Sorrow, thy name is love

Anticipation has got to be the worst state of human existence.  Particularly when, as now, the event to occur has such potentially devastating implications for the future.  What future?  My future, my almost-husband's, and ours together.  That's three, not two.  That has been the most illuminating realization borne of this process:  by welding our lives together, we have created an entirely new being in "us."  "Us" is a thing on its own; "us" exists as a new reality.  "Us" can thrive or perish.  

I became aware of "us" in the context of likely the biggest and most important decision of our (future) marriage, aside from the obvious decision to get married.  We are making the rank list of ENT programs, in order of preference, that will be submitted and eventually determine where we will live for the next 5 years of our lives.  For those of you unfamiliar with the idiotic process, after medical school, one does not simply get a job offer.  That would not be special enough.  Instead, you apply to all of the programs you'd like to attend, they may or may not offer you an interview (for which you must pay airfare, hotel, transportation, etc.), and then you make a list from 1 to however many interviews you get, in order of preference.  The programs in turn rank you, alongside all of the other candidates to whom they gave interviews, and you both submit the list to a computer database.  The computer database organizes your list, their list, the list of every medical student in the country, the list of every medical program in the country, and produces a mathematical algorithm.  On March 16, 2012, every medical student in the country will sit in the auditorium of their respective schools, and hear their name called in front of their peers and family.  They will walk onstage and receive an envelope containing the name of the program with whom they have "matched."  Cue happy face/sad face/celebration/suicide.  Bam.  For five years.  As soon as you open that envelope, you have entered into a binding 1-year minimum contract with that particular program.  

I am in the uncomfortable position of side-liner.  My future is tied to his, and to that damn rank list.  I get a say, of course, but ultimately, his professional career is at stake.  He wants to rank #1 a program in California.  I want to rank #1 a program in New York City.  The reasons for why we have our choices are many, and all are valid and important.  Individually, the validity of each reason is rendered irrelevant by the fact that we ultimately disagree.  I feel fucking sick just saying it.  

Where is there room for compromise?  How do we compromise?  And what are the consequences for the "us"?  Either way, one of us is disappointed, embittered, saddened.  One of us feels trampled, betrayed, alienated.  The other feels guilty, selfish, tyrannical.  Technically, one will win, but in any case, the "us" loses, its future tragically threatened.  I've been so blindsided by the reality of how fucking precarious the existence and longevity of "us" truly is.  I'm so naive for believing that we were different, that our love was stronger than average and would be sufficient to overcome such obstacles.  But it is so easily broken!  I can see how it happens without consideration.  I can see the seed of resentment planted, the initial hope and effort eventually strangled by the reality of disappointment.  I can see the blame, the bitter accusation, the dashed dreams and pain of resignation.  I really can understand how people can get there, and for the first time I see in us the potential.  

How to decide on a course of action?  Shall I be honest?  I assert my choice, I steamroll him, and I get what I want; but I lose a part of his trust.  The seed is planted and resentment grows.  He won't ever forget how I took away his dream of success, his chance at a top tier program;  how I put myself before him, and my needs before his.   He blames me whenever thinks of what he gave up, silently and subconsciously cursing my selfish resolution.  Shall I bend to his choice?  I leave my family, move to the suburbs, give up my dream (which used to be our dream) of living in New York, and I go with him.  I am alone constantly while he happily pursues his choice.  I become desperate to make it work, but whenever I feel sad, lonely, or uncomfortable, my subconscious reaction is to curse him.  I become depressed.  I don't want him to see it, don't want to disturb his happiness, but I keep sinking, knowing he can't pull me back up, because it's not enough, we can't change it now, we're stuck in a cycle of blame and hurt.  

In either circumstance, the "us" suffers.  No matter who wins, we lose in the end.  Neither of us can change how we feel, and neither can we prevent the future from coming.  I choke up when I talk to him about it.  He probably thinks I'm crying because I want my way.  But in truth I am so scared of losing him, and so scared that the breakdown of  "us"  is inevitable.  Impressing upon me for the first time is the reality of how hard our marriage will be, and how stupid I am for thinking I understood that before.  Can two people, each having a strong will of their own, ambition, and desires, ever truly compromise?  And what does that word even mean?  Does a successful relationship require one person who compromises, and the other inflexible?  I truly hate ending with questions, but I can do nothing but anticipate...