Thursday, April 11, 2019

What A Girl Wants


I went back to White House Road for my walk today and honestly, it's a most beautiful road. The trees, the farmland, the wildflowers that grow in the ditches. I walked far enough to see the friendly cracker cows that hang out in a field. Right after I took that picture the one in the back laid his chin over the neck of the spotted one and rubbed gently. It looked like love to me.

I've been in a funk of despair the last few days. Hard to explain, even to myself, but I've just felt so worthless. So pointless. So useless. All of those -less words.
Perhaps the real problem is that I feel less than I used to in some way. My husband asked me last night what the matter was and I ended up saying, "Here I am, almost sixty-five years old and I'm a housewife and not even a very good one!"
This is quite true.
And I have always felt a bit of unworthiness at just being a housewife. Of course I've had other jobs in my life. I mean, real jobs. Where they pay you. Which is what our society bases worth on, right? And in my heart I've always felt that being a housewife and a mother is absolutely a worthy occupation but there was always part of me that felt that if I went out and got a well-paying job (say, as a nurse which I was educated to be), my husband would not have to work so hard.
But I could not figure out how to be a good wife, a good mother and an income earner all at the same time. And I knew and I KNOW that many women can do this but I just never could. And thankfully wasn't forced into it.
But all of that is behind me and I am actually at an age where many people retire from their "real" jobs and even my husband is choosing the hours he wants to work and he is doing things that make his soul happy and he would gladly support me in every way to do things that make my soul happy and he does.
But when it comes to figuring out what I would like to do in that vein, I can never figure it out. Toss in my neurosis about leaving behind what is comfortable to me (am I agoraphobic or do I really just like my house a lot?) and it's hard. And now I've reached the age where I get mail every day that reminds me that I am about to qualify for Medicare, I feel time breathing down my neck. There is also the mirror for a reminder and the almost constant pain in my joints is absolutely another.
And it all boils down to...WHAT THE FUCK DO I WANT? 

And then I feel guilty for even having those thoughts because I am one of the luckiest women on earth and have far more than I ever could have dreamed, especially when it comes to love and family.

But you know, I'm human.

There are some dreams that I've had that I'll never get my hands on. Some of them because I haven't made the effort to achieve them, some because they are the sort of dreams that would require the absolute participation in and shared enthusiasm of my husband and that simply doesn't always happen.
He's probably never going to get his thousand acres on a lake, either. Or is it a hundred? Either way, probably not although if I died tomorrow I think that within a year he'd be figuring it out.
And of course our fleeting plan to move to either Mexico or Costa Rica for our retirement ended the second Owen was born. I mean...we are just not the twice-a-year-visits sort of grandparents.

And so all of this has been weighing on me and yesterday I scrubbed all of the toilets for the ten thousandth time of my life and that somehow just nailed it for me- I will always be scrubbing toilets. And when I die, someone else will do it and life will go on and so WHAT THE FUCK?

Or something like that.

So I took my walk this morning and I've been to Publix and I've done some ironing and it occurs to me that what I might really want is a swimming pool. Cheaper than a beach house. We've discussed this before and Mr. Moon is not as enthusiastic about the idea as I am although it would be good for both of us in so many ways. And where I'd like to put it is right where eight Bradford pears are growing and they need to be taken out.

Maybe it's not a swimming pool I really want. Maybe what I really want is to be able to kneel and get up without having to think about it and gather my forces before I attempt it. Maybe what I want is the impossible- to be young again.
Or at the very least, not in pain again.
To dance again without knowing that I look like an old person dancing.
To be able to put on lipstick and see a me in the mirror that's pretty cute.
To be able to spell words that I used to be able to spell without a thought. To be able to remember words that I can't remember now.
And I'm not stuck on all of this. I accept and I cherish being a grandmother.
But somehow I'm just not finished wanting what I want. Whatever that is.
I am so grateful to still be able to move my body even if it does hurt. I am so grateful that I can still grow food and shop for food and cook food.
Real food.
I am so grateful that my grandbabies like me and probably even love me.
But that's not all of it.
And dammit, since I have lived this long which is far longer than I ever thought I'd live, I don't want the last years of this life to be one compromise after another. Some of that is inevitable.
But.
I still want to be a little wild sometimes.
I still want to be amazed sometimes.
I still want to be Mary.
I want to not be done living until I actually die.

And isn't that okay?

Meanwhile, I need to get off my mental ass and figure out a few things that I want to do and then just do them.
Easier said than done.
But I really want to try.

And now I'm going to go cook a giant mustard green leaf. And a few other things.

God. Supper's going to be late again. My poor husband.

Love...Ms. Moon




33 comments:

  1. this speaks to me Mary in so many kindred ways........... I feel this way many days. What is the answer? Keep on...... as I am trying to so also. You put it into words so beautifully, thank you.
    Susan M

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    1. As always, Susan, I have no answers. I only have questions and feelings and doubts and of course hopes. And I think that we all do. I am just so grateful that we have this community to share all of this with. Thank you for being part of that.

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  2. I hope with the entirety of my heart that your blog is online forever. I wish I had the ability to explain why I say that after reading a post like this, but I don't so I won't really try. I'll just say that once again I'm floored by how you can write out thoughts and feelings that we all have and you nail it so perfectly.

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    1. Jill, you have no idea how incredibly meaningful those words are to me. If I can write what others feel, then I think I have served my purpose. Thank you.

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  3. I'm going through something similar, Mary. I'll soon be 63. I've had back-to-back Achilles' tendon repair surgeries, and learned that I'll always walk with a limp and have pain. My bones snap, crackle and pop every time I move, I finally know what 'stoved up' really means, and three weeks ago I broke my right wrist and the worst thing of all is using the bathroom (actually, what comes after) left-handed. You and I are VERY lucky, Mary, to have super hero husbands who love us anyway.

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    1. Oh god. Really? That sounds like too much and yet, this is what age is and what age does to us. It's horrifying and it's humbling. That may be the exact word I've been searching for- humbling.
      And yes, those of us who have partners who love us despite, because and through all of it are the luckiest ones. May all of us so blessed realize that.

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  4. Hi Mary, another beautifully written post which completely resonates with how I'm feeling at the moment too. You may not get paid for this blog but you sure are a very accomplished WRITER in addition to being a home maker and wife, mother and grandmother extraordinaire.Thank you for your words every day, you make a difference. Love Blods xxx

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    1. Well, in some ways I feel as if it is just my fate to do what I do for love whether that is keeping house or raising children or writing. And I know how lucky I am for this to BE my fate.
      But it is the comments like this which make me feel more than paid, more than reimbursed for what I do. And that, plus the love- well.
      Thank you.

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  5. How about volunteering in schools? You are great with kids!

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    1. Oh, I have spent my time volunteering in classrooms. Trust me. But that is something I might consider at some point.

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  6. you can come into my classroom any time. nursing experience is a plus....even though it's a long commute up here to the mitten.

    i always feel transitional in the spring. like everything is in bloom but me. my best advice is keep doing the things that tie you to the things that matter most- for me it's getting outside and away from the chaos of the classroom as the year winds down.

    sending love, peace and xanax in case that don't work-

    xxalainaxx

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    1. Your take on spring is really interesting and I completely understand it. Yeah. It would be a long commute but it would definitely be worth my doing if I could. More for me than for your kids.
      I just love you. "...love, peace, and xanax..." Phew. Amen.

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  7. Mary, you are a writer and a wonderful observer of the curious world. I think there is book inside you knocking at your heart. I suspect it is your own story. Maybe spend half an hour a day exploring what's there. Start anywhere. In my life, I have felt most at odds with myself when I wasn't writing. The book world is both more closed and more open now. Dont worry yet about publishing this book inside you. Just write it without judging it. There is so much there inside you. We glimpse it here, and hang on your every word. I love you so.

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    1. You know what, dear sister-woman? I will take that under advisement. I will ponder. Thank you. For you to say these words means a whole hell of a lot. And perhaps it is finally time. I love you.

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  8. Maybe the title of your book is "Keith and Me." I bet you think I'm joking, lol, i'm actually not.

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    1. Ha! I'm sure that Keith would be thrilled. But I see your point here and I will take that under advisement too.

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  9. I think you're beginning to feel what most people feel as they age, that their time is past, that they are no longer relevant, that they have nothing left to offer, which I imagine is exactly how I'll feel once I am no longer working.

    Even though I've been nursing for thirty-three years, it's only been in the last ten years that I've been working full-timeish. For most of my adult life I was a mother first and then a nurse. I don't think you can ever stop being a nurse though.

    Now I can't remember the point I was trying to make. LOL.

    Sending hugs and love.

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    1. I think that you're right- once a nurse, always a nurse. And even though my experience working as one was limited, I believe I've always been one, even as a small child. And yes, I do believe I am having what one might call an old-age crisis. What does one do when their lives of nurturing as mother, wife, friend, and yes, nurse, end?
      We shall see, won't we?

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  10. I wish you felt better. I wish I felt better. I wish I knew how to fix it all. I guess I'll just go get my toenails cut. I like Gina, my chiropodist. I'm glad google knows how to spell most everything. Take care. At least we all love each other.

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    1. I call google my back-up brain. And I fucking mean it with all of my heart. With any luck, it will give me a few extra years of feeling as if I am at least semi-okay.
      I wish you knew how to fix it all too.
      But loving each other- that's better than anything.

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  11. supper is always late here. and what you have, Mary, is life. all those wants and desires and urges just mean that you are living. and when you stop having all those wants and desires and urges then you will be dying and ready for it. there are many things I want to do that I know I won't, like retire in Mexico or costa Rica or Portugal because I won't go without the whole family and uprooting the whole family will be impossible. but I have, in recent years, done things I thought I would never get to do like travel to other countries. and btw, after the thrill of a pool wears off it's just something else that needs constant maintenance. like the toilets.

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    1. I know- we can't go without family. Who knew what a bit of unprotected sex would lead to forty years down the line? It's rather mind-boggling, isn't it?
      We had a pool once. I loved it. We also had a pool guy who came by once a week and performed magic and it was beautiful.

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  12. I love the horns on those cows!

    Desire is human nature. None of us ever stop wanting. If you had a pool you'd still want. If you moved to Costa Rica you'd still want. It's just the way we are. It's not even real -- it's just a drive within us, disconnected from reality.

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    1. Well, I agree with you on a Buddhist level but on a Florida level, I really do want a pool.

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  13. Life is hard. Chronic pain sucks. CBD oil might really help with the dismal feeling as well as the pain.

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    1. Am trying it. Sometimes I think it helps, sometimes I don't.

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  14. We know how to put ourselves down, don't we now.
    You are a mother, a gardener, a cook, a baker, a WRITER, a carer, a grandmother, a poultry keeper, a nurse, a survivor, a nuturer . . .
    get a pool if you need it, better still get a natural pond for swimming, get all the gadgets and extras you can buy, whatever, but don't belittle your power and your life's achievement and all your amazing skills!!!

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    1. Thank you, Sabine. I do appreciate all that sweetness.
      A pond isn't really good for swimming in this part of the world. It quickly becomes too overtaken by vegetation and animal life. Lovely to look at but not where I'd want to swim. There is that beautiful river down the road a few miles though...

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  15. I'm with Steve Reed -- I think so much suffering is born of desire -- the constant desire to be something, do something, all of it. And I don't necessarily think we need to stop desiring to stop suffering. I'm also with 37 paddington, thinking you have a book within you, if you so desire. I'm dragging my ass these days about everything -- age, loss of beauty, my incapacity to finish my book, all of it. Sometimes I even want to be dead and quiet. Your posts help me -- what you grapple with helps me.

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    1. I know exactly what you mean and I love you for being brave enough to say that sometimes you even want to be dead. Because my mother threatened suicide continuously my entire life I just can't ever bring myself to say that but sometimes I just feel...tired.
      And it doesn't mean I really want this all to end. I just need some peace and yes, quiet.
      I'm not sure how I look at the desiring of things. Too much is just ridiculous but this world is filled with so much that we can experience that I feel like we're meant to desire some of it. And there are so many levels of that. Desire for love and safety is different than the desire for a Porsche. Things are just things. I know that. I should have made more of a distinction in my post.

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  16. Well, I read this days after you posted it, so this comment will probably pass you by. But, reading your thoughts gave me a physical “turn”, as my grandmother would have said. I’m in a similar place, feeling physical limitations but mostly mental and emotional ones. I want to do SO MUCH. I actually do so little that truly nourishes and comforts me. I spend my days taking care of the thousands (it seems) of tasks that keep our household going. Hamster on a wheel comes to mind. And sometimes I think it would be easier to not be alive. Then I see something spectacularly beautiful on our planet and am glad to be here. Sigh.

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  17. SWIM! ING! POOL! SWIM! ING! POOL!

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Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.