What is selfish?

I’m normally a pretty private person. Because I’m such a private person, I’ve taken on the role of listener in my friend and acquaintance network. I really want someone to talk to now, and I don’t know where to turn. I’ve mentioned how stressful life at home has been lately. Lew and I are nearing a pinnacle, facing a homelife without stay-at-home kids. I’ve actually looked forward to this new adventure for years— maybe I’ve even looked forward to it a little too much. We’re so close I can taste it; however, we still have some work left to be done, kids to finish raising and it’s been a source of soreness between Lew and me.

Yesterday, Lew said to me that I’m too uptight and concerned with rules and I have to admit his words rocked me to the core. I’ve been searching my soul a lot lately and I realize his words are part lashing out, but they’re also are a reflex against what I’m doing that’s rubbing him the wrong way. Can I be reacting, responding, acting in a different way than I am? The wishy-washy answer that comes back to me is, “Well, yes and no.”

I’ve lived so long for other people, I’m ready to begin living more for myself. I’ve worked hard on appreciating what I have instead of longing for what I want. I’m ready to start working hard to achieve what I want, though. And through it all, I grapple with what is selfish. Is it selfish to want something for me? Is it selfish to be afraid to that I’ll wait too long to fulfill what I’d like to do in life and it will be too late? I don’t want to be like my ex-husband’s grandparents. They worked and toiled and planned for a great retirement in an suburban setting that gave them access to urban delights and access to travel. They waited too long and didn’t get to live out their golden years in art museums, on the water and in exotic locations. They sat at home, prisoners within their own bodies, suffocating in the poisonous emissions of lost dreams.

I want to leave suburbia; the steps and skills I’ve tackled in recent years are with this goal in mind. I want to have chickens and a couple of dogs, maybe a llama and a goat or two. It’s my goal to grow more food for myself than I do now, to enjoy quiet life in the country, have a place for Lew to practice benchrest shooting and for me to throw a few pots; maybe even read more than I do now. But, is it selfish? I keep saying, “I want, I want, I want,” which sounds so incredibly self-centered.

I’m sincerely afraid that the way Lew’s chosen to handle a situation we don’t agree on will have far-reaching repercussions on our future plans, and possibly block us from reaching the pinnacle we’ve been climbing toward. In this age of helicopter parents and boomerang kids, bucking the trend and helping our children metamorphose, knowing that it will be their lives to live the way they see fit, even if it doesn’t set well with us, has been my most cherished desire.

Also, a part of me feels I’m due for a bit of “I want.” As a stay-at-home parent for years, I put most of my personal goals and desires on hold. I started to work on a writing career, something I enjoy, but I set it aside to help Lew achieve his career dream. But was it easier for me to set aside my goals and work toward someone else’s because any failures don’t hurt as much? Sometimes I ruminate if that’s the real reason why I’ve laid so much of myself by the wayside.

So, I’m stuck. I don’t know exactly what I want to do when I grow up, but I have an idea. I’m scared it will never reach fruition, or worse I’ll have to make a choice I don’t want to—- my dreams or Lew. As my goals become more concrete, it saddens me because it seems like they don’t mesh well with his at all. I don’t want to ask him to give his up, but will it mean that I’ll have to relinquish mine?

I haven’t completely given up hope—we’ve climbed over so many obstacles together, and we have the gift of laughter to bind us. And we’re connected by the belly-button, so that helps. It just hurts that our cord is so stretched right now. Have you ever gotten so close to something important to you that you could taste it, and the thought of it evaporating rocked all sense of well-being?

Thank you for indulging me. I feel a little better.