Heavy Things, Part 2

From the summer of 2008

We Pip women are cursed. Some might look at it as blessed, but only us women in the inner circle know it's a curse. We give and we give and we give of ourselves and expect nothing in return. But it gets to the point where we become exhausted. The point where we need someone to take care of us. I've watched two generations of Pip women exemplify this. I thought all I wanted was to give of myself, to the bearer, the keeper, but maybe it's time to turn the tables and break this curse.
Ha! To do that in a man's world? I might as well smoke my cigarette before I go to stand in front of the firing squad. Unbeknownst to the men lined up with their shotguns, it will take more than a shotgun shell full of gunpowder to kill me. I AM INVINCIBLE. I AM STRONG. I WILL FIGHT THE BATTLE, even if I have to do it on my own. My body may be temporary, but my spirit will live on, through my children, my children's children, on and on.
I'm not calling for all women on Earth to form a coup de tate, because it's not about rebellion. It's about finding your place, as a woman, in a fucked up world. Finding the place that makes you happy, whether it be barefoot and pregnant, the CEO of corporate America, or the girl behind the register at the grocery store. When I look around me, it seems that women have forgotten how to GLOW, how to shine from the inside out, and if I can do it in a short skirt and stiletto heels, even though I may be dying on the inside, anyone can do it. If my mother can do it, even as she was aware that her husband was running around on her, even as she watched both of her parents succumb to cancer, anyone can do it.

From what I've observed in my short lifetime, women are the problem solvers. The ones we go to when we are sick, and they make us scrambled eggs or pastina soup because those things can heal everything from a broken heart to a broken sternum.
It's really not men that cause the inner wars. If a woman shows her inner strength, if she emanates that Glow, she is automatically dubbed intimidating, and if she thinks with her Cunt, she's automatically dubbed a slut.

I'm not certain anymore of what the future holds for me, and it's a terrifying thought. I feel as though I'm back at square one: like I'm 18 years old, being forced to decide a major, thrown headfirst into the world of sex and relationships. Six months ago I had my life planned out. I had a partner, a good job, I was going to school to end up one day with a PharmD after my name. I saw the white picket fence clearly. And then I started feeling trapped. Trapped and scared of what it would be like ten years from now. Would I be content? Would I be happy? Would I wake up every day ready to face the world? When I realized that the answer to those questions was NO, I did what I had to do - I got out.
I needed to figure out who BELLA was. Not Bella, the other half of Brent. Not Bella, the student. Not Bella, the pharmacy tech. And I'm still working on it.
Will I be the Pip woman who finally breaks the curse? I feel as though I'm destined to find that happy medium, somewhere bewtween the good and dutiful housewife/mother and the powerful executive/artist/whatever.