Sam and I knew we were going to be married pretty much before we started dating. Somehow, I just knew in my heart from very early on that I was going to be doing this dating thing for the last time with him. We were friends with the intention of dating for a whole summer before we agreed it was time to be boyfriend and girlfriend; by the fall, I knew more about him than anyone else and was sure that I loved him.

By December, we decided to approach my parents about the fact that we were sure about each other and that while it wouldn’t be tomorrow, this was it. I think that freaked my parents out. Sam just started a new job in construction. I just got my license to sell insurance. We were two twenty-somethings still living with parents and didn’t know how we were going to get there.

In every good marriage, there’s a worrier and someone who is not easily rattled. In mine, I take the position of the worrier, and Sam is the one who is always telling me to let things go. Even if you’re not married, you probably know whether you’ll end up being the worried one or the other half who will constantly be telling your spouse to take a breath and change their perspective.

I am dissatisfied. I don’t want to be but I am. It’s so easy to fall into a habit of discontentment. As a young person, I was taught that there would be so much to accomplish in all the areas of my life. I was praised by others constantly for my potential, talents, and promise. Naturally, as you grow older and make decisions in your life, it feels like that endless potential you’re told about when you’re in school grows limits. And that's a hard feeling to grapple with. You think to yourself: I’m almost x years old! I thought I’d have accomplished this by now! I thought I’d have this much in my bank account! I thought I’d be in a much easier place! Where did all that potential go?