Separation anxiety

Something terrible is happening in my life. I am ceasing to care about things that used to move me deeply. When it comes to accumulating the accolades and accoutrements of success and the trappings of valuable social currency, I just don't care like I used to. It's not that I don't see the value in having a solid resume or a decent car and a nice house -- I do. I'm just not driven to acquire them, like I used to be.

Maybe it's because I already have them, and I'm not "living from a social deficit," like I used to be. Maybe it's because I have tasted the fruits of great success, and I realize that there's more to life than being able to say I accomplished what I set out to do. But there's a chemical element to it, as well. For some reason, I no longer have the same intense, burning, frenzied desire to achieve that used to drive me, day and night, when I was in my late 20's and early 30's.

It feels strange, almost heretical. I should be driven to succeed. I should be compelled to prove my worth and play my part in the grand theater of life. I should be borderline OCD about what I do with my life, everyday. It should matter to me, what clothes I'm wearing, what car I'm driving, what job I'm holding down. It should be of utmost importance, that I'm taken seriously in life, in the world, in my job, in my home... Everything that once mattered to me, should still.

Theoretically, anyway.

But the reality is, I don't care. Maybe it's being given the runaround at work once too often. Maybe it's having worked my ass off (I need a better expression -- despite all my hard work, my ass is still around, and it's larger than ever ;) and not seeing compensation that could take the place of my neglected home and home life. Maybe it's getting to a point in my life, where I should be satisfied with all the rewards of being a diligent citizen and taxpayer, but being terribly dissatisfied with what I'm seeing around me. Maybe it's coming up in the world as a woman, seeking to make my mark on this world, only to find that, at the end of the road, it really still is a man's world. And that world is ruled and shaped by sensibilities which are not only foreign but sometimes outright obnoxious to me.

Whatever the reason, I find myself not really giving a damn about a lot of things that used to really, really matter to me. And it's a little disorienting. And not only for me, but for everyone around me. I often find people (co-workers, relatives, friends, etc.) looking at me oddly as I shrug and say, "Whatever," when the give me news that should have been bad. Or they don't see me getting as excited over things, like I once did. A chemical change seems to be taking place in my mind, which is dulling the edge of my past desires and drives... but which is replacing that almost animal drive with a more self-referencing perspective.

I'm much more logical now, than I was even two years ago. I don't have the same peaks and valleys of emotion that used to keep me running. It was quite exciting to have all those highs and lows, of course, but in the end, it was just exhausting. Someone very smart once said that excess leads to enlightenment, and I'm hoping it holds true. I think it does.

Because what drives me now, is not adrenaline or frantic frenzy. It's not the thrill of the chase and the excitement of drama. It's not immediate reaction to immediate stimuli. It's something much more boring, and much more encouraging -- what drives me more and more, now, is common sense.

I know, I know, it's not very exciting. Formulating a studious and well-planned inquiry and then coming up with a logical solution to an issue, based on the information known and extrapolated, is a lot less dramatic than working around the clock, depriving myself of sleep and food and then suddenly striking upon inspiration at the least-expected moment. But from where I'm sitting, it's actually more exciting. Because the former sort of discovery is the kind you can take to the bank and actually implement, whereas the latter sleep/food/companionship-deprived "spark" still remains to be proved out. And in the end, the one that can actually be done, is the one worth getting excited about.

Now, here's why this is a tragic development in my life. It's actually not tragic for me, but for the rest of the crowd around me -- the crowd who are accustomed to me being an adrenaline junky who's willing to go to any lengths and make all sorts of personal sacrifices to get the job done. The person they once knew and worked with is gone. I don't care about the thrill of the chase anymore. I don't care about the bids for greatness wrapped in excess and drama. I don't care about pretending something can be done, just to impress folks with what a can-do kinda gal I am. I don't care about the adrenaline-soaked hours of fighting fires and pushing-pushing-pushing for a solution long past the point of physical or mental effectiveness. To those people who were counting on me staying as I was for all time, I'm gone. I'm missing. The old me has passed on and left a more cynical, less trusting, more wily, less perky person in her wake. The old me, who was so eager to be longsuffering and give everyone the benefit of the doubt, is nowhere to be seen.

Which is very sad for some people. Even tragic. Because now I no longer give a damn about their personal pain and suffering which they nurse like 2-week-old kittens. Now I no longer give a rat's ass about their personal ambitions, insofar as they serve only themselves and won't share the wealth. Now I just can't get all excited about projects which may or may not work out, and which depend primarily on this pie-in-the-sky can-do attitude which just grates on my over-experienced nerves. Countless people are selling excitement, but I'm not buying. I'm not buying their product, I'm not buying their vision, I'm not buying their lines. I'm not buying, unless it works, and living as I do in this country of the United States, precious few people who are selling are offering much that has been proven to really, truly, honestly work as promised. Whether it's a war or a car or a career change, what's being sold hasn't been proven... worse yet, too much of what's got a price tag is turning out to be some banana republic knock-off (not the clothing store -- the actual term, which the store lifted).

It's unforunate for this economy, that I've become like this. Because so much of our gross national product relies on the trust and optimism of the buying public, and if I (onetime early adopter and fresh-faced optimist) am becoming this way, you can bet a whole lot of other people are, too. Women, especially, I think. As we progress in our lives and survive one betrayal of trust after another... as our bodies change and we find out nothing is really guaranteed or permanent... as our moods and emotions change, and we find out that we either pay a lot more attention to ourselves, or our lives are going to shit... we pull away from all the cloying, needy souls who have feasted on our energies for, lo, these past 20-30 years of adulthood, and things start to change.

It's not just unforunate for this economy, either. It's unfortunate for all those who have made themselves totally reliant on us -- all the partners and children and co-workers and complete strangers, who have relied on us being longsuffering and indulgent towards them and their needs... all the incompetent boobs whom we've allowed to "slide" because they seemed like nice people... all the politicians who thought they could fool us into supporting whatever they wanted to do with our lives, our money, our offspring... all the people out there who have been relying on our not making a stink about things being oh, so very wrong... well, they're in for a rude awakening. Whether on a microcosmic or macrocosmic scale, the scale is tipping. And people are going to be in for rude awakenings. If they aren't already.

And so I'm bracing for the world's separation anxiety. Because Mommy isn't going to be around much longer in the form she held for so long. Mommy is ending her ovulation odyssey, and she's taking time for herself. Looking around at the world as it is right now, it seems to me that this is exactly what we're going through -- the world experiencing separation anxieties from all the Mommies who are stepping back and letting others go it alone, for once.

Indeed, much of the global conflict these days, strikes me as eerily familiar to the violent outbursts of two teenaged sons of a friend of mine. My partner and I were visiting her one weekend, and the boys were so upset that Mom wasn't paying exclusive attention to them, that they started to fight and ended up drawing blood. Much drama, just because Mommy's attention wasn't fully focused on them. And now that thousands upon tens of thousands of women are going through these changes each and every day, stepping back, paying attention to things other than everyone else's needs, the world is going through separation anxieties and acting out as a result.

Perhaps this is why women have been made to feel so self-conscious about this Change, over the generations. Because the people who depend on us staying the way we were, lo, those many, many years, don't want to see us coming into our own and leaving them and liking it. Or maybe so many women have gained so much power in their worlds from that old dynamic, that they can't bear the idea of relinquishing that power. Or maybe it's a whole host of contributing factors that can't be summarized in a paragraph, a blog, or a shelf full of books. But one thing is for sure -- the changes women go through after their physical mothering phase, do leave a lot of people high and dry, who would rather not be abandoned. Even if it does make Mommy feel better about herself.