1990's
I grew up in a society whose silent message to girls was that it was important to be pretty and amiable. Looks and charm were the golden key to go from living off your parents to living off your husband, with a pit stop in college along the way. The women I grew up around- bejeweled, slim, sartorially savvy- they did not have jobs or work. I make the distinction because house work, for stay at home , present, involved mothers- is very hard work. No, the women I looked up to had great hair, and drivers and the invisible hands of staff that kept their pillows fluffed and their fridges full, their children's needs met. I thought that was the blueprint of a great life. It is only now that I am their age and that I've made my own choices that I see that their life was not one big holiday like I once thought. The vulnerability of signing your life away to some dude is an incredibly high price to pay for so called comfort.
2000's
My first failed attempt at marriage, after dropping out of law school to follow the blueprint. The neglected child still living in the young woman that I was scratches her head in confusion. I had waited all my life to be loved. So wasn't love supposed to carry the day? I lived in ambivalence, going back to school being my logical choice but always in the backroads of my mind the thought that my Prince, my White Knight was still out there. And he was coming to save me- save me from myself , save me from having to make my own decisions, which I was never trained or encouraged to do. Save me from fighting my own battles. So I went on to kiss a lot of frogs. None of them turned into a Prince. I finally graduated from law school and was by that time gainfully employed. I had great friends. My life was not what one might call too shabby. Regardless , all of that did not make me feel that good about myself because being smart and accomplished meant nothing to me if there wasn't a man in my life to validate the qualities I possessed, but was blind to. I wasn't enough.
2010
I was no longer a bar star, and quite enjoyed working at a law firm as an Associate. I had started moving up on the ladder and even had my own paralegal. Unlike a former one who in hindsight hired me for being -for a lack of a kinder word -"a piece of ass", my boss then treated me with equal respect as he did the guys and paid me equally too. I had started to discover the joys of independence. At the same time I started to discover the joys of a relationship free of drama, not coincidentally, with a man who treated his mother with the most respect I have ever seen from a son. We stayed together long enough for the subject of marriage to come up. We said our I do's, and I started from scratch in a new country, dependent all over again.
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2017
It appears that I did nothing but chase romance down for the best part of my twenties, as opposed to some young women who had a clear path in mind. A career oriented path. These women became CEO's and CFO's and Marketing Wizards and Doctors. and Mathematicians. These women became bosses. These women somehow had night vision for what I failed to see- that all a woman really needs to become who she wants to be is already within herself. Then society comes along and tells us otherwise. And we believe it. We believe the story we've been told over and over and through the years. It is a belief so strong to shake, a lesson so hard to unlearn that it has taken me a lot of observation and soul searching and therapy to finally value myself and to see everything I have to offer without belittling it, without shying away from it like some unsolicited compliment. At thirty eight years old I can finally say I know my worth. And I don't need a man to prove it to me. I have a family (both by blood and friendship) that I'm an integral part of and has taught me lessons in loyalty and kindness, a raised scar that proves I'm a mother and that I have made sacrifices for it, a degree that proves I'm smart , whether I work or not- a badge that says I'm a firefighter, someone who gives a shit. I have an oil painting of my child done by me that proves I have some talent. And still, at the end of the day I am only one of so many women, the ones we know, the ones we cross paths for two seconds at an airport, or barely register at drop off at our kid's school, all with our own stories to tell, tapping away at my computer in my little bed in a little suburban town. Yes, you could say I'm just a number, but I beg to differ- I am, we all are, so much more.
