One is the loneliest number
If there's one emotion that has characterized the first few weeks of being ordained for me, it's loneliness.
I've been toying with this idea for a while, now, because I named the emotion a while ago, but tonight I finally realized why my explanations to friends always seemed to be missing something.
There is a structural loneliness to be ordained and then placed in a tiny village/suburb (30 000ppl! woot). I am the only person I've seen in a collar; there are possibly two other people who may also wear a collar: the RC priest (likely) and the part-time United Church minister (less likely). That's it. I'm acutely aware of my collar, of course, in a way that I am sure is particularly to those whose collars are shiny and new; I'm only starting to not feel like I'm playing dress-up when I put it on; I calculate whether I should keep it on to walk the 200m to the mailbox or not. That very visible piece of identity is very lonely.
The work I do is by its nature fairly lonely: I pray daily (alone), I prepare my sermons (alone), I visit people and then keep confidences, I think about and act on ways to make things better in the community (alone). Furthermore, I'm commuting a lot (to go see my supervisor, 40min up the road, and to go to meetings etc in the city, 40min down the road). Alone.
The work I do is also lonely because, to be blunt, it's weird and not really understood. What exactly do I _do_ all day?!? Well... you know, this and that and it all adds up. Why is this liminal transitional period so hard? Well, it's all about shifting identity... My answers are vague, diffuse, useless. I wave my hands a lot. There's lots going on, in my day, in my head, but ... I can't really explain it. Lonely.
My supervisor, bless his heart, is gifted at organization and structure but inexperienced at supervision, so I don't really feel heard or listened to. I feel lonely in that relationship, too.
And finally - last but certainly not least! - I've moved into a new neighbourhood, where I'm surrounded by couples and families, in a city I don't know, where things are just slightly off. My house is mostly but not completely settled, my routine is new, everything is different and Big and frankly a bit terrifying. My friends are all at least 45min away (if traffic cooperates!) and since it's summer they're busy and traveling and so forth. There have been shifts in some of the key friendships I'd relied on and I've had to realize that those friendships may not be able to bear the weight they once did, if any. They're supportive but I am brought back to the realization that there is only so much they can offer and really I'm fundamentally going to have to be my own best support person.
That's a lot of alone-ness for one person, ya know? And of course a small voice reminds me that there are always those who are worse off, that these are very priviledged problems to have ... nevertheless awfully real.
I've been toying with this idea for a while, now, because I named the emotion a while ago, but tonight I finally realized why my explanations to friends always seemed to be missing something.
There is a structural loneliness to be ordained and then placed in a tiny village/suburb (30 000ppl! woot). I am the only person I've seen in a collar; there are possibly two other people who may also wear a collar: the RC priest (likely) and the part-time United Church minister (less likely). That's it. I'm acutely aware of my collar, of course, in a way that I am sure is particularly to those whose collars are shiny and new; I'm only starting to not feel like I'm playing dress-up when I put it on; I calculate whether I should keep it on to walk the 200m to the mailbox or not. That very visible piece of identity is very lonely.
The work I do is by its nature fairly lonely: I pray daily (alone), I prepare my sermons (alone), I visit people and then keep confidences, I think about and act on ways to make things better in the community (alone). Furthermore, I'm commuting a lot (to go see my supervisor, 40min up the road, and to go to meetings etc in the city, 40min down the road). Alone.
The work I do is also lonely because, to be blunt, it's weird and not really understood. What exactly do I _do_ all day?!? Well... you know, this and that and it all adds up. Why is this liminal transitional period so hard? Well, it's all about shifting identity... My answers are vague, diffuse, useless. I wave my hands a lot. There's lots going on, in my day, in my head, but ... I can't really explain it. Lonely.
My supervisor, bless his heart, is gifted at organization and structure but inexperienced at supervision, so I don't really feel heard or listened to. I feel lonely in that relationship, too.
And finally - last but certainly not least! - I've moved into a new neighbourhood, where I'm surrounded by couples and families, in a city I don't know, where things are just slightly off. My house is mostly but not completely settled, my routine is new, everything is different and Big and frankly a bit terrifying. My friends are all at least 45min away (if traffic cooperates!) and since it's summer they're busy and traveling and so forth. There have been shifts in some of the key friendships I'd relied on and I've had to realize that those friendships may not be able to bear the weight they once did, if any. They're supportive but I am brought back to the realization that there is only so much they can offer and really I'm fundamentally going to have to be my own best support person.
That's a lot of alone-ness for one person, ya know? And of course a small voice reminds me that there are always those who are worse off, that these are very priviledged problems to have ... nevertheless awfully real.