when she asked “how are you?” i knew she wanted the real answer. i told her the truth. i’m angry. i’m angry that i wasted my 30’s on unworthy people, which is another way of saying that i’m angry that i wasted my 30’s feeling unworthy and choosing losers to reflect that unworthiness to me. i’m angry that i am wasting the first year of my 40’s obsessing about things like skin elasticity and calculating how many years until i become invisible because women of a certain age become invisible in this society. i’m angry that i’ve taken this many decades to learn to love myself well and that i continue to fail loving myself well on a regular basis. i’m angry that i care about my numerical age when i can list three hundred other things that actually matter (sharing time, tears, and laughter with friends, acting kindly, extending compassion, giving generously, using my skills to help others, writing the truth, singing to heal the inner adolescent who lost her voice along with her innocence, stretching my long strong body, running faster than the wind, traveling wherever i am led, hula-hooping to hip-hop music, listening when someone needs to be heard, etc, etc). i’m angry that i’ve used my sexual attractiveness as a resource to attain some sketchy goals for the past two decades and i’m afraid that resource is running low. i’m angry that i decided last year that i would become the oldest pole dancing state champion in history and then i tore a rotator cuff that took nine months to heal and now instead of training to be a champion, i only want a nap. i’m angry that i’m tired all the time. i’m angry that the skin under my eyes is “crepey” and i’m too lazy (or don’t care enough) to apply moisturizer before i go to bed at night. i’m angry that i have a wide selection of 30 year olds to play with however i desire except that i have no desire to play with them at all, because like i said, i really just want a nap.
last friday i told a friend that anger is my cue that the funk is about to lift. anger signals the limit of my tolerance for bullshit. anger arrives with the message “i’ve had enough.” yeah, it’s true that i wasted my 30’s on people unworthy of my heart’s sweetest light and my soul’s shadowy depths, but those people aren’t in my life anymore. none of them. they left. i left. they’re gone. and yeah, i’ve used my sexual attractiveness as a resource and maybe i only have another 8 to 12ish years of that resource left, but my mind, heart, and soul have another 50 years of ripening ahead and i have limitless other resources, some of them secret and untapped. this anger is my friend. this anger propels me to get up and serve my love, passion, and desire to the world…as soon as i wake from a nap.