Adulthood

It is amazing to me how little I was prepared for adulthood. 

That statement is not geared toward my parents, grandparents, or teachers in any way, shape, or form. How in the world do you prepare a child for the difficulty, challenges, and pain of growing up? You can try, and you can even try your best, but even your best will not fully prepare your child for adulthood.

Somehow, I have known from a young age that, emotionally, life would be intricately complex. But, even so, somehow I created preconceptions of what it meant to be a real working adult. That, as long as I worked hard, was cooperative, assertive, and willing to learn, that I would succeed--or, perversely, that I would not suffer. Since becoming a "real grown-up with a grown-up job," I have learned that the complexity involved with growing emotionally also folded and squirmed itself into my career. I have learned that, sometimes, my personal life--my emotions, how I present myself on a daily basis--cannot be separated from my work life. Sometimes, without my permission or approval, the two "lives" that should be kept apart from each other end up sharing a bed. I almost believe that it is the nature of my career--taking care of people & saving lives-- that prevents me from being able to completely separate my career and my personal life. As much as I may try, I cannot entirely shut off my emotions while I toil away at work. I cannot always turn off my empathy. Sometimes, I have to find an empty room and cry.

Is this what the twentysomething age group encounters? Is this just me? Am I the only one who thinks growing up is difficult?

Does being a twentysomething mean that we are finally faced with the real, raw challenges and sufferings of adulthood that no parent is ever able to fully teach? As children, we are taught that there are "bad people" in the world and that we should never accept candy from a stranger, etc. etc. We always had a parent, guardian, grandparent, or sibling to walk alongside us and to show us the way. Now we are expected to figure out adulthood on our own. Sometimes it can be such a challenge to listen to God's voice. Sometimes I think He whispers, when I really just want Him to shout at me.

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The environment in which I work is not an easy one. I care for elderly people for a living. There are so many different dynamics of a skilled nursing facility, and none of them are simple. Again, I had created for myself so many preconceived notions of what it would look like to be a real working nurse. It is nothing like I imagined. It is harder, dirtier, multi-faceted, and darker than I ever imagined it would be. I encounter life's fragility, loneliness, and decay on a daily basis.

I have learned countless things from my current job experience. One lesson, though, is more humane and raw than the others, and a lesson I realized tonight. My band director from 6th grade to 12th grade had this funny saying that he would often bark at his students while they were lined up on the marching band field,

"Your poop smells no better than anybody else's!"

I always appreciated the humor of the saying, and, as a high schooler, I grasped the simple concept of the saying: Don't act like a jerk, don't develop a superiority complex, etc. But, for whatever reason, this saying came back to me tonight while I was  crying over  reflecting on everything that occurred on my last shift. This pondering [crying] allowed me to finally realize the true meaning of  ^ that silly saying, especially in the context of my current career. My health, my youth, my position, my abilities, or my person does not elevate me above my patients, their families, or my employees. I am no better. I am human. I am just as--if not more--flawed, broken, and sinful than those I encounter on a daily basis. Nothing I have done has made me a better or more glorified human being. The temptation to think otherwise is stronger than you might think, especially when surrounded by death, decay, and disease. Just because I have the ability to cognitively grasp the need to poop and this patient cannot does not make me better. My poop smells just as bad and probably worse sometimes. The elderly need advocates because they cannot always advocate for themselves, whether out of fear or complete cognitive or physical inability. 

I know what it's like to be burnt out. If there are any nurses out there reading this, and you are exhausted and empty: I know what it's like. I understand your exhaustion. But, please... As one health care professional to another... As one human to another... Protect your patients' dignity. Respect your patients. Treat them with kindness. They are not animals. We are all the same, here... We are all living the human experience. Respect that.

I guess the next time you need to learn a life lesson, first, cry a lot. Then take a poop. 

You're welcome for saying poop.

Grateful

I am astounded. I am utterly astounded by God's provision and grace. Each time I struggle through a valley, He continues to provide for me, even in my desperation.

These past two and a half months have been so, so incredibly hard for me. I have been employed since I was thirteen years old, and for the first time, I have been forced to experience what it is like to completely lack a job. And the endless, countless hours of job-searching... they are emotionally and spiritually exhausting. I experienced an onslaught of emotions, some of which were entirely new for me, and others that I had felt before, but never at such an intensity as I had for the last two and a half months.

I was angry. I was frustrated. I hurt. I felt worthless. I felt useless. I felt lazy. I felt unqualified. I felt personally attacked. I felt tired... so tired. I felt depressed, dark... alone. So very alone. I felt rejected.

I was angry at God. Yes, I realize how terrible that sounds, but it's also the truth. I was angry at Him, because I *knew* that He had put me in one of the most challenging fields in which a person can enter, and yet, every single day, I was suffering because of the choice to be obedient to Him. I found myself crying out to Him, "Why? Why? Why is this happening?? What are You trying to teach me??" I asked Him that. Every. Single. Day. It felt like nothing was changing. Every day felt the same. The same tiredness, the same sorrows, the same pain, the same worthlessness and uselessness, the same rejections, the same feeling of trudging through the heaviest grime. I began to lose hope (and, yes, I know *that* also sounds awful, but, again, it is the truth).

And, yet... Just as the sky began to look bleak and without hope, I was again astounded by how God is constant and never-changing in his mercies and provisions. He stepped in, just as I felt like it was too late, when I began to give up. Just when my checking account was bone-dry and I began to doubt that I would be able to pay my bills, friends and family suddenly began handing me money, just in time for me to pay those bills. So, gradually, something inside me began to change...

I had decided to "let go and let God" as the saying goes. I made a conscious choice to stop feeling worthless and useless and rejected. I stopped [most of] my moping. I consistently put myself "out there." I took action. It took me two months to get to that point... two long, grueling, painful months of self-deprecation. But I learned. 

And He provided. 

P.S. To those of you who have kept me in your thoughts and prayers over the past two-odd months, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. 

Worth

It is funny to me how much we are impacted and affected by our job or financial status. Our worth, apparently, is determined by whether or not we hold employment or how much bacon we bring home at the end of the day. It is... disconcerting to gauge the reaction of a person when they are told "I don't currently have a job." They look at you with something closely resembling pity.

I am not saying that money is always bad or that being unemployed is always good. I am not saying that at all. I am simply remarking on how we equate our worth to how much is written on our paychecks.

I am in the midst of a job hunt, myself. When handing in resumes today, I caught myself almost panicking about finding a job. I found myself thinking absurd thoughts: that, somehow, I would be less of a person if I didn't get a job at *this* place or *that* place, working *this* kind of position. That, ultimately, I would be a failure. And that, I believe, is where this entire problem stems. We hold our worth equal to the job we have because, somehow, that job--and the money made from it-- defines us as a person. Well, I don't know about you, but I find that absolutely ridiculous. How messed up are we to think that little pieces of 75% cotton, 25% linen paper determine our success and our failure as human beings?!

I am not defined by the money I make, or lack thereof. My struggle to find a job does not speak of my character. I am not a failure because of the circumstances of our economy. Thank you, God, for your everlasting grace and love for us... We rest in the shadow of the cross.

I Used to Believe Caged Birds Can't Sing

Social media stirs up a plethora of emotions within me. Mostly I feel frustrated at the fact that this generation--myself included--have lost so much of what it means to form meaningful relationships with other people that we have to dissociate ourselves from reality and 'connect' through some facade we've created. Ironic, that I am creating a post based on social media.

I was shocked this afternoon whilst taking a stroll down facebook memory lane: I found myself aching for what has passed. For the person I used to be, the goals I had, the dreams, the friendships formed, the innocence. The lack of fear. The general trust I had in humanity. The joy I allowed myself to feel. The characteristics I had, but somehow lost along the twists and jagged peaks of growing up. 

The stroll down memory lane was a painful one.... Because, I realized, along those jagged-growings-up, I became blind to myself, in many, many ways. Yes, I experienced hardships, and those hardships taught me some incredibly important lessons about humanity, myself, and God's faithfulness and mercy. But I focused too much on the hardships... I embraced them and allowed myself to be consumed by them. I allowed myself to be defined by what I thought I had become... when, in reality, I had shunned the parts of me that need to be reawakened, the parts that flit across my face sporadically during a discussion with a friend. 

Why?

I let myself believe in lies. I created a world for myself that was so detached from people, so dissociated from the people who care about me; all because I thought I was protecting myself from more pain, more disappointment. I played--and still play--the victim. Why is it so hard for me to see that my brothers and sisters in Christ want to see me? WHY is it so difficult for me to accept that my brothers and sisters in Christ desire to know and love me? I do understand that all of life involves risk. Every single decision or choice we make is laden and simply dripping with risk. And, yes, that gives me anxieties. BUT... Philippians 4:6 tells us "do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." We need to know God. We need to know His supremacy! We are so frail and weak and helpless--we need a holy, glorious, majestic God.

So... To all of you in Internet-land... Do not fall into the same vicious, cycling trap as I did, I beg you: do not be blind to yourself. Give yourself daily to the supremacy of God. Do not wallow in your hardships. Do not blindly believe the lies you tell yourself; do not accept the lies Satan craftily whispers in your ear. Do not live in a facade, as I have. Love others as Christ did and still does. Accept the love of your brothers and sisters. Do not create an alternate reality for yourselves! Do not be so presumptuous--as I have been--to assume you know what other people are thinking about you. Do not turn away those who love you. Do not turn from a merciful, just, and fiercely holy God because you have tried to protect yourself--as I did--from the inevitability of risk. Living in this world following in the footsteps of Jesus is risk in itself. But what a beautifully terrifying and glorious following it is! 

Allow yourselves to love others with passion and the boundless love that is founded from God.

The Supremacy of Christ Symphonic Sermon Jam -- John Piper

Change

:It's amazing, isn't it?:

You never realize it's happening until you think about where you've come from, how you came to this point, or the steps you've taken to get here. You continue living your life, unawares, and suddenly all this change gives you a nice right punch, and you are forced to dazedly reminisce of the life you once had.

I write about change quite a lot. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: we are so preoccupied with change. It's fascinating and terrifying and exhilarating... But completely necessary. Even as I write this, I am a little overwhelmed with how much has changed between my last post and the one you are reading right now.

Every once in a while, I'll go back to those older posts and remember how life was compared to how life is now. It is so interesting to me to watch how my attitude has been changing over the past two-and-a-half-years. Wow. Two-and-a-half years. That's insane to me. It feels like just yesterday I was sitting down at my desk in my dorm room in Galloway Hall at Mount Vernon Nazarene University to write these blog posts.
I have just realized that I have not stepped foot onto MVNU's campus in two years. It doesn't feel like very long ago I was struggling through the spring semester of my freshman year.

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Life... is so sweet, but so incredibly stressful from time to time. I considered naming this summer "The Sweltering Summer of Stress: Twenty-Eleven Edition" simply because it has been THE most epically stressful summer of my life thus far. I thought last summer was bad; this summer is even worse. I find it ironic that my summers--when I'm supposed to be on vacation, recovering from constant classes--have become more stressful than my semesters. I think I work too much.

This summer has made me realize, however, how vital and important relationships are to one's mental, emotional, spiritual, and, yes, even physical health. The pace of my job is such that I do not have the time to have friendships, and it has begun to drain the life out of me. That sounds completely exaggerated and dramatic, but if you work 60 hours a week you know what I'm talking about. It becomes so difficult to feed life into other people when there's nobody feeding into you. It's like... trying to be a candle flame in a vacuum. You can't burn bright when there's no oxygen to help you.

My fiancee has this incredible ability to stay optimistic through nearly everything. I don't know how he does it. Optimism must be his spiritual gift. Anyway... There are times when I find myself wanting to complain all the time, snap at people just because things aren't going so well in my head, or just throw myself a pity party because I can, especially during summers like this one. Then Jeremiah reminds me that doing any of those things will get me nowhere. He says being optimistic is the most logical path to take, because being a pessimist achieves absolutely nothing. He tells me to always hope for the best: in situations, in people, in decisions; but expect the worst. Yep. I'm marrying a very smart man.

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God is opening up some kind of door or a window for me somewhere. I can just feel it coming. Thank you, Jesus.

Growing Up

I believe it has been nearly a year since the last time I wrote in this blog. As I've stated before, I am not the blogging type. We all selfishly guard our privacy. And I am aware that very few read this blog, but I've realized that doesn't matter. We all need some kind of outlet. I just can't write as quickly as I can type. My thoughts are often haphazard; they come and go like sunshine in Seattle, and often they come so quickly and in such great numbers that I cannot separate them. I suppose that's what being busy does.

There have been frequent occasions when I look at the person I see in the mirror every day and wonder, "Who is that girl in the mirror? Who has she become? Where did the time go?"
All questions usually not asked until about age forty or so. But I asked them at age twenty. Sometimes I feel so out of place among my peers. They are still immersing themselves in the stale pastime of drinking and partying, generally making the most asinine decisions and yelling the most inane things. I don't understand it. Where is the satisfaction in that? If I don't see the answer, I must be blind. Or maybe I'm seeing.

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It still astounds me how occupied we are with change, whether we're in favor of it or not. We all think, at one point or another in our lives, that if we could change for that one person in our lives we would be happy. It would somehow work itself out. We commit to relationships that were not stable to begin with and think we can change our partner because he or she is not living up to your expectations. Obama preaches about change. The church itself preaches about change. We are consumed by the very concept of change. We are consumed so much by it that we base our entire thought process around it. She cries every night over it: "If only I could lose a few pounds from my hips, he wouldn't tell me that I need to lose weight. If I got my hair cut and colored a new color, he would love me more. If I was prettier.... I must be too much or not enough. I need to change." He agonizes over his 'failures:' "If I went to the gym and worked out for 8 hours a day she would stay with me. If I were better at making love she wouldn't be cheating on me. If I were stronger.... I have failed. I need to change." You cannot change a person, even if your intentions are good. In the end, you and the other person involved end up lying face-down in the dirt, worse off than you used to be.

I am not saying that change is generally bad. I'm saying the way we think about change isn't necessarily good.

We allow ourselves to be consumed by the 'if only' aspects of change. We fail to accept ourselves as we are... which brings us to another loophole. I am also not saying that we should be trying to change ourselves all the time. I am saying that we should be trying to better ourselves, but not for other people: For ourselves and for our Creator.

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There is so much change I've encountered in the past two years. It's almost overwhelming to start thinking about, but I know that if I don't take the time, then I will never appreciate my past and the person it has transformed today.
I truly feel like an adult now. My thoughts are adult-like thoughts. I've been making decisions like an adult. My life is changing. And all for the better.

The Fall

Why is it that I have to blog when I'm frustrated? I don't enjoy these moments in life, where I can fully see my weaknesses from the Fall of Eve. My thoughts, however, seem to flow more easily when I'm typing or writing as opposed to speaking. My speaking leaves much to be desired.

Why is it that I am feeling alone? Why must I initiate everything with my friends? I feel like I have no friends left, which is not true, but...the world--and Satan for that matter--is telling me that I am useless, that nobody cares anymore, that my friends have better friends and better things to do than hang out with me. I KNOW this is not true, but it still hangs in front of me like a neon sign. It really rips at my self-confidence. Granted, I know my friends are busy with work and such. Who isn't?

My house has felt like a prison, its walls a confining cell. I feel like I can't get out of here. I love my parents dearly and enjoy their company, but I'm ready to be living on my own. I have to get money to do that though. I'm ready to be free and independent and actually feel like the adult I'm becoming. Living in Mount Vernon was the most free I've ever felt, and we were still pretty restricted for a college campus.

Mom told me that my friends probably feel the same way about ME that I do about THEM. She's probably right, as she usually is, but I just can't believe it. I just re-read "Captivating" for the 40928439th time, and it told me that nobody else can play the role I play in my friends' lives. Nobody else can do what I do. Whatever that is, I have no clue, but I know that John and Stasi Eldredge were right. God has made me uniquely me, and that my role and purpose in this world is unique to it. Nobody else is like me. I mustn't get discouraged over a decline at an invitation--people are busy.

Sigh. Lord, help me to know and understand that you have made me uniquely ME. Give me the courage and strength to put my heart out there again for my friends to see. I need you.