When I was twenty, I fell in love with my partner’s ambition.
It was his dream to own a restaurant, and I admired his willingness to do so reject a traditional 9-to-5 to build something yourself.
He entered the industry as a teenager, worked his way up to general manager of a local restaurant in his mid-20s and eventually became a partner there. By the age of thirty, he had achieved the dream he had pursued for years: becoming the sole owner of the restaurant.
It’s been exciting to watch him get closer to that goal over the years, and I’ve been proud to support him along the way – but now, in my early 30s, I realize how much of my own future I put on hold waiting for that dream to pay off financially.
Sometimes the restaurant felt like a third person in our relationship
When we were first dating, I loved that my partner had such a specific dream. Rachel LaBella
At first, supporting him felt like laying the foundation for the future we were building together.
When we were younger, money wasn’t a big concern, and I believed that the financial instability we sometimes felt was a temporary trade-off.
But dating a restaurant owner means that the business is often a third presence in our relationship. Worries about payroll, rent, equipment repairs and loans don’t go away when the workday is over.
During the slower months, when every dollar he earned went back into the business, I became the one responsible for keeping us afloat. I paid our bills. Holidays were cancelled. More than once I had to borrow money from my parents to make rent.
Over time, his career began to shape mine as well. I’m a writer and I’ve always wanted the freedom to pursue my own creative ambitions, but our circumstances forced me to prioritize stability.
While my partner reinvested a large part of what he earned in the restaurant, I stayed there for years corporate roles because we needed the security of a steady salary.
The irony is not lost on me. One of the qualities that I was so attracted to in the first place was his willingness to reject a conventional career path and pursue his dreams.
However, in order to support his ability to do this, I have often had to choose a more conventional path myself.
Now I’m starting to feel like we’re running out of time
In our 20s, delaying major life milestones didn’t really have any consequences. For years I told myself I could wait.
If we weren’t ready buy a housethere was always next year. If money that could have gone to savings had to go back to the restaurant, I told myself it was temporary. Despite the setbacks and financial stress, I believed we were investing in our future.
Then I reached the end of my twenties.
Friends started buying houses, getting married, having children and building wealth. I was genuinely happy for them, but as I saw them moving forward, I also worried that we had fallen behind.
Sometimes it felt like I was standing on the sidelines, cheering on my partner’s dream while I waited for our own lives to begin.
Surviving cancer changed what I want from my future
Another turning point came when I was diagnosed with breast cancer at 30.
Before cancer, the future felt limitless. Later I understood how dangerous it is to assume that there will always be more time. Cancer taught me that “someday” is not a guarantee, and I became less willing to put off the life I wanted.
In the aftermath of treatment, I found myself craving stability in a way I had never had before. I wanted to feel like my life was moving forward.
I started asking myself the questions that had been in the back of my mind for years. Would we ever own a house? Would I be happier if money wasn’t always a source of stress? Had I spent so much energy supporting someone else’s dream that I had neglected parts of my own?
Ultimately, I found myself asking a question that would once have been unthinkable: Is love enough?
I have learned that several things can be true
Recently my partner and I have had many conversations about our plans for the future. Rachel LaBella
These are not feelings I have kept to myself.
We’ve had countless of them over the years conversations about money and the future we both want. My partner has never rejected my feelings, and he is very grateful for the sacrifices I have made.
I don’t regret supporting his dream, but that doesn’t take away my sadness about the milestones I sometimes wish we had achieved by now: a house, more financial securityand a greater sense of certainty about the future.
I have realized that I can be proud of what he is building and still wish our path required fewer sacrifices. I’m still trying to figure out what that means for us.
I don’t want him to give up on what he’s worked so hard for, but I also don’t want to confuse patience with procrastination, or love with an indefinite willingness to wait. Most of all, I don’t want to wake up one day and realize I’ve spent too much of my life waiting for it to start.
