It's only reasonable to assume that
our priorities will inevitably change. Life isn't static. It's to our
advantage to maintain a flexible priority list in order to cope with
demands as we're bombarded with them from various directions. As we age,
we go through some distinct phases of changing priorities.
Starting with our vantage point as
infants, we are the sole priority. Our relatively
limited perspective serves our purpose well at this early state of life.
We cry if we're hungry, need changing, or otherwise need attention. Our
vocal volume is often directly proportional to the resultant response. But
this perspective doesn't (or at least shouldn't) last forever.
By the age of 5 to 7 (or much sooner,
especially if we have younger siblings), we begin to interact and
socialize more as we notice a competition with others who are also seeking
to have their own needs met. We must soon come face to face with the stark
realization that there are times when we are expected (or required) to
share what we have with others. Usually, this isn't initially an easy
concept to embrace. I recall being told of a story involving my older
brother when he was young. He was given two identical balloons and told to
give one to his little friend. One of the two balloons met an almost
immediate end, whereon he told the adults that, "Hers broke!"
When we were young we might have
wanted to be a fireman, an astronaut, or a professional sports hero. But
usually we reach a juncture where we recognize that these early hopes and
desires are best focused in other directions. Rather than looking at these
new realizations as failure or surrender, it is more beneficial to pursue
our current passions rather than lackadaisically going through the motions
toward something we're no longer convinced that we really even want.
The socialization process continues
as we make friends, and then later as we move on to more intimate
relationships where there is another shift in the balance of priorities.
We like how we feel when we're around this other person, so we're willing
to take on the role of partner, protector, or provider—where
another individual becomes a central priority for us and actually helps to
define who we are.
If we have children, the cycle begins
again. A disproportionate amount of time and energy is now focused on that
young, vulnerable baby. Gradually, as their needs change, we have a
corresponding shift in responsibility (and our priorities) as we attempt
to provide for their evolving needs.
When the last child moves out, there
is often a wake-up call or the "empty nest syndrome" where all
the energy that has been devoted to the upbringing of that young person is
tested as they go out on their own. While this may be greatly anticipated
during the 17-plus years of child-rearing, the consequences can be
frightening or bewildering. Part of this is the forced realization that
we're no longer young, of our own mortality, as well as assessing what we
have (and haven't) accomplished in our lives.
Any time when there is a dramatic
change in the household or family structure, it is followed by a period
where one must adjust to the "loss". Even in cases where an
unpleasant situation comes to an end it is often followed by a sense of
disorientation. What is going to replace it? What should the new priority
be for using that time and energy? You may want to refer to Dealing
With Change on this site for a refresher on this concept.
Generally, it is advantageous to
maintain focus and make steady progress toward our goals. But it's also
crucial to periodically re-evaluate the current appropriateness of those
goals. Circumstances may have changed. Perhaps as we grow and evolve, we
don't have the same passion for what we once did. If we aren't invigorated
and excited by where we're focusing our energies, it's probably time to
make some changes in our personal priority lists.