In a recent New York Times article, Maureen Dowd wrote, "Research published last week in the journal, Nature, reveals that women are genetically more complex than scientists ever imagined, while men remain the simple creatures they appear."
"Women are mosaics, one could even say chimeras, in the sense that they are made up of two different kinds of cell. Whereas men are pure and uncomplicated, being made of just a single kind of cell throughout."
Although that kind of information should make me happy, somehow, I don't find it comforting.
Let's say you go to a car lot ... and you see a shiney new 2005 model. It's totally loaded ... electric locks and windows ... cruise control ... sunroof ... CD changer in the trunk ... the thing does everything but cook dinner for you. So, you're standing in the lot looking at it ... and you hear that small voice in your head.
Maybe it's the critical voice of your mother or father ... maybe it's your curmudgeonly old consumer ed teacher ... who knows. But whoever it is, that voice whispers to you, "Yeah, it's loaded ... but that just means there's more things that can go wrong ..."
Women's chromosomes may have more complexity ... but at this moment, it feels like that only means there's more things that can go wrong.
Last year, my doctor diagnosed me with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome ... not an enormous surprise since something was obviously wrong ... and I suppose it was helpful to be able to put a name to it.
It's hard to imagine how something so small as tiny cysts on an ovary can throw such a big a monkey wrench in the machine. Although I'm blessed to not have hirsutism, I do deal with thinning hair, weight issues, infertility, and menorrhagia caused by hormonal imbalances.
The worst part is not knowing which emotions are real. I always feel like crying, go through periods where I want to scream at everyone, and alternate between feeling hopeless, feeling helpless, and feeling like a complete failure.
It's terrible to doubt yourself ... am I angry because one of my clients got yet another virus on her computer ... or am I just hormonal? Am I really depressed because (yet another) friend is pregnant ... or am I just hormonal? Am I really this tired ... or am I just hormonal? It's enough to make you doubt your sanity.
So, Maureen, while in my head I can appreciate that we're fully-loaded ... in my heart, I just don't think I can afford the mechanic's ticket on this model.
What am I? What am I?
Sullen eyes shed teardrop lies then criticize, now laughing
What is real? What is real?
It's really all become too much
I'm not sure what I should feel
I guess I've finally had enough
I don't know if this is real
Cowboy BeBop - Is It Real?