Have you ever seen a heart at the moment it breaks?
I have.
On Friday morning, I saw twenty-five little seventh grade hearts break simultaneously. I stood in their classroom and watched their faces as our principal delivered the news that their beloved teacher had passed away the night before. Every teacher with a first-hour class had the wrenching task of delivering this news.
Some kids started to cry right away.
Some hid their faces in their coats and sweatshirts, or put their heads down on their desks.
Some had questions but couldn't make the words come out.
Some were simply blank. Blank faces, blank eyes, blank minds.
I don't even know what Jon said after that because, quite frankly, I wasn't listening anymore. Most of it was lost in that horrible halting voice that happens when you're trying to keep it together. I was still one of the blank ones, and I had already had an hour to begin digesting the news - Abbey Czarniecki, one of our science teachers for 7th and 8th grade, died very suddenly late on Thursday night because of an undiagnosed malignant brain tumor. I'm fuzzy on the details, and at this point I don't want to ask. Let's just say that this was never in anyone's realm of possibility.
The starkest moment of our new reality came between first and second hours, when the kids were moving from one class to another. The silence was terrifying. Anyone who has spent any amount of time in a middle school will know just how loud students can get. Screaming, screeching, slamming, yelling, cackling, and crashing are routine sounds. On Friday, few were talking. Few were laughing. Few were looking somewhere other than at the ground or at the person ahead of them. It was so out of the ordinary as to be deeply upsetting.
-----
As a school counselor intern at Wyoming Junior HS this year, I find myself in a unique position. I am only required to log 20-25 hours per week at the school in order to keep up with the total number of hours I have to complete by the end of the year. However, I've been working more or less full-time since the school year started. At first, I told people that it was because I wanted to get the full effect of working full-time as a counselor and to get ahead on hours in case I got really sick and missed a week or something.
But you know what? I'm beginning to think that there was a different reason for me to be there every day.
I am part of the Wyoming community this year. I am a fairly permanent fixture in the counseling office. The kids see me every day and know what I do there and they know where to find me if they need me. They know that I keep regular hours and that I can be depended upon to be available for them.
If I had put in only the minimum number of hours each work and chosen to work another part-time job, I wouldn't have nearly the understanding and love for this community that I have now.
I wouldn't know which teachers have been most torn apart by Abbey's death.
I wouldn't know which students have been hit hardest by their first close-up experience with death.
I wouldn't understand the effect of losing a colleague with whom you have worked for a decade and a half, as many of the WJHS staff are experiencing this weekend.
I wouldn't know which students were her basketball players, kids who have lost a coach in addition to a teacher.
Most of all, I wouldn't be tapped in so deeply to the communal grief taking place this weekend.
My individual grief is shallow - I didn't know Abbey beyond her roles as science teacher and coach. This weekend, other little tidbits have surfaced, isolated memories I have of Abbey, like the time she asked if I could switch a student out of her 3rd hour because he was driving her bonkers in exchange for a student that was driving another teacher bonkers. Or the time when I was first introduced to her and she told me that I had a picked a wacky place to work but I would come to love it in no time. (She was right, by the way).
These are small, almost inconsequential memories, and they are what I have.
For me, the communal grief is far more painful, like the moments when you have to see other people in pain. It's really hard to watch co-workers grieve, especially the ones I've had the most contact with and know better than I know others. It's really hard to watch them struck by a memory or a feeling or an image, something that only they can see, and then watch them try to keep their composure.
It's nearly impossible to watch my students grieve because I don't want them to have to know this feeling so early in their lives. They are not equipped yet to handle conflicting emotions - sadness over never seeing her again, fear that it could happen to anyone else, relief that she didn't suffer for very long, guilt about not saying hi to her in the hallway the day before, or about not feeling sad the way everyone else seems to be feeling, happiness over a particularly good memory of her class, shock and dizziness every time the grief train comes hurtling back...
School tomorrow will be hard. The funeral on Tuesday will be even harder. It feels like too much sometimes. No, a lot of the time. But I wouldn't dare stay home. This is the kind of grief you have to do together.
Showing posts with label Struggle Bus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Struggle Bus. Show all posts
Sunday, November 22, 2015
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Why Online Dating Can Be So Much Harder Than It Seems
I seem to be on a bit of a streak here, writing about online dating. What can I say - I write about what I know and what I feel, and right now, online dating takes up a lot of my emotional space.
On the surface, it would seem that online dating should be easier than the traditional method of going out, meeting new people, exchanging numbers, and waiting for the other person to call. With online dating, the site (sometimes) does the work of finding people for you. You put in some information about yourself and what you're looking for in a mate, and they send you the people who meet those criteria (again, sometimes). It removes the "sitting at the bar waiting for someone to approach you" element. It allows you to shop the pool of eligible singles without even having to hear them wax poetic about their favorite sports team or how awesome they are at their job. On some sites, you can even put in a few search criteria and browse hundreds of profiles at your leisure. It's easier than traditional dating in that you don't even have to interact with the person to determine if you're interested. You just have to look at their pictures and interests. Sounds better than approaching someone at the bar and wasting time chit-chatting, trying to figure out if you have something in common, right?
I have found this feature of online dating to be wonderful. I'm not great with striking up conversation with a complete stranger and the bar scene makes me queasy. A website that does that part of the process for me? Yes please. I can click through profiles that are sent my way, and if I decide that I'm not interested, I can just click to the next match and not have to worry about making a graceful exit! The other person doesn't even have to know that I'm not interested! That aspect really appeals to me because I don't like letting people down or crushing their hopes. Online dating lets you shop without the social commitment, however brief, that traditional dating requires.
The next step is where I feel like I get on an emotional roller coaster. I've been very intentional about sending emails and notes to the guys whose profiles interest me. I've read enough magazines and Buzzfeed features to know that a lot of guys appreciate the girl making the first move. If I had to wait for the guy to email me first...let's just say that the only guy to email me was a libertarian from Illinois who was looking for a housewife who would stay at home with the 8+ children he wanted to have.
Plus, if I am putting myself out there, I can prove to myself that I am making an effort, that I want to get something out of this process, that I'm serious...that I'm making some sort of progress in this area of my life, even when it feels like I'm standing still.
Emailing a new match is a small rush each time. I spend several minutes crafting the perfect casual greeting that will make him want to reply (or at least I used to...by now, I've got a pretty standard cut-and-paste version) and then when I hit Send, it's out of my hands. I get my hopes up just a little bit every time I email someone new. When will he reply? Will he reply at all? How much will it suck if he doesn't reply? Because there are some guys that I email because we have a few things in common, and I figure why not, and then there are others that I find a lot in common with and I really want to hear back from them. And deep in my heart, where thoughts of the future live...what if this is the person I'm meant to marry? I want to remember every detail of how we met.
A few days go by, no response from the email I've sent into the void, but my hopes are still up. Maybe he's busy this week. Maybe he got my email, but was in a place where he couldn't respond yet. Maybe he checks this account only once a week. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
A week goes by with no reply. No news is bad news. Now I have to make a choice - I could keep hoping that he'll respond, or I could let this one go, figuring he's not interested in me. It's not a conscious choice, exactly, more like a reluctant realization. It doesn't feel good to hear that someone isn't interested in you, but that's inevitable, especially in a forum like online dating, where there are so many potential connections to be made or broken.
I work through this process just about every day, over and over. I look forward to clicking through new matches every day, especially when there aren't any new messages in my inbox. Each day brings a new set of possibilities. New guys to make contact with. New guys who might want to talk to me. Maybe even The One. As much as I get annoyed by talk of soulmates, happily ever after, and The One, I can't help getting my hopes up just a little bit.
At the same time, each day brings risk. I risk being rejected. It might be easier to be rejected over the Internet, since I don't have to be embarrassed in front of other people, but it's also harder, because it's happening so much more often. It certainly doesn't hurt any less, at least for me. I've never been able to shake it off and move on as if I'm unaffected by it. I'm affected by everything, and sometimes quite deeply. Emotional depth is simultaneously a strength and a weakness.
Rejection just seems to be an inherent risk in online dating. I had no idea how hard it could be until I got into the thick of it. You put yourself out there, day after day, with no guarantee that someone will choose you. In the face of that scary truth, I still hold out hope that this process will yield a "success story." I don't want to stop putting myself on the line because I don't want to look back and wonder if there was something I missed, or something more I could have done. If I reach the end of my subscription with nothing to show for it, I will survive. It will be so so hard, but I've done hard before.
In the meantime, by the grace of God, we carry on. It will be worth it someday, right? :)
On the surface, it would seem that online dating should be easier than the traditional method of going out, meeting new people, exchanging numbers, and waiting for the other person to call. With online dating, the site (sometimes) does the work of finding people for you. You put in some information about yourself and what you're looking for in a mate, and they send you the people who meet those criteria (again, sometimes). It removes the "sitting at the bar waiting for someone to approach you" element. It allows you to shop the pool of eligible singles without even having to hear them wax poetic about their favorite sports team or how awesome they are at their job. On some sites, you can even put in a few search criteria and browse hundreds of profiles at your leisure. It's easier than traditional dating in that you don't even have to interact with the person to determine if you're interested. You just have to look at their pictures and interests. Sounds better than approaching someone at the bar and wasting time chit-chatting, trying to figure out if you have something in common, right?
I have found this feature of online dating to be wonderful. I'm not great with striking up conversation with a complete stranger and the bar scene makes me queasy. A website that does that part of the process for me? Yes please. I can click through profiles that are sent my way, and if I decide that I'm not interested, I can just click to the next match and not have to worry about making a graceful exit! The other person doesn't even have to know that I'm not interested! That aspect really appeals to me because I don't like letting people down or crushing their hopes. Online dating lets you shop without the social commitment, however brief, that traditional dating requires.
The next step is where I feel like I get on an emotional roller coaster. I've been very intentional about sending emails and notes to the guys whose profiles interest me. I've read enough magazines and Buzzfeed features to know that a lot of guys appreciate the girl making the first move. If I had to wait for the guy to email me first...let's just say that the only guy to email me was a libertarian from Illinois who was looking for a housewife who would stay at home with the 8+ children he wanted to have.
Plus, if I am putting myself out there, I can prove to myself that I am making an effort, that I want to get something out of this process, that I'm serious...that I'm making some sort of progress in this area of my life, even when it feels like I'm standing still.
Emailing a new match is a small rush each time. I spend several minutes crafting the perfect casual greeting that will make him want to reply (or at least I used to...by now, I've got a pretty standard cut-and-paste version) and then when I hit Send, it's out of my hands. I get my hopes up just a little bit every time I email someone new. When will he reply? Will he reply at all? How much will it suck if he doesn't reply? Because there are some guys that I email because we have a few things in common, and I figure why not, and then there are others that I find a lot in common with and I really want to hear back from them. And deep in my heart, where thoughts of the future live...what if this is the person I'm meant to marry? I want to remember every detail of how we met.
A few days go by, no response from the email I've sent into the void, but my hopes are still up. Maybe he's busy this week. Maybe he got my email, but was in a place where he couldn't respond yet. Maybe he checks this account only once a week. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
A week goes by with no reply. No news is bad news. Now I have to make a choice - I could keep hoping that he'll respond, or I could let this one go, figuring he's not interested in me. It's not a conscious choice, exactly, more like a reluctant realization. It doesn't feel good to hear that someone isn't interested in you, but that's inevitable, especially in a forum like online dating, where there are so many potential connections to be made or broken.
I work through this process just about every day, over and over. I look forward to clicking through new matches every day, especially when there aren't any new messages in my inbox. Each day brings a new set of possibilities. New guys to make contact with. New guys who might want to talk to me. Maybe even The One. As much as I get annoyed by talk of soulmates, happily ever after, and The One, I can't help getting my hopes up just a little bit.
At the same time, each day brings risk. I risk being rejected. It might be easier to be rejected over the Internet, since I don't have to be embarrassed in front of other people, but it's also harder, because it's happening so much more often. It certainly doesn't hurt any less, at least for me. I've never been able to shake it off and move on as if I'm unaffected by it. I'm affected by everything, and sometimes quite deeply. Emotional depth is simultaneously a strength and a weakness.
Rejection just seems to be an inherent risk in online dating. I had no idea how hard it could be until I got into the thick of it. You put yourself out there, day after day, with no guarantee that someone will choose you. In the face of that scary truth, I still hold out hope that this process will yield a "success story." I don't want to stop putting myself on the line because I don't want to look back and wonder if there was something I missed, or something more I could have done. If I reach the end of my subscription with nothing to show for it, I will survive. It will be so so hard, but I've done hard before.
In the meantime, by the grace of God, we carry on. It will be worth it someday, right? :)
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Dear Sir: A Series of Letters to the Men of Match.com
Dear Sir,
Your "ideal match" does not exist.
Sincerely,
Andrea
___________________________________________________________________
Dear Sir,
Let me be more specific: Your ideal match (fun, outgoing, easygoing, good-natured, loves playing and watching sports, is athletic and toned and exercises 6-7 times per week, and is both driven and quick to relax) does not exist. NO ONE has all of these qualities all the time. Please consider expanding your search.
Sincerely,
Andrea the Realist
___________________________________________________________________
Dear Sir,
It is considered polite to respond to emails that other members send you, even if you aren't interested in them. Pro Tip: most women would rather hear honesty (i.e., that you're not interested but thanks for the email) than silence. I can SEE that you opened my email, you know.
Sincerely,
Andrea, Part-Time Stalker
___________________________________________________________________
Dear Sir,
So you're looking for a girl that is slender and toned, but also enjoys going out for a beer, dining out, and tailgate parties on a weekly basis. NEWS FLASH: this woman only exists in the toy aisle of your local supermarket or toy store. Heads-up, she's only about 14 inches tall. 99% of women do not have bodies that function this way. You'll have to pick one or the other - the hot body or the pursuit of food and drink. What about the other 1%, you say? Sure, stay the course, look for that girl that can do both, but I'll warn ya - you're going to be fighting off quite a few of your bros in the process. Best of luck to you. I'll be over there, waiting for you to realize that intelligence and kindness don't drop off sharply after middle age.
Sincerely,
Andrea "A Few Extra Pounds and Loves a Good Cocktail" Campo
___________________________________________________________________
Dear Sir,
My profile clearly states that I am looking for men aged 22 to 34. Your profile says 59, divorced, and looking for a good time. HARD PASS.
Sincerely,
You're Older Than My Dad
P.S. Stop sending me winks. Don't think I won't call the cops.
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
Dear Sir,
......
Where are you?
Love,
Me. Just me.
___________________________________________________________________
Dear Sir,
Yup, I'm sure. I'm NOT looking for a sugar daddy to have a "no strings fling." I don't care if you are independently wealthy. Who's younger, me or your daughter?
Sincerely,
Consider Yourself Blocked and Reported
P.S. You will find someone. Your life isn't over yet. But I can promise you that I don't go for that.
Your "ideal match" does not exist.
Sincerely,
Andrea
___________________________________________________________________
Dear Sir,
Let me be more specific: Your ideal match (fun, outgoing, easygoing, good-natured, loves playing and watching sports, is athletic and toned and exercises 6-7 times per week, and is both driven and quick to relax) does not exist. NO ONE has all of these qualities all the time. Please consider expanding your search.
Sincerely,
Andrea the Realist
___________________________________________________________________
Dear Sir,
It is considered polite to respond to emails that other members send you, even if you aren't interested in them. Pro Tip: most women would rather hear honesty (i.e., that you're not interested but thanks for the email) than silence. I can SEE that you opened my email, you know.
Sincerely,
Andrea, Part-Time Stalker
___________________________________________________________________
Dear Sir,
So you're looking for a girl that is slender and toned, but also enjoys going out for a beer, dining out, and tailgate parties on a weekly basis. NEWS FLASH: this woman only exists in the toy aisle of your local supermarket or toy store. Heads-up, she's only about 14 inches tall. 99% of women do not have bodies that function this way. You'll have to pick one or the other - the hot body or the pursuit of food and drink. What about the other 1%, you say? Sure, stay the course, look for that girl that can do both, but I'll warn ya - you're going to be fighting off quite a few of your bros in the process. Best of luck to you. I'll be over there, waiting for you to realize that intelligence and kindness don't drop off sharply after middle age.
Sincerely,
Andrea "A Few Extra Pounds and Loves a Good Cocktail" Campo
___________________________________________________________________
Dear Sir,
My profile clearly states that I am looking for men aged 22 to 34. Your profile says 59, divorced, and looking for a good time. HARD PASS.
Sincerely,
You're Older Than My Dad
P.S. Stop sending me winks. Don't think I won't call the cops.
___________________________________________________________________
Dear Sir,
Updating your profile to say "sorry for my absence ladies, my girlfriend found out about my profile and I had to lay low for a bit" is EXACTLY the way to our hearts.
Sincerely,
Sarcasm Is a Virtue
Dear Sir,
......
Where are you?
Love,
Me. Just me.
___________________________________________________________________
Dear Sir,
Yup, I'm sure. I'm NOT looking for a sugar daddy to have a "no strings fling." I don't care if you are independently wealthy. Who's younger, me or your daughter?
Sincerely,
Consider Yourself Blocked and Reported
P.S. You will find someone. Your life isn't over yet. But I can promise you that I don't go for that.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Life After the Conference Grounds
Isn't there a song or a phrase somewhere that says "You can't go home again"? This is the first summer of not living and working at the Conference Grounds after five years in a row of being there. I had to move on because I have school this summer and I wouldn't be able to work there full-time. I figured that visiting frequently would be enough, that it would fill me up with the added benefit of not having to work in the ice cream store under a baking hot sun. I knew that it would feel a little different to be there only every so often, but I didn't expect it to feel this different.
It's not that I feel left out of something great. Technically, I am left out because I don't work there anymore, but I made my peace with that at the end of last summer, so it that part doesn't bother me. I think what's so hard is knowing that I eventually have to go home each time. And home isn't the Conference Grounds. It will always be my heart home, but I don't live there anymore. No matter how much fun I have while I'm visiting my friends there, in the back of my mind, there's that niggling voice that says, "Don't get too happy, you know you'll just have to go home later."
Sometimes it's just too hard, ya know? Being in a place that used to be your place. That place where you fit perfectly, no questions asked. I can go back and visit all I want, but it's not the same. Today, before I left, it physically hurt to be there and know that I couldn't stay. I can't explain where it hurt or why it hurt. It hurt so much that it has made me wonder if it's even worth it to go out there again. Is it worth it to enjoy myself for a few hours and then feel so horribly lonely afterward? In the long run, would I be better off emotionally if I just stayed away? Do the good feelings outweigh the bad ones?
That's what I'm struggling with tonight. I'd have a good cry about it, but we both know that that ain't gonna happen. Sometimes I hold my breath until my heart starts beating really loud just to make sure that it's still going. But ya know what? It is what it is. Good night world, the sun'll come out tomorrow.
It's not that I feel left out of something great. Technically, I am left out because I don't work there anymore, but I made my peace with that at the end of last summer, so it that part doesn't bother me. I think what's so hard is knowing that I eventually have to go home each time. And home isn't the Conference Grounds. It will always be my heart home, but I don't live there anymore. No matter how much fun I have while I'm visiting my friends there, in the back of my mind, there's that niggling voice that says, "Don't get too happy, you know you'll just have to go home later."
Sometimes it's just too hard, ya know? Being in a place that used to be your place. That place where you fit perfectly, no questions asked. I can go back and visit all I want, but it's not the same. Today, before I left, it physically hurt to be there and know that I couldn't stay. I can't explain where it hurt or why it hurt. It hurt so much that it has made me wonder if it's even worth it to go out there again. Is it worth it to enjoy myself for a few hours and then feel so horribly lonely afterward? In the long run, would I be better off emotionally if I just stayed away? Do the good feelings outweigh the bad ones?
That's what I'm struggling with tonight. I'd have a good cry about it, but we both know that that ain't gonna happen. Sometimes I hold my breath until my heart starts beating really loud just to make sure that it's still going. But ya know what? It is what it is. Good night world, the sun'll come out tomorrow.
Monday, September 10, 2012
God? I'm scared.
[Context: Last night was rough. I typed all of this out some time after midnight because I couldn't fall asleep. It's mostly a prayer, and I wanted to make sure it was still worth publishing once day came. Basically, I just laid in bed and said all the things I was scared about.]
God?
I'm scared that I won't be able to fall asleep tonight.
I'm scared that I'll feel lonely forever.
I'm scared that no one is going to want to marry me.
I'm scared that I won't make enough money to go to grad school.
I'm scared that my capstones are going to bury me.
I'm scared that my closest friends are going to keep getting engaged and eventually I'll be the only one left.
I'm scared that someone really close to me is going to die soon because no one close to me has ever died.
I'm scared that I'm getting really really really really tired again like before.
I'm scared that my depression will never go away.
[Amazingly, after saying all of these things, I felt better. I've never heard God's voice audibly before, but in my mind, a phrase kept repeating: "My grace is sufficient for you. My grace is sufficient for you. Sufficient." And then I think I fell right to sleep because the next thing I remember is hearing my phone alarm song.]
God is good.
God?
I'm scared that I won't be able to fall asleep tonight.
I'm scared that I'll feel lonely forever.
I'm scared that no one is going to want to marry me.
I'm scared that I won't make enough money to go to grad school.
I'm scared that my capstones are going to bury me.
I'm scared that my closest friends are going to keep getting engaged and eventually I'll be the only one left.
I'm scared that someone really close to me is going to die soon because no one close to me has ever died.
I'm scared that I'm getting really really really really tired again like before.
I'm scared that my depression will never go away.
[Amazingly, after saying all of these things, I felt better. I've never heard God's voice audibly before, but in my mind, a phrase kept repeating: "My grace is sufficient for you. My grace is sufficient for you. Sufficient." And then I think I fell right to sleep because the next thing I remember is hearing my phone alarm song.]
God is good.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
The OCD Monster
So here's an interesting story...
I was working in the ole candy store tonight and after the dinner rush subsided, I had a chance to look around and see what a hot mess the store had become in all the mayhem. Boxes on the floor, empty ice cream containers on every surface, and containers of candy everywhere thanks to our new shipment. I started darting around like a crazy person, breaking down boxes and tidying up. After a few trips to drop off bags of trash and a stack of cardboard, I took a good look at the shelves underneath the candy counters. Boxes of Sour Geckos were in nine different locations. 50¢ candy was on the shelf beneath the 5¢ candy. Several half-full boxes of Gummi Hot Dogs were scattered around. The candy was out of control.
There is little that irks me more than unnecessary disorganization.
Something snapped inside me and I became singularly obsessed with organizing the candy as soon as possible. I looked like a maniac, pulling boxes off of one shelf and tossing them onto the floor near the shelf on which they were supposed to sit. It's a good thing there weren't any customers around because I was wearing my crazy eyes.
Several other small incidents contributed to my psychosis later that night, but I won't list them for you. Let's just say that I became so agitated and worked up and ready to snap that I put myself to work in the back stock room. I was so afraid that I would let loose on a customer who said the wrong thing. It was better for all involved that I just go and work on something else with no people around.
So I grabbed a cloth and set to work on wiping down freezers and shelves and restocking and organizing and consolidating. Let me just say that I am the queen of consolidation. I absolutely love it. Anyway, I started moving faster and faster, flitting from job to job and definitely not doing them in the most efficient way possible. I'm usually very efficient (unless I am purposely trying to drag out a job), but my brain was so full of little tasks that I kept adding to my mental list. I ended up not even finishing jobs because I was so agitated.
When I got around to the freezer, I sat on a stool and scrubbed at the smallest spots for minutes on end. I was determined to scrub every square inch completely clean. I wanted every tiny blemish gone. I had become obsessed by the thought that I had to get the freezer clean before I could relax.
Anyone who knows me, most especially my mother, will tell you that I am not an obsessive cleaner. I like to have things neat, I don't like to have food laying around, and I definitely don't like visible grime. But am I immediately going to grab a washcloth and wipe up after my roommates? No. Therefore, this obsessive frenetic cleaning was completely out of character for me.
It was scary. It was unnerving. I didn't know how to handle it. I've never been diagnosed with full-blown Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but I do have obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Here's the difference: my life is not ruled by obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviors to assuage those thoughts. But, from time to time, I get overcome by obsessive thoughts that simply will not go away. Case in point: I got unreasonably upset about being pulled away from cleaning that freezer because of an ice cream rush. In my right mind, I would jump at the chance to get out of cleaning. My mom can testify to the fact that I put off my weekly chores as long as possible when I was younger. But tonight, all I wanted to do was clean. Maybe "wanted" isn't the right word...it was more like a force inside of me was compelling me to clean.
I've calmed down now, but at the time, it was scary. Whenever I talk to my psychiatrist about these little sparring matches with the OCD monster, he tells me to ride it out. Don't try to fight it, because that will make it worse. Just ride it out. Do what you have to do and survive each episode.
So I guess that's what I'll do. I don't have a better solution or answer right now.
I was working in the ole candy store tonight and after the dinner rush subsided, I had a chance to look around and see what a hot mess the store had become in all the mayhem. Boxes on the floor, empty ice cream containers on every surface, and containers of candy everywhere thanks to our new shipment. I started darting around like a crazy person, breaking down boxes and tidying up. After a few trips to drop off bags of trash and a stack of cardboard, I took a good look at the shelves underneath the candy counters. Boxes of Sour Geckos were in nine different locations. 50¢ candy was on the shelf beneath the 5¢ candy. Several half-full boxes of Gummi Hot Dogs were scattered around. The candy was out of control.
There is little that irks me more than unnecessary disorganization.
Something snapped inside me and I became singularly obsessed with organizing the candy as soon as possible. I looked like a maniac, pulling boxes off of one shelf and tossing them onto the floor near the shelf on which they were supposed to sit. It's a good thing there weren't any customers around because I was wearing my crazy eyes.
Several other small incidents contributed to my psychosis later that night, but I won't list them for you. Let's just say that I became so agitated and worked up and ready to snap that I put myself to work in the back stock room. I was so afraid that I would let loose on a customer who said the wrong thing. It was better for all involved that I just go and work on something else with no people around.
So I grabbed a cloth and set to work on wiping down freezers and shelves and restocking and organizing and consolidating. Let me just say that I am the queen of consolidation. I absolutely love it. Anyway, I started moving faster and faster, flitting from job to job and definitely not doing them in the most efficient way possible. I'm usually very efficient (unless I am purposely trying to drag out a job), but my brain was so full of little tasks that I kept adding to my mental list. I ended up not even finishing jobs because I was so agitated.
When I got around to the freezer, I sat on a stool and scrubbed at the smallest spots for minutes on end. I was determined to scrub every square inch completely clean. I wanted every tiny blemish gone. I had become obsessed by the thought that I had to get the freezer clean before I could relax.
Anyone who knows me, most especially my mother, will tell you that I am not an obsessive cleaner. I like to have things neat, I don't like to have food laying around, and I definitely don't like visible grime. But am I immediately going to grab a washcloth and wipe up after my roommates? No. Therefore, this obsessive frenetic cleaning was completely out of character for me.
It was scary. It was unnerving. I didn't know how to handle it. I've never been diagnosed with full-blown Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but I do have obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Here's the difference: my life is not ruled by obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviors to assuage those thoughts. But, from time to time, I get overcome by obsessive thoughts that simply will not go away. Case in point: I got unreasonably upset about being pulled away from cleaning that freezer because of an ice cream rush. In my right mind, I would jump at the chance to get out of cleaning. My mom can testify to the fact that I put off my weekly chores as long as possible when I was younger. But tonight, all I wanted to do was clean. Maybe "wanted" isn't the right word...it was more like a force inside of me was compelling me to clean.
I've calmed down now, but at the time, it was scary. Whenever I talk to my psychiatrist about these little sparring matches with the OCD monster, he tells me to ride it out. Don't try to fight it, because that will make it worse. Just ride it out. Do what you have to do and survive each episode.
So I guess that's what I'll do. I don't have a better solution or answer right now.
Friday, August 3, 2012
A Prayer for You, Kates
Honey, this sucks. The OPI sucks.
I wish I knew how to help you. I wish I knew what to say that would help. I hope I've held back from saying things that wouldn't help. If I could give you my OPI score, I would do it in a heartbeat. I feel a little bit guilty because I have it and don't need it. Have you ever noticed that you and I have exactly what the other needs? You have the passion for teaching and Spanish, which I need, and I have the OPI score, which you need. Life is weird sometimes.
I could tell you that God has a plan, but you already know that. And I don't find that super helpful when I'm upset. I could tell you to be patient and wait for what God has in store, but I don't like it when people say that to me either. I could even say that teaching Spanish may not be what you're supposed to be doing, but I'm pretty sure that that is the last thing you want to hear and I'm afraid you might smack me.
So here's what I will tell you: I'm praying for you. I'm here to listen. I like smashing things, if your anger ever needs an outlet.
You'll figure it out. You're strong. You're a fighter. Eventually, it will all make sense. I love you.
Love, Andrea
I wish I knew how to help you. I wish I knew what to say that would help. I hope I've held back from saying things that wouldn't help. If I could give you my OPI score, I would do it in a heartbeat. I feel a little bit guilty because I have it and don't need it. Have you ever noticed that you and I have exactly what the other needs? You have the passion for teaching and Spanish, which I need, and I have the OPI score, which you need. Life is weird sometimes.
I could tell you that God has a plan, but you already know that. And I don't find that super helpful when I'm upset. I could tell you to be patient and wait for what God has in store, but I don't like it when people say that to me either. I could even say that teaching Spanish may not be what you're supposed to be doing, but I'm pretty sure that that is the last thing you want to hear and I'm afraid you might smack me.
So here's what I will tell you: I'm praying for you. I'm here to listen. I like smashing things, if your anger ever needs an outlet.
You'll figure it out. You're strong. You're a fighter. Eventually, it will all make sense. I love you.
Love, Andrea
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Wisdom from How I Met Your Mother
This is my life right now.
(you might have to crank the volume way up because the video itself is pretty quiet)
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
A Door Closed
Well, Eerdmans Publishing said no. That wasn't such a great email to come home to this morning. It said
"We are grateful for your consideration, but I am afraid that in our very full program we do not see a niche for this proposal, and that we must therefore disappoint you. What does not suit our current needs may suit perfectly the needs of another publisher, and we wish you well in your efforts elsewhere."
Bah. Oh well. It's virtually unheard of for an author to get a deal from their very first publisher anyway. I'm planning to try with Faith Alive Resources next, which just happens to be the publishing arm of the Christian Reformed Church. Wish me luck.
"We are grateful for your consideration, but I am afraid that in our very full program we do not see a niche for this proposal, and that we must therefore disappoint you. What does not suit our current needs may suit perfectly the needs of another publisher, and we wish you well in your efforts elsewhere."
Bah. Oh well. It's virtually unheard of for an author to get a deal from their very first publisher anyway. I'm planning to try with Faith Alive Resources next, which just happens to be the publishing arm of the Christian Reformed Church. Wish me luck.
In the meantime, here is what I've been tooling around with as far as the cover art is concerned. That is, if I get a say in it. :)
That's all I've got for now.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Change of Pace
Now that we are well into summer, I've determined that my constant tiredness was not simply a result of school year stress. In fact, some days, it's worse than ever. Hmm. Dilemma. I wake up so very tired (and often sore) every morning, go to work, and never quite wake up. Yesterday, it was my turn to mop the kitchen and it took me twice as long as it did before because I had to stop and rest so often. I feel so pathetic in this malfunctioning body.
A few Sundays ago, something truly scary happened to me. I yawned my way through morning church, much like the way I yawn my way through devotions and Bible School on the weekdays, and when I got back to my cottage, I fell into bed and closed my eyes. Three hours later, I woke up and got out of bed, but only because I knew I needed to eat something for lunch. It was a good thing that my parents had left some lunch in the refrigerator or I probably would have sat at the table and just stared at the cupboard, waiting for something to jump out and land in front of me. My motivation to find something to eat was zero.
I crawled back into my bed after returning to the cottage. There was nothing I wanted to do. Nothing sounded good. I had no energy and no motivation to do anything but lay in bed with my eyes closed. I didn't even care that I wasn't sleeping. Usually, if I'm in my bed under the covers, I'm trying to fall asleep. This time, I didn't even care. I passed several hours this way that Sunday. My housemates thought I simply wasn't feeling well, mostly because I didn't correct them when they asked what was wrong. And truly, I wasn't feeling well. They assumed physically, and I didn't tell them otherwise. My mind was a dangerous place.
Now, wait a minute, Andrea...aren't you taking medication that is supposed to get rid of these types of feelings and symptoms of depression?
My meds, which I have depended on since September, weren't working anymore. Or rather, they were working to make me worse. I was experiencing negative emotions that I never even had before meds. I spent awhile on the phone with my friend Jessica that night talking about how I felt and wondering aloud why I felt this way when I wasn't supposed to. She kept telling me that it was probably the result of my medication, but I was so reluctant to believe her. I refused to believe that my medication had failed. In my mind, it meant that I had failed. To the rational mind, this makes no sense. I have no power over how my body reacts to certain chemicals. But my rational mind was on vacation at that point.
I finally saw my doctor yesterday and asked to switch anti-depressants. In hindsight, it seems like it should have been so much easier than it actually was. Why on earth would I want to continue taking pills that make me feel worse than I already feel? I came back over and over to the feeling of failure. In truth, failure has absolutely nothing to do with it. My meds did not fail. They worked for me for over nine months. My brain eventually built up a tolerance to them, and they stopped doing what they were supposed to do. The time had come to find a new medication to do the job my old meds did.
I did not fail. Failure would have been refusing to be courageous and make a change.
A few Sundays ago, something truly scary happened to me. I yawned my way through morning church, much like the way I yawn my way through devotions and Bible School on the weekdays, and when I got back to my cottage, I fell into bed and closed my eyes. Three hours later, I woke up and got out of bed, but only because I knew I needed to eat something for lunch. It was a good thing that my parents had left some lunch in the refrigerator or I probably would have sat at the table and just stared at the cupboard, waiting for something to jump out and land in front of me. My motivation to find something to eat was zero.
I crawled back into my bed after returning to the cottage. There was nothing I wanted to do. Nothing sounded good. I had no energy and no motivation to do anything but lay in bed with my eyes closed. I didn't even care that I wasn't sleeping. Usually, if I'm in my bed under the covers, I'm trying to fall asleep. This time, I didn't even care. I passed several hours this way that Sunday. My housemates thought I simply wasn't feeling well, mostly because I didn't correct them when they asked what was wrong. And truly, I wasn't feeling well. They assumed physically, and I didn't tell them otherwise. My mind was a dangerous place.
Now, wait a minute, Andrea...aren't you taking medication that is supposed to get rid of these types of feelings and symptoms of depression?
My meds, which I have depended on since September, weren't working anymore. Or rather, they were working to make me worse. I was experiencing negative emotions that I never even had before meds. I spent awhile on the phone with my friend Jessica that night talking about how I felt and wondering aloud why I felt this way when I wasn't supposed to. She kept telling me that it was probably the result of my medication, but I was so reluctant to believe her. I refused to believe that my medication had failed. In my mind, it meant that I had failed. To the rational mind, this makes no sense. I have no power over how my body reacts to certain chemicals. But my rational mind was on vacation at that point.
I finally saw my doctor yesterday and asked to switch anti-depressants. In hindsight, it seems like it should have been so much easier than it actually was. Why on earth would I want to continue taking pills that make me feel worse than I already feel? I came back over and over to the feeling of failure. In truth, failure has absolutely nothing to do with it. My meds did not fail. They worked for me for over nine months. My brain eventually built up a tolerance to them, and they stopped doing what they were supposed to do. The time had come to find a new medication to do the job my old meds did.
I did not fail. Failure would have been refusing to be courageous and make a change.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Please Plant Me When I Die
Last Saturday, during the recessional of my college graduation, my step-grandfather Bob Smith passed away. He had had a severe heart attack a few days prior and at 85 years old, his body wasn't cut out to recover from it. This was the last in a number of close calls over the last few years, and I guess God finally had Bob's place prepared for him.
His funeral was today. My uncle Mark delivered the meditation for the service and it was one of the best meditations/sermons/messages that I have ever heard at a funeral. Here are some things I learned about Bob today:
1. He left high school and enlisted in the Air Force in order to fight in WWII. He was only 17 at the time, which meant that he had to lie about his age in order to enlist.
2. He received an honorable discharge from the Air Force at the conclusion of the War. He then turned right around and enlisted in the U.S. Navy, where he served for several more years.
3. He owned or co-owned at least 5 businesses in Arizona, including a mechanic's garage, a dry-cleaning service, and a dive bar, among others.
4. This is the one I'm most proud of: Upon returning to Marshall, MI, his hometown, he enrolled in Marshall HS's Adult Education program and completed his coursework in order to receive his high school diploma. He was 75 years old.
He was quite a guy, wouldn't you say?
I didn't cry at all today. People on all sides had tears in their eyes, some were even sobbing. But my eyes remained dry. It wasn't because I wasn't sad. I was sad to see Bob go. I was sad to see all the people around me in pain. I was very sad to know that he passed away during my college graduation, an event that he was planning to attend and was looking forward to.
But my sadness never overcame me and it never brought forth tears. I desperately wish it had, because it's incredibly awkward to remain stoic in a room full of emotional people. I'm sure there were people that thought, "What the heck is wrong with her? Bob's step-granddaughter can't even summon up a single tear to grieve his death? Does she have a heart of stone?"
I promise you, I do not have a heart of stone.
Here's what WAS happening in my heart at the time: I was filled to the brim with a bizarre mix of emotion - sadness, for obvious reasons; happiness, to know that Bob was baptized and committed himself to Christ 8 years ago, when he met and married my grandmother; relief, to know that Bob is no longer hindered by physical ailment and he can work to his heart's delight in Heaven; anticipation, to know that I will see him again one day and tell him about all things I've seen and done since we last saw each other; frustration, with being unable to produce a single tear at his funeral; and peace, to know that this is the way it was all supposed to be.
At the grave site later on, Uncle Mark delivered a final message. He said, "Today, we are planting Bob Smith. You bury that which you want to forget. But you plant that which you plan to see again."
That sums up exactly how I have felt about this whole process. I didn't shed a single tear today. But I'm okay with that, I think. Cry when you are sad. Smile when you are happy.
And certainly, smile when you remember.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
I Wish I Could Just Sit and Watch SpEd Basketball All Day
Hmm, a week later, it's probably time to update. :)
Health-wise, things have gotten neither better nor worse. It's just kind of staying the same. And for right now, I am okay with that. I know how far I can push myself on a certain amount of energy and I know how much work I can get done with that energy. I'm usually just about drained once I get home from school, but thankfully, my family and prof have been understanding about me getting my work done and giving extensions when needed.
It's been a bit of a rough week in Room 200, but only in 6th hour, so that's a good thing. We started a new trimester on Monday, which means two new Intro to Theater classes for me and about 50 new names and faces to learn. :) 6th hour Spanish has a handful of troublemakers that I'm still figuring out how to handle. They certainly test my patience and it's a battle with them every day. The other 3 Spanish classes are going pretty well though, so that gives me a boost in my confidence in myself as a teacher.
A highlight for this week happened today: the Special Olympics Basketball Tournament! Grandville MS hosts the tourney and invites Caledonia MS and Hudsonville MS. Each school forms 2 teams out of their Special Education students, and those 6 teams play each other in various combinations for the better part of the school day. Teachers are encouraged to bring their classes down to the gym for part of their class period to cheer on the players and show their support.
So that's what we did during 4th hour Theater today! I absolutely loved it. It brought back many really fabulous memories of Special Needs Week out at the Grounds. I just love the spirit that special needs kids have. It was really great to see the kids working together and passing the ball to each other. The higher functioning ones would pass the ball to the lower functioning ones, and they even gave players on the other team a second chance to shoot the ball if they caught the rebound. I was just so proud of them. :)
Time for bed for this little girl. Dios os cuide y os proteja. (which means "May God take care of you and protect you")
Health-wise, things have gotten neither better nor worse. It's just kind of staying the same. And for right now, I am okay with that. I know how far I can push myself on a certain amount of energy and I know how much work I can get done with that energy. I'm usually just about drained once I get home from school, but thankfully, my family and prof have been understanding about me getting my work done and giving extensions when needed.
It's been a bit of a rough week in Room 200, but only in 6th hour, so that's a good thing. We started a new trimester on Monday, which means two new Intro to Theater classes for me and about 50 new names and faces to learn. :) 6th hour Spanish has a handful of troublemakers that I'm still figuring out how to handle. They certainly test my patience and it's a battle with them every day. The other 3 Spanish classes are going pretty well though, so that gives me a boost in my confidence in myself as a teacher.
A highlight for this week happened today: the Special Olympics Basketball Tournament! Grandville MS hosts the tourney and invites Caledonia MS and Hudsonville MS. Each school forms 2 teams out of their Special Education students, and those 6 teams play each other in various combinations for the better part of the school day. Teachers are encouraged to bring their classes down to the gym for part of their class period to cheer on the players and show their support.
So that's what we did during 4th hour Theater today! I absolutely loved it. It brought back many really fabulous memories of Special Needs Week out at the Grounds. I just love the spirit that special needs kids have. It was really great to see the kids working together and passing the ball to each other. The higher functioning ones would pass the ball to the lower functioning ones, and they even gave players on the other team a second chance to shoot the ball if they caught the rebound. I was just so proud of them. :)
Time for bed for this little girl. Dios os cuide y os proteja. (which means "May God take care of you and protect you")
Thursday, March 1, 2012
The Results Are In...
Good news: My blood work came back just fine, nothing abnormal!
Bad news: My blood work came back just fine, nothing abnormal....
The purpose of the blood work was to check for contributing factors for anemia, such as low iron. The iron's fine, the Vitamin D is a little low (but that's to be expected since we're nearing the end of winter and haven't seen much sun lately), and my blood cell counts are all good.
Even my thyroid is fine. No hypothyroidism here.
No pain in my limbs and back, so it's not fibromyalgia.
So what's next?
It's unlikely that it's a sleep disorder since fatigue is the only symptom I have. I sleep at least 8 hours per night, often 9 or 10, and I don't wake up more than once per night. I sleep all the way through, I don't snore, and none of my roommates has said that I have woken up gasping for breath as if I'd stopped breathing in my sleep (these are all symptoms of sleep apnea). It would appear I sleep just fine. I just don't feel rested when I wake up. I feel TIRED when I wake up.
My doctor said that this indicates some sort of disconnect with my sleep - that is, I sleep, but I don't REST. He said if the blood work comes back normal (which it has), and a sleep specialist has nothing to say (he'll decide on a referral to one tomorrow), then it's probably Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, or CFS.
Unfortunately, it's difficult to be sure because there's no test for CFS and there's no cure. It's more like a diagnosis that comes after ruling out a bunch of other things, which is what my doctor is in the process of doing. It's a syndrome that some doctors don't even take seriously, which makes me a little frustrated. I already have trouble convincing people that this exhaustion is real, and now DOCTORS are saying it's not real? Good grief.
So anyway, that's where I'm at. Thank you so much for all of your prayers the last two weeks. I really appreciate all of you. :)
Bad news: My blood work came back just fine, nothing abnormal....
The purpose of the blood work was to check for contributing factors for anemia, such as low iron. The iron's fine, the Vitamin D is a little low (but that's to be expected since we're nearing the end of winter and haven't seen much sun lately), and my blood cell counts are all good.
Even my thyroid is fine. No hypothyroidism here.
No pain in my limbs and back, so it's not fibromyalgia.
So what's next?
It's unlikely that it's a sleep disorder since fatigue is the only symptom I have. I sleep at least 8 hours per night, often 9 or 10, and I don't wake up more than once per night. I sleep all the way through, I don't snore, and none of my roommates has said that I have woken up gasping for breath as if I'd stopped breathing in my sleep (these are all symptoms of sleep apnea). It would appear I sleep just fine. I just don't feel rested when I wake up. I feel TIRED when I wake up.
My doctor said that this indicates some sort of disconnect with my sleep - that is, I sleep, but I don't REST. He said if the blood work comes back normal (which it has), and a sleep specialist has nothing to say (he'll decide on a referral to one tomorrow), then it's probably Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, or CFS.
Unfortunately, it's difficult to be sure because there's no test for CFS and there's no cure. It's more like a diagnosis that comes after ruling out a bunch of other things, which is what my doctor is in the process of doing. It's a syndrome that some doctors don't even take seriously, which makes me a little frustrated. I already have trouble convincing people that this exhaustion is real, and now DOCTORS are saying it's not real? Good grief.
So anyway, that's where I'm at. Thank you so much for all of your prayers the last two weeks. I really appreciate all of you. :)
Monday, February 27, 2012
Lil' Health Update..
Eh, it's probably time to get that "Why I am exhausted every minute of the day" thing looked at.
So I have a physical scheduled for this Wednesday morning before school to check all the regularly-functioning body parts and some blood work specifically for the tiredness bidness.
Those that have spent a significant amount of time with me know that I do not like to admit defeat. I do not like to admit weakness. I do not like admitting that I can't do something.
And I do NOT like going to the doctor.
I try to avoid it whenever possible. The last time I went to the doctor for an illness was when I was in kindergarten and had croup. I don't think I even went to the doctor when I got chicken pox because my brothers had it right before me and my parents knew the routine by then. Except for seasonal colds, I maintain near-perfect (or at least, passable) physical health. KEEP ME AWAY FROM THE DOCTOR.
But as much as I hate going to the doctor, I need answers. I need to figure this out.
I can't keep living like this, with no energy. Today I was operating on about 60%. On most grading scales, that's failing. I'm failing! But in the life I lead, failure is not an option. A "Body and Mind Failure" Day does not exist.
So we keep on keepin' on.
If you are a person who prays and you feel so inclined, please pray for me. It's been a rough several weeks. And I'm afraid it may be awhile before it gets better.
So I have a physical scheduled for this Wednesday morning before school to check all the regularly-functioning body parts and some blood work specifically for the tiredness bidness.
Those that have spent a significant amount of time with me know that I do not like to admit defeat. I do not like to admit weakness. I do not like admitting that I can't do something.
And I do NOT like going to the doctor.
I try to avoid it whenever possible. The last time I went to the doctor for an illness was when I was in kindergarten and had croup. I don't think I even went to the doctor when I got chicken pox because my brothers had it right before me and my parents knew the routine by then. Except for seasonal colds, I maintain near-perfect (or at least, passable) physical health. KEEP ME AWAY FROM THE DOCTOR.
But as much as I hate going to the doctor, I need answers. I need to figure this out.
I can't keep living like this, with no energy. Today I was operating on about 60%. On most grading scales, that's failing. I'm failing! But in the life I lead, failure is not an option. A "Body and Mind Failure" Day does not exist.
So we keep on keepin' on.
If you are a person who prays and you feel so inclined, please pray for me. It's been a rough several weeks. And I'm afraid it may be awhile before it gets better.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Op-Ed: Do You Suffer? Thank God.
"God didn't make cancer (or depression, death, poverty, etc) because cancer (depression, death, poverty, etc) is not good. So don't go blaming God for something He didn't make." (Same Kind of Different As Me, 2008)
Is your mind blown yet? Mine was after reading these sentences this morning.
And it made me think: do I blame God for the pills I have to take, for the energy I don't have, and for the demons that circle my bed and won't let me sleep at night?
To be honest, I don't blame God very often. But the reason is pretty ignoble: I'm lazy. I know in my head that the bad things in my life are not God's fault, so why waste the energy yelling at Him and laying the blame on Him for things that were never His idea in the first place? Why get all worked up and more frustrated than I already am by yelling at someone I can't see over an illness that others can't see? I know He'd hear me, so it's not for a lack of faith that I abstain from blaming God. I'm really just lazy.
Okay. So it's not God's FAULT that I suffer, He didn't do this PURPOSELY.
BUT - why does He ALLOW it to happen?
Oh, there's a question that has yet to be answered after centuries upon centuries of the world's tears.
In fact, there's an entire branch of thinking and studying that tries to rationalize the relationship between God and suffering, and it's called theodicy. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not much of a theologian. I'd rather know things in simple terms and be able to explain them in simple terms to people who don't speak Theologese. So here's my theodicy, in simple terms, the way I know how.
God didn't create the evil things in this world. He's INCAPABLE of creating evil. As a 100% good being, He created us to be 100% good beings to share the world with Him. Since we messed that plan up, He now pushes through the evil to be with us and share His good with us. God is certainly powerful enough to wipe out evil forever, but would we really need Him after that? We certainly proved (and continue to prove) that we think we can handle everything without God. Eve figured she could do whatever she wanted with the infinite freedom God gave to her and Adam, and that quickly became doing something God told her not to do. She figured she knew better than (or at least as well as) God when it came to her well-being. Every single one of us is guilty of this.
Without evil, we'd be immature children, dependent on no one, least of all on God. As it is, many of us only turn to God when something goes wrong, right? So if nothing went wrong, we wouldn't have to turn to Him at all. We would just frolic through sunshine-y life, waiting for God to appear when faced with evil. In fact, I think that after awhile, we wouldn't even notice God's intervention in our lives because we'd take it for granted.
Does that scene of sunshine-y perfect life even include human free will? If we don't have the opportunity to face evil and make a decision about how we handle it, where is the free will? We would be children sheltered so completely from evil that we would cease to even be human. Think about it:
If there's never anything to get upset about, the range of human emotion disappears.
If there's never any reason to mourn, there's never a reason to celebrate.
If there's never any death, we would cease to value life.
If there's never a reason for tears, there's never a reason for smiles.
If there's never any sickness, there's no reason for healing.
And if there's never any evil, we would cease to recognize good.
I think the reason that the prospect of Heaven is so absolutely breath-taking is that we know what it's like to live without Heaven. We will appreciate it so much more after knowing what suffering is. If we stayed in Heaven without ever having to experience suffering, we probably wouldn't appreciate Heaven all.
God allows us to suffer because He knows we would never need Him without it. We would cease to see His hand in the events of our life because, really: what are events? We characterize them as good or bad, and without bad, it would be an endless succession of good. And life would become meaningless.
So I guess you could say that God lets us suffer because He loves us so much.
He would rather that we live, truly deeply emotionally live, than simply exist without knowing the difference.
Is your mind blown yet? Mine was after reading these sentences this morning.
And it made me think: do I blame God for the pills I have to take, for the energy I don't have, and for the demons that circle my bed and won't let me sleep at night?
To be honest, I don't blame God very often. But the reason is pretty ignoble: I'm lazy. I know in my head that the bad things in my life are not God's fault, so why waste the energy yelling at Him and laying the blame on Him for things that were never His idea in the first place? Why get all worked up and more frustrated than I already am by yelling at someone I can't see over an illness that others can't see? I know He'd hear me, so it's not for a lack of faith that I abstain from blaming God. I'm really just lazy.
Okay. So it's not God's FAULT that I suffer, He didn't do this PURPOSELY.
BUT - why does He ALLOW it to happen?
Oh, there's a question that has yet to be answered after centuries upon centuries of the world's tears.
In fact, there's an entire branch of thinking and studying that tries to rationalize the relationship between God and suffering, and it's called theodicy. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not much of a theologian. I'd rather know things in simple terms and be able to explain them in simple terms to people who don't speak Theologese. So here's my theodicy, in simple terms, the way I know how.
God didn't create the evil things in this world. He's INCAPABLE of creating evil. As a 100% good being, He created us to be 100% good beings to share the world with Him. Since we messed that plan up, He now pushes through the evil to be with us and share His good with us. God is certainly powerful enough to wipe out evil forever, but would we really need Him after that? We certainly proved (and continue to prove) that we think we can handle everything without God. Eve figured she could do whatever she wanted with the infinite freedom God gave to her and Adam, and that quickly became doing something God told her not to do. She figured she knew better than (or at least as well as) God when it came to her well-being. Every single one of us is guilty of this.
Without evil, we'd be immature children, dependent on no one, least of all on God. As it is, many of us only turn to God when something goes wrong, right? So if nothing went wrong, we wouldn't have to turn to Him at all. We would just frolic through sunshine-y life, waiting for God to appear when faced with evil. In fact, I think that after awhile, we wouldn't even notice God's intervention in our lives because we'd take it for granted.
Does that scene of sunshine-y perfect life even include human free will? If we don't have the opportunity to face evil and make a decision about how we handle it, where is the free will? We would be children sheltered so completely from evil that we would cease to even be human. Think about it:
If there's never anything to get upset about, the range of human emotion disappears.
If there's never any reason to mourn, there's never a reason to celebrate.
If there's never any death, we would cease to value life.
If there's never a reason for tears, there's never a reason for smiles.
If there's never any sickness, there's no reason for healing.
And if there's never any evil, we would cease to recognize good.
I think the reason that the prospect of Heaven is so absolutely breath-taking is that we know what it's like to live without Heaven. We will appreciate it so much more after knowing what suffering is. If we stayed in Heaven without ever having to experience suffering, we probably wouldn't appreciate Heaven all.
God allows us to suffer because He knows we would never need Him without it. We would cease to see His hand in the events of our life because, really: what are events? We characterize them as good or bad, and without bad, it would be an endless succession of good. And life would become meaningless.
So I guess you could say that God lets us suffer because He loves us so much.
He would rather that we live, truly deeply emotionally live, than simply exist without knowing the difference.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Tired of Being Tired
I am always tired.
Seriously. I feel tired every minute of every day. I have yawned in front of all of my six classes at least once. The funny part is that they don't really know what to do with that. They yawn in class plenty, but they're not used to the teachers doing it.
I never wake up feeling refreshed or rested. I never wake up feeling AWAKE. Some days, I feel like I don't even wake up at all.
Throughout college, I got at least 8 hours of sleep per night. I made sure of it. I can't operate properly on much less than that. It had to be exceptional circumstances (or a vacation) for me to even consider going to bed past midnight.
Since the beginning of student teaching, I've been passing out around 8, 8:30.
WHY IS IT NOT ENOUGH?!
Am I not supposed to be in the prime of my life? Past the teenage years, where you supposedly need all that extra sleep, but not yet into the adult years where your kids and your job wear you out?
22 years old and feeling like 88. I don't have the energy to do anything outside of school and/or work. And sometimes, not even that. I had a day or two last semester where I decided to skip class (usually afternoons) because I simply couldn't keep going.
Student teaching is just beating me up. It is mentally and emotionally strenuous work.
Will I ever get used to it? Is this how my life is going to be from now on?
If so, how can I even imagine adding a husband, kids, and countless other activities when I can't even stay awake past 8?
I am so frustrated with this. (Could you tell?)
I AM SO FREAKING TIRED.
And without God's promise from Matthew 11:28, I might have given up a long time ago.
Seriously. I feel tired every minute of every day. I have yawned in front of all of my six classes at least once. The funny part is that they don't really know what to do with that. They yawn in class plenty, but they're not used to the teachers doing it.
I never wake up feeling refreshed or rested. I never wake up feeling AWAKE. Some days, I feel like I don't even wake up at all.
Throughout college, I got at least 8 hours of sleep per night. I made sure of it. I can't operate properly on much less than that. It had to be exceptional circumstances (or a vacation) for me to even consider going to bed past midnight.
Since the beginning of student teaching, I've been passing out around 8, 8:30.
WHY IS IT NOT ENOUGH?!
Am I not supposed to be in the prime of my life? Past the teenage years, where you supposedly need all that extra sleep, but not yet into the adult years where your kids and your job wear you out?
22 years old and feeling like 88. I don't have the energy to do anything outside of school and/or work. And sometimes, not even that. I had a day or two last semester where I decided to skip class (usually afternoons) because I simply couldn't keep going.
Student teaching is just beating me up. It is mentally and emotionally strenuous work.
Will I ever get used to it? Is this how my life is going to be from now on?
If so, how can I even imagine adding a husband, kids, and countless other activities when I can't even stay awake past 8?
I am so frustrated with this. (Could you tell?)
I AM SO FREAKING TIRED.
And without God's promise from Matthew 11:28, I might have given up a long time ago.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Change the Voices in Your Head
So I've used interim break to catch up on some things...like episodes of Glee. I've stayed up to date with the music (3 free songs a week on Freegal through the KDL library? best thing ever!) but I kind of conked out after the 2nd episode of the season. Anyway, I'm back on track, and ever since hearing Kurt and Blaine's version of "Perfect" by P!nk, I absolutely knew I had to have it. I've been playing it quite literally nonstop and I absolutely love it. You can find the lyrics and the clean version of the music video near the end of the post.
This song very succinctly sums up much of what has been occupying my head recently. I was really looking forward to a five-day weekend (aka interim break) before student teaching, but as always, I forgot what all that time off means: time for Andrea's mind to wander and go haywire and start worrying! Every freaking time. That's what the last several days have been full of. Mainly just me freaking out about student teaching and how nervous I am about it.
Let's just say that I'm not very confident about my ability to teach.
I'm good on the whole Spanish thing. I can speak it, I can understand, I can read and write it, but can I teach someone else how to speak/understand/read/write it? I'm not so sure. No, scratch that, I'm completely not sure. Student teaching will be the final test for whether or not this will become my career. I like to think that something else would have tipped me off sooner that I shouldn't pursue teaching, but who knows - maybe I'm just really good at faking things. I'm fairly sure that you can't fake student teaching, though.
I was Skype IMing with a great friend the other night about these exact feelings and when I said to her, "Everything that I've been working toward for 4 years could go up in flames," she responded with
"you're right."
That was SO not the answer I was looking for.
I was kind of upset with her and didn't respond, and then she had to leave and I didn't even say goodbye to her. I feel kind of bad about that. But I'm glad she said that to me, because she's right. I could find out that, after four years, several tests, a freaking lonely semester in Spain, and an entire semester of student teaching, maybe God has a different plan for me. I'm sincerely hoping that this is NOT the case, but if it is, I don't really have a choice, do I? It's not me who should be in charge of my life. I should really start learning to trust the One who sees everything at once and isn't constantly plagued by self-doubt.
This all brings me back to my original thought: no matter what happens, no matter if I am a success or a failure, there will always be someone who thinks I am perfect. Well, no one is perfect, but you know what I mean.
Perfect - P!nk (lyrics)
Made a wrong turn, once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that's alright
Welcome to my silly life
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss, no way it's all good, it didn't slow me down
Mistaken, always second guessing
Underestimated, look, I'm still around
Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than, less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing you are perfect to me
You're so mean when you talk
About yourself, you are wrong
Change the voices in your head
Make them like you instead
So complicated, look how big you'll make it
Filled with so much hatred, such a tired game
It's enough, I've done all I can think of
Chased down all my demons, see you do the same
Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than, less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you are perfect to me
The whole world stares while I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer
So cool in lying and we tried, tried, tried
But we try too hard, it's a waste of my time
Done looking for the critics 'cause they're everywhere
They don't like my genes, they don't get my hair
Strange ourselves and we do it all the time
Why do we do that? Why do I do that? Why do I do that?
Ooh, pretty, pretty, pretty
Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than, less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you are perfect to me
You are perfect to me
You're perfect, you're perfect to me
Pretty, pretty please if you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than, less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you are perfect to me
This song very succinctly sums up much of what has been occupying my head recently. I was really looking forward to a five-day weekend (aka interim break) before student teaching, but as always, I forgot what all that time off means: time for Andrea's mind to wander and go haywire and start worrying! Every freaking time. That's what the last several days have been full of. Mainly just me freaking out about student teaching and how nervous I am about it.
Let's just say that I'm not very confident about my ability to teach.
I'm good on the whole Spanish thing. I can speak it, I can understand, I can read and write it, but can I teach someone else how to speak/understand/read/write it? I'm not so sure. No, scratch that, I'm completely not sure. Student teaching will be the final test for whether or not this will become my career. I like to think that something else would have tipped me off sooner that I shouldn't pursue teaching, but who knows - maybe I'm just really good at faking things. I'm fairly sure that you can't fake student teaching, though.
I was Skype IMing with a great friend the other night about these exact feelings and when I said to her, "Everything that I've been working toward for 4 years could go up in flames," she responded with
"you're right."
That was SO not the answer I was looking for.
I was kind of upset with her and didn't respond, and then she had to leave and I didn't even say goodbye to her. I feel kind of bad about that. But I'm glad she said that to me, because she's right. I could find out that, after four years, several tests, a freaking lonely semester in Spain, and an entire semester of student teaching, maybe God has a different plan for me. I'm sincerely hoping that this is NOT the case, but if it is, I don't really have a choice, do I? It's not me who should be in charge of my life. I should really start learning to trust the One who sees everything at once and isn't constantly plagued by self-doubt.
This all brings me back to my original thought: no matter what happens, no matter if I am a success or a failure, there will always be someone who thinks I am perfect. Well, no one is perfect, but you know what I mean.
Perfect - P!nk (lyrics)
Made a wrong turn, once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that's alright
Welcome to my silly life
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss, no way it's all good, it didn't slow me down
Mistaken, always second guessing
Underestimated, look, I'm still around
Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than, less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing you are perfect to me
You're so mean when you talk
About yourself, you are wrong
Change the voices in your head
Make them like you instead
So complicated, look how big you'll make it
Filled with so much hatred, such a tired game
It's enough, I've done all I can think of
Chased down all my demons, see you do the same
Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than, less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you are perfect to me
The whole world stares while I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer
So cool in lying and we tried, tried, tried
But we try too hard, it's a waste of my time
Done looking for the critics 'cause they're everywhere
They don't like my genes, they don't get my hair
Strange ourselves and we do it all the time
Why do we do that? Why do I do that? Why do I do that?
Ooh, pretty, pretty, pretty
Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than, less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you are perfect to me
You are perfect to me
You're perfect, you're perfect to me
Pretty, pretty please if you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than, less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you are perfect to me
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
S/W/F, 22, ISO BF w/ MP: Single in the Heart of the Calvin Bubble
Let me tell you, the Senior Scramble is in FULL SWING.
For those of you that are unfamiliar with the concept of the "senior scramble," it goes a little like this: In theory, this means that long-established couples tend to get engaged (or even married) during their senior year of college. In reality, it means EVERYWHERE YOU TURN, IT SEEMS LIKE EVERYONE IS GETTING ENGAGED AND MARRIED. Relationship changes appear daily on Facebook, engagement photos are everywhere, and save-the-dates arrive by the truckload.
What on earth is the single girl to do?!
a) Scream in frustration.
b) Find a man post-haste.
c) Repress feelings of abject loneliness with several gallons of ice cream.
d) all of the above
Yeeeaahhhh I know the REAL answer is secret option (e), "be patient and wait because God has a plan." But do you know how hard that is? I know some of you do. But some of you got married right out of high school. Or have had a steady boyfriend or girlfriend for the past several years. Or you're so high on single life that you'll probably close out this tab after this paragraph.
But for those of you that feel even remotely the same way I do...I promise this won't be a complain-fest. It will be a touch more sophisticated than that.
My heart is cleanly torn between two feelings. In one corner, I have a deep longing for a boyfriend/husband. Someone to be safe with, someone to alleviate this loneliness. But in the other corner, I am constantly reminded of the famous feminist saying: "a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle." And that almost makes me feel guilty for supposedly being so needy (at least, according this the standards of this highly individualistic society in which we live).
I can at least take comfort in knowing that I was created to have these feelings, no matter how unpleasant they are at the time. God created marriage specifically for the purpose of bringing two people together so that they wouldn't have to be lonely anymore. It's a relationship that goes so deep that you can only share it with one person. I long for that experience, that adventure of spending the rest of my life getting to know one person and trusting them with my whole self.
I'm aware that outside of the Calvin bubble, it's pretty rare to have these feelings at 22. Most people my age are focused on just having FUN. Dating casually, living day-to-day, maybe getting a college degree, but certainly not keeping their eyes peeled for their future spouse.
Ever since breaking up with my previous boyfriend, whenever people have asked, I've always said, "Nah, I'm too busy right now to have a boyfriend." And that's partially true. Calvin is a lot of work, especially heading into student teaching, and studying in Spain certainly would have been even more difficult than it already was if I had a boyfriend to miss on top of everything else.
But the other truth is that I don't have time to have a boyfriend like the ones I've had before. I can't be in a relationship that demands all of my time and all of my heart. At least, not at first. That was the problem with my last relationship - we pulled each other under far too quickly and we invested too much of our heart and emotions before it was wise to do so. Then, before either one of us realized what had happened, we were in too deep and didn't know how to come back to the surface without hurting ourselves and each other.
Being single is no longer a neutral state of being, at least for the female population. After the break-up, I spent hours upon hours thinking about what had happened and analyzing exactly what went wrong. Once I had sufficiently figured all that out, I knew how I would approach the next relationship and what behavior I would avoid this time around. But here's the thing: How long do I have to wait for this next relationship? The longer singlehood lasts, the more intensely I worry about WHY I'm single. Is it my schedule/lack of social life? Is it one of my personality traits? Or, heaven forbid, does no one find me attractive? (Be honest. No matter how much those inspirational one-liners try to convince you that beauty is all on the inside, you often wonder this too).
Again I come back to the discrepancy of how easy it is to believe the lies and doubts (like the ones I mentioned above) and how hard it is to remember the truth: God DOES have a plan. He's got my whole life mapped out and even though it seems like I am an eternity away from being married, He tells me to be patient. Be patient, I'm leading you two toward each other. Be patient, you'll find each other at the time that I know is best. Be patient, I got this.
It's so hard to remember that. But if I don't, I'd probably go (more) crazy with worrying.
I pray every night that God will reveal to me my husband. Not immediately, because I know THAT'S not going to happen. But I pray that anyway, possibly for my own peace of mind, that God will not make me be single for my entire life. Kind of like how, for a friend of mine who absolutely loves children, I pray that God would protect her and keep her safe and never allow anything to happen that would make her unable to have children.
I like to think that God wouldn't do this though. Maybe that's too arrogant of me, to think I know the mind of God, but God loves us and wants to absolutely shower us with blessings, right? Why would He want to keep me single when being married is one of the deepest desires of my heart? He'd better have a pretty darn big and awesome blessing headed my way if I don't get to be married.
So for now, I have to wait. And stop analyzing everything. Way easier said than done. :)
Thank you for reading through all of this agony. If it helps at least one person, to know that maybe you're not the only one feeling the way you do, then this has been worth it. If people would just be more honest, we'd all find out a lot quicker that most human experiences and emotions are universal. :)
For those of you that are unfamiliar with the concept of the "senior scramble," it goes a little like this: In theory, this means that long-established couples tend to get engaged (or even married) during their senior year of college. In reality, it means EVERYWHERE YOU TURN, IT SEEMS LIKE EVERYONE IS GETTING ENGAGED AND MARRIED. Relationship changes appear daily on Facebook, engagement photos are everywhere, and save-the-dates arrive by the truckload.
What on earth is the single girl to do?!
a) Scream in frustration.
b) Find a man post-haste.
c) Repress feelings of abject loneliness with several gallons of ice cream.
d) all of the above
Yeeeaahhhh I know the REAL answer is secret option (e), "be patient and wait because God has a plan." But do you know how hard that is? I know some of you do. But some of you got married right out of high school. Or have had a steady boyfriend or girlfriend for the past several years. Or you're so high on single life that you'll probably close out this tab after this paragraph.
But for those of you that feel even remotely the same way I do...I promise this won't be a complain-fest. It will be a touch more sophisticated than that.
My heart is cleanly torn between two feelings. In one corner, I have a deep longing for a boyfriend/husband. Someone to be safe with, someone to alleviate this loneliness. But in the other corner, I am constantly reminded of the famous feminist saying: "a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle." And that almost makes me feel guilty for supposedly being so needy (at least, according this the standards of this highly individualistic society in which we live).
I can at least take comfort in knowing that I was created to have these feelings, no matter how unpleasant they are at the time. God created marriage specifically for the purpose of bringing two people together so that they wouldn't have to be lonely anymore. It's a relationship that goes so deep that you can only share it with one person. I long for that experience, that adventure of spending the rest of my life getting to know one person and trusting them with my whole self.
I'm aware that outside of the Calvin bubble, it's pretty rare to have these feelings at 22. Most people my age are focused on just having FUN. Dating casually, living day-to-day, maybe getting a college degree, but certainly not keeping their eyes peeled for their future spouse.
Ever since breaking up with my previous boyfriend, whenever people have asked, I've always said, "Nah, I'm too busy right now to have a boyfriend." And that's partially true. Calvin is a lot of work, especially heading into student teaching, and studying in Spain certainly would have been even more difficult than it already was if I had a boyfriend to miss on top of everything else.
But the other truth is that I don't have time to have a boyfriend like the ones I've had before. I can't be in a relationship that demands all of my time and all of my heart. At least, not at first. That was the problem with my last relationship - we pulled each other under far too quickly and we invested too much of our heart and emotions before it was wise to do so. Then, before either one of us realized what had happened, we were in too deep and didn't know how to come back to the surface without hurting ourselves and each other.
Being single is no longer a neutral state of being, at least for the female population. After the break-up, I spent hours upon hours thinking about what had happened and analyzing exactly what went wrong. Once I had sufficiently figured all that out, I knew how I would approach the next relationship and what behavior I would avoid this time around. But here's the thing: How long do I have to wait for this next relationship? The longer singlehood lasts, the more intensely I worry about WHY I'm single. Is it my schedule/lack of social life? Is it one of my personality traits? Or, heaven forbid, does no one find me attractive? (Be honest. No matter how much those inspirational one-liners try to convince you that beauty is all on the inside, you often wonder this too).
Again I come back to the discrepancy of how easy it is to believe the lies and doubts (like the ones I mentioned above) and how hard it is to remember the truth: God DOES have a plan. He's got my whole life mapped out and even though it seems like I am an eternity away from being married, He tells me to be patient. Be patient, I'm leading you two toward each other. Be patient, you'll find each other at the time that I know is best. Be patient, I got this.
It's so hard to remember that. But if I don't, I'd probably go (more) crazy with worrying.
I pray every night that God will reveal to me my husband. Not immediately, because I know THAT'S not going to happen. But I pray that anyway, possibly for my own peace of mind, that God will not make me be single for my entire life. Kind of like how, for a friend of mine who absolutely loves children, I pray that God would protect her and keep her safe and never allow anything to happen that would make her unable to have children.
I like to think that God wouldn't do this though. Maybe that's too arrogant of me, to think I know the mind of God, but God loves us and wants to absolutely shower us with blessings, right? Why would He want to keep me single when being married is one of the deepest desires of my heart? He'd better have a pretty darn big and awesome blessing headed my way if I don't get to be married.
So for now, I have to wait. And stop analyzing everything. Way easier said than done. :)
Thank you for reading through all of this agony. If it helps at least one person, to know that maybe you're not the only one feeling the way you do, then this has been worth it. If people would just be more honest, we'd all find out a lot quicker that most human experiences and emotions are universal. :)
Monday, December 26, 2011
It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year?
Oh, Christmas....I find you so very complicated.
For the past several years, I have not enjoyed Christmas (or most holidays, for that matter). In fact, I kind of dread it. Here's why: Most people are naturally excited and happy when it comes to Christmas. They go in for all the decoration, the snow, the lights, the food, the music, the people, everything. The Christmas spirit is just THERE, instinctively. I don't have any of that. The decorations make me sad, the snow makes me frustrated (though this is nothing new), the lights seem dim, the music is misleading, and while the food is pretty great, the rest of it is a facsimile of what it used to be.
Don't get me wrong: I am ALL about the core of Christmas. Jesus is my Savior. Christmas is the anniversary of his birth. It's a celebration of my Savior's birthday.
The problem is that society has made Christmas into a month-long happyfest; partially because we focus on things other than Jesus' birthday, partially because we feel the need to out-do ourselves every single year, and partially because we have the tendency to get caught up in things that ultimately don't matter. I wish it was okay for me to celebrate my birthday for an entire month. And if anyone deserves a month-long birthday celebration, it's Jesus. But by the time I get to Christmas Day, I am wiped out.
It is EXHAUSTING to pretend to be happy for twenty-five straight days. And yeah, I have to pretend I'm not depressed almost every day. But there's a difference - on those days, I just have to make it to neutral. During the month of Christmas, I have to push past neutral and pretend to be actively happy. If you've never had to do this before, I'll walk you through it: Think of all the people that you see during the month of Christmas (we really should just change 'December' to Christmasember). Now, chances are good that you see a good percentage of these people every year at Christmas. They are expecting you to be happy and joyful and full of Christmas spirit, just like every other year. This year, you find that that happiness/Christmas spirit just isn't there automatically. Shoot, son! Whatcha gonna do? You gotta convince all these people that nothing's changed...
Christmasember brings out happiness in most people, but it brings out sadness in me. Christmas brings so many reasons to be happy: family, friends, presents, vacation, parties, church, Jesus...but all of these things only serve to remind me of how I'm not intrinsically happy. And then I start to feel guilty - it's like, Why are you so unhappy? You should be happy! It's Christmas! Everyone else is happy, why aren't you? Be happy! BE HAPPY, YOU STUPID UNGRATEFUL GIRL!!
Thankfully, I gain a bit of wisdom with every year that passes. First of all, I am not the only person that this happens to. Just because everyone else SEEMS happy doesn't mean they are. A lot of people are carrying around baggage that they're working pretty hard to hide. They're not happy, but they're pretending to be because they don't know what else to do.
Second, it's okay to not be happy. No one can be happy all the time, especially during Christmasember. It's okay to admit that it's hard to be happy. I'm not a robot that can be programmed to Happy Mode, and maybe you aren't either.
Thirdly, knowing all of this, it's easier to understand and relate to other people that struggle with Christmasember. I've got a friend whose aunt died around Christmastime several years ago. She's reminded of it every year, and she doesn't like Christmas anymore. We kind of make a joke about it every year, but to me, it's one of the cornerstones of our friendship.
Maybe it's not so important how happy we are during the holidays. I think the more important thing is focusing on the birthday. Being thankful for Jesus' birth and remembering it and celebrating it on Christmas Day. We've pretty much buried the birthday in this day and age, but in the end, that's what it's all about. Birthday.
So yeah, I'm not happy all the time. And more and more, I'm becoming okay with it. But it was my Savior's birthday yesterday, and that will NEVER make me unhappy.
For the past several years, I have not enjoyed Christmas (or most holidays, for that matter). In fact, I kind of dread it. Here's why: Most people are naturally excited and happy when it comes to Christmas. They go in for all the decoration, the snow, the lights, the food, the music, the people, everything. The Christmas spirit is just THERE, instinctively. I don't have any of that. The decorations make me sad, the snow makes me frustrated (though this is nothing new), the lights seem dim, the music is misleading, and while the food is pretty great, the rest of it is a facsimile of what it used to be.
Don't get me wrong: I am ALL about the core of Christmas. Jesus is my Savior. Christmas is the anniversary of his birth. It's a celebration of my Savior's birthday.
The problem is that society has made Christmas into a month-long happyfest; partially because we focus on things other than Jesus' birthday, partially because we feel the need to out-do ourselves every single year, and partially because we have the tendency to get caught up in things that ultimately don't matter. I wish it was okay for me to celebrate my birthday for an entire month. And if anyone deserves a month-long birthday celebration, it's Jesus. But by the time I get to Christmas Day, I am wiped out.
It is EXHAUSTING to pretend to be happy for twenty-five straight days. And yeah, I have to pretend I'm not depressed almost every day. But there's a difference - on those days, I just have to make it to neutral. During the month of Christmas, I have to push past neutral and pretend to be actively happy. If you've never had to do this before, I'll walk you through it: Think of all the people that you see during the month of Christmas (we really should just change 'December' to Christmasember). Now, chances are good that you see a good percentage of these people every year at Christmas. They are expecting you to be happy and joyful and full of Christmas spirit, just like every other year. This year, you find that that happiness/Christmas spirit just isn't there automatically. Shoot, son! Whatcha gonna do? You gotta convince all these people that nothing's changed...
Christmasember brings out happiness in most people, but it brings out sadness in me. Christmas brings so many reasons to be happy: family, friends, presents, vacation, parties, church, Jesus...but all of these things only serve to remind me of how I'm not intrinsically happy. And then I start to feel guilty - it's like, Why are you so unhappy? You should be happy! It's Christmas! Everyone else is happy, why aren't you? Be happy! BE HAPPY, YOU STUPID UNGRATEFUL GIRL!!
Thankfully, I gain a bit of wisdom with every year that passes. First of all, I am not the only person that this happens to. Just because everyone else SEEMS happy doesn't mean they are. A lot of people are carrying around baggage that they're working pretty hard to hide. They're not happy, but they're pretending to be because they don't know what else to do.
Second, it's okay to not be happy. No one can be happy all the time, especially during Christmasember. It's okay to admit that it's hard to be happy. I'm not a robot that can be programmed to Happy Mode, and maybe you aren't either.
Thirdly, knowing all of this, it's easier to understand and relate to other people that struggle with Christmasember. I've got a friend whose aunt died around Christmastime several years ago. She's reminded of it every year, and she doesn't like Christmas anymore. We kind of make a joke about it every year, but to me, it's one of the cornerstones of our friendship.
Maybe it's not so important how happy we are during the holidays. I think the more important thing is focusing on the birthday. Being thankful for Jesus' birth and remembering it and celebrating it on Christmas Day. We've pretty much buried the birthday in this day and age, but in the end, that's what it's all about. Birthday.
So yeah, I'm not happy all the time. And more and more, I'm becoming okay with it. But it was my Savior's birthday yesterday, and that will NEVER make me unhappy.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Troubled Relationship
Some background:
I was in Education 307 today, pretending to be an 8th grader pretending to be in Language Arts class. The "teachers" (Elizabeth and Sarah) were covering different types of rhyme in song and poetry and at the end of the class, we had to try our own hand at writing a poem, either with rhyme or without it. The only requirements were that it had to be 6 lines long and about either falling in love or breaking up. The poem that follows is born out of the last several weeks I have endured.
"Troubled Relationship"
You make too many demands.
I feel like you've tied my hands.
I no longer recognize you.
I just can't take it anymore.
You've left my heart battered and sore.
Calvin College...we're through.
:)
I was in Education 307 today, pretending to be an 8th grader pretending to be in Language Arts class. The "teachers" (Elizabeth and Sarah) were covering different types of rhyme in song and poetry and at the end of the class, we had to try our own hand at writing a poem, either with rhyme or without it. The only requirements were that it had to be 6 lines long and about either falling in love or breaking up. The poem that follows is born out of the last several weeks I have endured.
"Troubled Relationship"
You make too many demands.
I feel like you've tied my hands.
I no longer recognize you.
I just can't take it anymore.
You've left my heart battered and sore.
Calvin College...we're through.
:)
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