I think I may have given God a black-eye. At least that is how my rage at my higher power felt last night as I shouted in frustration and fear. I have felt fear before and mastered it. I felt it when I realized the man I had set my future and love on was no longer available. I felt it when I realized that his disease would make me essentially a single mother without a co-parent and certainly no financial support. I felt it when I took a job from a 70-something spoiled child of a man who inherited his father's business, but not his professionalism, bootstrapping or business acumen. I felt it when I wanted to yell back at him, belittle him like belittles us, and couldn't for fear of losing my lousy paycheck, so that fear coiled like a poisonous snake in my belly, whispering for me to wait it out, wait it out, something better will come along.
Something better didn't come along. At least yet. And I lost that lousy paycheck. You want to know fear? Fear is wondering how to feed and clothe your child without losing your house. Fear is looking said child in the eyes and telling him that even though we felt squeezed before, we'll be choking from the squeeze this time. So I yelled at God. He can take it. I have heard all the platitudes before about how this is an opportunity, blah, blah, blah. Tell that to all the other unemployed people in metro Detroit. If I hear "chin up" one more time, I'm going to punch somebody's chin up.
Someone told me once that there are only too emotions, two modes of operation: fear and love. So I chose to feel love when my gruff father told me to let my house go into foreclosure and come live with them, instead of fear of being a middle-aged woman whose world includes that option of having to move in with her parents, child in tow.
And I feel love for my little boy who offered up the dollar bill his grampa gave to help with the bills. So, yes, I feel love and feel loved. I also feel scared shitless.