My Pre-Midlife Crisis

Righteous Indignation

Lately, I'm having a problem with anger. Or, more accurately, anger is having a problem with me. It nags me at work, makes me itch in the afternoon, gives me headaches and makes me cry in the car on the way home at 5, keeps me awake at 1 am, and makes me long for revenge. Maybe I still have too much testosterone.

Perhaps it is year "34" about to slap me in the face and tell me that midlife is fast approaching. Perhaps it is doctors and research articles that tell me if only I would have tried to have children earlier in life instead of getting an education and building a career path, that I might not be in the current "subfertility" situation I am now. Perhaps it is me missing my grandmother and remembering her funeral three short years ago. Perhaps it's thinking about my mother having surgery for breast cancer at 57. Perhaps it's an ex-husband who appears to be as happy as a clam with his new fun-loving wife. Perhaps its my raging libido the doctor tells me may go away as we treat my PCOS. Perhaps it's the teaching position I gave up to come to Kentucky and my current job that treats me like a well-paid secretary. Perhaps it is the buildup of the things I think I've been cheated out of in life so far. Either way, anger is not a pleasant state to live in.

I'm reminded of the Linda Rondstadt song written by Phil Everly called "When Will I Be Loved"

It goes:
I've been cheated
Been mistreated
When will I be loved
I've been put down
I've been pushed 'round
When will I be loved

I've always loved that song, even though I imagine I've been loved many times in life. But those who love us inevitably disappoint us. We expect those people who hate us to disappoint us, but not those who truly have our best interest at heart. Sometimes I listen to that song and I think it's the ultimate feminist dilemma. We are hurt, and angry, and frustrated women. We seek comfort in independence and autonomy ("No one will ever hurt me again!") yet feel an overwhelming need in our isolation for someone to love us ("Please let me meet someone special!"). No matter how many letters we tack on after our names - BA, MA, PhD - no matter how many accolades we receive, we still want someone to love us.

So, why isn't God's love enough? I know it should be all I need. My church tells me that, my Bible tells me that, yet I am angry. I know God loves me with more love than I can ever think of using up. Yet I am still pissed off because of what I don't have here on earth. How absurd.

I once read a quote from somebody or other (yeah, I'll give that person credit when I figure it out), that went something like this:

"When I was sitting around singing "Someday My Prince Will Come", someone should have slapped me across the face and screamed "He's not coming! He's never coming!"

I have fantasized about a lot of things my whole life. I fantasized about what my education and career would be like (I was close there), what my husband would be like (way, way off on that one), what my family would be like, what kinds of things I'd do on vacation (what's a vacation?), and what kinds of crazy, spontaneous, and exciting things I would do in life and who I would do them with.

So far, I've not guessed well. I've been to Mexico, tried alcohol when I was 21, got drunk several times in college, tried smoking when I was 21 and gagged so hard I thought I would cough up a lung. I tried pot and was unimpressed. I learned how to make a Cosmopolitan. I've had great sex. I've sung the national anthem at horse racing. I've been married twice now and divorced once. I know how to cook, but not sew. I speak Spanish well enough to get by. I have 2 cats, but no children (I would have thought by now I'd have 1 cat and 2 children - and no ex-husband). I created a blog.

Smoking and drinking are complete bores. And few people want to listen to me sing anymore as I am not thin and pretty anymore, nor is my voice as well-trained as it once was. I can cook, but the things I cook well have made me and everyone I love fatter.

I am disappointed. I wanted far more adventure and excitement out of life, and I wanted a partner who would want those things to. Oh, the adventures I dreamed we would have. Now, our adventure is sitting in front of the television. We do not go out on dates. The movies we watch come from Netflix. Our big adventure this past weekend was going to the mall (1 store in the mall - we never even entered "the" mall itself) and buying my husband 2 pair of dress pants. The weekend prior, our big adventure was going to the farmer's market and the library booksale. This was perhaps the most excitement I have had since Christmas (except my trip to the ER in Georgia with my husband that I wrote about earlier). When I mentioned the farmer's market in Sunday School as being the "high" of my week, the teacher remarked, "Wow, it's a pretty bad week when your biggest high is buying produce." I laughed about that all week.

I guess I need to get out and make some friends and build my own adventures apart from my husband. I guess you really can't sit around singing "Someday my prince will come..." You'll be waiting a long, long time.

posted by No Longer In Crisis @ 4/25/2005 05:10:00 PM