Empty Nest and the South of Spain

I am the most disciplined person I have ever met and yet, in spite of my best efforts, everything has gone to hell in a hand-basket.  I’m not kidding.

While contemplating my future many months ago, I remember saying to myself – “self, don’t let go of your internal discipline because you need that tight hold to keep your life from capsizing.”  “Not true” said my inner party girl, “What damage can a little bit of fun do?”

Now, let’s just be clear about what I mean by discipline…I have very rigid behavior surrounding my home and my work life.  Little ground rules, if you know what I mean.  For example, 28 years ago when I was pregnant with Johanna, I decided to lay out my clothes for the entire week on Sunday.  I’ve kept that discipline for 28 years.  I rigidly get all of the laundry done on Saturday and then I rotate clothing forward to be used for this week….

I have dozens of little rules like this, work hard, work early, get all of the chores done first, ALL of them, then I can sit down and relax.  Always pay the bills first, no matter what my little heart wishes for.  Take care of my kids, on schedule, on time.  Now there were very good reasons for all of these disciplines; I raised seven kids.  It’s a herculean task that requires a lot of organization, time management and above all, efficiency.  Budgeting is a fine art, as is house care, and it’s all there to be completed by the end of the day.

Empty Nest: So no one needs me, there are no beautiful children’s faces gazing at me with adoring eyes.  Who am I without all of that to keep my inner crazy in check?  I’ve always functioned within the context of motherhood.  Now that motherhood recedes there is this woman who wants to get out and play.  Who the frick is she?

So -my dilemma is that for the last several months, I’ve been riding the slippery slope.  “I can do laundry later, groceries, who needs groceries? Sleep in a little bit, what difference does it make?  Checkbook, what checkbook?  Money, where did I put the money?”  I’ve even been practicing drinking, yes drinking!  I’ve never indulged in alcohol aside from a holiday here or there and one puke-drunk per year:)  Dozens of my friends tell me that they drink wine every day.  So how did that little pleasure pass me by for the last two decades?

There has always been this dark corner in my brain about extremes.  In other words, I think of extremes as the reality of my person.  I’m either a bad girl or a good girl.  There is no place in-between.  I see this dark edge of behavior that I could easily slide off into and the next thing you know, I would be sun-bathing nude on the coast of Spain with intellectuals and winos contemplating the meaning of the sand.  I would abandon my children, leave creditors in the lurch and laugh deliciously at all of my boyfriends who wish for me to settle down.

My good girl wears baggy pants, wants to bake cookies and coo at babies.  My good girl is still alive and well, she is industrious, caring and competent.  My bad girl wants someone else to go to the store and buy cookies for her, and babies are just for fun.  My bad girl is lazy, uncaring and doesn’t need competence, just confidence – who cares about the rest?