Open It


The book sits flat and face down on the desk
I can only sit and stare at it contemptuously
Because it told me what I was, what I really
Was, away from the people and locked in my room.

"I can only sit and stare at it contemptuously."
"Stare at what?" She cried, startled and sad but I
Was away from the people and locked in my room.
I heard her outside my door, begging me to come out

Stare at what? She'd cried, startled and sad but I
Didn't bother to explain to someone that should have known.
I heard her outside my door, begging me to come out.
My eyelids felt heavy, I wanted to shut them to the world, so I

Didn't bother to explain to someone that should have known
I was not a little girl anymore.
My eyelids felt heavy, I wanted to shut them to the world,
But she was still crying and knocking at the door.

I was not a little girl anymore
My body has not shrunk away in fear
But she was still crying and knocking at the door.
A little voice whispered to me in the lone of my company.

My body has not shrunk away in fear
It had opened up more and more
A little voice whispered to me in the lone of my company,
'Give me your hand...'

It had opened up more and more
I was crying alone on my bed, small and foolish
'Give me your hand...'
The voice came again.

I was crying alone on my bed, small and foolish
Distraught and alone, I listened to
The voice that came again.
At night, it came. Always at night.

Distraught and alone, I listened to
The sound of the day as it ended.
At night, it came. Always at night,
And I began to despise it.

The sound of the day as it ended
Should have been cheerful but I looked at the book and it was then
That I began to despise it.
"Tell me how can I change?" I hissed through my teeth.

Should have been cheerful but I looked at the book and it was then
That it told me what I was, what I really-
"Tell me how I can change!" I hissed through my teeth.
The book sits flat and face down on the desk.

Regina Spektor - The Call

A good friend of mine from a ministry that we're both involved in walked up to me one night after a weekly meeting as everyone is lingering in the Johnson Center and she tells me, "Wow Brenda, I didn't know you did so much for Epic. I can't even imagine what you do for this ministry." It was meant to be an expression of gratitude but instead my mind zoned in on two things: one, things are happening in the ministry that I didn't predict or expect and two, why was I being accredited for the outcome? I felt my stomach drop out a little and a doubt crept into my mind that moment and it never really left...was I working too hard for ministry and was the heart of all that centered on pride? In other words, was I self-glorifying?
I don't really know and for the past 7 months that thought has had me in a paralyzing vice. I've been feeling physically inhibited from doing anything and yet, somehow in the last semester I managed to keep dedicating more and more time to ministry. I continued organizing bible study topics, continued to meet up weekly with women, continued to lead leadership meetings, continued to try and try to be genuine in my faith expression towards others and while I did have moments in which I genuinely celebrated with friends and family (people coming to Christ, faith growth, weddings, birthdays, reunions), there was an overcast in my heart. There is, even now, a numbness in my hands and arms and legs. I feel weak. I feel faint. A voice is even poisoning my heart and saying over and over again, "how's anything going to be worth it? you're just going to embarrass yourself. you're being selfish, everything you do is for yourself. don't. don't even try, it won't be remembered anyway. you don't have what it takes. just stop. you need rest. take some time and shut everyone else out. you don't need that or them, you just need you."
I have tears in my eyes just from re-reading those words I typed out because it's like I can clearly hear some sort of voice and it hisses those exact words. And my numb hands, arms and legs just drop. My shoulders drop. My back stoops. I curl into a fetal position, not even crying, just trying to remember what I am and what I'm supposed to do. I have buckled under the weight of the words and the tag-lining thoughts of hopelessness and inadequacy.
Then sometimes my phone will ring and I'll remember there's bible study tonight that I'm leading. Taking a glance at the clock, it tells me that I have one hour before it starts but instead of heading out so I can get there early to help set up, I roll over on my bed and try to lose consciousness for a little while, vaguely wondering what would happen if I overslept.

I'm taking in the full impact of the words I read a few weeks ago by Robert Lewis in the book The New Eve: "my current undoing was either exaggerated or self-inflicted because of exhaustion." In other words, he was tired. In other words, I AM tired.
I actually hate writing when I'm having a hard time. Some artists draw inspiration from difficult times and are able to express all that they feel in a beautiful, meaningful way. Difficult times have the opposite affect on me; I start to hate everything I write because it feels like I'm throwing myself a pity party all the time (especially when I try to blog about what's going on in my life) but then I start feeling guilty about hating my writing because it's like...hating someone related to me since it's a part of me and I try not to hate but find myself unable to love so I revert back to the hate and feel bad all over again.
See? I hate writing like this.
But I think I'm understanding now. I'm just really tired and tired without accountability, which is like putting an air-tight cup around a candle flame, slowly choking the light. I think I've successfully walled myself into a position in which people either think that I am getting accountability elsewhere or that it is not their place to keep me accountable.
Why do I think this, I think this because when I go to church I serve and never try to talk to others deeply; when I meet with other women or even just with all people my age, I am always trying to dole out advice. I don't complain, I don't go out and all the while sort of just waiting for someone to sit down and ask me what's going on, why am I not more motivated, when did I start distancing myself from everyone and invite me back again.

I meant to go in a different direction with this. I meant to tell the story in the beginning so as to eventually say that if anyone is really grateful for what Christ or for what someone else said or did in their lives then they should express their thanks but more than that they should live their thanks by actively seeking out their calling in life, not just wait for it. But, I don't think I really care about writing about that anymore.
Instead I want to plead with people that if there is a person in your life that is saying that they're fine all the time, take that person aside for coffee and ask them what's really going on. I guarantee that you'll find some type of feelings of longing, frustration and/or separateness, a numbed sense of reality or a search for purpose.

Please. Do this.