Sinking and Scared

Yesterday I made an incredibly difficult and scary decision: to take a leave of absence so I can heal after the roller-coaster ride of the past year.

A difficult decision for several reasons: I am a woman, and society teaches us we are supposed to be able to handle everything that comes our way and do so with a smile on our face (ala June Cleaver); we are also taught that a woman’s work is never done and to need rest or renewal is somehow a signal of failure or being abnormal and – gasp - less than perfect; admitting I can’t go on with the way things are right now shreds the illusion of being a good little girl who needs to make everyone happy and strikes another blow at my compulsion toward perfection; the old saying is that God helps those who help themselves, so if I can’t help myself will God still help me?; and as a servant of Christ we are told to give to others --- for how long? And who will give to us to fill us up so we can give more? I have nothing left to give, and am completely drained. Even the fumes are dissipating.

A scary decision: I am a woman living with heart disease, specifically Idiopathic Dilated Cardiomyopathy with Left-Ventricular Non-Compaction with an EF of 30% (as of six months ago) and I just learned I have Supra Ventricular Tachycardia. This is congenital, and will never heal or improve. This is life-threatening, and I am still learning to say those words and just beginning to realize the implications. Terrifying.

A scary decision: I am single and living alone with no financial resources. A leave of absence means there will be no paycheck coming in. How will my bills and expenses be paid? What about my health insurance, which I desperately need. Even though I am clergy and “one of their own” the church powers that be will not provide even minimal financial support while I take the time to heal. Since clergy are considered self-employed, we have no unemployment cushion. That means I will be broke with no income to pay bills. This worry about finances and the concern of defaulting weighs heavier than anything else on me right now.

A scary decision: I will need to leave the housing in which I currently reside (a church parsonage) and move in with my parents, who have a two bedroom house and one bathroom. A logistical nightmare and one in which tempers will flare. While I must re-arrange my life for a time to become whole or at least close to whole again, I am also asking them to re-arrange their lives to help along this phase of my journey. I don’t like doing that. I’m 47 and find myself needing to move in with Mon & Dad. What’s wrong with this picture? It hurts. It cuts me deep inside. I feel guilty, and like a failure. Where did I go wrong? What did I do wrong?

I’ve read some of the journal entries and discussions posted on WomenHeart. I passionately thank God for each and every heart sister. No one understands us the way we understand each other. Some dear souls will try to understand, but unless that person has heart disease or is personally affected through a family member or close relative, that person won’t anywhere near having even a remote clue what it’s like living with heart disease and what it does to us physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I have no clergy colleagues living with heart disease, so in my current location I am alone. The church powers that be do not know what it means to live with heart disease, which make me the guinea pig. I didn't ask to be that unique, nor did I want to be the grand experiment. God has blessed me, though, with one dear friend who has heart disease and underwent a single bypass (thus “fixing” her disease), and while she does indeed get it she still tells me that the heart disease I am living with is another ball of wax since there is no surgery to “fix” my disease. Mom is great and will indeed try to understand the way many parents yearn to understand their children, but since she herself does not have heart disease, she won’t be able to relate the way she would like to.

Many of us are pioneers blazing trails across land we had no intention of traversing in the first place. There are few scouts to tell us what to expect up ahead. We have no translators to help us communicate with the natives we encounter along the way. We have little with which to barter for even the simplest of necessities. Those moments when we are truly able to feel fine with no aches or pains or worries or anxieties or responsibilities --- these are rare treasures to be cherished and recalled whenever we need to remember that life does sometimes give to us. Those happenstance times when we feel understood to the core of our beings and loved for who we are weaknesses and all --- these are priceless gems to be held close to our hearts and brought out whenever we need a soothing balm to caress our souls.

I am clergy. I know many people think we have a direct line to God and that somehow we are closer to God and impervious to anxiety and have no worries. Not true, since we are still human. And while some “enlightened” church members might try to convince us and themselves that yes, they really do believe we pastors are human, when it comes right down to the rubber hitting the road they still put pastors up on a pedestal and when the human frailties and weaknesses leak out, oh my! There’s something wrong with that pastor! Still, I dare to admit I am genuinely 100% human, and though I am indeed made in the image of God, I am fraught with fallibilities, failings and imperfections. I break down, in every way possible. Right now I am still sinking into a deep depression, I do still need to heal physically, psychologically, emotionally and spiritually, and I do need to re-discover who I am as a beloved child of God. What is next for me? I am able to work, so where? Doing what? When will this begin? I am trying to be open to God’s leading, but I confess to being scared and wanting the assurance we so often think comes from knowing what’s next. I worry about what will happen, especially with my health concerns. I do not need to work in a church setting and am open to whatever God may bring my way. Still, I am frightened and anxious about my future. ... ... ...

So I pray: God help me and all of my heart sisters. Hold my heart in your hands, and my soul in your arms … … …