I am feeling quite discouraged by everything around me. I've tried to ask for help. My anxiety has decreased and now this blanket of sadness…if I close my eyes and just allow my emotions to take over, I probably would not be able to contain these tears. Outside the snow falls soft, barely there. That’s how I feel: barely there. I’m not going down into the hole. It’s almost like I am at peace in this sadness because I am not alone. There’s a woman at my school who I’m really worried about. I wish I could tell her how I feel, how I know how it is. I’m still recovering from the black days, from the time where hope was buried so deep there was no way to unleash it. When breathing was a task. So much of a task I didn’t even realize it. I can’t talk to her…yet. I don’t even really know her yet my heart is breaking when I can sense her desperation.
And there’s the students. And this occupation. Everyone’s talking about it. Why are we in this field again? Does what we do make any sort of difference? Sometimes I am so disconnected from what I always that I was, what I could do. I sit and stare at my class of kids and think, this is what I always wanted. So why do I feel empty, so utterly barren in the depths behind my shaken heart. I almost get to the point I want to be. I can feel excitement build, anticipation because my real creative loving self is trying so desperately to be the teacher I always dreamed I’d be. But then frustration which, thank God, does not lead to rage like it once did. But rather disenchantment. I just sit there and all my hope is extinguished because these kids are so needy, desperate, searching, hungry. The way they express this is with their disrespect, their disruptiveness, their meanness to classmates, their obnoxious comments and actions. I do not feel anger toward them. Just sadness for them, their classmates, me. There’s something missing in their lives that makes them think they can do whatever they want. And as every day passes, it only seems to get worse. That kids are becoming harder and harder to teach because of their messed up home lives, our poisoned environment. The questions about why children are the way they are…as compared to a few decades (even a few years) ago…they never end. My mind is bleeding trying to catch my breath, fill up my spirit with answers.
Oh God sometimes I cannot breathe in this world. I am so desperate for your healing. The people around me don’t realize how desperate they are for Your touch, Your life. Especially these innocent kids. But the world just gets worse and worse. I don’t know for sure why I have chosen teaching as a career. It has rarely been what I always dreamed it would be. But I’m not sure I would be confronted with a different picture of the world if I had a different career. In fact, I know I wouldn’t. The world is messed up. The older I get, the more I realize it and the more I long for heaven.
Behind every smile, I see tears and the realness behind the plastic. I want to believe the person is really happy. Maybe he or she is or maybe they think they are. I’m not sure my sadness is really wrong yet. It hasn’t brought me to a blackness where I can’t think about going on. I praise God for my ability to get up when I’m down, which I couldn’t do just a few years ago. And there’s so much to thank Him for in this job. I’m not trying to just survive anymore…I am really working on myself. I generally have hope…well, lately it has been slipping a bit. But I remind myself of all the things working against me that affect my outlook: my history of serious depression, getting off my meds, it’s winter and this is when I’m usually the lowest, my stress levels, and more. The fact that I am still this positive makes me marvel at how God is working through me.
I don’t feel I am getting out what I wanted to say. I guess when talking with (listening to) some of my coworkers this morning, I realized everyone’s having similar thoughts as me but they only let their guard down just a bit. It’s easy to see how they use good things-humor, friendships, food, etc.- to boost themselves up, to cover up what’s really going on, which I think is good-something I need to do more. Otherwise these teachers wouldn’t be able to do their job. They would end up in the hospital like me.
But I just feel for them…for the students too and wish You could do some sort of miracle to help us out of our misery, to clear up this devastating confusion, to wipe the tears, to instill strength, inspiration.
Love and dedication is not enough. I cannot change these kids’ circumstances with just these. Nothing is changing it seems. But I want to believe what I am doing is making some small difference.
I am kind of going through the motions when it comes to my job. I plan and plan and it seems all this agonizing does nothing. No matter the kids’ behaviors, I still tend to blame myself…Don’t really want to get into this. Maybe I can observe some of the other Spanish teachers to get some inspiration.
I am down but not defeated. If anything I feel kind of comfortable underneath my blanket of sadness.
I want to do more than just long for heaven in this life. I live here right now so teach me what that means. Is this world ugly or beautiful? Beautiful because it is Yours and You are in control. Beautiful because of the beautiful people I meet and engage with every day. Your creations. Beautiful because of the colors, the skies that take my breath away. The crisp white against a spectacular blue sky. Winter’s hues are truly amazing. When I can soak in these beauties, I can escape the other reality. The reality of ugliness. This reality seeps into my conscious and invades my veins and I can barely breathe because of the stench. Somehow we are to live and breathe in the moment. And that moment is in this hideous world, where somehow I am still able to see indescribable beauty. I can feel indescribable pain at the same moment as I sense unfathomable peace and security. Lord, help me live in Your love in this dichotomous world, hanging onto hope despite an aching heart, shaky spirit and downtrodden soul.
Showing posts with label beauty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beauty. Show all posts
Friday, January 7, 2011
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Comfort Ye Others Just as You are Comforted
Last night I went to get an hour-long full body massage with hot stone therapy at a place nearby my house. I got a half-off deal in the mail! It was amazing! I'm glad I allowed myself to take care of myself that way. When she was doing my neck and shoulders she found I had knots up and down both sides of my neck that went all the way to the base of my skull. No wonder I've been in so much pain!
Anyway, the hot stones were the best because I was so cold, especially my poor bony fingers! I had so many knots and so much tension that she went an extra 15 minutes. I was able to really relax except the lotion she put on was a bit intense for my nose so I got a little headache. But people that are "too uncomfortable" to get massages like this don't know what they are missing!
I don't know what it is about me but I crave this skin on skin contact. I've always loved massage and got my first professional full body massage in high school when we used to have them included on my mom's insurance! I realized immediately that professional massages, just the ambience of it-everything-, was one of the only ways I can completely relax.
To get deep and spiritual, receiving a massage helps me connect with my body and realize again how beautiful I am. Also, just to be taken care of for once, ahhh, so nice. As I lay there yesterday, I thought of how I do physical therapy and massage/lotioning with the guys I take care of at the group home. I'm always worried I am doing it wrong, that maybe he is not comfortable. With the residents, they don't often communicate whether they are or are not comfortable. Because I received comfort yesterday as the receiver of massage, I was able to realize that yes, maybe I DO do a good job with the guys and maybe they enjoy my sloppy untrained attempts at PT and massage. More than that, though, I realize like my massage therapist, my first concern is for the other person.
Probably the best thing is helping my one resident get into bed at night. (Let's call him Cal.) Cal has a Parkinson's-like condition which makes him extremely exhausted and basically unresponsive as the day goes on. I just ache for him because he is so sleepy and often longs for his bed. I know all too well the feeling of being SO tired and having no energy to go through the process of getting to bed. Once Cal is finally all briefed, pajama-ed, lotioned and teeth-brushed, the next task is to get him to stand up from his wheelchair and take a few painful steps toward his bed, open and waiting for him. I, being a lover of my bed, can totally relate to his comfort in finally collapsing. Unfortunately, Cal is so weak that I have to reposition his rigid 150-lb body so that-to me-he looks comfortable and so that I, too, can receive comfort. Sometimes this is tough and requires him to stand and reposition himself a few more times (a process of a few minutes). Finally, finally he is looking cozy and I pull the sheet up, making sure it covers him evenly and then the comforter, tucking it under his droopy chin. I just see the release in his face and I feel it deep within. Rest. I know he's comfortable and at peace and that's the best feeling in the world.
To have that done to you every so often is great. That's why life is so beautiful. I am able to give because of the gifts Christ gives through others, whether it is a professional massage with hot stones, hugging and crying with a close friend, or a tiny child that you've known for less than a minute suddenly put her little hand in yours.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in your patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort. 2 Cor. 1:3-7
Anyway, the hot stones were the best because I was so cold, especially my poor bony fingers! I had so many knots and so much tension that she went an extra 15 minutes. I was able to really relax except the lotion she put on was a bit intense for my nose so I got a little headache. But people that are "too uncomfortable" to get massages like this don't know what they are missing!
I don't know what it is about me but I crave this skin on skin contact. I've always loved massage and got my first professional full body massage in high school when we used to have them included on my mom's insurance! I realized immediately that professional massages, just the ambience of it-everything-, was one of the only ways I can completely relax.
To get deep and spiritual, receiving a massage helps me connect with my body and realize again how beautiful I am. Also, just to be taken care of for once, ahhh, so nice. As I lay there yesterday, I thought of how I do physical therapy and massage/lotioning with the guys I take care of at the group home. I'm always worried I am doing it wrong, that maybe he is not comfortable. With the residents, they don't often communicate whether they are or are not comfortable. Because I received comfort yesterday as the receiver of massage, I was able to realize that yes, maybe I DO do a good job with the guys and maybe they enjoy my sloppy untrained attempts at PT and massage. More than that, though, I realize like my massage therapist, my first concern is for the other person.
Probably the best thing is helping my one resident get into bed at night. (Let's call him Cal.) Cal has a Parkinson's-like condition which makes him extremely exhausted and basically unresponsive as the day goes on. I just ache for him because he is so sleepy and often longs for his bed. I know all too well the feeling of being SO tired and having no energy to go through the process of getting to bed. Once Cal is finally all briefed, pajama-ed, lotioned and teeth-brushed, the next task is to get him to stand up from his wheelchair and take a few painful steps toward his bed, open and waiting for him. I, being a lover of my bed, can totally relate to his comfort in finally collapsing. Unfortunately, Cal is so weak that I have to reposition his rigid 150-lb body so that-to me-he looks comfortable and so that I, too, can receive comfort. Sometimes this is tough and requires him to stand and reposition himself a few more times (a process of a few minutes). Finally, finally he is looking cozy and I pull the sheet up, making sure it covers him evenly and then the comforter, tucking it under his droopy chin. I just see the release in his face and I feel it deep within. Rest. I know he's comfortable and at peace and that's the best feeling in the world.
To have that done to you every so often is great. That's why life is so beautiful. I am able to give because of the gifts Christ gives through others, whether it is a professional massage with hot stones, hugging and crying with a close friend, or a tiny child that you've known for less than a minute suddenly put her little hand in yours.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in your patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort. 2 Cor. 1:3-7
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