Part 13: Reconnecting to Life continued10/24/2008 10:55:45 AM Journal Entry Reading a book that stresses we can best teach others about grace only if we acknowledge our own weakness and dependence on God. I have a feeling that’s what God is teaching me now. As a person who’s been fairly healthy and feels quite strong when I’m working out, I didn’t realize what chronic pain could do to a person. I didn’t realize how it could wear a person down, be depressing, take over a person’s life. Before, I’d be less than compassionate, especially with people who were up and around and didn’t appear ‘sick.’ Stop complaining, take a pill for pain, get on with life. I’ve learned it’s not that easy. I wake up with pain now; my day starts with it and continues with it. I imagine by the time I have surgery, it’ll be pretty bad. But I also sense God is teaching me something very important through this. I am not superwoman nor am I supposed to act like it. I’m more dependent on God than I have ever realized. Journal Entry This thing with my physical health: I look ahead to when I can exercise and ‘be myself’ again. I am my body; it’s not something I have. It’s me. My care of it and strengthening of it will enable God to use me however. But—the strength and well-functioning of my body can’t be my source of strength. I’ve come to learn strength in a new way that isn’t from me but from God, and this strength has grown as my pain gets worse. I feel some anxiety as I write this. I can’t yet totally embrace this. I still want to be able to rely on the strength of my body. I’m amazed at the conflict I feel as I write this. I still want to cling to that old image of superwoman—strong in every way, not strong in spite of weakness. I don’t want any weakness. This thinking is a barrier to compassion. I’m not feeling very good about myself right now. As I’ve continued with my devotions, it hit me how much of a problem I have dealing with people with handicaps. Their disability is a barrier for me—I’m so aware of it I don’t see them as fully ‘human’—no, not quite that, but not fully something. I see them as people I need to be concerned about, but not as people from whom I can receive. I don’t feel fully connected to them. How many other people feel this way? How terribly lonely that must be—for all of us. (The above entry shows I’m becoming more aware that I haven’t been as fully present with people as I had thought. I always placed myself in a helping or teaching role, which is an effective way of avoiding deeper intimacy. I see others as people I can give to, but not receive from.) Journal Entry I realized as I read devotions, I’m afraid of the hospital experience because I’m afraid of being vulnerable. I don’t like people doing things to my body while I’m asleep; I don’t like the feeling of being helpless while people do whatever they say is necessary to me while I’m there. What about people who are paralyzed or aged or helpless? So much depends on the compassion of others. That’s a scary place to be. What about those who are emotionally helpless? Do I have the same compassion for them? Journal Entry (following surgery) It’s a weird and unexpected situation. My concentration isn’t good enough to allow me to spend lots of time on my studies, and even in devotions. And yet I’m not sick enough to lie in bed. So I’m bored. Talked to --- and she remarked how she couldn’t even pray after surgery. I now understand that. I assumed recovery would be like a sabbatical--full of spiritual highs and great academic achievements (I was working on my doctorate). Guess I can tell I’ve never had major surgery before. It does a lot to the body, mind and energy. Maybe that’s what the dream referred to when I took my truck in for repair and it was going into the warehouse. I need to understand this experience from all angles if I’m to be more compassionate. I am weak. So--it tells me how important prayer is for someone after surgery/during illness, for if they don’t have the energy/concentration to pray for themselves, how much they need to hear someone pray for them. I remember in the hospital thinking ‘I wish someone would pray for me.’ I didn’t verbalize it to anyone but how hungry I was for prayer. It’s like a blessing, a benediction; there’s a big difference when I pray for me and someone else prays. Journal Entry …Maybe, in part, that’s why I feel the burden of returning to work. If I don’t know who I am, there’ll be little peace. I feel I’ll expend a large amount of energy being ‘normal.’ Perhaps what I need to learn is to be close to others even in the strangeness, even if they are on a different part of their journey. It’s so easy for me to use my ‘growing’ as a way of distancing, and yet the very act of distancing is a defense. If I don’t yet know who I am, it’s going to be hard to feel close to people. Maybe though, being close will help me work through who I am—not that the closeness or the people will define me, but that I need to learn not to isolate myself in the struggle. Journal Entry Why is it so hard to grasp that controlling isn’t loving, and that not to control doesn’t mean distancing? Our first instinct is to step back and say ‘ok, I just won’t bother with you (care about you, worry about you) anymore.’ But that’s distancing. How can I be with people, love them, care about them, and feel one with them and actually allow them to make decisions I don’t agree with, but still support and work with them? My problem is seeing what I see without elevating or separating myself. How do I understand the processes without feeling lonely? Is that why I resist? Is that why I sometimes look with longing at people and say ‘why can’t I just go back and fit in?’ Clue—that implies I’ve come a greater distance than they, that I’m greater—and I’m not. I seem to be speaking from loneliness, feelings of separateness rather than health. Why do I usually see people as less than or greater than? Why do I have trouble seeing people as equal, same as? This is probably true in times of being thrown off balance, what’s called disequilibrium—I have nothing to tell me who I am. If I can’t say who I am, than I can’t see others as the same as me. But we’re all in this together—evolving, growing, in and out of disequilibrium; we all share the journey. Journal Entry I’ve been thinking more in terms of the whole picture (society, the world) and the parts of it. It’s sort of weird for me because I’m not used to doing that. Usually I’m concentrating on one part. I see the importance of not separating (distancing) from people, because I learn so much from interacting with others: being in planning, etc. It helps me, gives me corrections, stimulates my thoughts. (These journal entries show my struggle between feeling close to people one minute and distant the next. And trying to figure out what is a healthy response and what is defensive and therefore, part of the growing process. It requires that I be absolutely honest with myself and admit to those things I’d rather not see. If these things remain hidden, they can’t be healed.)
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