it's tricky/ it's like that and that's the way it is

I constantly have to shift. I have to figure out what is the ingrained imaginary voice that I superimpose on myself of what Should Be Happening and what is actually -- for lack of a better word(s) -- good and real.

Example in the life of my great-uncle, who retired after 39 years and 5 months as a pastor:
"served as a pastor for 39 yrs and 5 months."

vs

defying a staunchly anti-Christian father and attending seminary, inheriting a comfortable, mortgage-free home and losing it all to fraud, and then doing the only thing you know how to do until finally, at the age of 70, they force you to retire.

and for me, what Should Be Happening is that I Should know what I want in life. I Should have taken the GRE by now, I Should be well on my way to getting an advanced degree, I Should be wise enough to handle an adult relationship. Should, at this point, by now, after more than a year, understand what I can and can't ask for. Should at the very least know myself well enough to make myself stop, or should have

In any case, there will always be an idea of what Should Be Happening, like the narrator's voice in a movie, that describes to me in detail, at length, what Should Be Happening, what Would Be Happening, if I was a worthy heroine, per Miss Josephine March: "Be worthy love and love will come, / in the summer rain."

I have, of course, by now, at this point, given up on my own personal Professor Bhaer, a just reward for only such as truly good as Jo, as I Should have, and I feel I accordingly did with Mr. Northwest, after whom I promised to never angst again (ha). Again, more easily said (written, typed, printed) than done. Though I Should ...

I have not, however, learned to distinguish between the Shoulds that intrude and the Shoulds I'd actually like to have (it frustrates me to no end that you seem impervious to anything remotely as chaotic and undermining as this) and though I would of course like to be free and will no doubt loudly exclaim so over the phone to you (long-suffering, ever-patient, open-armed) I am also overwhelmingly scared of change.

I would so much rather feel like I am being held back by something than to strike out on my own and realize the then-proven truth -- that I'm yet another unremarkable pointless life. No glory to be found here, no stories will be written about me. How awful, to be swallowed by the anonymity of mediocrity. But this isn't about my (absence of) glory.

I think it's about peace and patience, and listening, and waiting and being waited for. I think it will always be hard for me and I think I will never feel free of some kind of guilt, but I also think I can turn it off sometimes, and be still.