soul health

What If I Have Stepped Wrongly?

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Author’s Note: I started writing this back in late February/early March and it was really quite heavy then.

The question is always there in the back of my brain, pricking at my mind and my heart. What if I step wrongly? What if I put my foot in the wrong spot, step into a hole, and break my figurative ankle? What if I step before I’m supposed to, or I hesitate and miss my chance? Then what?

The past few months, I have been weary-worn. That’s exactly how I feel: constantly weary  and worn thin. As Bilbo would put it, “‘Why, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread (Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring, 42)” I’ve been sick; I’ve been busy with work; exhausted when I get home; and what is usually meant to help restore and recover my spoon seems to use up my dwindling store even more. This is unusual: the constant weariness, this overhanging gloom. And I can’t help but wonder.

Did I take a wrong turn or a wrong step somewhere? Did I leap before I looked, decide before I discerned? Did I step wrongly? Now, I do not believe in a “that’s what you get” God. I do not believe that, if I did step wrongly, he’s sitting on by with hands folded and a harrumph of “Serves you right for not listening”. I do believe that God allows us to make mistakes and our own decisions, even if they turn out to be the wrong ones for us. I also believe that he is waiting to help us find our way again, even if it needs must be by roundabout.

But is that what I’m dealing with here? Or is it something else? Have I misplaced my priorities and therefore my energy? Have I stepped wrongly? I have to admit that, sometimes, I feel like Job, leaving aside the obvious differences in our difficulties.

“Is not all human life a struggle? Our lives are like that of a hired hand, like a worker who longs for the shade, like a servant waiting to be paid. I, too, have been assigned months of futility, long and weary nights of misery. Lying in bed, I think, ‘When will it be morning?’ But the night drags on, and I toss till dawn. (Job 7:1-4, NLT)

I’ve only ever been in therapy during one season of my life and even then it wasn’t very long. So a question I am daring to ask myself and pray about is if perhaps I am suffering from more than just exhaustion, and, frankly, it’s a scary thought for me. Having been raised in the Caribbean, it’s very true that Indiana winters can be hard on me–the long dark, the gloom, and the cold. This winter it has been especially hard to shake, hard to find my way back to me. Now, as spring begins to come into itself fully, I feel a little lightening of my spirit. Is that what it was? Or was there, is there more to it? The truth is that I don’t know. But I will keep praying, keep examining, keep trying to pay attention. I only hope that, if I feel that nudge in my heart and gut, I will have to courage to actually pick up the phone, sit in the chair, and ask and answer the hard questions. I don’t know if I am brave enough for that yet so I would appreciate good thoughts, hopes, and prayers as I process through this and keep an examining eye on myself and my heart. Thank you.

2015-07-17

 

Works Cited: Tolkien, J.R.R. The Fellowship of the Ring: Lord of the Rings, Part 1.

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Bracing from Buoyancy to Letdown

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Last week, I rode a high brought on by the spectacular live performance of Jesus Christ Superstar that aired on NBC’s network on Easter Sunday, starring John Legend, Sara Bareilles, and Brandon Victor Dixon. I had never seen a production of JCS or listened to any of the soundtrack before, so this was an entirely new experience for me. Godspell I was familiar with, but I had never gotten to know JCS, although I knew of it.

All last week, the strains and melody of “Everything’s Alright” were the undercurrent of my days. I even found myself singing the first stanza of the song to a student who was nervous and stressed about a test they had in my class. All week, this musical—this story of Judas, Jesus, and deep, soul-searing humanity—buoyed me up and kept me afloat. The actors’ faces have shown up in my dreams. Their voices have filled my quiet moments, my heart and soul birthing prayers from the lyrics they breathe and belt.

Jesus Christ Superstar has been a Godsend of a soul lift, one that I have needed deeply and dearly. It has been a difficult few months, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. I have felt heavy, off-center, not myself. Nothing has felt aligned—not my emotions, my prayers/time with God, my sleep, my libido, my energy, my reactions and responses, nothing. Often, all I want to do after a full day of teaching is hide in my room with my earbuds in and not speak or have to spend spoons on anyone. Of course, unfortunately, this means my family suffers from my lack of presence and being present. For weeks, it’s been this way, this off-centeredness, so to feel the buoyancy of this beautiful musical was nothing short of a miracle. As we head into a new week, though, I find myself fearing.

I fear the letdown. Buoyancy like this doesn’t last as the novelty becomes commonplace. I fear the shine falling off, the powerful lyrics becoming ordinary as I listen to them over and over. I fear that the off-centeredness returning, the heavy tiredness settling on my shoulders and sapping my spoons and energy. It is like the winter weather, which seems to refuse to let go as, morning after morning, now into April, I wake to snow on the ground where previously there was none. Like that unexpected snow, I silently worry that the low places will return, and I’ll crash back to earth again. That sudden stop hurts, like a lot.

This past weekend, as I embarked to the grocery store on my own (a rare thing), I kept my earbuds in as I did my shopping, humming and mouthing lyrics to JCS’s pieces, and there was a freedom there. A soaring amidst the mundane, and I realized how much I have missed it. I’ve missed feeling freedom. Freedom to be me and enjoy what brings me life and joy. Even though I am afraid that it won’t last, for now I will hold onto it. Hold onto that freedom, that soaring, those miracles amidst the mundane. I will keep on singing, sharing, and hoping that this is just the beginning of feeling like myself again.