Rebellious Thoughts of a Woman

I can't help but think how much women of previous generations missed out by being restricted in talking openly about their personal lives. (I am not going to touch on the issue of men using sports-talk or politics-talk as a surrogate for conversation, they can have their own blogs.) Ever since I got over the reticence of speaking honestly about my personal life, I have had the opportunity to meet and get to know some wonderful women, and that wouldn't have happened if I kept to the "all's fine" attitude.

Not only was I raised in the "don't talk about you private life with strangers" attitude, but I married into it. And it's not that the term "strangers" was restricted to those who you had just met on a plane or have only worked with for five years, but, in essence, it was everyone who did not live in your house. You were certainly--ESPECIALLY--not to talk about real issues or concerns with relatives (lest they know that you have problems, which, of course, they never had). I think it had something to do with a sort of "we can make it on our own" attitude, that we don't need anyone, we can handle whatever comes our way. Perhaps if we go back a few centuries to understand where this comes from we can ascertain a cause, maybe people were betrayed by their friends and neighbors. So what? It's going to happen whether or not they know the cause of your unhappiness / happiness, frustrations / pleasures, disappointments / plans anyway.

Now I may be taking this openness to the extreme; I practically introduce myself by stating my name and that I am going through a hellacious divorce from the man from hell. It is my proclamation of self because, unfortunately, it does, to a great extent, define where I am now.

When Donna, a female contractor, came to the house to give an estimate on how much it would cost to get the house in condition to sell in the current tough market conditions, within a minute we were off and talking about our ex-husbands. (Okay, maybe not talking, mocking seems closer to the mark.) So while we walked around the house bemoaning the lack of light hardwood floors, granite countertops on every countertop in the house, and missing caulk around the tubs, we discussed irresponsibility, inconsistency, and ingratitude to a considerable degree.

Then there was the Holocaust survivor who spoke at my school. Within minutes we were talking about our ex-husbands (both Israelis) and how they were too much controlled by their fathers' plans for them and their desires to meet those plans, except nothing they did ever pleased their fathers, there was always something lacking. And that how, as a way to compensate for losing control of their lives to their fathers, they made it up by attempting to control their wives. She then told me that she had been happily married to her second husband for twenty-five years, and that they were married a week before she turned fifty, even though she never expected to find love again. An inspiration. The woman is an inspiration in so many ways.

When I told a woman with whom I met to discuss my writing that my focus would be divorce, controlling men, and verbal and emotional abuse, well, the conversation flowed. Not that her experience was in any way like mine, she and her ex have been on good terms for years, but it just seemed to remove a barrier. Maybe when you admit that you are divorced you proclaim that you are not perfect, and that you are comfortable talking about your personal life, and not just the externalities.

I have one friend who finds it extremely hard to talk about her personal life. Perhaps one of the reasons why we are close friends is that I am so open with her, maybe she lives vicariously through me. When we talk about my issues it is a chance for her to consider her own life, without having to divulge details. So, when she gives me her thoughts about what is happening in my life, it helps her as much as it helps me.

Friendships, whether developed over years or a one-hour thing surely must be based on openness. Otherwise, what do you have? Filler, you have filler. And that is not the stuff of a life.