The Following is a personal rant on my own emotional issues that are easily transferrable to the women of the world. The disease to please, as Oprah calls it, is apparently carried on our chromosome.


I have this problem that most women have. I try to help people. I try to save people. I try to lift them up when they are down. I try to make them smile. I try to make their lives a little easier. However, I realize over and over two things. I can't save anyone. You are the way you are because you have brought yourself to wherever it is you are for a reason and it is up to you to get yourself out of it. I can offer a suggestion, a shoulder, an ear, a hug, a smile, but that's about it. I need to cut the cord so to speak. The second thing I learned is that I am just using other people's problems as a distraction from the wasteland that is my life. Okay, I am being overly dramatic. I am very blessed to be alive, to have a roof over my head, to have a job, to have the opportunity to pursue an education. Yet I am not entirely happy and instead of spending energy on improving myself and my life I am spending it finding people jobs when they don't really want to work, giving motivational speeches that deserve AWARDS to people that really couldn't care less. WHY?

If I made other people happy, if I improved their lives would I be better off? What kind of a payoff am I hoping to receive here? Do I get a gold star? Does that mean that I am a good person? Does that mean somehow I am worthy of praise and adoration, that people can't love me until I have served them in someway? A pat on the head, perhaps? A fucking doggy biscuit?

When a woman is in a relationship she gives her all. That is a general statment, sure there are tons of crappy women out there. Most women spend a lot of time trying to improve their spouses. They do everything for that person. A friend of mine told me that your spouse is a reflection of who you are. But of course. As a woman, my identity lies soley in the success of my partner. If I want to climb the social ladder, then my partner needs to get a great job and earn a decent salary. We kill ourselves trying to make sure that spouse gets an education. Don't worry, we will stay at home and care for the children and the house. We will help you study and type your notes for you. We will cook you nutritious meals that will give you energy and strenght. We won't question you about your comings and goings, who you talk with, what you are doing when you come home late for work, why you don't want to talk anymore, why you are not studying anymore, why you aren't showering anymore, where all that weight is coming from or where it went, why you are dressing differently, where the money in the bank went, why the phone was turned off, why you are going to the gym all of the time, why you never spend time with the kids, why you bring up having more kids when we want to get a job or go back to school. No questions means no lies. But if a tree falls in the forest does it make a sound? If a lie is unspoken, does it exist?

The lie I speak of is the lie we tell ourselves as women. Somehow we are under the impression that it is our burden to bear this great weight and we are selfish for pursuing our own happiness. It's not. If we don't travel our own path we haven't been true to ourselves, if we even recognize who we are in the mirror.

It's hard to shake this feeling that we have been taught all our lives of being silent and subservient. When women are aggressive I feel myself shrinking. How dare they? This immediately follows with envy; I wish I could be so confident and aggressive to get what I want when I want it. To know what is right for me and follow my heart without reservation. I wish that I could live my life without all of those ever-tangling strings attaching me to people that in the end will just take care of themselves, forgoing loyalty or some feeling of obligation to return kindness.

In the movie Shrek, Shrek says ogres are like onions. They have layers. So does happiness, I imagine. You keep peeling back the layers looking for joy, even though it stinks, even though tears are flowing down your face and your eyes are blinded by the sting, you keep peeling until you find it.

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