by Lauren Randolph
I’m going to say it: I'm a menopausal woman. Does that have to be a time of dissatisfaction in life, or is it due to the situation I’m in?
I’ve worked as a writer in science and engineering for more than 20 years, which has treated me to a nice lifestyle. But that's no longer sufficient. I give it my all for 8-10 hours, leaving me spent and out of sorts at the end of the day. It doesn't nurture me. And that’s becoming increasingly important to me.
I'm surrounded by many people that make me uncomfortable: They can be arrogant, narrow-minded, short-tempered, and uncommunicative. And they’re mostly male, which creates its own set of issues.
But I’m told to play nice.
Even the women – the “successful” ones – act like men. And I’ve become like those men myself. While it may be more expedient in some ways to do that, it doesn’t feel right. It feels as if I were wearing constraining clothes that bunch and chafe but not badly enough to do something about them.
But it's worse than that for me: I'm not only not a believer; I'm a closet technology contrarian. Since I’m a generalist and always considered that to be job security in a world of specialists, I must also have deluded myself that that approach added value.
Did I do it for the money? Maybe. After all, I keep being told I'm "overpaid." But that's code for telling you not to expect more.
I'm the highest-ranking woman in my organization, but I'm considered my boss' "secretary" by a senior administrator.
What's wrong with this picture? Am I the only one experiencing this?
Do I point the finger at them? Or do I point it at me for tolerating it, which implies not only submission but, worse, acceptance? Women so easily turn inward to blame themselves for a situation when they should be standing up, taking charge, and announcing, like in the classic movie “Network,” they’re damn mad and they’re not going to take it anymore. Easy to say. Much harder to do. No one’s there to root them on. And, if they do speak up, their reward will be more friction. But imagine what would happen if more women did speak up and supported each other in doing so.
I see myself writing this, but even so I find myself waffling, editing and re-editing this piece to avoid causing offense. “Peace at any price,” my mother always said. That’s such a strong internal song for me.
In any case, I’ve decided to give up trying to join the boys’ club. That’s my first step toward change and greater fulfillment.
It's time to “redirect” and discover what I was meant to do because this road has too many speed bumps. And my shocks are worn out.
I think it must be an age thing, too. I recently read "Inventing theRest of Our Lives: Women in Second Adulthood" by Suzanne Braun Levine. The chapter that most resonated with me was about the "fuck you 50s.” I read this book during a period when I had dropped out to help a family member. It helped explain the intense rages I'd find myself experiencing. At times they had everything to do with my relative’s bad behavior, but at other times they simply seemed unreasonable and unprovoked — until I read that chapter and discovered itwas a common phenomenon among woman of a certain age. I suppose there's some comfort in knowing there are others in the same awful state. But that doesn't provide any answers on how to move through it.
The implications of anger can be easy to ignore. But when anger bops you on the head, you have to listen. I think mine is telling me to juststop for a while.
I alternate between feeling genuinely scared, then exhilarated by the possibilities of doing something different. But I don’t want to go to my grave having been motivated primarily by fear — and, unfortunately, I have a lot of making up to do on that score. Being a “good girl,” in the end, not only doesn’t get you what you want; it exacts a price of its own.
Many of my female contemporaries seem to be feeling the same way and are aggressively exploring new professional opportunities. I envy them their energy. Personally, I feel beaten up — angry and exhausted — at least for now.
So I’m cutting back my hours at work to provide time to sit on the deck in my treehouse and listen to the birds. That seems remarkably unambitious for me, especially when I consider my free hours will outnumber my working ones.
But I've never felt this was more important to do than now.
The re-emergence of my creativity hinges on being able to do nothing. But that's nearly impossible in our productivity-at-any-cost society without separating oneself in some physical way from the surrounding madness. Why are there no role models for this?
Can somebody please tell me that?
As a writer by profession and avocation, Lauren Randolph was blown off course for more than 20 years by science, engineering, and technology. But she's in the process of righting her boat and charting a new course toward sharing her experiences about significant life changes with the Exterminating Angel community. She's very grateful to EAP for providing her a safe haven to express her views. She welcomes all comments, especially from those similarly situated and feeling “angry for no apparent reason…”