You Can't Make Me

by Sophie

RULES


Oh, dear.

Rules are sort of a hot button issue for me. It's not that I don't believe in them. It's not that I don't understand that, in the absence of some sort of societal structure that includes limit-setting and behavioral expectations, the world would descend into chaos.

But rules make me chafe like a six-year-old boy wearing a tie to church. I hate being told what to do.

As you can imagine, this isn't the most effective way to go through life. Sometimes I think I'm only a few frustrations away from moving into a hut in the woods, where neighborhood associations can't tell me what color my mailbox has to be and bureaucrats can tell me what classes my kids have to take to get their high school degree and Real Simple magazine can't tell me I ought to be composting. Most of the time, though, I find it interesting to push back against expectations and see how many of the pressures and strictures I can resist - not to be a contrarian, but in the interest of honoring my true self.

This is a reversal from the first few decades of my life, when I went around trying to mold myself to fit the expectations, rather than the other way around. In fact, this reversal became the theme of my mystery series. The second book, A BAD DAY FOR PRETTY, came out last week, and once again it features the adventures of avenging middle-aged widow Stella Hardesty, who was herself a "behaver," a nice lady who stayed quietly out of the way serving her family and community and making sure everything looked pleasant to outside observers.

Stella was covering up a terrible secret - her husband's abuse - and when she had a life-changing mid-life crisis she did a dramatic 180, going from June Cleaver to won't-take-shit-from-anyone pretty much overnight.

My own transition was more subtle. I started rebelling in small ways against what was expected of me. Stating my opinion a bit more often (and for women my age, that may be the most subversive act of all, given how forcefully we were coached to defer and "make nice"), insisting on doing things my way, making unpopular choices and taking responsibility when they didn't work out the way I wanted.

I think the worst of that particular storm is over. With apologies to all the innocent bystanders, I think midlife change requires a bit of a meltdown (much like the transition from teen to young adult, a process I am participating in with a couple of frustrating people around here) - and I think I'm at the stage where, like the toddler, I'm a little tired of beating my fists on the floor and screaming, maybe ready to wipe the tears off my face and go out and play.

As for Stella, she's through the worst of her "reinvention" as well, but she's chosen to stay lean and mean and looking for trouble. Which is a good thing, because she's fictional and all...and badass makes a much better story.