Back in the day, when I was a spiritely 18-year-old I was convinced that my life was as confusing as a computer programming language. I was positive that with age, like wine, things would only get better. This retort obviously didn’t get the much-needed attention I wanted but instead I was politely told that life only gets confusing, as you grow older. This most unexpected remark was uttered by a 26-year-old debonair who used to intimidate the very hair that seems to amuse him now. I scoffed, yes my brazenness and a bit of intimidation getting the better of me, only to be regretted years later.
Now at 22, I can’t help but feel that life is far worse than it was at 18, but we live and learn and things get easier to handle, that’s true for me, and it should be true for everybody else. But I’m sadly mistaken; it’s not, apparently.
N at 30 feels awfully devastated at the latest turn of events. Work pressures and other issues are just driving her to a point of no return and I feel helpless. It’s worse because she is an only child. It’s worse because no one’s pushing her. It doesn’t help that she can’t talk openly with her parents. It’s scary that she thinks everyone’s malicious. So back to a chat with the equally challenging debonair turned chum, lifesaver, partner in all things evil and confidante. He stressed over and over again that it must be tough being 30 and a woman. That I find now all too believable. So what do I do in a situation like this, advice her about the finer points of working smarter (no way), rely on God to help (can’t really count on him) or just simply listen and support her in whatever she wants to do (that’s the way to go). I’ve been thinking this through, really there isn’t much any of us could do, it’s an inner battle, one only she can fight. Age doesn’t help, it makes things worse, with growing grey hair comes a lack of self confidence (not true in every case) and oh you must, absolutely must have a support system. I know who makes me laugh, who gives me the best advice, who pushes me beyond the push-able limit, who will hold me when I cry and you get the drift. While typing that I must say I really do have the most wonderful support system, no wonder I pull through every time I go into one of my many phases.
With that I wrap up this rambling post. Damn I worry when menopause hits.
