Existential Crisis

May 18, 2017

The house was finally quiet.
The kids were out flying kites with their father.
Mrs. Banks was at a get-out-the-vote meeting.
The housekeeper was busy at the market.
Mary kicked off her shoes and rubbed her temples.
She felt a headache coming on.
Her cheery disposition was rapidly evaporating.

While she dialed her therapist, she planned her speech.

I can’t do this anymore.
This ‘practically perfect in every way’ routine is soul sucking.
I’m nearly 40 and have nothing to show for my efforts.
My relationship with Bert is going nowhere.
I’m not even sure if I want it to.
I want more! This can’t be all there is.
My life is missing a certain ‘element of fun.’

The phone rang on.

Mary felt empty as a midday chamber pot.
Yesterday’s teaching patience event had left her feeling edgy.
Civility, theater arts, chalk painting suddenly seemed over-rated.
Instilling joie de vivre in today’s youth was ultimately unrewarding
Mary was tired of weaving a magical world she no longer thrilled to.
She didn’t even think she actually liked kids.

God, I need a drink.
When is it going to be my turn?

Click. “You have reached Dr. Sartre.
I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now.
If this is an emergency…”

Seriously? It’s a fucking crisis!
But don’t interrupt your fancy life on my account.
I’ll just take a couple of Valium with a spoonful of sugar
and call you in the morning.
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, my ass.

Mary took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.
Now was not the time to lose her mind. Maybe later.

Mary felt untethered, adrift in a world without meaning or direction.
She couldn’t face another night alone.
She refused to wait for yet another prescription,
…a questionable psychotropic remedy for some vague malady.
Maybe it really was all just hormonal.
She remembered reading that we are all victims of our biology.

Mary shrugged to herself and slowly shook her head.

Whatever it was, cause seemed irrelevant now.
Her need was strong. She couldn’t go on this way.
Mary would grasp her life firmly, pull it up by its roots,
and make a new existence for herself.
A life filled with meaning and purpose and fun.
And no kids.

Change was on the horizon.

Mary set out her umbrella and packed up her carpet bag.
She always traveled light.
She had read somewhere that light was the fastest thing in the universe.
She wasn’t sure where she was bound, but anyplace was better than where she was.

Any place.

Mary had also read that, “Anything can happen if you let it.”

She felt a new day dawning.
"Winds from the east... Mist comin' in."

© 2017 Joan Cichon   All Rights Reserved