I spent this past weekend with friends in Pennsylvania; it was the usual comforting, warm and laughter filled time we have each and every visit. One night we sat under a tent, the humid rain-filled world around us, as we clinked wine glasses and shared secrets. That’s what girlfriends do. Even in mid-life (as they say), that’s what we do. That’s how we roll.
Tears immediately filled my eyes as I was overcome with gratitude; it was the same feeling I experience when I know someone has read my writing and it was meaningful to them.
What I didn’t expect to hear was this:
“Oh and by the way Les, you’re not broken”.
And there it was – and now I was really trying to hold back the tears. We talked a little bit and I creatively changed the subject to get the spotlight off me, but the validation and reassurance I got from my girls was priceless.
I truly believe that my feelings of brokenness come largely from what I see in the world; how I think I should be and what I think I should be doing. I’m aware enough to know things are usually not how they appear, and to be careful what you wish for!
But at 48, I just wish I fit in a tiny bit more; I wish I was a just a little bit more mainstream.
I’m mostly OK with the place I’m in now and have plans! I truly miss being in a relationship but needed some time to heal from the last one and this year, I’ve been more focused on creating a family, not dating.
When one is in the throws of a depressive episode, it’s nearly impossible not to feel broken! And I figure that’s pretty normal thinking for distorted thinking time!
So, my broken may not = others definitions but I want people to see that having any kind of mental or …
I frequently look down, expecting to see shards and bits and pieces of me that have fallen to the ground – physical proof that I am broken. Like defective pottery cast aside, I expect the pieces to lie at my feet.
I am 48, yet I own no home.
I am 48, yet never have I heard the words “Will you marry me?”
I am 48, yet no letters appear after my name on my business cards.. like PHD or MD or PA or DMD. Not even BP!..which might not be such a bad idea!
I am 48, yet no kids call for me in the middle of the night because they have had a bad dream.
I have not fit in to what our society expects one to do now have I? I am most certainly not the “norm”.
I have never fit into neat little columns titled “The Way It Is Supposed To Be”. But OH how I want to. Oh how I long to “be like everybody else”.
What bothers me the most is that I have never been anybody’s wife. It was so easy to happen I guess. Staying in too many long relationships that should have ended, I did the best I could. I didn’t know. If someone would have told me how fast time would move? Well, then I might have acted differently. Or perhaps, I would have not.
I am not a person who regrets. I think wishing I had made different choices in the past is a waste of energy. So this writing is a bit of a contradiction.
If you read my blog, you know that I am a positive (often nauseatingly so) person. But this “broken” thing? Well, it has taken me to my knees of late.
Call it mid life or call it lonely but whatever it is, it is jumping up and down wildly, trying to get my attention.