If I were to share my story, would it help someone? Would it help me? I have heard it is quite freeing to no longer keep secrets. I may even have mentioned it in another post. I don’t want to keep writing about sad things. Life keeps getting shorter and shorter as the big 60 looms over me. What have I accomplished in these 60 years? This isn’t where I thought I would be when I got here. In a trailer with a husband I dearly love, but as of late, do not like. He is not meeting my emotional or physical needs. You know, listening to my every word as if they were the most amazing ideas he has ever heard. That my opinions matter because I am right and can help him grow into the man I want him to be, and of course I am sure he would want to be, but doesn’t know it because he hasn’t tried out my suggestions. He just doesn’t get it. When I speak of the physical needs he isn’t meeting, I’m not speaking of sex. Its been a while since I have enjoyed that kind of intimacy and frankly at this point in my life, with menopause and all its glory, do not miss it. Lets be honest, at our age having your husband run around naked does not stir up any sexual desires. No, I am talking about the hugs I received when we were dating because I was so important. So I thought. Now I realize it was about him. His sense of pride that he had a girlfriend who loved him. OK, maybe it was about me, a little bit. Of late I have to give him a threat now for him to realize how wonderful a wife I am.
As I write these words I am filled with a sadness I have felt before and swore I would never again put myself in this situation. Lonely for companionship, intelectual conversation and stimulation. A sense of being greatly cherished. Someone who another person felt I was more important to him than his own life. I desire this so badly and the fear of never experiencing it frightens me. So what can I do about it? Change him? Threaten him I will leave if he doesn’t change? Yeah right, and where would either of us go. We are enmeshed, in a dysfunctional way. And as I have written in other posts, he has wonderful, loving ways about him, but these qualities are hidden in the computer games he is playing, his job, and now his new motorcycle.
Things just happen for the guy. What about me? When will things happen for me? When will I blossom into the eccentric, crazy woman I long to be? You know the type, loud colorful clothing and hats that almost make people think, “why did she stop taking her medication? “poor thing probably lost her insurance and can’t afford them anymore.” Back to this relationship. Is it really his responsibility to make me happy? To fill all my emotional and spiritual needs? Yes. Well ok, no. But its fun blaming him for a while. Taking my anger out on him, sometimes he actually deserves it. But I learned a long time ago, its not about him. Its about me. I’m the one who is unhappy. I am the one feeling unfulfilled in life. It is up to me to find out what brings me joy and happiness and then go take a risk and grab on to it.
So to do this I have to take a leap of faith. That’s very scary. With my luck I would take a leap of faith and land in the hell I don’t believe in. No, better to just trust my gut instinct and go for it. What’s the worse that can happen? Aside from being laughed at or ridiculed. Wouldn’t it be worth it if it would bring me freedom to feel and be the woman within who is screaming “Please set me free.” I put these questions out into the universe and suddenly am meeting or have gotten to know better women who have come into my life and encouraged me to be more of who I want to be. Who gets me excited each day that I can dress the way that brings me that sense of , “Free, Free, I am free at last.”
OK, no more whining or talking about it. I am going to go shopping next senior day at the store and pick up some colorful clothing that I can put together and wear. Let those who judge or look at me funny be damned. Its my turn to be and do as I feel fit. I will just have to put it out into the universe and grab on tight. Who knows, maybe I will find myself on a plane with a one way ticket to who knows where.
So I hope this post helped in some way to inform you that there are more of us “eccentric” women out there than is realized. You will know us by the way we dress. We will not conform to the rules “someone out there” says this is how you will dress or act if you want to be a part of society. Why on earth would I want to belong to our society? What has it gotten me so far? A prisoner in my own skin, that’s what.
Well it stops here. I have a tight group of women who are on my side. They have my back sort of speak. Knowing you are not alone and that there are people who love you just as you today, and who you are becoming, gives you the courage and strength to be that woman.
The laundry is in the washer. All I have to do is go through it all and rid myself of anything that shouts “Boring! Old lady! Drab!” Beginning this very moment, after my nap of course, I will as for direction and courage to do the next step that will begin my journey into the woman of my dreams.
I invite any woman who is a prisoner in her own skin due to fear of judgement and criticism to take up the sword and join me in this new movement of freedom to grow into who we were meant to be!