.
I can turn the dial a bit—what a privilege.
What’s one thing you have now, that you may have written three years ago on a things-will-be-good-when list?
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Curious Georgie 
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