Sex, love and looking for brains

14/6/10
When you are not in a relationship, there are certain parts of your anatomy that lay dormant, unnecessary, so to say.
And then when someone shows some interest in you, those parts awaken from sleep, prick up their ears and resurface as if saying: “Hey, I’m here after all!”.
Well, luckily for modern woman, she has also been endowed with a mechanism for blocking these primitive responses, more commonly known as a brain. It appears that in some cases, the male of the species has not been given this most essential of mechanisms and has instead been allowed free reign of the formerly mentioned parts of the anatomy. Herein lies the assumption that many women would make that men in fact think with those parts of their anatomy.
Well, if I may borrow the words of another wonderful woman I know: “There will be no more of that hole plugger! He can go and plug himself!”.
I am not sure if I am more offended by the fact that he thought that I desperately needed it and wanted it, or the fact that he thought I would go for it even though he is still in a relationship! His wife indeed lives in the same house as him in order to “keep the family together”, and there is no physical aspect to their relationship: this is where you come in, my dear, can you please fulfil this aspect in my life which is so missing.
GO PLUG YOURSELF!
But not only that, she fulfils all other emotional aspects in a relationship, so I don’t need those bits from you.
Well, something I have definitely learnt in the last few years of my humble existence is that I am unable to separate mind and body. Not that I would want to, they make rather a fabulous combination. But when I eat I know that I am nourishing my body, but I also think about the nutritional aspects of the food (or make myself aware of the lack of nutrition in some cases). When I hug my children I have a physical response of adrenaline and I am sure many other hormones that surface, but I also tell them with my voice, (which requires a fair bit of actual thinking) that I love them and that they are precious. Thus, it so happens that it would be impossible for me to do a schizoid trick of separating myself waist down and waist up and just do it.
The worst part of all of this is that I am not actively looking really, I am very happy on my own, but gosh, it would be nice to have someone by my side to lean on sometimes.
I think one of the difficult aspects of that is that when you have been alone for a long time you develop anchors that hold you up, a bit like roots I suppose. So there is very little leaning or falling over that happens these days. I hold myself up, and sometimes lean on my friends. Those wonderful people who hang in there day in and day out without expectation because they see beyond, they see me. And these people are my family, some of them are my birth family, but others I have chosen.
Most of the time, however, when minor decisions need to be made, when money is short, or my daughters are rude; I lean on myself. I am like a hardened piece of metal. Beaten over and over again and thus made more durable.
I sometimes worry that this hardness will be harder to get through when someone wants to peek inside and see me for real. I somehow doubt it, though. I am sure I will allow those defences down when the right man comes along. Or if, I should say.
In the meantime, I am like a really good bottle of wine. Ripening in the sunshine and cold of my life, a strong solid base only getting better the longer it is bottled for. Maybe one day I will toast to someone very, very special. Someone who can show me that very special organ that all men possess and I trust most of them use most adequately: their brain. Yum, I love brains.

uncertainty and constancy

3/7/10
Last Monday, my ex texted me to say that he needed me to pick up the kids from his house after work as he had kept them home from school. A little puzzled, I agreed.
He came out to meet me and shocked me by revealing that he is separating from his girlfriend. They have lived together for about 3 years and been together for about 4.5 years. The kids were really upset, as this was the status quo for them and they loved her.
She left on the Sunday night. She left him.
I was quite shocked, as of course, he doesn’t share anything at all with me.
It sent my mind on a huge journey.
He looked so crushed. I have imagined this moment in the past, what I would say, the joy I would feel for confirmation to him that I wasn’t the only person in the relationship we had, that it wasn’t all my fault and that he has some responsibility when it comes to relationships. And here it was, and far from feeling joy and triumph at his misery, I felt sorry for him.
I could see how hard it had been for him to even tell me what had been going on, I guess it is an admission to a certain extent that he made a mistake.
He even invited me into the house. I don’t think he has ever invited me into his house. I didn’t know where to look as he looked as if he was about to cry.
It has happened at a time in my life when I am thriving and happy and extremely happy with my lot. It seems so ironic that this would have been something I would have welcomed 4 years ago. I would have ran into his arms and told him I would take him back.
And now, if he actually came and asked me to take him back, I would have no hesitation in saying an absolute resounding and definite no.
He even apologised for the silence from his part for the last 6 months: ignoring every text and every message I have left him, every note I have written regarding the kids. It is almost as if I have been completely invisible. He told me he had had trouble “fitting everything in”. God, he has no idea about juggling.
All I can hope for him is that he will grow this time, as I have. I know, the odds are low, but there is a small chance that he will learn.
In the meantime, I will worry about what this means for the kids. They will need to move again, watch another relationship disintegrate and be thrown about by whatever uncertainty he might create for them in the future. Well, what’s new.
I will remain a mountain of strength for them, unchanged and unwavering; reliable.
I hope that is what they see in the future when they look back at their childhood: not a pile of broken promises and relationships, but a constant mother

Reflections while they're squishing my boobs

 

I had a mammogram today. And it occurred to me while my boobs were getting squished that I could have cancer. And that got me thinking. What would I do if I had cancer? If I only had today to live, what would be my final thoughts, my biggest regrets and how would I spend my final moments.

If I truly needed to depart tomorrow, would I be looking for validation in a piece of paper that tells no one in particular that I can do some ultrasound guided procedure or that I am a good leader? And why do I torture myself over things that do not come natural to me and may not necessarily mean anything in the great scheme of things?

HEIDI, have you learnt nothing? Over and over again repeating the same lesson. And over and over again slow on the uptake.

If I were destined to die today, I would spend the day quietly telling my children how much I love them and how much they mean to me. I would ensure they knew where to find everything I have written and I’d probably regret the most not having written my book or published something.

Do I want the extra stress of being a boss?

Do I want the extra responsibility? To be honest, no.

I’d like the security of a contract, and the illusion that I have control over things that happen in my life. I don’t.

I have control over what I do today, that’s all. I get the most satisfaction out of my work when I have the energy to be cheerful and spend time updating my knowledge. Not because it’s working towards a new qualification, but because I want to be the best doctor I can be.

I get satisfaction out of making teddy bears and giving them to kids at work, or relating to someone at a deeper level, or challenging their stereotypical view of a doctor. I like making a diagnosis, puzzling a case out with a colleague, making a worthwhile contribution that isn’t perfect or grand, or necessarily recognized. Because I am not a grand shit sort of person at the end of the day. I may not win awards, or be the valedictorian, or the one who makes a speech. I am the quiet achiever that hardly anyone notices until my hair isn’t purple or I am not cheerful and smiling.

I don’t have the ability to memorize things easily, not do I have outstandingly extensive knowledge in medicine because I have spent my time on other things that are more valuable to me. My kids, my pets, writing, exercise, my friends. And if I were to ask enough people what they thought, I would get enough opinions to make my head spin. Opinions that may not be what’s true or real for me.

So if I need to be a casual contractor for the rest of my career? So what? I get to have holidays when I want them, take time off whenever I want, and do other things like locuming. There will always be work for me to do. And if I get sick? I’ll live on less. I don’t have extravagant needs, my animals do!  And they won’t be here forever.

And then I can just do whatever I feel like doing. And that’s gotta be enough. It is enough. I am enough.

The day will come when I will get cancer or hit by a bus or have a stroke, and none of it will matter. None of it except what was true for me. And that may not be what my neighbor thinks is right, or true. But it is for me.