Brainhilda's Reservations

I've been watching a lot of romantic comedies lately, in part because I like them and in part because Brainhilda* likes predictable plots. Because of this self-imposed survey of the cinematic genre, I've noticed some patterns in regards to the way love and work is portrayed on the screen. Right now I'm watching No Reservations for the first time, and while it's just starting I already know how it will end -- the workaholic and stick-in-the-mud (but shockingly beautiful) chef will first hate and then love the easy spirit male chef who she gets thrown into contact with. Now, this observation isn't entirely original. I read an article about this phenomenon about a year ago in regards to movies like Knocked Up which pair anal women with easy-going men. But after reading the article I am even more aware of the phenomenon's presence. I know exactly why films like No Reservations exist. It comes from a transition of female gender roles. Catherine Zeta-Zones' character most likely had to prove herself as a woman in the workplace. Especially as a beautiful woman who could have become a model or an exceptionally striking housewife. Aaron Eckhart's character, by comparison, is expected to be a professional in his field. He might have had to overcome battles like finances, but as a (white) male, no one would look at him and not take him seriously, especially because he's good looking. Therefore Jones' character assumes an air of a fighter, and Eckhart is free to be goofy and in need of a woman to make him take on more responsibility. And what these films' resolutions tells us is that as professional women we will never be content, fully-functioning human beings capable of love, unless we let loose and not take ourselves too seriously.This is compounded in the above mentioned film, as she raises her niece after the mother dies, and tells her therapist that she lacks the maternal instinct. No doubt Aaron Eckhart will help her find it.

My family is dealing a lot with gender role reversals and challenges right now because of the economy, as is much of the world. One cousin struggles to get a job after obtaining her master's degree while her partner hangs onto his government-based position by the skin of his teeth. Another cousin's teaching position is also being drastically cut as she struggles to raise two children. My sister's nursing program is on the verge of being blocked to future applicants, and my aunt is struggling to find full time and permanent work, as a professional who has entered the workforce in her 40s. And me, well, my state disability program is being threatened to be cut as well, leaving my $339 a month income and free medical care in a precarious position. (I just hired a lawyer to appeal the denial of my social security claim.) The men, while employed, are all facing similar cuts to services and to the ability to create retirement nest eggs as well as help their grown children. The dating service for working professionals that my roommate joined is now calling incessantly trying to find new clients, no doubt losing present clients to changes in income. And my roommate herself is facing a possible layoff next year.

What does all this have to do with gender roles? And what does it have to do with dating with a disability? It means this: On the one hand, the fact that I can't make my own money is less of an issue because many women are in the same situation. On the other hand, that same fact is more of an issue, because while I don't want a man to provide for me, there's less of a chance that he will be able to as well. And with my condition, I can't even think of having children without a full-time nanny to give Brainhilda a break from noise and to get kids to school early in the morning, even though I've always been against the thought of nannies. When a woman in this century thinks about what is expected of her, and how she should wrestle with competing expectations and wishes involving work and home, my female friends, family and I are always wondering if we're making the right decisions. In a way I have more in common with the women I'm in contact with right now than I would if the economy was better. In a way it's as if we're all disabled. We all can not obtain the life we want, and we all have to make adjustments and sacrifices. Will my future sister be able to pay for the wedding of her dreams? Will my cousin's boyfriend make enough to feel like he can get married and have children? Will I find a responsible, care-free man who rolls with the punches that life, the economy, and Brainhilda bring? Will he not only be okay with my professional, academic nature that might rival his own, but also be okay that I don't make an income, don't cook, have a motherly heart but not a motherly brain, and have an independent nature in a somewhat dependent body? We're all struggling to find our places -- every one of us. And maybe the current romantic comedy trend is in part so successful because while the women "need changing," the men are attracted to them because of their strong spirits. And no faulty economy can take that away.

(To see a refreshing change in the genre, I highly recommend the movie Just Wright. It's one of the only movies I've seen where the woman is loved exactly as she is and doesn't change one bit. Three cheers to Queen Latifah!)

*Brainhilda is a term coined by Carole Starr, a violinist who has suffered a rare disorder following a brain injury, with symptoms almost identical to mine. My cousin recently heard her on the radio and she and I have since been in contact.

Muse(ings)

After my diagnosis of somatization, I had one really bad day where turning my head made me dizzy and I felt like I was going to throw up. Of course that much of that was due to crying hysterically the night before (no pun intended). My best friend's words echoed through my head... "You need to sleep less hours a night... Everyone gets in funks... You need a boyfriend..." and I felt myself feeling guilty for being too ill to to anything but with not enough strength to change it. The next day, everything changed.

I woke up just after noon instead of around 5 o'clock, while still maintaining my regular 12 hours I needed by going to bed earlier. I subsequently got to enjoy the sun pouring into the house as I went about my day. I opened my blinds, and I listened to music on my ipod as I cleaned, something that I had stopped doing because the times I can deal with the musical stimulation are so rare. I jumped up and down at Muse's most electric moments, and aside from my birthday where I did the same with each peg knocked down by my bowling ball, jumping is something I had ceased to be able to do for the past few months.

This change was not because I'd willed myself to be better. It was because I had recognized those better moments and made them the best they could be. As my uncle advised me last night, my symptoms are real, they aren't out of laziness, and I do have a medical condition, but all I can do is keep pushing myself within reasonable limits and not party too hard so I don't crash too hard. And in that way my condition is better than it used to be. These days, if I want to be well for something I just make sure that I have nothing scheduled for the few days beforehand so that my stimulation receptors (or whatever the medical term may be) can cool and recharge.

Tonight I went out for Halloween -- my last big event outside the house for the next couple of months as I try to spend more frequent and less intense moments out in the world. I danced, I drank, I talked and laughed, and had a merry good time. I also returned to the dating world -- or at least the "physical" world -- without even trying. A guy reached for my hand as we walked along, squeezing it affectionately, and I squeezed back. We stood side by side, shoulders touching, and caste flirtatious glances at one another. Sure, he was drunk and will probably remember none of this tomorrow, and I agreed to take his hand only because he was part of our group and I was afraid he would fall over otherwise, but it reignited something in me, reminding me of the intimacy I'm missing. I'm unsubscribing from the disabled dating sites. If I fall in love with a disabled man, great, but I'm going to start seeing me when I look in the mirror again, not the disorder that has been threatening my identity. It's real, but it doesn't define me any more than my race, sex, or shoe size. As Muse says, "It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life / for me / and I'm feeling good."