(no subject)
Thank you so much for the prayers, emails and calls. I’ve really appreciated the way that so many people have shown concern. So here is just a little bit of what has been going on the last couple of days. Don’t feel obligated to read
Yesterday there was a lecture by Charles Rangel (D-NY). I didn’t go. And it was probably one of the best choices I made all day.
This morning I didn’t want to wake up. A slight feeling of dread and exhaustion might be a typical Monday morning phenomenon. This Monday morning it was particularly potent. I had spent the weekend in Ashford, Connecticut on CHC’s fall retreat.
Entering the weekend, I felt stressed, exhausted and pretty down. Life was just way too much to handle and I felt distant and estranged from God. I didn’t feel like being around people. I didn’t want to make small talk or be vulnerable and honest. My life was in fragments and I thought that if I loosened my tightly clenched fist, everything, everything would fall apart. Physically, I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t really eating properly or regularly and my body felt like it was on the verge of a complete break down. This might seem normal too, considering the cruel invention of midterms, but surprisingly none of this seemed entirely tied to academics. Academically the week had been a blur-three midterms in a row, leading section and presenting my work to be critiqued by the class. I had two programs for MPC stuff- Resources for Students of Color and Interracial dating forum and debriefing discussion, an emotionally difficult meeting with my Co-C’s and my first programming event for my job at the Curricular Resource Center.
Friday my work was being critiqued by the class. Criticism of my writing has always seemed to strike me on a particularly personal level and all the encouraging and positive feedback couldn’t outweigh the one guy who told me that the piece was worthless, with no sympathetic characters. He told me that there wasn’t anything of value in the piece and the only way to make it worth reading was a complete rewrite. I knew it shouldn’t bother me, but with the culmination of everything that had happened that week, I was crushed.
I hadn’t started packing by 5:10 pm (we were supposed to leave at 5:30 and it would take me 15 minutes to walk over with my stuff). I was starting to wonder if I should cancel and not go. Every fiber in my body wanted to crumble on my bed in a lifeless heap of anger, frustration and despair. But deep inside a part of me knew that it we be wrong to do that. Initially I had not wanted to go to fall retreat at all. This semester has been really hard for me, trying to balance academics, work and other obligations. I think I started the semester with nothing left to give and most of my energy has been spent just trying to survive.
After several people had encouraged me to go (I was still suspicious of their motives) I had a talk with a close friend. She encouraged me to go and I told her I would pray about it. Honestly at first I felt like I ought to go out of some sense of obligation or friendship. She had put a lot into the retreat and I knew it mattered a lot to her.
I prayed about it and I gradually felt that God was telling me to go. I didn’t want to listen, so I kept praying about it, hoping that I had heard wrong. Finally, accepting that God had told me to go, I tried to talk God out of it. I’m glad rhetorical techniques and stubbornness don’t keep God from working.
Even though I had submitted forms and money, I was still reluctant to go, but resigned. In that state of mind Friday afternoon I still knew that it would be a cop out not to go.
My friend brought some food from the cafeteria for us to eat in the car, but neither of us ended up eating. I slid out of consciousness somewhere around Dayville and was woken up when we reached the Slavic Retreat Center.
I wasn’t in a socializing mood at all, dazed and cold I was also a little confused- having just woken up. We went downstairs and I sequestered myself in my own little world, even amidst all the people, drawing and coloring with crayons, somehow much more therapeutic than chit chat. I didn’t want to be their and it was written across my face and emphasized by my body language.
The first session of the speaker I phased out. I needed to process things, life and I started writing. My thoughts were highly cynical, judgmental and harsh. I was ashamed of them and what they represented and reflected about me, but I had to get them out of my head and onto the paper. It was like having to vomit when you have the flu. Sorry if that was gross. I could see my own hypocrisy and it revolted me, but I didn’t know what to do with that.
We broke into small groups and we had to talk about hopes and expectations for the weekend. In my head I was weighing two options. I could give them the standard act-it’s been a busy and stressful week at school, I’m glad to have this chance to get away, spend time in nature and reconnect with God. I’m excited about this weekend and I can’t wait to see what God will do. But by now, you’ve probably guessed that that wasn’t how I was feeling. So I decided to try to be honest. I knew that small group would be a joke if I wasn’t honest. So when we went around the circle, I took a deep breath and told them how things had been difficult, I didn’t want to socialize or spend time with people. I really had felt like God was telling me to come, but I also just needed time alone. I looked around the group to see how they had taken this honest admission that I was anything but proud of. A couple of people laughed, one half smirked. Maybe I was being overly sensitive, but that wasn’t quite the reception I had been hoping for. The moment passed, and maybe all was forgotten, but in my heart a barrier went up between me and them and I began nursing a small grudge.
There were games to play to hang out and get to know other people, but I couldn’t stick around. I left the common room and even managed to dodge the “girl talk” going on in our cabin. Friday was a restless night that didn’t really improve anything physically. I didn’t want to wake up in the morning, I didn’t want to get out of bed, I didn’t want to be there. I took a shower to try to wake up and gain a positive outlook for the day. I arrived to the morning session late with wet hair. More subdued, my cynical and judgmental thoughts had been replaced by the ordeal of struggling to stay awake. I wasn’t feeling well physically, things were still going downhill-maybe my body was taking revenge on me for the repeated abuse. After women’s time I skipped lunch and spent free time alone in my room, hoping the headaches and nausea would go away, or at least abate. A couple of hours latter I emerged, still dizzy, but determined to try to redeem the retreat, already halfway over. I brought some books and my attempt at being social consisted of working on an econ problem set in a public space. I started to regain my appetite-I hadn’t eaten dinner the day before, or breakfast or lunch. Thankfully I had had the sense to bring an odwalla bar, the only thing in my system to keep my blood sugar from entirely plummeting.
**censored for personal reasons**
That morning we had had a time of reflection. Struggling with my fears, wondering what it was that bound me. After the evening session we had a time of large group prayer. I usually love these times and find them very meaningful. I started to feel stifled, suffocated and I knew I had to get out of that room. More than anything I just needed to be alone and honest with God. As soon as we closed I grabbed my jacket and bag and ran outside. I was still struggling to put on my sweatshirt as I stepped out into the cold rain. The frigid air was filling my lungs in gasping breaths. Misty rain drops kiss my face, I started walking down the path briskly, trying to keep the cold wet chill from paralyzing me.
I was thankful that the weather had kept everyone else away-alone at last in the dark and unfamiliar outside I was able to speak out loud to God with broken, hurting honesty.
Admitting where I was, the hurts, the resentments and the failures. I had finally come to the end of myself. A week ago at sanctuary, we had talked about blessed inadequacy. Maybe it had taken all of this to take me to this point. I was finally able to get away from all the roles and obligations I had to fill and cry out to God in my incompleteness. As I cried warm tears mingled and flowed down with the cold rain. I honestly don’t know how many times I walked around the parking lot that night.
I had to give it over to God, to let it go. I’ve heard that lesson in Sunday school, from the pulpit, in devotionals so many times. I had to give over school, classes, grades, MPCing, my job at the resource center, relationships, goals, hopes, my family, my friends, my first years, my expectations for college. It’s something I have to continually work on-giving God the things that I feel like I have control of, the things I can take care of on my own.
Looking back, I still have some regrets. I guess I am glad I went on the retreat, but I wouldn’t really say that I enjoyed it. I wish that I had been able to build relationships, invest in people, get more from the messages, taken the time to hang out, talk into the late hours of the night or form meaningful connections with my small group. I guess I was still sort of dissatisfied with the overall experience when we left the retreat center and made our way back to campus. It seemed like everyone else had gotten something out of the retreat or at least had a good time. I asked God, if that was all, couldn’t you have done that at school?
And all in all, I didn’t really “enjoy” the weekend. Exhausted and even more sleep deprived than when we had left, if that was possible, I was dreading all the work and emails waiting for me when I got home.
But it didn’t really come together until Sunday evening. The series we have been doing at sanctuary has been really good and really spoken to me where I have been for the last couple of weeks. Holy discontent. Blessed inadequacy. A new vision of leadership.
I knew I had to go to Sanctuary. Even if that meant setting aside yet another 3 hours this weekend. I just knew deep down inside that I had to be there. So I set aside the paper due at midnight, the midterm paper due at 11 am on Monday and went. By the time I got home, I felt so much better. God had taken away the last lingering regret I had about going on the retreat. I was genuinely able to say that I was glad that I had gone, even if I couldn’t say that I had enjoyed it or had a good time.
I wrote my paper due at midnight and realized I had to go to sleep. That brings me to Monday morning. It was 9:30 am and I just wanted to stay in bed. I also still had to write my midterm paper for my History of American education class, due at 11 am. I was trying to muster the will power to roll out of bed to start my paper.
Suddenly I was reminded of my small group from this weekend. I had confessed to them that my quiet times had been really inconsistent, but I was going to make an effort to work on that. I was also going to try to move my devotional to the mornings, so I wouldn’t be falling asleep while I did them. My mind started generating excuses-you need to sleep, the paper is due in an hour and a half, you can have your quiet time later. I knew what I had to do. I leaned over and took my devotional off the shelf. I turned to the page for today. The day’s devotional was entitled “The Proper Perspective.” I laughed. God is in control, and he has an awesome sense of humor.
Since I’ve been back the whole week has been a roller coaster. I don’t know why I’ve been having such a tough semester. Academically things are challenging, but not particularly harder than usual. Life in general is just a lot.
So if you remember, please pray for me--it would be much appreciated.
lately i don't know what's going on. life has gone from bad, to confusing to worse.
i don't know at all what is going on with my good friend and everything between us is just wierd
i'm sort of upset but i don't know what to do and i don't want to become bitter or anything, but life is just not right.
some people invited us out for dinner on saturday-- i haven't really felt comfortable with it, but i said i would go because she really seemed to want to and said she wouldn't go if i didn't go. but if things are still wierd between us, this has the potential to be one of the wierdest, most awkward, unpleasant dinners of all time. i don't know what to do--- i'm considering canceling or trying to pull out
but i don't want to be irresponsible, but i really didn't want to go in the first place.
aghhh!!
Yesterday there was a lecture by Charles Rangel (D-NY). I didn’t go. And it was probably one of the best choices I made all day.
This morning I didn’t want to wake up. A slight feeling of dread and exhaustion might be a typical Monday morning phenomenon. This Monday morning it was particularly potent. I had spent the weekend in Ashford, Connecticut on CHC’s fall retreat.
Entering the weekend, I felt stressed, exhausted and pretty down. Life was just way too much to handle and I felt distant and estranged from God. I didn’t feel like being around people. I didn’t want to make small talk or be vulnerable and honest. My life was in fragments and I thought that if I loosened my tightly clenched fist, everything, everything would fall apart. Physically, I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t really eating properly or regularly and my body felt like it was on the verge of a complete break down. This might seem normal too, considering the cruel invention of midterms, but surprisingly none of this seemed entirely tied to academics. Academically the week had been a blur-three midterms in a row, leading section and presenting my work to be critiqued by the class. I had two programs for MPC stuff- Resources for Students of Color and Interracial dating forum and debriefing discussion, an emotionally difficult meeting with my Co-C’s and my first programming event for my job at the Curricular Resource Center.
Friday my work was being critiqued by the class. Criticism of my writing has always seemed to strike me on a particularly personal level and all the encouraging and positive feedback couldn’t outweigh the one guy who told me that the piece was worthless, with no sympathetic characters. He told me that there wasn’t anything of value in the piece and the only way to make it worth reading was a complete rewrite. I knew it shouldn’t bother me, but with the culmination of everything that had happened that week, I was crushed.
I hadn’t started packing by 5:10 pm (we were supposed to leave at 5:30 and it would take me 15 minutes to walk over with my stuff). I was starting to wonder if I should cancel and not go. Every fiber in my body wanted to crumble on my bed in a lifeless heap of anger, frustration and despair. But deep inside a part of me knew that it we be wrong to do that. Initially I had not wanted to go to fall retreat at all. This semester has been really hard for me, trying to balance academics, work and other obligations. I think I started the semester with nothing left to give and most of my energy has been spent just trying to survive.
After several people had encouraged me to go (I was still suspicious of their motives) I had a talk with a close friend. She encouraged me to go and I told her I would pray about it. Honestly at first I felt like I ought to go out of some sense of obligation or friendship. She had put a lot into the retreat and I knew it mattered a lot to her.
I prayed about it and I gradually felt that God was telling me to go. I didn’t want to listen, so I kept praying about it, hoping that I had heard wrong. Finally, accepting that God had told me to go, I tried to talk God out of it. I’m glad rhetorical techniques and stubbornness don’t keep God from working.
Even though I had submitted forms and money, I was still reluctant to go, but resigned. In that state of mind Friday afternoon I still knew that it would be a cop out not to go.
My friend brought some food from the cafeteria for us to eat in the car, but neither of us ended up eating. I slid out of consciousness somewhere around Dayville and was woken up when we reached the Slavic Retreat Center.
I wasn’t in a socializing mood at all, dazed and cold I was also a little confused- having just woken up. We went downstairs and I sequestered myself in my own little world, even amidst all the people, drawing and coloring with crayons, somehow much more therapeutic than chit chat. I didn’t want to be their and it was written across my face and emphasized by my body language.
The first session of the speaker I phased out. I needed to process things, life and I started writing. My thoughts were highly cynical, judgmental and harsh. I was ashamed of them and what they represented and reflected about me, but I had to get them out of my head and onto the paper. It was like having to vomit when you have the flu. Sorry if that was gross. I could see my own hypocrisy and it revolted me, but I didn’t know what to do with that.
We broke into small groups and we had to talk about hopes and expectations for the weekend. In my head I was weighing two options. I could give them the standard act-it’s been a busy and stressful week at school, I’m glad to have this chance to get away, spend time in nature and reconnect with God. I’m excited about this weekend and I can’t wait to see what God will do. But by now, you’ve probably guessed that that wasn’t how I was feeling. So I decided to try to be honest. I knew that small group would be a joke if I wasn’t honest. So when we went around the circle, I took a deep breath and told them how things had been difficult, I didn’t want to socialize or spend time with people. I really had felt like God was telling me to come, but I also just needed time alone. I looked around the group to see how they had taken this honest admission that I was anything but proud of. A couple of people laughed, one half smirked. Maybe I was being overly sensitive, but that wasn’t quite the reception I had been hoping for. The moment passed, and maybe all was forgotten, but in my heart a barrier went up between me and them and I began nursing a small grudge.
There were games to play to hang out and get to know other people, but I couldn’t stick around. I left the common room and even managed to dodge the “girl talk” going on in our cabin. Friday was a restless night that didn’t really improve anything physically. I didn’t want to wake up in the morning, I didn’t want to get out of bed, I didn’t want to be there. I took a shower to try to wake up and gain a positive outlook for the day. I arrived to the morning session late with wet hair. More subdued, my cynical and judgmental thoughts had been replaced by the ordeal of struggling to stay awake. I wasn’t feeling well physically, things were still going downhill-maybe my body was taking revenge on me for the repeated abuse. After women’s time I skipped lunch and spent free time alone in my room, hoping the headaches and nausea would go away, or at least abate. A couple of hours latter I emerged, still dizzy, but determined to try to redeem the retreat, already halfway over. I brought some books and my attempt at being social consisted of working on an econ problem set in a public space. I started to regain my appetite-I hadn’t eaten dinner the day before, or breakfast or lunch. Thankfully I had had the sense to bring an odwalla bar, the only thing in my system to keep my blood sugar from entirely plummeting.
**censored for personal reasons**
That morning we had had a time of reflection. Struggling with my fears, wondering what it was that bound me. After the evening session we had a time of large group prayer. I usually love these times and find them very meaningful. I started to feel stifled, suffocated and I knew I had to get out of that room. More than anything I just needed to be alone and honest with God. As soon as we closed I grabbed my jacket and bag and ran outside. I was still struggling to put on my sweatshirt as I stepped out into the cold rain. The frigid air was filling my lungs in gasping breaths. Misty rain drops kiss my face, I started walking down the path briskly, trying to keep the cold wet chill from paralyzing me.
I was thankful that the weather had kept everyone else away-alone at last in the dark and unfamiliar outside I was able to speak out loud to God with broken, hurting honesty.
Admitting where I was, the hurts, the resentments and the failures. I had finally come to the end of myself. A week ago at sanctuary, we had talked about blessed inadequacy. Maybe it had taken all of this to take me to this point. I was finally able to get away from all the roles and obligations I had to fill and cry out to God in my incompleteness. As I cried warm tears mingled and flowed down with the cold rain. I honestly don’t know how many times I walked around the parking lot that night.
I had to give it over to God, to let it go. I’ve heard that lesson in Sunday school, from the pulpit, in devotionals so many times. I had to give over school, classes, grades, MPCing, my job at the resource center, relationships, goals, hopes, my family, my friends, my first years, my expectations for college. It’s something I have to continually work on-giving God the things that I feel like I have control of, the things I can take care of on my own.
Looking back, I still have some regrets. I guess I am glad I went on the retreat, but I wouldn’t really say that I enjoyed it. I wish that I had been able to build relationships, invest in people, get more from the messages, taken the time to hang out, talk into the late hours of the night or form meaningful connections with my small group. I guess I was still sort of dissatisfied with the overall experience when we left the retreat center and made our way back to campus. It seemed like everyone else had gotten something out of the retreat or at least had a good time. I asked God, if that was all, couldn’t you have done that at school?
And all in all, I didn’t really “enjoy” the weekend. Exhausted and even more sleep deprived than when we had left, if that was possible, I was dreading all the work and emails waiting for me when I got home.
But it didn’t really come together until Sunday evening. The series we have been doing at sanctuary has been really good and really spoken to me where I have been for the last couple of weeks. Holy discontent. Blessed inadequacy. A new vision of leadership.
I knew I had to go to Sanctuary. Even if that meant setting aside yet another 3 hours this weekend. I just knew deep down inside that I had to be there. So I set aside the paper due at midnight, the midterm paper due at 11 am on Monday and went. By the time I got home, I felt so much better. God had taken away the last lingering regret I had about going on the retreat. I was genuinely able to say that I was glad that I had gone, even if I couldn’t say that I had enjoyed it or had a good time.
I wrote my paper due at midnight and realized I had to go to sleep. That brings me to Monday morning. It was 9:30 am and I just wanted to stay in bed. I also still had to write my midterm paper for my History of American education class, due at 11 am. I was trying to muster the will power to roll out of bed to start my paper.
Suddenly I was reminded of my small group from this weekend. I had confessed to them that my quiet times had been really inconsistent, but I was going to make an effort to work on that. I was also going to try to move my devotional to the mornings, so I wouldn’t be falling asleep while I did them. My mind started generating excuses-you need to sleep, the paper is due in an hour and a half, you can have your quiet time later. I knew what I had to do. I leaned over and took my devotional off the shelf. I turned to the page for today. The day’s devotional was entitled “The Proper Perspective.” I laughed. God is in control, and he has an awesome sense of humor.
Since I’ve been back the whole week has been a roller coaster. I don’t know why I’ve been having such a tough semester. Academically things are challenging, but not particularly harder than usual. Life in general is just a lot.
So if you remember, please pray for me--it would be much appreciated.
lately i don't know what's going on. life has gone from bad, to confusing to worse.
i don't know at all what is going on with my good friend and everything between us is just wierd
i'm sort of upset but i don't know what to do and i don't want to become bitter or anything, but life is just not right.
some people invited us out for dinner on saturday-- i haven't really felt comfortable with it, but i said i would go because she really seemed to want to and said she wouldn't go if i didn't go. but if things are still wierd between us, this has the potential to be one of the wierdest, most awkward, unpleasant dinners of all time. i don't know what to do--- i'm considering canceling or trying to pull out
but i don't want to be irresponsible, but i really didn't want to go in the first place.
aghhh!!