Am I Ok?

a half-life crisis

I just finished watching the Netflix film, Am I Ok? and I’m pissed.

Not because it’s a bad movie. It’s cute, Dakota Johnson is breathy and deer-in-headlights adorable as Lucy, who’s questioning her sexuality amidst thirty-something angst.

Discovering she’s attracted to women, we follow her journey of self-discovery and bumbling attempts to experiment, while confiding in her best friend, Jane, who she may/may not be attracted to.

The reason I’m pissed is because of something Lucy says while in the middle of (another) tearful conversation with Jane. Laying in bed together, Lucy sniffles and wails, “Shouldn’t I have this figured out by now? I’m 32!” (or something like that).

I thought back to when I was 32. I’d been married twelve years by then and had three kids, ages 7, 6 and 2. I had no degree because my husband convinced me to drop out of business college to follow him around while he built a real estate empire (that collapsed in dust eight months into our first year of marriage), I worked part-time as a fitness instructor at a local gym where I got free daycare (I was the step aerobics queen of the 90’s), and didn’t have time to question my life choices, let alone shower.

No shade to Lucy, or any woman who feels this way in their thirties.

I’m just pissed that now, in my fifties, I’m asking myself the same question.

Looking around at other women my age, I can feel itchy shame crawl around my belly.

They’re living in big houses in the suburbs with lots of extra bedrooms for the kids to stay on summer break. They travel with their husbands twice a year, master their pickleball swing, and are up to date on their mortgage payments. They’re celebrating anniversaries in the double digits and plan glamorous parties with all their couple friends who look just like them. They drive Land Rovers, drink the best Barolo, and never miss a dental cleaning.

Meanwhile, I’m coming off two divorces, thirty-plus moves, and my emotional baggage would fill the airplane they’re travelling on to Italy for that anniversary trip. I live in a one-bedroom apartment on the 27th floor in the city, and when my kids come to visit I blow up the air mattress (Queen-size!) and plonk it in the living room.

I don’t own a car, have my own business and live alone.

And, after two marriages to men, I’m having a Lucy moment, wondering why I haven’t figured out my sexuality yet.

I just recently learned about compulsory heterosexuality (or comp-het, as the cool kids say). The term was popularised by feminist poet and writer Adrienne Rich in her 1980’s essay, Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence.

“Heterosexuality may not be a ‘preference’ at all but something that has had to be imposed, managed, organised, propagandised, and maintained by force.”

-Adrienne Rich

And it got me thinking. Did I choose a heterosexual lifestyle because it aligned with my true self? Or because that’s the only option that was ever presented to me?

I grew up in northern British Columbia, in a small working town, surrounded by middle class, white, conservative folks. I didn’t see one queer person, in my town or in the media. I grew up in the Anglican church with Christian teachings.

So, when I began dating, it didn’t occur to me that there were any options other than boys. I got married at 20 and started life.

However, since my second divorce, I’ve been asking myself the same question Lucy does: Shouldn’t I have this figured out by now?

I recently talked with Chloe Caldwell, author of the best-selling novella, Women, on my podcast, The Selfish Woman. She writes about a brief affair she had with a woman when she was in her late twenties, after dating men. I love this book; Chloe describes her character’s awakening to a relationship with a woman in a beautiful, raw and real way that healed something deep inside me. She, too, asked herself the question: Shouldn’t I have figured this out by now?

So yeah, I’m pissed, kind of, that I spent the first fifty years of my life assuming I knew myself, and never pausing to ask that question sooner.

But I’m also okay with it, because I’m more confident and secure in myself than ever before, and what an adventure, to discover aspects of myself that I’ve never questioned! I feel like an explorer, stumbling upon a whole new continent. What will I find?

The last few years have presented uncharted territories inside of myself and while I’m curious about what I will discover, I know that whatever I find will feel like home.

And while I can’t say I’m never jealous of those other women who live a life more becoming of a fifty something woman, I also know that I wouldn’t trade places with them for anything.

Am I Ok?

The answer, resoundingly, is fuck yes.