I am a woman of a certain age. The number of years is irrelevant. It is the season of life.  Yes, THAT season of life.

I am smack dab in the middle of it and all my grand illusions have been shattered. I though this would be a breeze as I entered into these years ready to embrace the changes coming my way. I thought my attitude and perspective would make this a less harrowing experience. I was wrong.

Lacking enough words for clear definition, I can only say that it feels like an alien invasion of my body and mind. I don’t know myself any more. This body that I have known so well is foreign to me now. The things that I do and say make sense in the moment but on later reflection I wonder what is truth, what is my truth.

It is not enough to hang on for dear life while this rages around me like a hurricane. It is not enough to wait out the storm. I want to be more proactive than that. However, most days it feels like the  barest of survival.

Anger is a constant companion. Thanks to Jennifer Boire’s book, The Tao of Turning Fifty, I am calling her my inner bitch goddess. As I think she is here to stay for a while, I am trying to learn to live with her without her destroying me or my family. Not an easy task.

I had coffee with  Kimber today and we talked about anger, menopause, life in general. I told her that I was going to come home and paint the inner bitch. Little did I know what this would mean for me today. This week, I have put her in the corner and ordered her to stay put. Some would ask if I have this type of control then why does the anger ever show up. I can only tell you that the control is limited and her presence is always here.

When I released her today, she came with full force. Thankfully, I had the house to myself and I was able to let it all out. Raw emotion poured out of me as I pounded the canvas with paint.  It was not pretty.

btw, that is not blood … just quinacridone burnt orange paint.

As quickly as she had detonated, the energy was gone.

Here is where it gets tough.

I couldn’t let that painting stand. I couldn’t let that part of me be seen. Though I wanted desperately to paint the truth of anger, the truth of this inner bitch goddess, my mind was screaming to myself and everyone,

“YOU CAN”T HANDLE THE TRUTH.”

I covered it over.

I began to paint what is acceptable. I have no more words for this. I am heartbroken that I feel the need to hide this part of me however I am trying to walk gently with myself and embrace this process, even this covering over of the dark side.