I know I have blogged down this road before, but here I go again. It is interesting to look back and see what I thought life was about at different ages. And why I thought it was that way. At age 10 I must admit I didn't have a clue, which is okay for 10 yr olds. This is the age when the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse began their 36 year presence. My 4th grade teacher was, oddly enough, one of the horsemen and I could see her face staring down at me in the right side of my brain. Seeing as how I didn't like this teacher, it made life rather uncomfortable. I thought perhaps life would begin in middle school with new friends and teachers.
At age 20 I had been in college 2 years and was in the middle of my first manic swing. This meant little sleep, grandiose ideas of becoming someone famous, and a flurry of activity about 20 hrs a day. I was sure I would end up Poet Laureat of the U.S., the next great modern artist, a writer of passionate concerto's and symphonies with myself performing miraculous feats on the piano (while I lead the orchestra!) I also toyed with the idea of becoming a heart surgeon. After all, my mother thought I could accomplish anything. When I was 20, I thought 40 and 50 were hundreds of light years away and that I would have all the time I needed to achieve fame. I mean, Beethoven was deaf and he still managed greatness in the field of music, right? And Mozart was treating his syphilis with mercury and died an early death. (Too much mercury it seems.) But I had no such handicaps, no disabilities, no obstacles.
When I turned 30, my sweet boss told me, "Thirty is when a woman really begins to blossom." So I had this picture of myself as a glorious rose straining toward the sun, resplendent in red. My marriage, however, had become a definite strain by that time. I didn't mind being 30 -- it was not all that far from 20. What I didn't realize, however, was that it was equidistant from 40 and that in fact, that was the direction I was headed.
By 40, I had been diagnosed with schizophrenia for 5 yrs and had walked woodenly through many hospital doors when my body/mind connection broke down. I remember one admissions clerk asked for my name and it took me 10 minutes to get my driver's license out to see. I had lost my mind. I had also lost hope and wanted to die. Thoughts of fame and fortune were a universe away and heading toward a black hole. I had endured many ECT treatments. I had been in solitary confinement rooms with one little window on the door and a bare mattress on the floor. I had been held down and shot up with Haldol. I had been taken away by the police twice in front of co-workers and neighbors. Now only was my sanity gone, but I got divorced, lost my job, lost my house, my car and worst of all, my independence. I attempted suicide 3 times. Becoming 40 was the least of my worries. I doubted I would get to get to 41, much less 50.
