Getting More Than You Expected

Taming even the good impulses

When Melania Knavs started dating Donald Trump, maybe she thought she’d met a rich American businessman whose standing could provide her with a nicer life than she’d had on her own. I can’t state with certainty what attracted her to him, but whatever it was, I’m pretty sure she didn’t expect to someday become the first lady of the United States. It’s a role that comes with a specific kind of scrutiny that I don’t think many women would enjoy. I certainly wouldn’t. It also puts her in what might be one of the only non-divorceable marriages, at least while she holds the title.

She got more than she expected, and maybe more than she wanted. Now she’s stuck with it.

In my own life, getting more than I wanted looks a little different. I’ve always had a creative urge but because I worked for so long in the legal world, I didn’t recognize it. Creativity has a way of slipping out though, and in my past it found its way into the kitchen. In my early twenties, I started cooking. I subscribed to Gourmet and Bon Appetit magazines and got inspired to make all kinds of delightful things. It’s how I learned to cook. The people in my life back then were rewarded with many delicious meals and dinner parties. I remember a friend stopping by one day and looking into my empty refrigerator and saying, “There’s no food in THIS house?” I told him I was on my way to the grocery store.

Photo by Mario Caruso on Unsplash

I cooked that way for many years. When someone asked me why I did it, I was surprised. Why? I don’t know where the urge came from. But also, I had to cook anyway and I suspect that my creativity used this need as an opportunistic outlet. After many meals, and leftovers, and dish-washing hours, and planning, and shopping, and freezing, and tossing, and pulling out cookware, the enthusiasm dimmed. At some point, it started to feel like a chore. When it did, I remembered that question: Why was I doing it? Also, I felt a bit locked in. There was an expectation that food at my house would be good, even if I was the only one who kept that expectation going. I stopped having so many dinners and scaled back my style of cooking until it was hard to believe I’d ever produced such magical food. I couldn’t gather the enthusiasm to do it again, except on rare occasions. And even then, I no longer feel as skilled as I once was. I’m okay with that though.

Losing Interest; Losing Skill

It’s strange to slip back to a former level of proficiency in something. It feels a bit like failure. Playing music also happened this way for me and I got a taste of it not long ago when my husband presented me with a newly-rented flute in top condition and suggested I return to my musical self so we could play together. I halfheartedly tried and was surprised at how bad I’d become. There was not enough enthusiasm in me for this old self to re-polish my skills, even for my poor husband who enjoys playing piano every night.

Both music and cooking required much time and dedication and practice to reach a confident level of proficiency. And then at some point after getting there, I wanted to move on. Letting go of something that used to be is always hard. Was my effort all for nothing if I walked away from it? I’m not sure, but in this temporary life we have, I want to use my time to explore different urges for creativity as they appear.

Biting off more than you can chew is a common phrase that might describe where Melania found herself, but my creative urge gets wedged into a whole pile of life that can also feel like too much, even when it’s of my own design.

It starts with feeling a spark of creativity. Then following through on the urge. Then making room for it in life and starting to practice it. It could be making art, writing, reading a book, getting a pet, cooking more, making a social life, or something else. Then one day you notice resentment because your day is filled with too much to do and no room for the thing that was enjoyable at first: discovering something based on how you felt in the moment. When you fill your days with these things, the moments disappear because time is still finite, and what began as fun becomes a routine chore.

It’s easy to put too much on your plate when you have an appetite for discovery. Maybe you want to feel like you’re living life fully, not missing anything. I couldn’t do as much when I was working, so now I feel like I want to cram everything into my later years because who knows how many there will be. Also, being free from work should mean my days are filled with fun. At least partly. And maybe that’s another expectation I should release.

Everything in Moderation (dammit)

When you fill your days with these things, your free time disappears because the clock keeps moving even when you’re doing what you enjoy. It’s been a bit of a surprise to learn that I must tame my impulses even for healthy pleasures. It never occurred to me that too much can apply to leisure activities as well. I yearn for empty time more than I used to. I don’t want my days to be so filled. There are times when I think, “I didn’t make art today. I’m behind on my writing. I should really stay in better touch with people.”

Good grief. Enough. Less is plenty right now. I hope you’re finding your mortal days are filled with balance. Thank you for being here.