By Erin, guest blogger

I have an obsession with open doors.

Yes, I’m talking about the metaphor – the feeling that possibilities are endless, that anything could happen, that opportunities abound.

When faced with big decisions in life, I usually look for the option that leaves the most other potential options open.

For example, I took my current job mostly because the interviewer pointed out that the organization is so large that there are “any number of things I could do” within it. I chose to be an English major, and then get my J.D., in part, because everyone kept saying, “There’s so much you can do!,” with those degrees. Never mind that I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do with them.

 

It’s an addiction

My obsession with endless possibilities really borders on addiction, with all its highs and lows.

Shopping for a house was ecstasy. Each “refresh” on Zillow revealing new delights. Actually choosing a house and a price and which drawer the flatware would go in? Major let-downs.

At the beginning of each semester in college and law school, I’d be giddy about all the new things I was sure to discover. And I’d register for far too many credits. By the end, I’d be beaten down, behind on everything and disappointed by the shallowness of what I’d learned.

As a kid, the night before each Christmas I’d be a helium balloon, imagining all the wondrous possibilities inside each wrapped box. By noon on Christmas Day, I’d come crashing down after the last gift was opened, the reality of each one solidified, all the unknowns revealed.

Graduations are especially poignant to me. Such a great accomplishment! Your whole future ahead! Closure combined with a fresh start! Just the opening phrases of “Pomp and Circumstance” make me start to blubber. But I watched my dad change careers three or four times while I was growing up, so even graduation didn’t mean I wouldn’t end up back in school. (Did I mention I got a J.D.?)

Until the past year or so, I’ve been fortunate to operate with the mindset that I have limitless re-dos in life. Make a mistake? Change my mind about what I want to do? Before kids, no problem! Just start over.

 

Limiting the possibilities

Like any addiction, at times I long to be free of it. I know I’m not the only one afflicted, but I also know many who aren’t.

My brother suffered a severe leg injury as a child, and he knew at age 5 he would become a pediatric orthopedic surgeon, to help kids like him. I was lucky to have avoided a childhood experience like that, but I missed that sense of direction.

My need to preserve possibilities can be paralyzing.

I’m so afraid to make any decision that could limit my ability to change my mind later.

The influence of motherhood

Motherhood has been both the ultimate indulgence in my obsession, as well as its potential antidote.

Discovering I was pregnant flung open more doors to possibilities than I had ever known. This new little being was starting from scratch. Was it a boy or girl? Blue eyes or brown? What would she like, want to do, want to be?

Birth videos would make me weep – the very beginning of a new life, a new family, a woman’s graduation to motherhood!

Although I’m mostly certain (as you now know I’m never 100% certain) I’m done having children, I still long for that first moment of meeting a new baby, hearing her first cry, seeing how much hair she has.

Of course, from the moment of birth (and, thanks to genetic testing, often before that), the number of possibilities for a baby starts to diminish. Now you know the sex, the zodiac sign, the method of delivery (in my case, with medical intervention). You see how big brother reacts (with indifference), you see how well the baby sleeps (not well).

For me, the exciting early weeks after each birth were also a time of mourning, as I watched so many of the possibilities I had imagined slowly vanish into the realness of this new little being.

 

Closing doors

When I first noticed these endless possibilities start to disappear, I panicked.

My mission as a parent became to keep as many doors open as possible for my children.

EXPOSE THEM TO EVERYTHING! Music, dance, Legos, salmon! Read them every board book! Make decisions for them based on what preserves the most potential!

If my son didn’t have surgery to correct his minor imperfections, would that hurt his confidence and his ability to succeed? Crap, the blister from my daughter’s new shoes got infected, and now it’s left a scar… There goes the possibility of a foot modeling career!

But somehow, luckily, my kids are helping me shed my obsession. They have opinions. They have interests. They have talents. I find that instead of worrying about what’s down every path other than the one we’re on, I need to let them lead the way.

This helps.

I don’t want them to suffer any life-defining traumas, but I also don’t want them to suffer from my addiction. Thus, I encourage them to make decisions.

I’m happy to see how running suits my son. How my daughter enjoys gymnastics. It’s so gratifying to watch them find their “flow.” There are only so many activities our family can accomplish and still ensure everyone gets enough sleep, so we have to prioritize.

As I get to know my kids better, the right decisions for them become more obvious. And I realize they need stability from me, not waffling. They need me to make a decision. About where they go to school, what time they go to bed, whether or not they get to have a treat. And to stick with it.

On turning 40

Since I turned 40, the possibilities ahead for me seem far less endless.

Time has become more finite, do-overs more limited. It takes time to get good enough at something to actually make a meaningful impact, and now I have, maybe, another 40 years to do that. Surprisingly, instead of terrifying me, this has motivated me to action.

Artists and writers often overcome creative blocks by imposing limits on themselves: restricting time, color or subjects. And by exploring the possibilities within those restrictions.

Which leads me to this: I’m committing myself to write for an hour each weeknight after my kids go to bed. Just imposing this requirement on myself has set creativity free.

I’m not sure whether it’s my age or my kids that have helped me to acknowledge my obsession, and to start to overcome it.

I realize I’ve been privileged – and so have my kids – to have so many potential opportunities. While others have more limited options.

And I realize it’s a “first world problem” to complain about how I can’t make a decision because I have too many choices. But it’s been holding me back all the same.

So I’m excited to embark on this new writing adventure. What will I write about? I’m not sure yet. The possibilities are endless.

 

What about you? How do you deal with the endless possibilities? Comment below or share your thoughts on Facebook at MothersRest.

 

About the guest blogger:

Erin is an attorney, wife and mother of two young kids. In her life before law school and children, she was a professional ballerina and a public radio promotions producer. Through it all, her closeted love of creative writing has been lying in wait. She just might be ready to let it out.

You can read Erin’s thoughts on coronavirus here: The thing about taking the COVD test.

 

Photo credit: StockSnap on Pixabay