Eat, Love, Pray

I recently had the pleasure, or should I say, the unfortunate experience of watching Elizabeth Gilbert's book-turned-movie: Eat, Love, Pray. I say unfortunate experience because, I cried my eyes out through the whole movie. I began to recognize myself in this desperate character Liz. I even paused the movie to look at the dvd box to make sure my picture wasn't on the cover and that this Elizabeth Gilbert hadn't somehow written a memoir of my life. Nope, it wasn't me on the cover. I almost thought I was having an out of body experience watching this movie. I started holding my breath each time Liz started talking because I could feel the tears burning my eyes and streaming down my face. I began to have chest pain and nausea all at the same time. I felt like I knew what she was going to say next because I've many times, tried to get those words out, and failed.

In between my babbling squalls and running nose, laying in the the princess room I'd decorated for my 3 year old daughter, I realized that somewhere along the way of my own life, at 31 years old: I've lost my identity. I've lost my identity to the marriage, the house, motherhood, the career; and all that goes along with it. I feel like I'm not only the mother of my daughter, but to my husband too. Unfortunately, I know how I got here but I do not know how to fix it. I too have prayed to my personal god asking for the answer, and I never seem to get one. Or, I get the answer, and I fail to recognize it. I turned off the movie feeling weak and almost desperate. It was about 2am, and I felt all alone surrounded by these smiling princesses plastered so eloquently around a beautiful princess castle. What do these women know about motherhood and marriage? It seems like all they've been in search of is true love's kiss and the happily ever after while I'm trying to figure out how to get out of this mess! I decided at that moment, that I needed to read this book. I needed to read the words that Elizabeth used to describe the traumatic events of her life and how she came to the conclusion that her marriage was over. I need to read how she pulled her big girl polka-dot panties up, and found herself again.

The very next day, I went to Target and purchased the book. I have been reading every moment I've had since then which is slim, between work, school, and my other job: mom. I have a clear understanding that this book is not of the self-help variety. I realize there is an entire section dedicated to self-help at my local Barnes and Nobles book store, and yes, I am aware there are psychologists for this sort of thing. (I have an undergraduate degree in psychology.) I may, ultimately, find myself laying on some shrinks couch before it's all said and done with but, I want to try blogging first. It's sort of like new age journaling except, all the free world can read it if they so choose. I'm positive there are other women out there, in their thirties that can identify with me. Most of us can't afford a years journey for self-fulfillment and, in my case, it's not an option to be away from my daughter for that long. Our circumstances may not exactly be the same, but we can share with each other. I imagine there are other woman out there who don't know where to start to find themselves either and maybe this blog will initiate a world wide conversation of women with similar feelings.

I recognize many of the same feelings and questions Elizabeth had regarding her marriage and her life after reading the first few chapters. She chooses not to go into great deal about the traits of her husband and the specific events that lead up to the demise of her marriage, but she does elaborate on how she feels. I think for anyone to understand how I'm feeling, you need to understand how I got here. Unfortunately, I do not have the benefit of a writer's advance on a future book to use in pursuit of self actualization. So, this journey will be between me, this blog and anyone who chooses to start reading it. Perhaps after all is said and done, I too will find courage. Just typing these words, I feel the globus sensation growing in my throat and the tears burning my eyes. The first step here was recognizing that I am unhappy but  acknowledge it's not the end of the world.

My other job (also known as my daughter) is calling me to wipe her hiney. I hate to cry in front of her, and I definitely do not want her repeating that she saw me crying so I need to wipe my face, take care of her business, and get her into the bathtub. I hope this blog is successful. I'm really looking forward to speaking with you.
~ask