Skip to main content

False Expectations

The way we are conditioned in the formative years of our versus how our own reality shapes up to be can be starkly different. In my case, my father was the one with a career while mother stayed at home and took care of everything else. It took me into the middle of high school to full dissociate my expectations from life from that of my mother. I would study engineering like my father had and enter the workforce much as he had back in the day. Once that expectation was reset, I might have imagined the flow of my career to resemble his and other like him that I knew. 

That meant being somewhat lost for the first five or ten years after college trying to find the thing that would become the job to grow and retire from. My father had friends who immigrated to America around that ten year mark, some sooner than that. Other, changed jobs until their kids needed stability in the school environment. There was a point just about everyone "settled" into a career. This was the pattern with my older cousins who entered the workforce upto a decade before me. So when it is my time to settle and I find myself grappling with a job market that has changed beyond recognition from the last time I was hyper-active on it, I find myself dealing with a lot of inner turmoil. 

I have to ask myself how it came to be that the playbook got appended for me. Then there is the business of accepting that reality and making peace with it - which may take a while for me. And then if I am smart enough, I would see and seize the opportunity that it opens up. The early conditioning seems to make all of that difficult and makes me wonder if it is for the best when a young person grows up without any kind of role model to anchor to - because it forces them to forge their own path in life and be accepting of all consequences that brings.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Part Liberated Woman

An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t

Cheese Making

I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha

Under Advisement

Recently a desi dude who is more acquaintance less friend called to check in on me. Those who have read this blog before might know that such calls tend to make me anxious. Depending on how far back we go, there are sets of FAQs that I brace myself to answer. The trick is to be sufficiently evasive without being downright offensive - a fine balancing act given the provocative nature of questions involved. I look at these calls as opportunities for building patience and tolerance both of which I seriously lack. Basically, they are very desirous of finding out how I am doing in my personal and professional life to be sure that they have me correctly categorized and filed for future reference. The major buckets appear to be loser, struggling, average, arrived, superstar and uncategorizable. My goal needless to say, is to be in the last bucket - the unknown, unquantifiable and therefore uninteresting entity. Their aim is to pull me into something more tangible. So anyways, the dude in ques