People often ask, “Am I alone in wondering what might have been?” No. In fact, these stories, in a sense, are everyone’s stories. Each of these people has experienced that sense of what might have been, the earnest expectations that were not met, the dreams that somehow got lost along the way. It’s true that some non-events might seem more significant than others, but who’s to say? Does a thwarted beauty queen feel less pain than a childless man? And how might these adults deal with their pain and give new shape to the future?
We all experience what might have been, what should have been, what did not happen—what I call non-events. Yet, much research and counseling advice focuses on marker events like marriage, childbirth, changing jobs, divorce, and being fired. Most of these events are observable; many have rituals and celebrations attached to them. Paying attention to non-events—what they are, how they change lives, and ways they can be transformed—is important. A series of studies at the University of Maryland and a book Susan Robinson and I wrote titled Going to Plan B: How You Can Cope, Regroup, and Start Your Life on a New Path examined the extensiveness of non-events and how people can cope.1 As a first step in the coping process it is important to
The following stories provide a picture of how non-events impact lives.
“I gave up my career to stay home and raise my children, but they did not turn out as expected. I had a picture of them with sweaters tied around their shoulders and going to eastern colleges. Instead, one who had to go to a special school now works in a grocery store. Another dropped out of school and hasn’t made a comeback. The third is a janitor. There is nothing wrong with them or what they are doing. I had spent my life expecting something different. I am so jealous when I read about other families where the children moved up and made something of themselves. Why do I walk around feeling depressed?”
“I always expected to be a parent. I love children, and feel I have a lot to give. My wife and I discovered we can never have children and my wife refuses to adopt. Am I going to spend the rest of my life angry at my wife and feeling cheated about not having children? I am really struggling with what to do now.”
“My father never realized his dream of becoming a physician. Instead he sells pharmaceutical supplies and is a chronically unhappy individual. The problem is that his lost dream has affected our whole family, including my mother, my sister, myself. You wouldn’t think someone else’s lost dream would affect so many lives. We walk around him as if on eggshells. Is there a healthier way for our family to function?”
We found that non-events occur in many areas: relationships that did not materialize; family problems such as infertility or not becoming a grandparent; career issues such as not getting a job, not being promoted, or missing an educational opportunity; and issues related to Self such as not shedding those extra pounds. In other words, people dream about love, family, success, legacy, and self-image.
Of course, life is not tidy—what starts out as a dream about career can impact dreams about self and family. The woman who discussed her fathers career disappointment—not becoming a doctor—has influenced the family. His depression affected his wife. His disappointment in himself was projected onto his adult children. He expected them to perform, perform, and perform some more.
The triggers can be external, like a colleague getting promoted while you are still in the same job; others are internal, like some highly personal reminders that an expectation may never be realized. Whether internal or external, the underlying issue relates to feeling “off-time.” Non-events are triggered when people feel that the events that they expected to occur in their lives should have already occurred and they are woefully behind. Despite what we know about variability in timing of transitions in adulthood, people still hold onto a picture of age-appropriate expectations.
Maria cried the night before her thirtieth birthday: “I don’t give a damn about a career. I want a baby and family. It has not happened, and I am beginning to believe it is never going to happen. I don’t want to celebrate my birthday.” For several reasons, Maria has decided that her timetable has not been met. She is Hispanic with a family-oriented cultural heritage, and her sense of timing has triggered a feeling of great loss.
At the same time, another single woman Maria’s age might be delighted that no family responsibilities interfere with a desire to advance her career. Clearly, what is a non-event and off-time for one person might be a desired state of affairs for someone else.
Generally, four types of non-events can be identified: personal, ripple, resultant, and delayed.
Personal non-events refer to individual aspirations and might include not having a baby, not being promoted, or never marrying. For example, a person who has been in the same job for twenty years might present an example of nothing happening externally, yet everything has changed internally—that is, the persons assumptions about competency and identity have been gradually shaken. The expected job change never occurred, altering that persons assumptions about competency and identity.
Ripple non-events refer to the unfulfilled expectations of someone close to us, which in turn can alter our own roles, relationships, and assumptions. We interviewed the parents of two young adults who describe their children to friends as “just fine.” Yet, they are upset because neither child has married. The parents are in their late sixties, and are not the grandparents or in-laws they expected to be. What is not happening to the adult children means that certain expected events are not happening to the parents. As we examine such disappointments more closely, we see that a non-event for one person may ripple significantly into another’s life.
Resultant non-events start with an event that leads to a non-event. Take the example of the mother who gives birth to a child with multiple disabilities. From this traumatic event may come the resultant non-event of never being able to have another child. Or consider a rejection from medical school: The resultant non-event is failing to become a physician. The events themselves have a beginning and an end. Not being a physician can last a lifetime.
Delayed events are paradoxical. In our interviews, we found that adults keenly felt the loss of their dreams, the fear of never realizing a cherished expectation. Yet, they can be convinced that possibly their losses are merely delayed events. During the middle years, whenever they come, people begin to face the possibility that they are experiencing non-events, not delayed events. They begin to give up hope, and lose confidence that they can make the dream come true. The question of when an unrealized dream becomes a non-event rather than a delayed event is not clear-cut.
Non-events differ in three critical ways: They can be hopeful or hopeless, sudden or gradual, in or out of ones control. The most crucial way in which they differ is in terms of the degree of hope surrounding these non-events. One man, a political exile, gave up all hope of ever returning to his country because of his political standing. And though his sadness remains, he has refused all offers of help. For him the situation is without remedy, and he is stuck in his private despair. Infertility, not having grandchildren, and rejection from a professional school are also viewed as hopeless. Absence of marriage, surprisingly, was not seen as hopeless. As long as there is breath, our respondents felt, there is a chance to meet the mate of ones dreams. Non-events perceived as hopeless will have the greatest impact on the adults who contend with them.
Some disappointments seem to broadside us suddenly. Ralph returned to college at age fifty, a hopeful turn after a sudden resultant non-event. He wrote on his non-event questionnaire: “I was groomed from childhood to some day run the family company. That was cut short when my father suddenly sold the business. After some agonizing, infuriating months, I have gone back to graduate school to study gerontology.” Ralph faced a number of events: his fathers sale of the business and his subsequent return to school. But what is often overlooked is the lost dream. Ralph wrote: “The non-event for me was that I had been groomed since childhood for a certain career. All my adult life, the company and its demands had been given first priority. This determined my relationship to friends, suppliers, employees, friends, wife, and family. My fathers precipitously selling the business—a definite event—caused me to no longer have the role for which I had been prepared.”
In a follow-up interview a year later, Ralph said, “When your pencil is broken you find out very rapidly who your real friends are. At home it was confusing to my children. I suddenly went from being the provider to a period of uncertainty and then, for want of anything better, I became a student. It was hard to suddenly have no office, no base. It also changed the way I saw myself. For years I had been the customer, not the vendor. I had no idea how difficult it is to sell oneself. But mostly I had expected to peak in my business career by age fifty. Instead, I am embarking on a new career. I am glad you are doing this study. Failure of a long-expected event to materialize can create more change in lifestyle, attitudes, social support than the occurrence of the event.” Some non-events are out of our control, such as infertility or not having grandchildren. But even career and personal non-events can be beyond our power—no matter how hard we strive to avoid them. One woman told us: “In 1977, when I entered the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley, California, I thought I would be one of the first women to be ordained as a Roman Catholic priest. The papacy became more conservative; the U.S. bishops weakened, and repression of forward-thinking church people was rising. It was out of my control. It was part of the structure and system of the church. It’s strange. I look the same to all my friends; I am doing the same thing I have always done, yet I feel so different. I am a perfect example of nothing happening but everything inside changing.” We asked how this thwarting of her vocation changed her life. She used words like “betrayed,” “angry,” “powerless” to describe her initial feelings. Over time, she mobilized her anger and founded an organization helping women who feel oppressed. She also entered a Ph.D. program, preparing to become a therapist.
Coping with non-events requires reexamining your dreams. The basic issue is whether or not you hold on to them, modify them, or give them up. Each person goes through a process, not necessarily in the same order, not necessarily covering every part of the process. This is a process that takes time. People often ask, “How long will it take?” It would be great to provide a definitive answer, but the amount of time depends on the person, the particular non-event, and the supports one has.
Since we usually do not acknowledge or talk about our non-events, the first step is to discover the non-event and give it a name. This has the double effect of diluting the power a non-event can have and of helping us take control of the situation. Strategies that give a non-event clarity include acknowledging it, labeling it, telling a story about it, and using metaphors to describe it.
When we first interviewed Betty, she said she thought the study was interesting, but it did not apply to her—she was in the midst of too many events, not non-events. She had just started a business, and she had two young children and a husband. Betty called back the next day asking for another interview. The realization had hit her: No, she had not experienced any non-events overnight, but she realized that her fathers lost dream, his non-event, had significantly influenced her life. She felt he was pressuring her to be a superb wife and mother, while achieving great success in her business. Living with a depressed father and a disappointed mother had not been easy. Their non-events had rippled unhappily into her life. She said that just hearing the term “non-event” had greatly helped her become aware of what had been going on in their family. The awareness of the concept enabled her to articulate what her parents’ problems were and how they influenced her.
Louis, who experienced a career non-event—he was passed over for promotion for seven years—did not know how to deal with this blow. Alternately, he felt anger, humiliation, even guilt that he should have performed better at work. His reactions were confusing and unsettling. Fortunately, he talked with his company’s human resource person, who helped him take a reality check. He realized he was in a dead-end situation. He began talking about his career non-event and his emotional reactions to it. This enabled him to stop blaming himself and focus his energies on career planning. He also developed a story to tell his friends. His new mantra became “It’s time for a change.”
It is important to tell a story about the non-event; the story will then demystify the experience. The question of how to acknowledge your non-events to others is very important. People do not usually go around saying, “Let me tell you about my career non-event, or the job offer that never came.” Unless you let others know you are experiencing a painful non-event, they will not know how to comfort you, or even that you need comforting. So telling a story, making your pain explicit, can also help mobilize others to mobilize you.
People are expected to grieve over events like a death or rejoice over events like a promotion. But how do we help others to deal with their grief over what did not happen—a baby never conceived, a book never published, a relationship that never materialized? Grieving for non-events is difficult because the reason for the grief is unrecognized by others. Once the non-event or loss is acknowledged and named, then coming to terms with it can occur.
Kenneth J. Doka studies “disenfranchised grief”—a special kind of grief that is not recognized by society.2 This is particularly applicable to non-events, since they are not public. There are no wakes, no chicken soup. The sadness is intensified: there is the loss of a loved one or dream and the loss of recognition from others. Labeling the grief and sharing it with others who are in a similar boat can be most helpful.
Some have started non-event support groups. For example, a support group for those sharing the loss of a dream can provide an opportunity for each person to state the particular lost dream and comfort others regarding their loss. It is easier to share with others experiencing similar pain—even if the lost dream is different—than to bury the emotions and try to go on. We need “good grief” before we can move on.
The next part of the process can be difficult because it requires letting go of old expectations and reframing the non-event. People often have difficulty changing their perceptions of themselves and the world and moving to a new vision. But shifting focus is necessary as we shape new goals by reframing our future selves and forcefully identifying a new dream, a new vision, or a new self.
We discussed the importance of rituals in the chapter on Strategies. But going back to Barbara Myerhoff’s work shows their relevance for non-events. A major way to assist transformations is through the use of rituals. Myerhoff discussed the role of rituals, ceremonies, or rites of passage as a way to help people separate from the past and move into a new place. Rituals help people make sense out of the contradiction and paradox of many transitions—the paradox being that there is no single truth, there are many truths; that individuals are part of the past, but also the future. Myerhoff describes three stages of any ritual: First, the individual is segregated as in a graduation ceremony; second, the ritual acknowledges the somewhat bewildering phase in which the individual is between the old and the new; and third, the ritual helps the individual move into a new identity.3
Unfortunately, non-events are too often bereft of rituals. And non-events need rituals even more than events. Yet, developing them is a bit more difficult. However, an article in Ms. magazine helps us see the endless possibilities for developing non-event rituals. The following announcement says it all:4
Alice and Carl Hesse
are pleased to announce their daughter
Susan A. Hesse
is settling into
joyous old maidhood
after which she shall cease
looking for Mr. Right
and begin giving
scintillating dinner parties and soirees.
To help celebrate this wonderful occasion
gift-place-settings
are available at
Macy’s Department Store. . . . .
Ask yourself how you can develop a ritual for your non-event. First, name your non-event. Let’s return to Janet, the eighteen-year-old who announced to her parents that she was not going to college, was moving out of their home and into an apartment with a roommate, and going to work as a waitress. The parents’ non-event was their disappointment with their daughters plans. Their expectation, based on their own experience, was that their daughter would be like all their friends’ children and move from high school to college.
Part of their ritual was to identify their emotional reactions to the non-event. Example: They were embarrassed, disappointed, even angry. They then designed a ritual to help them grieve for the past that might never have been and move them closer to the future, keeping in mind that the ritual needs to be a shared activity with an opportunity for acknowledging and naming the past and rehearsing for the future. Example: To ease their pain, they invited another family (the daughters’ godparents) over for a special dinner—a shared activity. They then made a speech to their daughter, giving her the money to install a phone but then saying she would have to pay the monthly bills. They also acknowledged her need to follow her own muse, stating that they would support any kind of future education or training when she was ready. Note: Their daughter eventually went to college, but the use of the ritual enabled the family to avoid the usual screaming fights that can attend such a decision. The ritual also helped the family define this transition as a positive, not a negative, transition.
Shifting focus is necessary as we shape new goals by reframing our future selves and forcefully identifying a new dream, a new vision, a new self. This includes taking stock, regaining control, and transforming the dream by imagining another more possible self.
As a small child David started playing the piano. At seven he was so talented that his music teacher had him do a solo performance. His mother, though not musical herself, made sure that he had lessons and instruments and went to musical events. At eleven David’s life abruptly changed. His mother died, his father lost all his money because of the Depression, and his father and he moved from a large home to a boardinghouse in New York City. David was an only child. There was no time for music and life was quite a struggle. His father eventually became extremely successful and was one of the best-known labor arbitrators in the country. But during the Depression he borrowed heavily to keep them going and to send David away to boarding school. They selected one near New York so they could see each other.
Although they selected the school for proximity, it turned out to be the perfect school for David. It emphasized music and sports—his two loves. He played in the band, wrote songs, and was valedictorian of his class. By the time he graduated, his father was on the road back financially.
His father wanted him to go to Harvard; instead David selected Bard, which was then part of Columbia University. Bard was less traditional and had a strong music department. He met another musician there and together they started writing songs, trying to sell them, and had great plans for a future career together.
David pointed out how significant historical events were in shaping his life. When he graduated, World War II was in progress and he enlisted. During the next five years he concentrated on staying alive and never played a piano or engaged in music. At the end of the war, he married his present wife, whom he had met at college. They moved into a tiny place in New York—so tiny there was no room for a piano. However, he arranged to place his piano with a friend and he practiced daily at the friends. He enrolled in a fine music school on the G.I. Bill, while his wife worked. His dream was to really move ahead in music. He felt that his wife supported this dream.
Once again external events—this time personal—interceded. He and his wife had decided not to have children until he finished his graduate work and was able to start supporting them. Very accidentally, his wife got pregnant. David began feeling tremendous pressure to move ahead with his career. He wrote to record companies in search of any kind of job in the music world. Letters went unanswered. He kept trying, but kept bumping into blind alleys.
Remembering the Depression, his father became frightened. He encouraged his son to move into the field of labor relations. David felt the pressure to move ahead and took a job in his fathers field. At the time he did not realize the significance of his decision. He did not realize that his whole life would change course and he would never know if he could have really had a career that excited him, about which he was passionate. In our discussion, David said it would be too easy to blame the Depression, the war, the baby for his inability to move into music. He acknowledged all those forces but feels that maybe deep down he was afraid, afraid of failure. Statistically, very few make it in music. He wonders if he maybe did not have the “fire in the belly.” He felt at the time he had no choice. As he looks back, he realizes he had a lot of choices.
For many years music played a significant role in his family life. At night there were music rituals to put their four children to bed; he played every night after work; and occasionally he talked to his old college buddy about trying to write songs professionally. Interestingly, three of his four sons entered the music field. David worries about them but is supportive of their dreams.
I asked David if he would agree that he reshaped his dream. He answered quickly, “I did not reshape my dream. I decided to go another way.” Although he is successful by his and others’ standards, he has a gnawing feeling that his life could have been different—more filled with passion and excitement with what he has loved since childhood.
David’s case is instructive. What happened? How did David become a labor mediator/arbitrator rather than a musician? What forces shaped his life? How did the events and non-events in his life interact? What was his role in this decision? Was it in his control? Was it sudden? Has it led to despair?
David is able to look at his life and see the interplay of circumstances, history, and himself. He is also able to see the influence of events and non-events on his life. His is not a tragic story. It is a story of a man’s life; it shows the importance of many factors in shaping one’s life; it shows that any individual’s life could have been lived many ways.
It is important to examine your lost dreams and make proactive decisions about what to do. Ask yourself, Is your non-event in your control? Is it time to let go and move on? Should you hold onto the dream and keep trying to make it? The dilemma is when to hold on to hope using new strategies or when to reshape the dream all together.
Coping with non-events may demand special strategies, since most non-events are hidden, most are losses, and there is usually no rehearsal for them. As you proceed with your own dream reshaping, you will need to assess which coping strategies to use. Richard Lazarus and Susan Folkman provide a means to organize your thinking.5 They found that most strategies fall into one of two categories—problem-focused, which center on changing the source of the stress; and emotion-focused, which help people manage their feelings and change their thinking.
If you still have hope that your non-event is merely delayed, use problem-focused coping. For example, a young woman who had written a successful first novel spent a year trying to write her second one. She only wrote one chapter. She finally let go of that novel and is trying to think up another idea. But she has a Plan B if necessary—to return to magazine writing. However, she is not ready for Plan B. She is strategizing on ways to make her novel writing work out. She has several plans—to either go to a writers retreat or join a writers group.
If after several years she finds she cannot write the next book, she will go to emotion-focused coping. She will need to manage her emotions, grieve for her lost dream of becoming a novelist, and embrace Plan B, which still involves writing but not her original dream. All of us have scripts for our lives, some of which are interrupted and do not go according to plan. All of us have surprises—some positive, others negative. We cannot count on life just following a neat, arranged, linear script. Part of life is having alternative plans—from A through Z.
It is now time to go back to the 4 S System. As you deal with lost dreams that are lost forever, or ones that have a chance of becoming real you still need to garner all the resources you can. So, look at your Situation, Supports, Self, and coping Strategies. It is easy enough to plan on going to a writers retreat, but what is your Situation? If you have an ill family member and no one to take over your caretaking role, your Situation is not good for going on a retreat. However, if you have strong substitute Supports, and if you can deal with any guilt feelings about leaving, maybe this is the time to go to the retreat. In other words, asses your resources, strengthen those that need it, and try to deal with your non-events.
Be aware that what looms as a lost dream for one person might not be an issue for someone else. In the long run, we are all looking for hope to outlast the broken dreams and for promise to ease the sorrow of defeat. By giving non-events their place in adult development, we can better understand that sometimes when nothing happens, everything changes.
Name your non-event: ________________________
What type is it? Personal, ripple, resultant, or delayed? _____________________________________________
Do you feel hopeful that you can turn your non-event into an event?
If so, what problem-focused strategies will you use? _____________________________________________
If not, what emotion-focused strategies will you use? _____________________________________________
Will you go through the dream reshaping process of discovering, grieving, refocusing, reshaping? _____________________________________________
Rate your resources for coping:
Your Situation—Is it a strong resource? A weak resource?
Your Supports—Do you have good supports? Weak supports?
Your Self—Are you optimistic and resilient?
Your Strategies—Do you use lots of strategies?