January 2009

My day has been full of ironic twists in what, i can only assume, is a karmic payback.
Bright and early this morning i headed to the doctor for that wonderful annual physical. All is good; weight, blood pressure, heart, lungs, reflexes, other parts. I had a couple of concerns which the wonder of google had me alternately feeling like a hypochondriac and on the verge of death by curious disease.
One thing was nothing. A lump is sometimes just a lump.
The other thing has me headed out in the morning for blood tests and CAT scans. You see, for a couple months when i engage in a certain activity, just as i get to the best part of that activity, i get a sudden onset migraine that feels more like my brain is about to explode. So, i've stopped doing that activity because i really didn't want my head to explode.
The doctor was a little concerned, but had heard of this problem before. Which is always a relief because i don't want to be some medical phenomenon.
He prescribed me a low dose of an antidepressant which has some success in relief of migraines. I can't help feeling like i am coming full circle. Just days after i write that big post about not taking medication, i am here, blue pills in hand.

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Thanks to schmutzie for that title.
I have been struggling in small and large ways recently. I vacillate between anxiety, paranoia and calmly accepting this life. At times i struggle with this feeling that the world is out to get me. That no matter how i try, how hard i work to be a good person, how i trudge forward to a better future – i am simply not capable of being the person the universe needs me to be. That i am doomed to a life of loneliness.
That when my children are grown i will be left an empty shell with no past, present or future.
I know that my children are, in many ways, my life's great work. I know that they are and will be amazing, generous, complicated creatures. But, will they look at me and wonder why i never did more. Why what i had was never enough.
I have always struggled with trying to be content with being a mother, a homemaker, a wife. Many women live happily in the privileged state that i exist. There is a home, food, clothing, toys – everything we could possibly need. Yet, i have wanted more. I want more.
I want success in something that i can wrap my fingers around. Something that will be respected and appreciated. Most of my twenties and thirties have flown by in this whirlwind of family. The shiny faced university graduate full of expectation and promise got lost. Now i approach middle age and i have not accomplished any of the things that young girl hoped to.
I have watched and supported my husband as he has turned drive and determination into a successful business. I think i am not alone in resenting this common position in a marriage. He has both the children and home and the success and respect from peers.
Doubled up with that is the frustration that if i was a middle aged man returning to the workforce my possibilities would be much less limited. It was not my dream to be a waitress. I do enjoy it. I love food and the mysterious dance of dining. I am too old to become a chef. It's hard enough for female chefs to garner respect or status, restaurants do not hire beginner chefs older than 35. It doesn't happen. It is a young man's game.
I don't even particularly want to be a chef. It has been one of many occupations i have rolled around in my head and crossed off a mental list.
I am frustrated. I wonder if being a mother was a socially respected and status garnering occupation i would feel any differently.

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