Have You Seen My Missing Life?

 

 

It just goes to show you, it’s always something. I’ve never been one to ascribe to this line of thinking, but the tragedies falling like so many dominoes around me for the past six years have flipped a switch within me, turning me into the Roseanne Roseannadanna of the twenty-first century. Mimicking the attitude of the brash, explosive character played by the lovely and talented late Gilda Radner was certainly not something to which I aspired. For most of my life, I have considered myself an unapologetic optimist, a glass-half full kind of gal with a penchant for looking for the proverbial silver lining in every cloud.

I tell you, I thought I was gonna die! Another Roseanne Roseannadanna gem, this phrase has taken on a life of its own for me. Oh, joy! As if I always wanted to be a bitchy, 53-year-old woman with a healthy sense of impending doom. In my previous life - before I became an unrepentant pessimist – friends would have described me as happy, fun-loving, friendly, and (not to be forgotten) optimistic. My smile was perennially plastered on my face. Where the hell has that woman gone?

What are you trying to do, make me sick? I remember when I turned fifty, I was seeing a therapist (and in this case, I use that term very loosely, a more fitting title would be emotional terrorist) who glibly informed me that very often, when women turn fifty, they redefine their lives and emerge as a stronger version of themselves. This she told me as I sat in her office a blubbering, shuddering mass of exploding emotions. A year later, after extensive torturous mining of my shattered emotions, I made the decision to leave her office and never return; resolving instead to find my own way through the minefield that had become my life.

So, how did that work out for me, you may ask. Not so great. Not really great at all. Seems my therapeutic skills leave much to be desired. Hence, the pessimism, bitchiness, doom and gloom attitude, etc, etc.

Having grown weary of being the reincarnation of the brash, road-weary, explosive Ms. Roseannadanna, I jumped back into the pool and found another therapist. She is the polar opposite of my former emotional terrorist therapist. I’m actually starting to believe that the sun may very well rise again and someday I may start looking for those silver linings again.

Maybe I’ll even find my sense of humor again. What a bonus that would be!