Oh my God, I’m in midlife?!?>?>?>
By Ginnie Faustino-Galgana
I know. I know. Most women at my age would rather simply deny the fact that we have aged, albeit gracefully. Isn’t it a “sin” for anyone to ask a woman her age? But I can’t deny it anymore, wherever I look, I am reminded about it anyway. Just recently, I was conducting an interview and my 32 year-old interviewee said that he is already a “Thunder Cat” – a local slang for “old.” At 37, I told him that would make me “Jurassic.”
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am 37 years old and not denying it. I never really had to actually. Ever since I became exposed to the other gender (or genders – I do have to be politically correct here, right?), men wouldn’t usually guess my correct age. It had actually become a gauge for me when they do try to guess. If they said any age about ten years younger than what it should be, I knew they were flirting. If I heard an estimate about five years younger than my real age, then I’d know he was telling the truth. I would always answer honestly after making them sweat it through the guessing game and what I thought of their answers. And that would establish that I didn’t want to be messed with.
That was then – about ten or so years ago. I was young. I was healthy. And I thought everything will pile neatly at my feet, just like that. What did I know? Of course I’ve made mistakes. And I have had to pay dearly for each of them. Things went so low that I actually alarmed my parents and siblings all the way in the United States. After sobbing through long distance calls and getting my pillow wet on cold days, here I am now at mid-life. Man, have I aged.
So what’s changed? Lots! Way too much for a short essay, at least. Let me just say that now I understand my mother more and I don’t hate her at all. Don’t ask about the hate part, that’s a long story that’s not meant for this. And now, I can honestly say that I have come full circle, sort of.
You see, over the years, I established a career in communications, doing projects and going corporate every so often. Then a couple of years ago, my life took a tailspin and went out of control. The department I belonged to got dissolved and everybody in it were let go. At my age and my level, there isn’t a lot of opportunities available. I’m not exactly entry level anymore. While I could always try going for a call center job, it would be a whole new start. And do I really want to start with something that I didn’t really want to do in the first place? Call me picky. Call me proud, but I have to say that I want to stay in a job and be happy with it.
Applications were sent en masse, but calls for interviews took long in coming, too far apart and were quite sparse. Was I so undesirable?
At the same time, my daughter’s grades were plunging to depths I never imagined I would actually ever see for her. Do I go back to work or do I help her out? If I helped her out, how do we even afford her school?
What was a mother in mid-life crisis to do?
I brooded. I cried. I vented. I got so depressed no one could cheer me up, not even my pretty little girl who would offer innocent commiseration for what she could not understand. All she knew was that Mama was sad and she didn’t like it. I got sick too. Then the call came.
My parents had been priming my sister for this, apparently. They knew I was in a really deep rut. They knew my sister can and would help me. That was the helping hand I direly needed. My sister called and said she would sponsor my further studies in Nursing. And my mom said they’ll help with the daily expenses in the meantime. Man, I love my family!!!
What’s the full circle? You see the nursing part of my story didn’t start with my sister or parents. It started with me more than 20 years ago. Even in my teen years when I was choosing a course for college, I had already told everybody that I wanted to be a nurse. In fact, in one of the aptitude tests we took in high school, I even put medicine as a career of choice just because there was no option for nursing. It confirmed that I did have the aptitude to take medicine, given the chance.
There’s the rub right there. The chance never really came. My parents – the loving, protective and traditional folk that they were – wanted me to enter a prestigious school that would “ensure” my future. Their school of choice did not offer any course in nursing or medicine. I passed their entrance exam and, of course, that sealed my fate. Goodbye nursing… until now.
I am now registered in a school that will teach me using the U.S. curriculum for an associate degree in nursing. I am finally going to be a nurse, and I will graduate in time for my 40th birthday.
The reinvention is currently taking place, and I am quite excited about it. Just like Molly Kagan in Starter Wife, I am going back to do something that took a backseat just as I was at my prime. But then, who is to say that I am not at my prime right now? At long last, I am going to be a nurse! I’m giddy like a little girl getting the doll she wished for on Christmas morning. It’s finally happening; and all thanks to my loving family who stayed close even when they’re miles and miles away! This “mid-life” thing? It didn’t stand a chance against a strong bond and the love that goes with it, just like Molly and her friends. Take that, “mid-life!”
And they said “life begins at 40” is a cliché.
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this is the essay that won first prize in the promo. FYI.
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