A New Language

For the past month (okay, the past year), I have found it really difficult to write. Journaling, blogging, creative writing: it has all seemed forced and dry and just, well, not good. No matter how long I sit in front of the computer, no matter how much I try to discipline myself to write every day or even once a week for that matter, I still come up with nothing. As someone who used to benefit emotionally from writing, this has been an incredibly frustrating time. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why my inspiration had seemed to dry up, why words no longer flooded my brain like they used to. But I think I figured it out today.

                In the last year, my life has undergone a dramatic shift. In the past my story has been marked by struggles, both personally and relationally. Personally in the form of depression and feelings of inadequacy, and relationally in the form of family issues and fear of social interaction. But things have changed and in the last year I have found healing and happiness. In this time I have been depression-free, I have learned how to love myself, I have found stability in relationships, and I am seeing the world as a brighter place.

As I was reading for class I came across this passage. “Language is the way we create worlds; it’s what we do to make a culture, whether that is North American culture or the culture of a local church or denominational system. When we suddenly find ourselves in this confusing new space, the language that had worked so well to this point no longer matches the reality around us. We are disoriented and confused. In this new space we need time and processes to help us begin to articulate what we are experiencing in order to develop the language we need to make sense of where we find ourselves”  (Introducing the Missional Church, pg. 142). And suddenly it all made sense.

I don’t have a language for happiness. I know how to express fear, anxiety, and confusion, but I don’t know how to talk about contentment and joy and love. Writing used to be so simple because I knew how to talk about pain and darkness. I knew how to describe the heavy-headedness of depression and exhaustion. But I don’t know how to talk about triumph and optimism. I don’t know how to describe Mia’s laugh or the way Adam makes me feel. I don’t have a language for this new place in my life and that’s why writing is so hard for me right now.

I Am Smart (Among Other Things)

Today in Interpersonal Skills Training group we talked about things that others like about us and things we have a hard time accepting in ourselves or others. One of the things I mentioned is that it is hard for me to accept failure. I am always pushing myself to do better. A "B" is never good enough. Jaime asked where that came from. To be honest, I'm not sure. So that's what I attempted to work through tonight as I journaled.

What will straight As and/or a high GPA give me? And advantage if/when I apply to grad schools. Good standing in the Honor’s Program. That’s it. Grades do not guarantee success. Grades do not guarantee a high paying job. They do not guarantee a happy life.

How will my family and friends view me if I only got Bs from here on out? They would still think I am smart. They will still love me. They will still think I am worth their time. I will still have a place to stay and people with whom I can watch movies.

Being intelligent is part of my identity, but it is not my entire identity. Who am I? I am patient. I am funny. I am responsible. I am a good listener. I am a daughter and a sister. I am a girlfriend and a best friend. I am a caregiver and a small group leader. I am a reader and a writer and a music lover and a dreamer. I am loved by God, my family, and my friends.

At times it feels like I will only be liked if I have something to offer. If I am not smart, I am not special. Take away my grades and there’s nothing left that you would be interested in. Are these things true? Do I actually believe this? Where do these lies come from?

The only way to overcome lies is to focus on the truth. This is what I know to be true: the God of the universe loves me deeply and there is nothing I can do to earn it or deserve it. Any intelligence I have is a gift from God. It did not come about by my power, but I can be a good steward of that gift. Failure is never final. I will never be perfect. There will always be someone smarter than me. My family loves me because I am me. I am valuable. I have something to offer others. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am loved unconditionally. These things I know to be true.

“Out of all the voices calling out to me, I will choose to listen and believe the Voice of Truth.”

We Spoke of Heavy Things

Sometimes I get such beautiful glimpses of what the Body of Christ is supposed to look like. Today in my Interpersonal Skills Training small group, we shared emotional stories. These were stories that were hard to talk about, memories that were painful to recall. We were transparent and vulnerable. We let each other see through the cracks in our armor to the soft flesh underneath. We spoke of heavy things.

Normally that kind of vulnerability is scary to me. As someone who takes empathy way too far, I tend to feel what others are feeling, and many times that leaves me feeling overwhelmed. When there is too much transparency in a room, I pull back. I shrink under the weight of such heavy emotions. But today was different. I was able to listen to stories of hurt and respond, even if that response was to simply sit and share the weight of that emotion. Sometimes that is all that is needed. I don’t always need someone to address my problems and help me find solutions. Sometimes I just want someone who will sit and share the weight with me. Someone who chooses to feel even a tiny percentage of what I am feeling. And we were able to do that for each other today. It was different from what I am used to, but in such a significant way. Because this felt more real. It felt good to talk about the dark things, the hard things. It felt good to share in each other’s burdens.

I think that’s part of what Christian community is supposed to look like. As a result of that small group experience, I realized that was the kind of interaction and conversation I want to have in all of my relationships. I want to be surrounded by the kind of people who value vulnerability as a stepping stone to growth. I want to have the kind of relationships that leave room for talking about brokenness. I crave that kind of raw honesty. And I see now how blessed I am to be in the kind of environment that fosters those relationships. And that is a beautiful glimpse of the Body.