WHITE PICKET FENCE
I had a white picket fence. Literally, I had a lovely four bedroom,
four-and-a-half bath home with a white picket fence. Red tulips and yellow daffodils bloomed along
my white picket fence every spring. I also had lush bushes of pink and blue hydrangea
that lined my front porch. I lived there
with the man I had been married to for a decade. We worked hard, and played hard. I empowered him, and he grounded me. We soared on thriving careers. Two babies completed our perfect life. It was a beautiful picture.
I am not sure if becoming parents
brought us to the realization, or if it was just something that comes with age;
but suddenly life seemed like it should be about so much more than living there
in our white picket fenced home. Yet, there
we were, trapped in a marriage—foolish promises and expectations that would
never be met. We surely had expectations
of marriage and each other, but unexpectedly, there were the expectations of
those around us. Our family had
expectations of us as a married couple, as did our friends. I suppose society also has expectations of how
married people should act and who they should be. After having children, those expectations
intensified.
I felt trapped in my perfect
little white picket fence. I moved to a
house with a glass fence. The view only
made my imprisonment more intolerable.
Why do we get married? Why is
finding a stable job, getting married, having children, and living in a pretty
house the end-all-be-all? Why is it the
perfect life we strive for? My perfect
life did not feel like living, it felt like coasting. Was I
really supposed to spend the rest of my life in a safe, comfortable state of
coasting? No. And so I began the incredible challenge to
break free of the white picket fence.
Breaking free of the white picket
fence sounds like an easy and sudden realization, but it was not easy or sudden
for me. No one understood why this
perfect life was not enough. My family,
my friends, everyone and anyone thought I was crazy because they believed I had
everything in life one should ever want.
Luckily, my husband was going through a similar experience. His pain was very different in many ways, but
equally oppressive. For me, breaking
free was surely somewhat ugly, extremely painful and simply scary, but I
trusted myself. I stood-up for what I
believed—for the first time in my life I was so sure and confident of the path
I needed and wanted—against the expectations of everyone I knew. Even people I did not know. Occasionally, when someone hears I am
divorced they look at me with pity. I laugh every time this happens. I am not sorry. I am grateful. I set myself free, and I truly began to live
life.
The pain is uncomfortable. Our fear of pain and discomfort keep us
safely in our white picket fenced lives.
The complacency made me miserable because it was not truly comfort or
safety. Rather, it was hiding from
pain. Only by tackling pain head-on can
we truly find comfort and safety.
Comfort that comes from aligning who we are with who we think we are and
who we want to be. How can we be
ourselves when we are so busy trying to meet all the expectations that come
with the white picket fence? It is a
pretty, but sad existence. A year
after divorce, I became and still am good friends with my ex-husband, and we
spend a great amount of time together with our children because we are not
trapped by expectations and burdened by disappointment; instead, we are free
and genuinely happy.
