How losing my health has helped me find my body

He’d lost his previous sunglasses, a high-priced pair of Nikes forgotten months ago at a restaurant table. And as I stood in the mall ready to replace those shades someone else had given my forgetful boyfriend, I hesitated. After all, he was somewhat careless. I would never lose or forget such a valuable gift.

Or would I? I questioned as I drove from the mall toward more late-night errands, my eyes—bleary from a 12-hour workday—straining to see through the windshield, my arms—weak from a neglected dinner—struggling to stay on the steering wheel.

I’d forgotten my body.

I have just about every kitchen tool and decorative accent a girl could use.

Funky red dinnerware. Fashionable Crate & Barrel furniture. Sparkling stainless steel flatware.

As I eyed my eldest daughter’s bridal registry online recently, I jokingly quipped to Rich, my husband, “Hey, we’ve been married 30 years. I still use the crockpot we got as a wedding present. Maybe it’s time we register for new stuff!”

I’m not the only woman to react this way. Last weekend, as my daughter opened gift after gift of cookware, dishes, and linens during her bridal shower, my cousin turned to me and laughingly said, “I think it’s time I had a shower—a midlife crisis shower!”

Why do I feel like an outsider at many women's ministry functions?

The evening was supposed to be encouraging. Instead it ended with tears—mine.

My mom and I were attending a women's ministry event—a weekend retreat dubbed an escape. To us busy career women, this sounded like just what we needed—time away from the daily grind. And connecting with one another on this getaway was the biggest draw of all.

So on a Friday afternoon we flew to this national conference anticipating encouragement, togetherness, and a sense of belonging to the larger community of Christian women.

But by Saturday night I simply felt invisible.

Unless I initiated our get-togethers, they never happened. Ever.

A girlfriend recently shot me an e-mail about a mutual friend with whom she's tried to stay in touch. "I'm getting tired of always having to initiate contact with her," she groused. "If I don't call or write, I never hear from her. It feels so one-sided. I'd like to be on the receiving end sometimes."

Fed up, my friend told me she'd decided to stop trying so hard to massage this unrequited friendship back to health—and let it die a proper death.

I related to her pain and frustration because I'd been dealing with that same issue.