Transformation

I came home so sad and mad yesterday, that I stopped off at the grocery store, bought a container of chocolate pudding, brought it home and ate the whole thing.  It didn't make me feel any better.  In fact, each chocolaty spoon full made me feel more sick to my stomach.  The combination of a week's worth of dark, gloomy, rainy weather, stress at work, stress at home, all of it, made me think chocolate pudding would help.  I have never been an emotional eater, so I'm not sure why I chose to do that, other than maybe I was too tired to do anything else.  I fell asleep on the couch.

This afternoon, I watched the movie Eat, Pray, Love.  I read the book a few years ago; a lot of it as I waited for my daughter to be finished with class. I read a lot of books while I waited to pick her up on the days she didn't take the bus.  I loved the book.  The movie isn't as good, though, I still enjoy it.  Anyway, a phrase from the movie stood out like neon glitter: "Ruin is the way to transformation."  Initially, that sounds enlightening and hopeful, because the assumption is that the 'transformation' will be a good one.  Well, it hit me like a handful of glitter in the eyes.  I have gone through ruin: a bad marriage, the struggles during the divorce, the emotional issues that followed with my children, and then my daugther's engagement to addiction.  It has transformed me, but not in a good way.  I am a more bitter person, less hopeful, less happy.  I have turned from someone who enjoyed a challenge to someone who hits the snooze alarm as many times as I can to avoid the challenge of getting out of bed.  I used to look forward to time with friends, now I hope they don't call because wearing the mask of 'normal' has become so exhausting, I just don't want to put it on anymore. I feel old and worn out, even though I'm not. Many years ago, I went with two other friends to the Pocono's to meet with a woman who does past lives.  The one friend I went with wanted to 'unclog' herself and wanted us to go with her.  We did.  It was a memorable weekend.  Something the woman said to us when we were in her living room, talking, was that you know that you are spiritually healthy if the sage you are growing (the herb) is deep green, and healthy.  This summer, of the three sage plants I planted, two died and one could only muster three shoots (I should have heeded the warning).

I started thinking of one of the pastors at the church I go to (though I haven't been in awhile).  He was on vacation at the beach in September.  A wave knocked him over. He hit his head and was unconscious in the water for a time before anyone saw him.  He was rushed to the hospital, never regained consciousness, and three weeks later he died.  This was a man who relished his relationship with God.  He made you feel good about being in church. He was kind, giving and outgoing. He had a good family, with a grandchild on the way.  And God chose not to heal him.  If God chose not to heal someone like that, how on earth can I believe that he would heal someone like my daughter who is having doubts about God?  The whole church was praying for a miracle of healing and one never came; The same prayer I've been praying for five years.

Well, today I am still bitter.  Though I understand and acknowledge all of the things I should be grateful for, the dismal and waning life of my child still casts a shadow on all of it.  I'm just so sick of all of this. I'm so resentful and angry. Today, I can't keep it in. Today, I'm letting it out, here.  I just feel so bad.  And yes, she started drinking again, and no, I'm not buying anymore chocolate pudding.