"At work, you think of the children you have left at home.
At home, you think of the work you've left unfinished.
Such a struggle is unleashed within yourself.
Your heart is rent."
Today Sarah talks about something that
no one ever talks about...
but it's something that we should.
Today is a long one, and it's heartbreaking to read,
but you should pay attention,
because we all have a breaking point.
Start Quote
More women than you realize have a secret fantasy
that has absolutely nothing to do with erotica.
But in its own way, it focuses on the forbidden.
I call this fantasy, "Scrambled or Fried?"
One more perfectly normal day
of incessant demands, neglected children, and unfinished work
and you feel you can't take it anymore.
An overwhelming impulse
to disappear without a trace
comes over you.
Methodically, you withdraw all the cash you can
from your bank account
([because] credit cards can be traced),
pack a small suitcase, head for the bus terminal
and begin life all over again
as a waitress in a diner somewhere out West.
In this fantasy some women take their children with them,
especially if the kids are small;
other women don't, but usually their kids are teenagers.
Of course, you're not going to do it,
but contemplating a plan of escape is an
imaginary mechanism to let off steam...
No more overdue bills, arguments over cooking, cleaning,
carrying out the garbage, charge accounts, or custody;
no more clashes between children and career,
no more exhausting care taking of an elderly parent,
no more responsibility than you can handle
in any twenty-four-hour period.
When you think you can't take it anymore,
a life that revolves around asking customers
if they want their eggs scrambled or fried
holds a certain appeal.
Recently, a thirty-nine-year-old woman,
the mother of five children between the ages of eight and sixteen,
vanished off the face of the earth not far from where we live.
Earlier in the day she had been a chaperone
on an elementary school field trip.
After the class returned to school,
she put her daughter on a bus for a basketball game
and told her that she would walk the short distance home
since it was such a beautiful day.
She never arrived.
Around dinnertime, her frantic family called the police
and a massive search began, complete with prayer vigils.
Of course, everyone feared the worst,
because for this particular woman
to disappear without a trace was completely out of character.
She had everything:
a Wellesley education,
a beautiful family, a lovely home,
an extremely comfortable lifestyle,
and a perfect marriage to a diplomat.
Three days later the woman who had everything,
but obviously not enough of what she really needed,
turned up unharmed (thank heavens),
confused by her own conduct, and dazed by all the commotion.
Here's what happened.
As she started for home,
she sought a solitary spot to sort some things out.
On the spur of the moment
she walked a few miles to her favorite place,
Washington's National Cathedral,
an exquisite sanctuary.
In the silence she could hear herself think.
After a few hours she could not bring herself
to leave its peace to return to the chaos engulfing her at home,
so she slept for two days in a small chapel.
As of this writing, she's still not returned home
and no one really knows when or if she will.
This much we do know:
for whatever reason, her heart was rent.
Her center could not hold.
Her life was not, after all, as perfect as it appeared.
Real lives seldom are,
even if the surface has a pretty sheen.
I only wish I'd been able to say to her,
"Disappear if you must, but phone home
and let the children know that you're okay."
When I heard on the radio that she hadn't been abducted
but had voluntarily vanished,
I felt a tremendous sense of relief and said as much to my husband.
His response was that this woman was obviously mentally unstable.
Unbalanced.
There was no other explanation for her bizarre behavior.
I agree that the weight of her life was too heavy to carry alone,
but as I had a meditation to write (on coping with stress),
I chose not to challenge his interpretation.
A long conversational detour would have been necessary to point out
that under her particular circumstances,
which of course we did not know,
her disappearing act might have been extremely sane.
Desperate, no doubt.
Heartrending, no question.
But not necessarily crazy.
When our waitress fantasy surfaces, we're physically, emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually exhausted by the struggle within and without that pulls us in a hundred different directions. We're seriously wounded by the ancient enmity between daily life and the Great Work.
Band-Aids don't work anymore.
Actually, the fantasy of running away can be very therapeutic
because it waves a psychic red flag that tells us
real life has become unmanageable.
Changes need to occur, creative choices need to be made,
conversations need to be started and finished.
If the fantasy persists to the point of action,
asking for help is much better
than buying a one-way bus ticket.
"If you knew how often I say to myself:
to hell with everything, to hell with everybody,
I've done my share, let the others do theirs now,
enough, enough, enough,"
Golda Meir, the only woman prime minister of Israel,
once confessed candidly.
You don't have to run away if you can learn to just say:
enough, enough, enough.
And mean it.
End Quote
I know at least one woman who up and left.
I don't know the story.
I just know that when I was a kid I remember her little family,
and then 15 years later I come across the family again,
and she was no where around.
Her picture was no where to be found, it was just him and the kids,
and so like a callous fool I asked my mom where she was...
My mom told me that she just up and left one day,
divorced him and never came back.
I know of very good friends,
whose life seemed perfect all through my childhood,
and now it's just completely falling apart.
It wasn't perfect, and the loss, sorrow, and hate
is absolutely heartbreaking.
I hit a breaking point in my life.
I can't share the details, it's just too personal,
but let me assure you that I was broken.
I had to make a choice, and I chose to say
enough is enough.
Please don't reach your breaking point.
Take care of yourself.
Learn to say no.
Learn to say
***
Gratitude Journal
***
1) Robbie catching mosquitos like a pro is quite a site. I'm grateful he got them so I don't get bit up in the night!
2) This is the last blog I have to do for a few days, doing six at once was a little overwhelming, but it had to be done, because gosh darn it I'm going to finish it. I'm going to reach my goal of 365 days.
3) Jewelry, it's pretty.
4) Good doctors. I love my new doctor.
5) Insurance and easy access to the medicine I need. Insurance saved me $300 something dollars for 90 days of my anti-depressant. I mean it's absolutely crazy! I firmly believe that our health system is jacked up, but I'm grateful to have what we have, because a lot of other people have it so much worse around the world.
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