The female conundrum

What is it about women?
Why do we spend our lives taking care of people?
But then also resenting it.
Is it genetic? Is it learned?
Help me understand this.
I woke up in a panic this morning. Worried about my son.
We're leaving tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn for Italy.
I'm only staying 10 days. And then he's staying on.
For a few months? For a few years? Forever?
I want to stay there with him, to take care of him, to make life easier for him.
My heart aches that he'll be there alone. I'm going to be a basket case when I leave.
But I need to come back too.
If I've got any chance of making a life here. I can't lose my freelance gig. I owe it to my husband to keep trying here.
He also needs tending.
He's been working hard. Like always.
Oh God.
I'm reading Elizabeth Gilbert's new book, "Committed," the author of "Eat, Pray, Love," fame. (And when I say fame, I mean FAME.) You've all read it, I'm sure. Every woman I know has.
Anyway, this second one, is all about marriage.
It's nowhere near as engaging as "Eat, Pray, Love," which was written from a perpsective of pain (pain makes much better reading than happiness).
Here, she's happy, contemplating marriage to her new Brazilian lover, which is nowhere near as gripping as post-nasty divorce angst.
But. She's done an interesting reporting job on marriage, which for someone who's been married as long as me, makes for good reading.
So for all you long-married women out there, I recommend it.
After I woke up early freaking out with my need/desire to take care of my son forever (which I'm pretty sure he does not want), I read her chapter on women and marriage, which talks about this very problem.
She interweaves that with passages on her personality -- and what she needs -- versus her new lover's -- and what he needs.
It all struck a chord.
I looked at my husband sleeping next to me. Thought of how hard he's worked this year.
I wanted to desperately take care of him.
But if I don't make some progress with my own goals and life soon, satisfy some of my own personal hungers, I may go stark raving mad.
Nobody forces nurturing on me.
I force it on myself.
But we all want to be nurtured after all. So this female urge is convenient for everyone. Which is what Liz Gilbert says.
I like her as a narrator. But she also seems incredibly selfish at times.
Because she really doesn't have anybody to take care of actually.
My kids are growing up. I've buried my parents. My husband's not sick anymore.
Everyone's going to be okay.
I gotta let go.
I gotta realize some of my own goals.
I'm thinking Liz Gilbert would want me to.
If she cared, that is.
Which I'm pretty sure she doesn't.