Post script to Going Through the Door.

Begun two days before my 64th Birthday – 25 (!!!) years later

The headline here, really, is that I never actually did give birth to myself. And that – leaving the academy, going through the door, is what I seem to be wrestling with RIGHT NOW!!!! I finally have left the academy, yes, but what do I want to be when I grow up? How am I going to give birth to my own creative voice? I still haven’t gone through that door. But – it’s a good time to take stock since that cri de coeur which I guess is best considered an expression of my mid-life crisis.

Some words on the meaning of The Door.

Since we are now in the 21st century, the virtual age, the age of Google, I looked up Rich’s poem on line, re-read it, and read some comments about it. Most interpretations took the title literally, and spoke about some of the perils of being an immigrant, of taken that big step, and coming to live in a new, previously unknown country. Another person pointed out that for Rich, the door might well have been a metaphor for her coming out as a lesbian. But I believe, along with one writer, that the poem is about “the capability we have to change our lives.” We can take that big step. It has its perils and its costs, makes no guarantees, and perhaps we can have ok lives if we don’t step through. We can chose to step beyond our comfort zone into another life.

Some mitigating factors (i.e. some ways in which “changes were made”)

I did stop doing research on the Middle Ages, and in fact I managed to make my mark – of sorts – working on women artists. Both in researching and teaching. That could be viewed as having changed some aspects of the direction of my life, and in fact my life really did become more satisfying once I went that route. I developed a graduated curriculum related to women artists and, as I taught more and more courses related to the Women/Art curriculum, I enjoyed teaching more, and I was doing more of the kind of teaching I liked. As far as the research, I worked really hard to get Voicing Our Visions published and in the end had two and a half offers. Universe offered me the opportunity to write the sequel plus the book on the Cassatt, and I went on to make an important contribution to the Dictionary of Women Artists. I was promoted to Full Professor, albeit not without some controversy. So, in fact, things did work out. But somehow, I dropped the thread there, too, or it got tangled. My work got lots and lots of rejections. There were no publications from any of the unfinished chapters related to The Gendered Artist. Once more I was stalled. My project abandoned. At another impasse. Might I have gone through the Wrong Door???

It’s also clear to me that The Door describes how I was simply flat out, over-extended. That a big part of what was making me feel so bad was the juggling act. Three kids. A full-time job – or really, a career. Trying to get tenure and my promotions. And, when I ask how I could have stayed doing what I seemed to find so crazy-making, living that life that was so schizoid, I can now see that simply the shifting of the sands of time helped make it more tolerable. For one thing the kids kept growing – so that while it was always a juggling act to be sure, the starkness of the contrast wasn’t so great. They weren’t always crawling all over me. I could go to the bathroom by myself. Also, I got used to it – it just was my prevailing reality. I learned how to juggle better, faster, with greater aplomb.

Furthermore, I had a second lease on life at UNH. It really did get to feel better when I. took on the administrative challenge of heading the Women’s Studies Program. I lessened my teaching load so that it was not as onerous as I might have articulated in 1986-87. Actually, re-reading that document now, I think I spoke far too hyperbolically in my heartfelt cry of frustration – I didn’t really hate teaching quite as much as I seemed to indicate, even before I lessened my course load. And once I started teaching more courses that were informed by my research on women artists, I was actually put in touch with what I had loved about teaching at the beginning. Also, in spending so much time in Women’s Studies, I was able to absent myself from the poisonous atmosphere in the Art Department.

Also, in heading the Women’s Studies Program, I found another creative outlet. I really liked some of the administrative aspects of the job. It was satisfying to make things happen, to help people to achieve their goals, to be in the crucible. It was great to provide such a welcoming space for students, physically in the office, and intellectually and emotionally in the way they responded to the curriculum. I also liked its political aspect, the process of mediating between Women’s Studies values and those of the University. Helping to make Women’s Studies be seen as a legitimate academic program but also helping to further the political agenda of women.

Two extenuating circumstances

Not to mention the two other major exigencies of my life that took place between when I thought I needed to go through the door and when I finally left UNH. The extent to which they deflected me from my scholarly pursuit. Or from my ability to listen to my voice. Or from remembering what I wanted to do, or from figuring out how to put it all together.

The debacle of the demise of my marriage, which I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to write about now, but which continued for years, at least four, and when I think of it, of me during those years, the images are bloody, gaping, like flesh torn open. Pain. And anger. And coincidentally, those were the years that professionally, my work was having the greatest success but I was way too stressed and debilitated to do anything about it. To celebrate or acknowledge it, even.

And then there was the breast cancer which happened a little more than two years after the alleged resolution – i.e. when the divorce finally went through. And while it’s true that I didn’t physically suffer in the way that many people have, and at the time I was not in extremis as people I know have been, the cancer was a real blow. To my body itself. To my sense of well-being. Especially because of the way it went on, the multiple surgeries, the process of chemotherapy. I became derailed. After that, I don’t think my career ever really recovered.

Until perhaps 2002, I did try to pursue a scholarly agenda. I did submit proposals to conferences, I did work on chapters, and I did submit my revised outline of The Gendered Artists to publishers. But they were all rejected and ultimately – that was it. How my career came to a standstill — again.

Getting Out

And then I began to try to figure out how to get out of the University while still managing to stay solvent, of being able to reap the benefits of having been a lifer. To be able to retire. I developed my so-called five year plan (which actually took 6 ½ years). I headed two study abroad programs – London for a year (an incredibly important, positive, and in some ways life-altering experience), Italy for a semester (more problematic but still meaningful). I went on sabbatical. I ended up transitioning to retirement over two years.

So. Here I am now……I have finally have left academia. I have finally left that easy answer of who am I and what should I do. But I haven’t brought my creative self into being.

I have allowed space in my life so that I can finally hear my voice. I’ve resisted the temptation to fill my days and my mind, to keep a crowded schedule in order to hold back the abyss.

What is it going to be? When is it going to be? Is it going to be???

September 2011