I have had a series of discussions this week around the logistics of the sale of our house and the purchase of a different property. I keep coming up against decisions right now - big decisions - that I often feel ill equipped to make - information is thrown at me and I find it hard to concentrate - to focus - to figure out the right thing to do. And smack up against this was something particularly unwelcome yesterday that inspired the most deeply seeded fury. A meeting with an official at the bank - where I have been a client since I was sixteen years old - and my partner who has been connected to them for about two minutes (he banks elsewhere) in which every comment was directed away from me - when the primary topic was the funds that I practically killed myself to earn over the course of my career. As far as he knew - I was no one - and my partner, who he happened to recognize from the radio - was the important one. Until he actually looked at my recent tax returns and saw what I had earned, asking me in disbelief if I still earned that salary. His condescension, his dismissal of me - should not come as a surprise - been there, done that - but still it was probably the most humiliating moment of them all - explaining myself to some low-level minion who isn't even in a position to make a decision without appealing to his corporate masters for help. Why is it that some men continue to assume that when a man and a woman walk into a meeting - you - the female in the room - are like some useless piece of furniture? And how does one stop feeling the fury of it all - the incredible frustration - the fatigue of knowing this behaviour will go on and on and on. Money talks - but doesn't drown out the braying of men - the sound of their own voices echoed back to one another - insulting, demeaning, inappropriate - but a movie reel that does not end. The fact is I am no longer a wage earner and therefore I am nothing. I may have assets but I am not one - at least not in that person's eyes. I wish I could say I could let it go, but I can't - it chafes - insult to injury - yet another comeuppance that I have to absorb. I want to scream that I am still here - I am somebody - I deserve better than that. Because of course what I feel is bigger than that moment - about something entirely different - a symptom of where I routinely find myself - teetering on the periphery of life with no useful purpose anymore - nothing to redeem myself on paper - no evidence right now that I ever had anything to offer. That is what all of this has reduced me to - buried in no-man's land - but not gone yet.