How many times in what Buddhists call our “precious human existence” have we wondered if we ever should have been born at all?
Life- any life, human or otherwise- is a complex and uneasy drama/comedy to get through.
Every decision, if we stopped to think about the endless possibilities, well…we could be driven deeply crazy….so we don’t stop to think…..rarely do we take that constructive pause.
Countless examples fill my seven decades of existence! Too numerous to count, in fact….many come to mind.
For instance, there was the time my new young husband Paul got sick with a cold or flu or something. And I decided we had better get a divorce, if he was going to be so thoughtless as to get sick. I didn’t count on marrying an actual human man. I thought I had married a god. I thought when I hooked my life to this man’s existence, that he would be invulnerable and perfect at all times, and because of that, he would remain strong and healthy and take care of me in the way I so desperately needed to be taken care of.
I didn’t count on the fact that real people get colds or flu, and that, somehow, I was supposed to take care of him rather than he taking care of me at all times, forever and ever, amen.
I remember standing in our living room, in Hartford still, and he was supine on the yellow flowered sofa, feeling lousy and covered in fever and blankets. He was so miserable, and there I was standing there yelling at him.
“Stop this, Paul!” I cried while containing the urge to scream at him in my panic. He was so sick, yet still managed to look surprised at this lunatic he had married.
“Stop what?”, he plaintively inquired.
“Are you going to die? Should we go to the Emergency Room?”, I didn’t even know where a hospital was in our newly acquired hometown of Hartford. I envisioned having an ambulance siren its way to our Farmington Avenue address.
“No, I’m not going to die! Evalyn, calm down!”, the poor man moaned.
I was inconsolable. That’s how much I co-depended on this man I had rashly , deeply, painfully fallen in love with, and needed to have care for me. How was I supposed to take care of him? The prospect seemed impossible. I’d never been taught how to cook or take care of anyone or anything beside myself. Paul was tall and wealthy. Handsome and fit. He wasn’t supposed to get sick. And there he was lying on our yellow floral sofa being ill! How dare he?
How DARE he?
Yeah, I was a picnic to be married to, wasn’t I?
In terms of adult responsibility, I was an infant. Oh, sure I could dress myself, spend money on expensive clothes to look good and go to a beauty salon. I could sing, and make people laugh and cry with my ability to intelligently act and perform. I got by in the world with my clever little girl talents. I made money. I functioned in the world. I just couldn’t function in any intimate way with a person who might depend on me. It took me years to learn that skill, and even now, I struggle to refine it.