It would have killed me.

Part of the preparation for a Lutheran (ELCA specifically) seminarian is to go through a psychological assessment.  With real psychologists and real counselors.  For two whole days.  It sounds a bit intimidating right? It is.

But it is necessary to the process of discernment - a type of inward journey to find out how/what God is calling you to do.  One of the main objectives of the psych assessment is to help you recognize and "treat" your weaknesses or vulnerabilities.  They focus on your strengths toom but typically you have a good idea about your strengths before you go in.  Sometimes your vulnerabilities are harder to identify - or at least admit.

One of my flaws/weaknesses/things-to-work-on is my business.  I always feels like I have to have a new project.  This wouldn't be so bad if I handled this compulsive behavior in a healthy way.  But my other vulnerability is feeling it necessary to care for other people before - and often in place of - caring for myself.  I neglect my own needs for the needs of others.  So much so that I make it my eternal project.  If I'm not constantly doing something for someone else (solving a problem, editing a paper, being a helper), I feel like I am failing.

This probably doesn't sound so bad, right? Pastors and volunteers are supposed to think of others before they think of themselves.  The problem is that it has manifested into unrealistic expectations for myself. I push myself to the point of exhaustion and then I take out my frustration on the people I care about most. It's not healthy. I don't know how to rest.

A few weeks after my psych assessment I had a full-blown panic attack at the Shrove Tuesday pancake supper at church. Uh yikes. That opened my eyes to the problem and made me accept it as a reality.

The second step after the psych assessment and before my entrance interview (on April 11th!!) is to work on my vulnerabilities.  The psychologist and counselor diagnose me, and prescribe me actions to take and books to read (just as a medical doctor would prescribe medication and exercise to a person with heart disease.)

Identify the potential problem (or completely manifested problem in my case).

Take action to treat the problem.

Although I still have a long way to go, I have started to do some of the things on my to-do list from the psych assessment:

I am reading three books about resting, taking time for yourself, and self-care in pastoral vocations.
I have started observing a sabbath every week. (This is so hard!)
I am trying to take time out of every day to relax and sit down.
I am praying every night with my (very) patient boyfriend.
I reevaluated my priorities and uncommitted from some things at church and work.
I am continuing Bible study of the Old Testament.
I am talking with people, pastors, parents, friends about what it means to care for yourself and take time for yourself in a society that is so concerned about doing the next big thing and always being on the move.

I'm convinced that if I hadn't identified my vulnerability it would have killed me. Maybe not tomorrow or next year, but eventually I would have died of exhaustion.

My plea to you is to identify your vulnerability.  Grasp it. Caress it. Love it. Then work on it and treat it like a disease that is bound to kill you.

worth it

"Mountain" I climbed

One of the most amazing experiences of my life was traveling to Hawaii by myself last December.

I claimed that it was a reward to myself for graduating college early, but in reality it was so much more than that.

At that point in my life, it was an escape. An escape from hurt and rush and my parents.  It was an escape from the things that scared the crap out of me in the future. It was an escape from the fact that I might never be the person I always wanted to be. And an escape from the expectations of others.

It was also a test. I wanted to know that I could function on my own. I needed to know that I could be by myself and be okay.

During those ten days on Oahu, I was able to do some amazing things. Some of my favorites included watching surf competitions, eating local food, and sunning myself every single day.

My favorite thing, though, was an accomplishment I can't get out of my mind this week.

I climbed a mountain.

Okay, so maybe no exactly a mountain... but for me, it felt like a physical, emotional, and spiritual mountain.

We got up before the sun rose on the Sunday morning before I left to fly back home and drove to my mountain. The minute we got halfway to the base of the trek, I was done.

I'm not a physical type of girl. I don't work out. I don't particularly care to prove my physicality by doing physical things. I'm more of a thinker. I'm more of a writer. Not a hiker. Or a railroad tie hurdler.

 

But we climbed up the mountain on railroad ties.  I wanted to die halfway up (or a quarter of the way up) and I was definitely winded by the time we reached the top (after multiple stops to rest). There was a bridge we had to cross that was just made out of railroad ties. You could fall right through it into the rocks. I was terrified and exhausted the entire way up.  But it was the most rewarding thing I have ever done in my life.


Let me repeat that: It was the most rewarding thing I have ever done in my life.

It wasn't just the view. The view was amazing. It was the fact that over and over again I told my hiking partner that I didn't want to keep going. I said, "I'm too tired" and "I can't do it" and "this was a terrible idea."  But despite my mind and my body telling me to stop and turn back. Despite my legs saying, "it's not worth it," my heart just wouldn't let me stop.

It is the first time my heart convinced me to do something that the rest of my body didn't want to do and didn't think it could do.

Now that I know it's possible, I feel like I can do anything.

God gave me the strength (because honestly, it had to have been divine intervention) to start climbing my spiritual mountain a few months prior to this physical mountain climbing.  I'm nowhere near the peak of this mountain, I can't even see it. It's blurred in the morning fog. And it's a much larger mountain than I climbed on Oahu.  The obstacles are larger than railroad ties and bridges without floors. But I know that it is possible. I know that when my body and mind feel defeated and broken, my heart and my Lord will be there to keep me going.

Because it's worth it.  The view at the top will take my breath away and make all of it worth it.

Little things.

Sometimes it's the little things.

Wednesdays are some of my less exciting days.

I'm not required to go into work, but I go in anyway to make some extra cash. I usually sit around for about four hours, alternating between reading, blogging, and chatting with the people in the office.

Then I find something to eat and make my way to Bible study at Jacob's Porch.

I still wasn't fully convinced that I wanted to go to Panera as I pulled into the parking lot, but I went in anyway. You can't go wrong with broccoli cheddar soup and a baguette, right?

As I was sitting down with my laptop and food, a man asked me to help with something. He was sitting with who I am assuming was his girlfriend and her two daughters. He made the older girl turn around to me and ask for an adverb. After a brief freakout that I wouldn't remember what an adverb is (modifies a verb? Ah crap, that was 3rd grade!), I came up with "quickly."

It was then explained that the young girl was finding words for her Madlibs, but she could only ask strangers around Panera for words. I guess it was an exercise to help her come out of her introverted shell.

As I sat at the next table for an hour, the young girl got up the courage to ask at least ten other people for words for her Madlib. When a few friends gave her the very last words, she read the Madlib aloud to the group.  I looked up and saw that the various people she had asked before had gotten up and listened to the finished Madlib as well. People sitting around them all leaned in to listen. Students stopped studying and took out their headphones to catch a line of the Madlib.  Everyone was giggling and smiling.

This shy little girl brought unexpected joy to a dozen people during the dinner rush at Panera.

Just by bringing them together for a common goal.

Sometimes it's the little things.