Sometimes It’s Hard To Be A Woman

To quote Tammy Wynette. Although I’ve never had to stand by my man, so to speak, other than my father. I’m assuming my dilemma is the same for men, quite frankly, on some levels but not all of them.

As this week as been filled with such manic-depressive fervor, from very high-highs to incredibly devastating lows, I have been thinking about aging. I talk about that sometimes, but it really hit me last night as my tooth split in two and my face swelled up like a four-day old bloated, dead possum on the side of the road that I see quite frequently in our little burg.

It ain’t pretty, campers.

When my parents were around my age, I think they had it going on in some respects much more than I do now. For my mother to be a musician, she was incredibly shy. She was, however, very much on top of things. My father, Big Daddy, worked like a dog to make sure that Homer, the sis, and I were taken care of. My mom was pretty cool about wanting us to face reality, but she did instill the dreamer in both my sister and I.

Sometimes I just don’t think I’m as together. My fervor for politics has waned recently as I’ve just been so disappointed to the point of throwing my hands in the air. My job is what it is. My life isn’t bad, but sometimes I just don’t think I have it “together.”

Know what I mean.

Last night, as I was eating and my tooth cracked in two and I’m trying not to swallow the damned thing, it made me very reflective. I looked like a cat hacking up a hairball. But it hit me, I’m getting older. At 41 years old, I try to remain playful and passionate about my life, but the fact is, and dang it all, I’m not getting any younger. As an unexpected and completely unnecessary expense hit on Wednesday that needed immediate attention that hammered me financially and I realized that I’m never going to be in the same financial place that my parents were when they were my age. I cheated recently on the cigarette plan but I’m still doing better and I keep trying.

So many things swirling in the cranium.

But the tooth was significant for me, and yes, it hurts like a muttha. It was significant because it represented a great deal of things that I’m having trouble grasping my hands, and my brain for that matter, around. This past year, I’ve had the hystie, a deadly bout of bronchitis and some other things that made me realize, “Hell, ‘Coma! You are going through a mid-life crisis.” And I had my first hot flash sitting in my office at work where I felt like I was being microwaved from the inside-out, this also floored me. One of my employees thought I was dying. In reality, I was desperately trying not to throw up in my garbage can.

“I’m having a HOT FLASH!” You gotta be kidding me

Now, this revelation of what might be going on hit me about 9 p.m. last night. Wow. I mean really.

I’m so busy making myself busy that I didn’t understand this but I’ll be damned if that isn’t what it is.

I’m not a brain surgeon, but here are some of the characteristics I lazily looked up over at Wikipedia:

• search of an undefined dream or goal
• desire to achieve a feeling of youthfulness
• acquiring of unusual or expensive items such as clothing, muscle cars, jewelery, gadgets, etc. (Coma Note: Now this isn’t happening.)
• paying extra special attention to physical appearance
• need to spend more time alone or with certain peers
• a deep sense of remorse for goals not accomplished
• an underlying desire to initiate new sexual partnerships

Well, that sounds about right. I think that when you lose a parent or you undergo major transitions like the infamous ednaectomy, things start getting a bit askew. Now, with that said, I wonder why the issue of a tooth breaking and my mouth feeling like a construction worker has take a ball peen hammer to it started me thinking about this.

But it makes sense. This post is going nowhere really, but I can’t help but thing that I just need to sit out under the stars out in the country and contemplate the whole thing. Replenish myself spiritually, physically and emotionally.

I probably should see what Rachel over at Women’s Health News says about mid-life crisis. She always seems to have it going on.

So, today, I have an important meeting in less than three hours. My right side of my face is bloated. I wonder if there is a lovely pain killer out there that could, A.) fix my mouth and B.) Calm my soul.

Yeah, those things never work.