Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Still angry?

I've been feeling better lately.  I still carry the sadness of the reality that we will never have biological children.  I feel anxious that adoption may never work out.  However, I don't feel like my soul is being sucked out of me 24 hours a day.  I can think about what the next 20 years might bring and feel something other than terror and exhaustion.  I have started noticing bad days among the good, instead of the good days being like clean spots on dirty carpet.  I can breathe.

Why, then, does such anger fly out of my mouth when anyone talks to me about growing our family?  I talked to a family friend a few weeks ago about our infertility situation.
"Why don't you adopt?," she asked.
"Why don't I adopt?!  I'll tell you why!"

Everything we have been through in attempting to welcome children into our home poured out of me like, well, this:

Thanks, NBC news, for understanding my emotions.

I finally stopped, and we stared at each other for an instant, our eyes wide.  

"I'm sorry," I said softly.  "That was really angry."
"No, it's okay," she told me.  "I understand."

We went on to have a nice conversation about the turmoil in both of our lives.  She is truly a lovely friend and an excellent listener.  The way I reacted to her question troubled me.  A few other conversations with other friends and family members have followed a similar pattern, thankfully without the mouth explosions.  Though I delivered them calmly, my words stung even my own ears with their anger and cynicism.  

Is this really how I feel?  Why does it only come out when others mention it?  Have I unwittingly suppressed my emotions?  Once I figure out what is going on, how do I fix it?

I know I will probably carry the weight of sadness with me my whole life.  As difficult as this is, I know God will fashion something beautiful out of it if I just hand it over to Him.  Anger, however, is most dangerous.  Just look at what happened to Anikin Skywalker.
Yep, should have listened to Yoda, bro.

Perhaps master Yoda is right and my anger comes from a place of fear.  St. Paul reminds us that "perfect love casts out fear."  Am I simply not loving the way I should?  What lies in my heart, poisoning my words and maybe even my actions?  Truthfully, I am not sure yet.

Meditate on this, I should.  (Oh, man. The star wars streak runs deep in this family).

Clearly, my heart longs for healing.  I must invite the Holy Spirit to dwell in my heart and bring me true peace.

Sweet Mary, mother of the Word incarnate, help of Christians, pray for me to Jesus.  Help me look to you for the perfect example of what it means to love tenderly and to stand beneath the cross.  Pray with me that the Holy Spirit will breathe life into me and cast out all that breeds anger.  Amen.

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