Pisces Iscariot

Got another nice email from my Mareng Nicole. It says a lot about what most people my age are going through right now though I’m happy to say that I am yet to experience all of the things mentioned here. Probably I’m not yet suffering from the crisis.

They call it the "Quarter-life Crisis." It is when you
stop going along with the crowd and start realizing
that there are many things about yourself that you
didn’t know and may not like.

You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will
be in a year or two, but then get scared because you
barely know where you are now.

You start realizing that people are selfish and that,
maybe, those friends that you thought you were so
close to aren’t exactly the greatest people you have
ever met, and the people you have lost touch with are
some of the most important ones. What you don’t
recognize is that they are realizing that too, and
aren’t really cold, catty, mean or insincere, but that
they are as confused as you.

You look at your job… and it is not even close to
what you thought you would be doing, or maybe you are
looking for a job and realizing that you are going to
have to start at the bottom and that scares you.

Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what
others are doing and find yourself judging more than
usual because suddenly you realize that you have
certain boundaries in your life and are constantly
adding things to your list of what is acceptable and
what isn’t. One minute, you are insecure and then the
next, secure.

You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your
life. You feel alone and scared and confused.
Suddenly, change is the enemy and you try and cling on
to the past with dear life, but soon realize that the
past is
drifting further and further away, and there is
nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward.

You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you
loved could do such damage to you. Or you lie in bed
and wonder why you can’t meet anyone decent enough
that you want to get to know better. Or maybe you love
someone but love someone else too and cannot figure
out why you are doing this because you know that you
aren’t a bad person. One night stands and random hook
ups start to look cheap.

Getting wasted and acting like an idiot starts to look
pathetic. You go through the same emotions and
questions over and over, and talk with your friends
about the same topics because you cannot seem to
make a decision.

You worry about loans, money, the future and making a
life for yourself… and while winning the race would
be great, right now you’d just like to be a contender!
What you may not realize is that everyone reading this
relates to it.

We are in our best of times and our worst of times,
trying as hard as we can to figure this whole thing
out.

Do you want to know what motherhood is all about? Listen to the words of a mother. From an anonymous source her words surely offers great encouragement. Listen carefully.

We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We’re taking a survey," she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?" "It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations…." But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable. I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die. I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment’s hesitation.

I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby’s sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right. I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy’s desire to go to the men’s room rather than the women’s at McDonald’s will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother. Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years - not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a Caesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter’s relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children’s future.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts. My daughter’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You’ll never regret it," I finally say.

Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter’s hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. This blessed gift from God . . . that of being a Mother.

I have been in a reflection mode these past few days and I couldn’t help but think about how life is one big irony. Then with that, one song always comes to mind: Alanis Morisette’s "Ironic". I’m not a big fan of Ms. Morisette. Heck, I’m not even a fan at all. But I marvel these words for they reflect life’s bitter reality (pessimistic? Deal with it.).

An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day
It’s a black fly in your Chardonnay
It’s a death row pardon two minutes too late
Isn’t it ironic … don’t you think

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out
Helping you out