Lost in Space

Chapter Four

We all have read a good book or seen an academy award winning movie where there was that one chapter or scene we didn’t particularly care for. Although painful to witness and digest, we know that it had to be included in the story. That chapter in the character’s life either creates foreshadowing or retrospection. It pulls the big picture together and brings a thought-provoking mixture of emotions. That’s what makes the story climax. It’s the realization that although something bad has happened, maybe it was necessary.

We have all heard the phrase, “On to the next chapter,” when someone we know retires from 50 years of service to their career. Or when someone gets married or starts a family. It means that chapter has closed and that it’s time to start a new one. But there isn’t ever a party or a cake for Chapter Four. Friends and family don’t come together and toast the mom whose children have grown up and started lives of their own. Sure, you’ll get the occasional, “How does it feel to be an empty nester?” But I have never once heard a MOM say, “Great! Awesome! My life is now full of enrichment and purpose.” Because it is just not true.

Great artists have addressed Chapter Four in their lyrics and when those beautiful melodies, set to gut wrenching lyrics, come over your Sirius radio, we moms ball… usually while driving, which is not ideal. If “Landslide” by Stevie Nicks comes on or the haunting, yet angelic voice of Billie Eilish’s “What Was I Made For?” fills your car, turn the station, FAST, because your welled up teary eyes will impair your vision. It’s okay to pull over. Go ahead and sit in a Walgreens parking lot. Grab a grease-stained McDonald’s napkin from your glove compartment and have a good cry. Let the song engulf you and destroy you.

I’ve had my share of “good” cries. It’s called a good cry because I think the result is meant to be cathartic. And it kind of is. It’s a release no doubt, but not necessarily a “good” one. The feelings of loss and confusion are still there. Loss for the life you once knew and confusion over the life you’re supposed to be experiencing now. Loss + Confusion = LOST.

Up until this point my chapters have been pretty cut and dry. I knew what was expected of me. The goals were laid out and I had help navigating them by my parents, teachers, peers and colleagues. Chapter One: Childhood. Chapter Two: Adulthood/Marriage. Chapter Three: Kids. What a glorious chapter that was. Raising my children. I know it’s not for everyone, but for me, it was my reason for getting up every day. And I was happy. I built my entire existence around them. Every hope and dream, every plan put in place revolved around what was best for them. Best job I ever had and I was good at it. But what happens when your job description changes so drastically that you suddenly feel so insecure it keeps you up at night. It’s not like you can call HR and say, “What is happening? Am I being demoted from a job that I’ve excelled at for over 25 years?” If there was a HR department for parents, they would say, “Yes. You’ve been demoted. But the good news is that you get to be a ‘consultant’ now.” Great. So basically you’re saying that my advice and strategies are still welcome once in awhile, but I am no longer the team’s leader.

Chapter Four:

“Do you ever feel like a plastic bag drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?” That’s from Katy Perry’s song “Firework.” This song is on my Spotify not because I’m a huge Katy Perry fan, but because sometimes I just resignate with the lyrics. And let’s face it, the refrain does make me pound my fist into the air with a forceful, “Baby, you’re a fiiiirework, come on show’em whaaat your worth!” It’s an anthem I sometimes sing to myself when I’m feeling lost in space. My hope is that it snaps me out of this guilt I feel for losing my identity. How in the world have I forgotten who I am? I mean, I had a life before I had kids…even during their childhood, I wasn’t JUST a mommy. I had a career and friends and felt purposeful. So why am I feeling so lost now that they’re adults? I’d like to “let my colors burst, Katy, and show ’em what I’m worth,” but I am not feeling my worth right now. I seemed to have lost it the day I moved my oldest into her first apartment.

But then I think, maybe this feeling isn’t about them at all. Maybe it’s all just nature’s cruelest joke fucking with me. Menopause! That certainly isn’t helping. It’s like Mother Nature is a big bully who likes to kick you while you’re down. Feeling stupid? Here’s some brain fog. Feeling ugly? Here’s some added weight, wrinkles, and chin hair. Tired? Enjoy some night sweats!

Needless to say, Chapter Four sucks. It’s confusing me. I’m not a fan, but I’ll endure it because something tells me that it must be necessary for the plot to evolve. The story wouldn’t be complete and possibly even beautiful without it. We shall see.