Forty Five and Out of Control

It’s 1982, my 2nd marriage has failed, my mother has died, I’ve been laid off from my Insurance Company position and I’m hanging out at the Laundry Works for Monday Night Football.

It is my Mid-Life Crisis in Process.

Bill and I were married in the heat of passion in 1979. I justified a short courtship (3 weeks) with the observation that the 1st marriage hadn’t worked out even though Frank and I had known each other 5 years before getting married. The 1st 10 days of knowing Bill was in 24 hour close proximity at the UC Santa Cruz Southeast Utah Photographic Tour. I saw all his moods including the cranky immature acts, ate with him, drank with him, shared photographic challenges. WOW! The man was interesting and interested in me. I certainly thought this marriage would be forever and it was quite satisfying for about six months. Then the bickering started and the flaws magnified into major problems. Bill always blamed the failure on my daughter--while I held him accountable for his immaturity. In reality our personalities weren’t compatible and neither of us was willing to collaborate on adequate solutions. He moved out after a year giving me equal opportunity to participate in the decision making. We dated off and on with sometimes passionate intervals over the following years. 1982 was the year of our divorce. Neither of us totally walked away until 22 years later. Does that mean I can’t live happily with a man?

Mom suddenly became ill a year after she quit (cold turkey) both smoking and drinking. That year was one of the best in my memory where we all were able to relate to a sober mother. After surgery to remove a tumor on her Thymus, Mom was diagnosed with Myasthenia Gravis. It must have been there a long time as within a year she began having life threatening respiratory episodes. Her 1st hospitalization was in January for Respiratory Distress. And in February another doctor diagnosed the problem. Too late! Within a month her entire system had broken down, with a week of Hell as she lost immense quantities of blood due to internal bleeding, fought a raging infection due to her weakened condition and slipped into a Coma after realizing the seriousness of her medical issues. I spent the last hour of her life alone with her in ICU. Comforted by the ease of passing yet devastated at the loss of my 62 year old mother. This was a transitional event in my life. It would be 7 years and many hours of psychiatric therapy and Grief Work through Codependents Anonymous before I could finally let go and accept her death. The pivotal solution was a personal letter to my mother asking her forgiveness of my insensitivity.

Employee Benefits Insurance Company was generous with me as I grieved the loss of my mother. My staff there was fully supportive and even organized a blood drive for the 50 units of blood needed to get her through the night a week before she died. Six months later issues with my insecure Manager came to a head when the company was merged and the Accounting department was to be transferred to Connecticut. I was summarily laid off from my Supervisory position without warning on the day the changes were announced. No chance to say my goodbyes to staff. Although I had worked there for 3 years the job had not been a good fit. I moved on and into Municipal Finance where the next half of my Governmental Accounting career would take place (the first half being County Government as an auditor and then Finance Director at the Department of Social Services). They say job loss is a major stressor equal to death. I always considered this loss a blessing.

As for Football and the Laundry Works, this was a wild period I sometimes wish had not occurred even though ’Coach’ and JW became significant men in my life experience over the next decade. Under the influence of younger female friends (Evelyn and Beth) with more dating experience than I ever had, I watched as these virile men hit on each us with all the charm they could muster. I just wasn’t made for the casual relationships they offered. I learned a lot from the experience and the whole situation served to make Football watching much more engaging as I sipped the Bombay Gin and enjoyed the pheromones.

As I said, 1982 (the probable mid-point of my life) was a tough one.