I'm on the road, somewhere close to Albany.
"We go through three difference states with no tolls; then we hit New York and hit three tolls in less than an hour," my brother commented dryly.
Ah, the East Coast.
At a gas station, we let the dogs out for some water and a potty break.
"That's right," I said, to passing cars, "we're from Kentucky, and we have dogs in our Chevy diesel."
I have discovered my inner bitchiness. It's been long missing and I'm still kind of adjusting to it. Sometimes I go to pray, to "assume the position," as it were, because I'm realizing that standardized form has no true meaning- but anyway, I go to my rote prayer form and then remember-"You! I'm not talking to you!"
My anger has more meaning and reality than the prayer, which is just like a routine whine. I knew it was pretty empty for years, but after years of having the proper religious form drilled into my head, I just couldn't quite let it go.
There's a valid part of me that is simply living in bitterness and anger. I'm letting that part of me be. If God's going to judge me for my anger, than He is a monster and I'm going to hell anyway. I might as well have the integrity to go down without false humility.
But I don't think that He does judge me for it. I think He prefers it over the rote prayer, because it's alive and true. Not that all I've ever done is just assume the prayer position, that was long a rag. I'm just more vocal and unafraid in my anger and demands of God. I want Him to answer me.
Here's the funny thing, if I don't conceive and end up adopting, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I will thank God with every piece of me for not letting me have biological children, because I wouldn't be able to imagine it any other way at that point. I wouldn't be able to imagine, not having the children I was given.
And yet this doesn't lessen my anger at the course of my life. I refuse to judge myself for that either. I can be pissed about life sucking. That is perfectly ok. I can be illogical if I want to.
Other than all this, life has been pretty good. I'm enjoying life. I'm enjoying being angry. It was the internal conflict, the judgement that I was putting on myself that was the main source of misery.
Having my brother here has been great. We have eaten well, very well. One night Tim made a rub from some baby back ribs, slow roasted them and then finished them on the grill with BBQ sauce. We also had the best chicken fajitas ever. Ever. And apple crumble, sausage and biscuits for breakfast, all kinds of stuff.
I also discovered that I rock at Guitar Hero. I totally schooled some of Keith's guys who came over for some Corn Hole and stayed for poker. It was pretty satisfying. They were holding up imaginary lighters as I finished up "Hotel California."
"Who are you?" asked my husband in amazement. "I'm Keith. Welcome to the Man Room."
