TheBanyanTree: This Woman's Crisis

[NancyIee at aol.com]

The title: "This woman's Crisis," could apply to any of us at any age. I know 
that men have their mid-life crisis, it's an accepted factual myth . or 
mythical fact.  Most survive it.

In the olden days, an occasional woman would go bonkers during menopause and 
be locked up, shunned, hidden away until she was back to normal, whatever that 
might be.

There comes a time when we want to know who we are. We spend our lives being 
what we're expected to be, we are identified by who we are with, "mother" 
"wife" . ."girlfriend." "Maiden Auntie."  We're Missus Steve, or Dave's mother. 
Even we with jobs and careers are more identified with the job than with whom we 
are. "Oh, yes, you're the secretary" the "teacher"  the "cleaning lady."

Comes a time when even we don't know who we are. Except, some little nub deep 
within wants out.  We know we're overweight or thin, able or frightened, 
humorous or a loner, but that little nub defies being named.

I search for that nub. Like shopping at the Mall of America.  "What are you 
shopping for?"  I dodn't know. But I might recognize it when I find it .. or I 
may not. I may pass right by.  I don't know what I'm looking for. I merely 
skip from store to store, interest to interest, talent to talent, person to 
person. I feel like someone asleep for a hundred years and suddenly awake to a 
world I do not know. I look in a mirror and see an old broad, not me at all. I was 
winsome, hungry, hopeful, not grey and dry.

I don't know that woman. Yet . . . yet. . in her eyes, I catch a glimpse of a 
nub of light.

I don't seek happiness, for that's another myth.  I don't seek sudden and 
youthful health and  vigor. I'm no dummy, after all.  I think I seek a place 
where I can me ME, whoever that might be.

Or, perhaps we have spent so many years being  someone else, playing other 
roles, that the essence of us is lost in Time.  I want to shed all my aliases 
and disguises.  Yet, maybe we are all bound up in our roles and that is really 
who we are.

Perhaps we look for something that never was . .

but we search, just the same.


NancyLee