Helga's Heartlines
Monday, September 6, 1999
Newmarket, Ontario


No longer merely the trite cliche of my late adolescence, I, Helga Marion Ross, finally appreciate the relevance of these words in terms of my own personal future. I mark the date on my calendar. How perfectly apropos. Today, Labor Day, a holiday, is the day I make a commitment to change focus and direction. In the background the pop rock classic, "I Can See Clearly Now", by Jimmy Cliff, plays on the radio. I will take my life back. Somehow. I will make quality of life my priority from now on.

Let's be clear here. What do I mean when I use this ill-defined, much bandied phrase? Materially, I am not suffering; in fact, I am blessed. I have a house and a car and most of the paraphernalia and prerogatives that denote middle class membership. Yes, and like the majority of my contemporaries, that also means a sizable mortgage, bills to pay, the burden of the rat race, and the bane of Twentieth Century existence, "wage slavery," as compensation. After 30 years of doing this, time has become so precious to me. The days of my life are as grains of sand through an hourglass. I increasingly resent that I spend the better part of my waking hours, 5 days out of 7, working, with little time or energy left to devote to the rest of living. Like trying to squeeze a too large foot into a too small shoe, there's no way to make it fit. The ratio simply doesn't allow for a balanced life. Of course, we all know this, yet, still, we try, don't we?

It seems to me the nature of work, itself, is in a state of regression, more akin to the turn of the last Century in its relentless and dehumanizing aspects, than the new and better one it ought to be, for all the technological advancement. The lot of the average working person these days is not enviable. The accelerated pace and associated increased stress is an unhealthy syndrome that has a spill over effect in all aspects of personal life and the social environment. In my case it is starting to have a negative impact on my physical and emotional well being - most surely, a wake up call.

The prospect of a highly desirable but seemingly unachievable early retirement teases my imagination. Many would say I'm too young to retire, but I say I'm too old to work like a dog. The whole business of my short and long term goals has been brought sharply into focus in the last year or so, with rumors rife of a possible merger, as well as threats of downsizing, by my employer. While my heart goes out to those who aren't ready to lose their jobs, I can tell you that being a survivor, a keeper, is not the enviable position one might imagine. At least the Olympic high jumps are achievable. One can arrive - get the gold, or a lesser medal, if one is good. You can kill yourself trying to reach the continuously raised bar that is the latest corporate objective and that additionally assimilates the workloads of the involuntarily displaced. It's a cruel business - the way some are discarded or bought off - rarely the ones that might like the opportunity - on the backs of the rest - unjust from a moral standpoint.

To heighten my level of awareness and give me more cause to reassess where I am and where I am going is the fuss and furor over the approaching Millennium. We live in an interesting time, do we not? Some suggest it is the threshold of a heralded Golden Age, others, the Beginning of the End. I will not be weighed down, or defeated, by the anxiety-producing harbingers of doom and gloom and their dire predictions for the unknown future. I adopt the optimistic view. In my own small way I will do my part to realize a positive, life-affirming vision. I will heed the call to "follow my bliss," as admonished by that mythologist, folklorist, Joseph Campbell. Perhaps, pursuing this path will ultimately lead to adventure, fulfillment, and a sense of purpose.

I look back at my life, as I look forward, and recall with nostalgia a time that evoked a similar sense of excitement, anticipation, and anxiety. Words spoken nearly four decades ago by President John F. Kennedy echo in my consciousness: "...The torch has been passed to a new generation...." That one was mine. And here I am, still, feeling like I'm just getting started....

I am a Baby Boomer and a "late bloomer," a woman at that inglorious stage known as mid life, but considerably younger in spirit and looks than my chronological age. Someone of contradiction and psychological complexity, not easy to define, my persona depends largely upon the circumstances. In social situations and group gatherings where I feel uncomfortable, at times, I can be shy, reticent, and insecure. I prefer people in small doses. In more intimate gatherings and one on one, I am an extrovert, garrulous, sure of myself, and my opinions. I enjoy congenial company and good conversation; I don't have much inclination for small talk. In appearance, too, I am chameleon: sometimes plain, sometimes beautiful, mostly attractive - depending on the day, my mood, and the audience. Essentially, I'm cheerful and affable; readily finding favor with life; approaching it with zeal and humor, though not without attendant sensitivity and due consideration. Most significantly, I am guided from within. Not religious in the strict sense, nonetheless, my perspective is spiritual and philosophical. Doubtless, I share many characteristics with women of my generation, yet I know I must be quite singular.

Unlike any in my circle of acquaintance, an evolving, overriding desire for independence and autonomy has dictated the course of my life, thus, my current circumstances. I'm practically the only one in my age group who has remained single since my thirties. They've either married for the first time or remarried for the second. Not to say that I haven't had relationships, don't have one now. But, the common feminine goals of marriage and motherhood have not been driving forces in my life. While I adore men and children, both, I have basically avoided establishing ties that would inhibit my freedom.

I did try marriage once, early on, in my twenties, when it was pretty much the thing to do and I was not yet my own person, so I'm prepared to admit, possibly, I might have a case of commitment-phobia. That premature connubial venture and the example of my own mismatched parental role models has given me a horror of inequitable alliances and marrying for the wrong reasons. When I reflect, it seems to me that I've chosen to do things the hard way through some inner compulsion to prove myself to myself, first - and find myself. This, I believe I have done.

Yet, challenges remain. What would life be like without challenges? Have I reconciled my need for relationship, be it lover or friend, or a social life, with my desire to be on my own a good deal of the time - in Sixties terminology, known as "needing my space"?

The same can be asked when it comes to my concerns. I want very much to share my passions, but the reality is they've often proven to be best experienced on my own. Are there soul mates out there, kindred spirits, any with whom to commune about my vision and passions? Perhaps, to participate in their way? I know I'm not alone in having these feelings, although I haven't met anyone so far who will admit to them.

So, here I am - For all my desire to be free, my choices have limited me and effectively forced me into a yoke that chafes. What would it be like to do work I love, tap into and employ my creativity? To have more time to see and experience more of life and the world? To enjoy more of each day and bring enjoyment to others? How can I go about "moving confidently in the direction of my dreams" and living a more meaningful life?

And here WE are. Despite our divergent life paths thus far, my contemporary sisters and I now find ourselves facing exactly the same dilemma: Will there be life after menopause? What kind of a life? Where will WE go from here?


~ Helga Marion Ross ~

Copyright 2000