If you would have asked me a few months ago - hell, a week ago - who I am, was, will be - I would have told you, hand on hip with a sassy wink and eyelashes aflutter-
" I am a woman babygrrrrr". Then, slipping into well-made heels, buttoning my suit jacket, reaching for my briefcase and mobile phone, I would have added, " I am also a very successful career woman."
" ..and also a mother", voice filled with pride as I struggled with the briefcase to zip the jacket and smooth the hair of my child -ushering her out of the house towards a posh school boasting a religion and price tag that I pretentiously thought would give her a 'good building block for ethical decision making'.
"Oh, yes, and I am a friend. I really appreciate my friends", as the mobile phone beeped while I drove down the coastal highway, blinking at the sun appearing in the horizon.
I would also have fidgeted with the radio, answering every question asked by my daughter and friend via mobile with an "oh yes" "uh huh" "how do you feel about that" without actually listening because my mind was already on the all important " work day agenda."
I didn't often turn my head and gaze longingly at the waves crashing against cliffs and astounding mountains. It represented something I didn't have - wild, lush freedom.
Who was this person I just described? Was this really me - strong, weak, amazingly silly? Yes, I was a paper doll with a whole array of flammable, changeable costumes and price tag justifications. Sales and Marketing may have been my gig, but I had begun to put a spin on my own life that was a bit too flash and cash and less soul-surviving sister.
What has changed, you ask? I caught a glimpse of my self in the mirror late one night and stood staring at a frightened little girl. A petulant child wearing lipstick all over her face and mothers best pearls. High heels askew. Caught in the middle of a game of make believe and surprised to be told that she could not keep playing at being an adult.
I don't know what propelled me - what made me say the things I said, do the things I did. At moments like above, and right now, with tears streaming down my face, I understood that I am human and my survival instincts are strong and intact.
I was born with this feeling, drive, acceptance that if I try hard enough, push long enough I can accomplish whatever I want, whenever I want. I had just never factored in the cost. What a silly thing for someone who boasts of a Sales background to forget. Nothing is free baby - strings may be invisible, but they are always attached. My strings were so light and fine I never felt the air leave my lungs until it was too late. I was choking.
How did I realize this? That's both complicated and simple. As are most things in life. I broke down. Refer back to the day above when I am pulling on my heels and smiling - confident that I can balance all things at once. What the average person saw was a smile to make any orthodontist proud on a put together and confident gal fueled by spirit. Inside ghosts - that smile cracking in a million crevices, drove me. In retrospect, my humming the song "Run Away" under my breath all hours of the day should have given me a clue. Silly me.
The first of many gasps for air came when I walked to my office that morning and the tears began. Great gulps, gulches and rivers of tears. I sat - inertia taking its toll. My only thought was that I had truly lost my mind. Finito - that was it. Insanity. I was finally able to gather myself (PDA and mobile phone forgotten) and sought solace in a friend's office. She took me by the hand and led me to safest place possible - the nursing room of our corporate office. Ironic in retrospect, but I was like a child as I sat, in a room painted buttery yellow with soft music playing and adverts for la leche league posted on the walls and began to shake. My friend held my hand and walked me through the steps that on any given day of the week I would have walked another through. Breathe. Think. Stop. Breathe. Think. Plan. One moment at a time. I can do it. Breathe. Think. Stop. Breathe.
I left that room seeing the chords wrapped around my neck. The cost of my lifestyle. I saw them as if I were a different person. Shaking and scared and understanding- finally and not two weeks before my birthday - that I am only twenty-seven years old.
I am not and have never been Superwoman. I have nothing to prove to society as I felt I should. Always that voice pushing me, propelling me. killing me. I finally understand that to be the best mother, friend, and person possible - I must be happy. I have opened my eyes. I am going to take that little girl in the mirror by the hand and twirl her around and teach her to laugh. Buy more high heels and lipstick and paint the walls bright colours.
I will have to learn to be a child to raise my child. No, I am not going to quit my job and runaway - Yet. I am going to, in the words of my best friend - "get over your ripped skirt and broken heel bitch, we got a train to catch and you are still sucking face with yourself in the mirror". Translated - I am going to wake up and start living. One. Moment. At. A. Time.
TS Carr
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