Conversations with God (who, for the record, can be a bit of a bully)

Hey there, awesome readers!

I recently wrote a piece for Westmount Magazine, titled It’s an Old Mirror – A Field Report on Aging.

And while I enjoyed writing it, I left out a few things. Mostly because Westmount Magazine is a community publication and I don’t want the community to think I’m disturbed.

So, what I didn’t include in that version (mostly because I didn’t feel like getting struck down by lightning mid-sentence) is that I’ve been having conversations with God.

And I have notes.

Before anyone panics, these are not dramatic, fall-to-my-knees, “WHY HAVE THOULT FORSAKEN ME?” conversations.

They’re more like… casual check-ins.

You know, like when you bump into someone you haven’t seen in a while and you’re both pretending you’ve had your life together this whole time.

Except God has a bit of an attitude.

For example, the other morning, I was standing in front of the mirror, doing that thing where you tilt your head slightly, hoping your face will rearrange itself into something symmetrical.

It did not.

That’s when I asked the question out loud: “Okay. What exactly is going on here?”

And I swear (I SWEAR!) I felt a response.

Not a voice.

More like… a vibe.

A slightly amused, mildly judgmental vibe.

“You’re getting old,” it said.

“Yes, I can SEE that,” I replied. “But did we have to go this hard? And this fast?”

Silence.

Classic.

Because here’s the thing.

I grew up with this idea that God is loving, forgiving, all-knowing…

But also?

A little bit of a judgmental bully.

Like… the kind that watches you open a second bottle of wine and just raises an eyebrow.

No words.

Just judgment.

“Oh, you wanted smooth skin forever? You thought time wouldn’t apply to you?”
Adorable.

And I’m standing there like, “Wow. Okay. This feels personal.”

Here’s the thing about aging: it doesn’t sneak up on you gently.

It kicks the damn door down.

One day you’re fine… walking, running, managing stairs like an Olympic athlete. And the next day your knees make decisions without consulting you, your hands look like they’ve seen things (terrible, scary things), and your reflection is like, “Hey. Do I know you?”

So naturally, I push back.

“Couldn’t we have eased into this?” I ask.

“Maybe a warning? A soft launch? A trial version?”

And again, I get that same energy.

“You had decades,” it says.

Rude.

Accurate… but rude.

And that’s when it hit me.

Maybe God isn’t being a bully.

Maybe She’s just… not sugarcoating it.

Because let’s be honest.

We spend years pretending time isn’t happening.

Ignoring it. Delaying it. Moisturizing aggressively against it.

And then one day, reality shows up like, “Hi. I’ve been here the whole time.”

And suddenly, it’s not about staying young.

It’s about realizing what it cost to get here.

Every line.

Every shift.

Every “WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?” moment…

It all came from living.

From loving people.

From losing people.

From staying when things were hard.

So maybe that look (the one I thought was judgment) isn’t judgment at all.

Maybe it’s more like:

“Well… this is what a life looks like when it’s been lived.”

Now don’t get me wrong.

I would still like to file a formal complaint about my sagging skin. That escalated unnecessarily.

But overall?

I’m starting to think that if God is watching all of this, She’s not sitting there keeping score.

She’s probably watching us the way we watch toddlers learning to walk.

Like:

“Okay… you almost fell on your face. But you’re doing it.”

And honestly?

That’s enough for me.

Anyway.

If you need me, I’ll be over here… Aging.

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Superwoman: A Funny and Reflective Look at Single Motherhood – The Sh*t They Don’t Tell You Edition is now available.
For anyone who’s ever felt like they had to hold it all together… while quietly falling apart.