March 10... a little pain and honesty

I have been having a rough go of it lately. Last week, I came face to face with what I think is rage. It's a volcanic experience that begins at the upper mid area of your chest, and seems to build to a full crescendo of volatility very, very quickly. Sadly, I stuffed it back down, or let it seep out in little spurts here and there... making like I'm saving the world from a huge dam giving way. We all know this results in passive aggressiveness, and I am no fan of that. I always tell my clients, my friends and my family, be authentic, express your anger. And yet here I am, seemingly unable - unwilling - to do so.

And the anxiety, what the hell? I have never felt this stuff before. And I'm loathe to label it as menopausal stuff - and not because of my age, or of menopause itself, but isn't it so stinking trite to use menopause as an excuse? I won't. Nor am I willing to engage in a dialogue that would explain my rage. That's terrible. The times I have tired, I have not felt heard. I feel myself running into walls, this only lifting the rage and anxiety to new heights. So I say nothing. I bottle it up. And then, I guess I could have predicted this, my back gives out! Ooops, another hole in the dam!

So on to gratitude... geez. The room I have for that today is tiny indeed. Nice physio girl told me to walk today, so I did. It's beautiful out and I smiled when I saw my first Spring crocuses. They are beautiful, joyful little flowers. That place in my heart where gratitude lives, swelled ... some. And some days I guess you take what you can get. And if all I got was this tiny swelling for those tiny flowers, so be it, I'll take it.