Earlier in the week (Sun-Tues), I hit an emotional bump. I was anxious for no clear reason. Then I started looking for reasons, try to find the problem that was causing this sense of panic. I began to doubt what I was doing. Suddenly, six weeks seemed very, very short, and I felt utterly unsure.
I was still sure I was going to join to the Church, just unsure that it would be this year. Or that maybe I would join too soon and then regret it. And then what? I kept running things over in my head. Rationally, nothing was different. I still believed the same things. But there was this hovering anxiety, keeping me up at night, making my breathing short. Why was this feeling taking over if it wasn’t even going to provide me an insight?
So then I got mad. I’m not normally an angry person; I just don’t have the energy for it. But for three days, I got mad at God. My prayers were demands for explanations. Why make me doubt just days before the Rite of Election? What kind of timing is that? Don’t let this turn into some Dark Night of the Soul; I’m not ready for that. I had never prayed in anger before. I was mad at Him, and mad at myself for getting mad.
But then the feeling passed, still with no explanation. The deep depression I was sure would follow the anxiety never came. No one observing me could even tell that something was/had been wrong. I’m fine, and I’m sure that I’m on the right path for me at this time. But for three days, God let me throw my tantrums at Him. I’ve never been more sure that He’s listening to me more than when I was making angry demands, like He was there patiently waiting for me to wear myself out.
And maybe that’s the perfect way to start Lent: a little angry, a little hurt, a little embarrassed, and worn out from it all.