I am cold. I have been cold for three months. I miss my radiators. Cannot go there. Mourning for my former home is as yet too painful. I hate being a renter. Will we ever own a home again? Can't go there. Too stupid to borrow worries. I am grateful for this house and the town. I believe God has placed us here for a purpose. I just wish my faith would stay screwed to the sticking point.
This letter is blah. I feel fairly happy and contented until I sit down to write and then something happens to me. Some other whiny, sarcastic, ungrateful, mean spirited women takes over. I am embarrassed by her, and repelled by her, and shocked by her and I just love her. She expresses all the things I can't. Is she my shadow self? Is she a buildup of years of "taking it?" Does she need to be expressed or should I squash her flat? Is she the me without the fat to hide behind? I hope not. Is she possessed by the devil or angelically directed? Do I need to own her? Probably, but I don't want to. She makes me nervous. So opinionated, so sexy, so self-confident, so mean. Is this the unredeemed me? Is this who I am without the saving power of Christ? Is the mealy mouthed boundariless chameleon the real Christian? No. That I am sure of. Who is this woman who wants to beat the sh*t out of everyone? Is she the menopausal me? Is this who I am without estrogen? Martha Stewart? I hate her. I think she is a big fake. Am I a big fake, and does it matter? My identity is melting. I am truly boundariless. A goodly number of my external supports have been removed. I am like a jellyfish. A beautiful formless, floating thing with a hell of a sting. Remember Towanda? Maybe this writer person is Towanda.
All this introspection is not good for me. Or it is good for me? Or is it just is? God direct me.
Take care of yourself. Love Bea