SUPERWOMAN

The things we lose as we get older are not just related to physical aspects!  With some wisdom comes the weakening of carefree high spirits.  High spirits, indeed.

When I was in my 20’s, the delicate balance of our bodies was not first on my list of interests, but playing games with my mind was.  That’s right.  I was a child of the 60’s and didn’t leave a rock unturned.

We experimented with different herbs, chemicals and medications just to see how it would make us feel, what damage could be accessed and stored for historical facts and shared with great pride.  Since we were invincible, there were no dangers involved.  Our lack of education about our own bodies only boosted us up to sail away on many trips – never leaving the farm.

The first pain pill I swallowed that contained codeine was given to me by my mother for cramps.  Very big mistake on her part.  The cramps not only went away but the world became “pink”.  Slowly, from a twisted fetal position curled in pain, I unwound to find that not only was my pain gone, but so were any unpleasant thoughts.  Everything I looked at took on a new relationship with me.  That was not just a coffee cup in my hand, this was my FAVORITE coffee cup and it was beautiful.  The coffee inside had turned to a sweet nectar from the Gods.  Why didn’t I see that before?  Ah-Ha, it must be the drug!  Moving about the house I noticed what a grim outlook I had.  These were miracle pills!  When I took them they enabled me to see the calm and positive side to life.  I had energy.  It didn’t hurt to move at all, it was like floating.  My attitude became “I am woman”.  I could do anything because I felt nothing but self-confidence.  Anxiety was no-where to be found in my thoughts.  No fear!

I was convinced that I was not capable of feeling this way on my own.  In order to banish my feelings of low self esteem and anxiety of failure, I had to be under the influence of this little pink pill.  It was magical.  It changed me.  It changed me for about ten years.  I went to a psychiatrist and she gave me all I wanted.  She said if one little pill makes you the person you want to be – take it - and be glad that is all it takes.  I wonder if she is still practicing?

For years I suffered with guilt of misusing the drug and at the same time I enjoyed the exhilarating amount of accomplishments I was achieving.  I was super woman.  I had a job, and I excelled and worked my way up as far as a person could go with my education (owing it all to the pill), I was a loving and marvelous mother with two beautiful intelligent children, which I owed to that pill! I had great friends; due to my energetic and magnetic personality (I deemed it was because was high, I couldn’t have those characteristics alone!).

 I also had a mentally abusive husband that went hand in hand with my mentally abusive father.  The rough spankings from my father didn’t repeat itself with my husband, only total heart breaking rejection and ridicule.  Of course I had to  get my strength from a pill, I’ve been told over and over again by the two most important men in my life that I was worthless.  Maybe if once, just once, one of them would have put their arms around me and said “I love you, I am proud of you” things would have been different.

When did reality start to sink in?  Was it after the 25 deaths of loving friends and family I experienced over 20 years?  Somehow the grief of losing a love one is not made OK with the little pink pill, not even five of them.  Was it the hysterectomy or the hip replacement that just held to high of expectations of my little pink friend?

So I decided that the ride was over.  I no longer could make myself into super woman.  I was who I was.  The mean husband got cancer, but lives on.  I live on without him now.  I fell in love with someone else and grabbed hold of him as he pulled me out of that death trap marriage.  I didn’t want to marry him though. Not him or anyone else, not for a long, long time.

I’m not super woman anymore.  I’ve spent half my life trying to be super woman.  I’m tired.  I have a right to be tired.  I have the right to be who I am too.  I’ve decided that I am not such a bad person after all.  I’m 57 and have slowed down quite a bit – the way I like it.  I’m not rushing around trying to please the whole damn world anymore.  I’m not trying to make anybody love me anymore.  It was certainly exhausting.  Do you love yourself?  Take a time out, life is short; don’t be afraid to be just you.