I Now Pronounce You...

Somewhere between my first real job and my first friend’s wedding, the process pretty much solidified itself:

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you!” or “I’m so glad we finally saw each other!” followed by a quick glance at the hand – left, ring finger, to be precise.

I’m not even positive when this quick one-two came to be; I suddenly realized one day that it’s become the commonplace procedure.

Friday night, I reconnected with two high school friends, happily married (one with a kid), after quite some time.

Two words aptly describe the experience: heartwarming and terrifying.

On the eve of my twenty sixth year, I sit at a definitive juncture – one that finds me tussling with issues typical of most twenty-somethings. And yet, the upbringing in a society that has embedded a feeling of self-absorbency in its youth has me tossing and turning, night and day, to find a reclusive sanctuary, where my irrational fears & insecurities can be recognized, appreciated, and allayed…once and for all.

I say all this, not to elicit sympathy or advice, but merely to articulate the very reason for my seemingly severe disdain of all things celebratory of love.

Perhaps it is as simple as some unrequited schoolgirl crush, or perhaps it is the symptom of a deep-rooted expectation, entrenched in not only our society’s view of the life cycle, but humanity’s.

Even a few weeks after the fact, a particular conversation with my grandmother stands out in my mind. Mere minutes after beginning a chat, the first in a few weeks’ time, my grandmother broached the question I prepare to hear each time I have a conversation with her…except this time, it made its appearance in record time.

“When are you going to get married?” followed by the guilt-producing, “Will I even get to see you get married?”

Really, grandma…seriously?

Fine, let’s forget that – I prepared myself to hear that one…it’s definitely not the first time, and I’d be willing to bet a good chunk of chain that it’s not the last (and you’d be an absolute fool to bet against me on that one).

Then, she hit me with another gem…one I hadn’t heard before, but one that really struck a chord with me:

“You can’t just work all the time, all your life. What are you going to do with all that money? It’s not worth it, if you don’t have people to grow old with and look after you.”

My initial, instinctual reaction was to just allow the words to go in one ear and out the other, but over time, her words came back to haunt me. Coupled with the revelation that my mother and her friends were likewise on the lookout for “the one,” I found myself becoming more and more frustrated with the position I found myself in.

Before I really even knew much about boys and marriage, I knew one thing, and one thing alone: I was going to work for NASA. I loved space; I wanted to be an astronaut. That was the end of the story. No ifs, ands, or buts.

Sixteen years later, I found myself setting foot on the ground treaded by legends, past and present, realizing that dream I held for so long. Not merely a job, nor even a career…it’s the embodiment of something I envisioned before I was tainted or biased by societal expectations.

It's never been about money...about prestige. From the very beginning, it's been only about the fulfilling of an innate curiosity, an indulging in true, unbridled passion for the unknown, the unchartered.

Any vision of my life that I’ve ever known, or will ever know (I’m certain), has always included my passion for human spaceflight.

As I sit here, weeks after that conversation with my grandmother, and weeks after that revelation of my mother’s plans, and mere days after the nostalgic night with old friends, I’m left to wonder…as friends tie the knot, have adorable children, and nurture their families…

Will I be ostracized or frowned upon for being so in love with something?

Will my future hold a love that rivals that which I’ve shared with spaceflight (and music – my other, equally weighted passion)?

Or will I be left to cave to societal and familial pressures, compromising my beliefs and expectations, in the pursuit of externally anticipated happiness?