My shoulders have been aching since 1999. There’s just something about going through a divorce that will throw the weight of the world onto your neck. I can only speak from a mother’s point of view, since I’ve never been a father. We tend to open a vault in our stomachs and announce to the world, “Hey, everyone. I feel like a piece of crap. I’ve decided to carry around a bunch of guilt and disappointment. I’m going to let my kids’ stuff, all of their heartache and tragedy, that I feel like I caused, in here, too. Anyone else want to stuff some bad feelings inside of me?” Here’s the thing about inviting the world to beat you up. The world is typically all too happy to join in the fun. Then there’s the whole added aspect of being a product of divorce, myself. Nothing says joy like throwing your children a birthday party and having to coordinate their grandparents’ arrivals and departures so they won’t run into each other. Then we lose people. It’s universal. My daughter – poof. Gone. My father isn’t here. My mom isn’t always sure who I am. If you’ve ever been sick before, really sick – and who hasn’t – add that into the mix. And, finally, it’s not like we’ve been quarantined in a really tacky alternate universe for over a year or anything, right? Are you feeling testy or a bit hopeless or a tad like you’ve had 10 plates spinning on very tall poles for 20 years and they’re all about to come crashing down to the ground? You are not alone, friends. What’s one to do? As for me, I’m taking a little stroll down to therapy land for the first time in 54 years.
Once upon a time, a somewhat narcissistic psychiatrist, who was debuting his first ever book, wound up with a new patient days prior to his annual vacation. Said patient had an array of supposed disorders, spanning the gamut from multiple phobias to Tourette’s Syndrome to OCD. Terrified of being left alone without support, the patient creates an elaborate ruse and follows the doctor to his vacation home on Lake Winnipesaukee where he equally infuriates the psychiatrist, causes near catastrophe for the book launch, and practically takes over doc’s entire family. He becomes a confidant for the psychiatrist’s wife, an encouraging friend to his children, and a love interest to his sister, all while driving the doctor clinically insane. No, that isn’t a prelude to the path my life is about to take. It’s one of my favorite movies, What About Bob, starring Bill Murray as Bob Wiley and Richard Dreyfuss as Dr. Leo Marvin. It’s one of the most quoted movies in my home, a cult classic with all of my kids. If ever the cinema took a whole handful of bad things, seasoned them with sugar, and turned them into en during qualities on fleek, it is reflected in this movie. Life is but a finite list of experiences. We may not all have each experience imbedded in our lives, but we are all 1 zemblanitous move from disaster at any moment. Does tragedy really strike some of us more than others, or, are some of us more prone to harboring bad juju while our counterparts ignore the tragic because their eyes stay focused on the potential serendipity? Maybe I’ll have an answer for you soon. One thing is for sure. I’ve been feeling a little more like Bob Wiley than I’d like.
I’m a Gen-X girl, product of a boomer mom and a greatest gen dad. My dad, born in ’27, a child during the Great Depression, had no room in his life for whining. Complaining meant someone else picked your okra right out from under you. My mom, born in ’45, grew up in the years where things were better, as long as you readjusted what you desired. Just stop wanting so darn much and be glad the meat & sugar aren’t rationed anymore. Then, there was me. We do the best we can as parents, with our predetermined tool kit inherited from our families. The same is said for our parents before us. Why are you crying? Want me to give you something to cry about? Did anyone tell you to speak? Little girls are to be seen and never heard. Don’t misunderstand, I was raised with a value system I see as severely lacking in the world today. I’m like a dog with a bone when it comes to projects. My work ethic is exactly what you think a greatest gen kid’s work ethic would be. Zipping my mouth and cracking open a book has, by and large, served me well in life. But, life has taken my hard center and stomped it into a pile of goo. And, there are remedies for this that were tsked upon vehemently in past decades. Go tell someone your feelings? What hooey is that? What are they gonna do, play a tiny violin? Actually, I love the violin. And, just like Bob Wiley, I think I’m going to love having my own Dr. Leo Marvin. Here’s to peace, love, and good therapy.
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