I start this blog as a play off the title of one of my favorite books; Are you there God? It's Me Margaret by Judy Blume. The main character, Margaret is a typical teenager, confused and bewildered by all of the changes happening to her body and in her life and she is questioning it all. As I approach another hormonal milestone in my own life, that of Menopause, I have felt myself being catapulted back into the mental state of adolescence and the confusing landscape of that hormonal wasteland. I feel like I am on a water-slide plunging to a deep pool of anger and resentment toward aging and a body not able to function properly.
I find that most days I cannot get through without snapping at my husband, children or treating another human being with contempt. That makes me sad. However, I am older and wiser now I hope, that I can dam up this landslide. One way to do this is to write letters to God, move towards the light and ask Him to reveal himself to me in my desert or as I have said on my water-slide.
So here I am Lord, trying to reconnect for the 40th time in as many days. Also in as many days I have multiple times stumbled somewhere or tangled up in a thorny vine. This happened just yesterday quite literally, when I stepped off the curb trying to mulch around the mailbox. As I twisted my ankle and fell on my butt, it probably looked comical, but I felt anything but comical (I usually laugh at these moments). I was full- on angry monster, eyes flashing, premenopausal woman to be reckoned with. I had just gotten home from a drop in visit to the main church campus after which I spent the ride home having a panic anxiety attack This particular episode of contempt manifested into sobbing hiccups and swollen red eyes made that way from copious tears. As I sat stunned on the pavement under my mailbox, ankle throbbing, I asked "Why do I keep failing at life?" Why did I have to go there (the church) and make it blatantly obvious that I am a wannabe, left out can't be good enough for this crowd. Why does no-one show they care about me? Just a call to ask how I am would be lovely. Lunch maybe? Then I asked why should I care anyway? Lies and counter lies. Whole monologues of conversations with myself that I had long ago as a teen and young adult. What is going on in my life that is triggering this barrage of anger and self loathing? I do know...
This full on Angry Woman stems from selfishness on my part. In stopping by the church to ask a simple question, I wound up feeling under appreciated and left out and chastised. I know they are just feelings, but they get underfoot and trip up my forward journey.
I also have been feeling discontent for many months (I could call another novel of my life The Spring and Summer of My Discontent) Of course, the reference to Richard the Third's hell on earth is not in direct correlation to my struggles with anger, but it does stem from old family wounds. This past spring and summer is the first time in a long time that I have felt this disconnected from my family, my husband, my friends, and God. I am lonely and restless
