Not Quite So Stressed Out

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About a week ago, I wrote a post about how stressed I was. I have never been that stressed in my life. I literally could not think, and my body was shutting down.

Stress is an odd beast. I was in a vicious cycle of stress isolating me, and then feeling isolated because I was stressed. I felt like I was drowning and utterly alone. I was so stressed the idea of asking for help didn’t occur to me.

But God didn’t abandon me, even though my spiritual ears felt stuffed with cotton wool. I had this idea to write down all the things that I know relax me or calm me down. One of the things is writing, which led to my blog post. People began sending me encouraging messages, and the isolation began to shatter.

It wasn’t until I started reaching out with a desperate blog post, and actually sitting down with people and saying “I don’t know what the heck I’m doing” that I could even entertain the idea that oh, people can help. From this I learned, get another brain or five involved when yours isn’t working. All you have to say is, “My brain isn’t working.”

I also realized that sometimes my brain gets so worked up, I have to physically relax before my brain will calm down. So that afternoon I went for a run, which is scientifically proven to release endorphins that calm you down. I did as many things as I could that I know relax me: Read a novel. Listened to music. Laid on the floor. Cracked open some lavender and balsam fir essential oils. Just breathed. Stretched. Had a hot shower. Once my body relaxed, my brain could finally be open to solutions instead of thinking “I’M STRESSED I’M STRESSED I’M STRESSED I’M STRESSED.”  

That’s when I noticed the expectation I’ve placed on myself, that circumstances shouldn’t affect my emotions. “Be joyful always”, “Give thanks in all circumstances”, “[You will be given] peace that transcends all understanding”. All these phrases are in the Bible, and I thought it meant that feelings were irrelevant. But that’s not true. Yes, God is our rock. Yes, the Holy Spirit’s joy is present in every part of life. But that doesn’t mean that we won’t emotionally be affected by losing a job, annoying people, or even a week of rain. Circumstances do affect my emotions, and that’s ok. In fact, it’s possible to have the peace of God AND be stressed out of your mind. I experienced that last week, because a part of me knew that it was going to be ok, knew that I was being held securely in God’s hands, despite how awful I felt. Circumstances can affect my emotions, but they don’t change the Truth.

P.S. Thank you to all of you who sent me encouraging messages, prayed for me, talked with me and let me dump some of my stresses on you. Thank you for proving that my feelings of isolation are a lie. You’re awesome.

Obsessions

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Just Tired

I am so incredibly tired of working.

And I feel horribly guilty and ashamed of that.

“How can you expect to eat if you don’t work?” “Everyone has to do things they don’t like.” “Suck it up, princess.” “Show initiative.” “You can’t expect people to know what you’re thinking unless you tell them.”

I am so incredibly tired of being responsible and bearing responsibility. Tired of taking initiative. I just want to sleep and let someone take care of me.

“But you’re an adult now. Take care of yourself.”

So tired.

It’s not that I don’t like working.

I’m just tired of bearing responsibility. In my brain. In my body. In my feelings.

Exhausted.

I want to love work again. Work brings money. Work brings security. Work brings recognition. Work brings fame. Work brings glory to God. Work brings satisfaction. Work, work, work.

If you don’t work, what are you?

If I don’t work, who am I?

Knowledge

I scroll through Facebook, reading this interesting article and that interesting blog post.

I check Messenger incessantly, craving news of my friends.

I read the news often.

When I’m sad, I distract myself by learning new things.

I blog and introspect to learn new things about myself.

I ask God for words of wisdom and guidance.

I am addicted to knowledge.

It is my brain’s defense mechanism. Keep me so busy, so distracted by new interesting tidbits and sound bytes, and drown out what my heart is saying. Let the chatter of knowing stifle the groans of my sore, sad heart. Stave off hurt by learning distraction. Stay away from the dark scary places of my soul by reading, writing, knowing.

But what if the reason God is silent is because the knowledge I need is already there. . . But somehow it has been blocked on its journey into  (or out of?) the heart. I don’t need more knowledge. I need more – something. I don’t need more water. I need less dam. 

Stressed Out

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I have this expectation of myself that I’m supposed to live life calm, tranquil and peaceful inside. Stress, anxiety and worry mean that I’m not trusting God, and I’m not a very good Christian.

As a child I was worried. What if the house burns down? What if my parents die? What if my pet budgie flies away? What if there’s a war? Fear characterized my childhood. I was happy, but it was always there. Then I learned more of the Bible, and read verses like, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and petition present your requests to God, and the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” “Cast all your cares on Him, because He cares for you.” Both of those I can write out by memory. I knew that worry was bad. It made me feel awful, and God didn’t like it. The trick was to trust God, and stop worrying because He’s in control.

So as I grew older, whenever I felt afraid or worried, I would quote those verses to myself and remember how big God is, and that He’s got my life in His hands. By sheer willpower, the stress would be overcome. Hah! Take that, stress! We win!

About a month ago, I was feeling uneasy, because once again, stress was threatening to take over. I tried focusing on Jesus. I quoted the verses. But nothing seemed to help. “Why am I so stressed??” I wondered. Was I not trusting God enough?

Then I sat down and looked at my life. In the past month I

·         said long-term goodbyes to three dear friends

·         lived in five different places

·         looked for, found and lost an apartment

·         experienced extreme financial stress

·         had a couple cases of interpersonal conflict with people close to me

·         received a bunch of ideas for jobs and turned them down for various reasons

·         our pet budgie of ten years died

and I had no idea what to do with my future.

I felt like I wasn't trusting God enough, but when I looked at the list, I wondered why I wasn’t feeling more stressed. I congratulated myself for not being a blubbering mess, because honestly, my life IS stressful right now! Good, now that we had that out of the way, I could acknowledge stress and move on with my life.

A week ago, my body started acting up. I have dark circles under dry, scratchy eyes. My sinuses felt congested. My skin is itchy, and it’s not easy to breathe. At first, I thought it was allergies. But as far as I know, I’m only allergic to cinnamon. My muscles were also super tight, and I found myself sighing a lot. My jaw is constantly clenched. The old fear returned at night, and I became irrationally afraid of things I haven’t thought about since I was a child. Two nights ago, I woke up choking and coughing, heart racing, too scared to go back to sleep.

It looks like stress has caught up to my body.

And the worst is that I don’t know how to stop being stressed. I’m stressed about being stressed.

On top of all this stress, heaven remained silent. I could barely pray, because my brain feels so fuzzy, and I don’t know what to say. God didn’t tell me anything to do or make this better. I feel like an awful Christian. I’ve failed, because I’m stressed and worried and not trusting God enough. Desperately, I try to shove my stress away to prove to God that I’m trusting Him. Somehow, I got this idea that stress is a shameful thing, something God hates.

I wish I had it all together. I wish I knew the answers on this one. But I don’t.

What I do know, is that life is stressful. And that the presence of stress doesn’t mean that peace is absent. It’s possible to be stressed and have peace.

I think those verses, about trusting God, are actually about not giving into fear. Which is a very different thing from not feeling stressed. Even Jesus experienced stress; he was so stressed he sweat blood. 

God doesn’t expect me to be stress-free all the time. Breathe it in, my soul, and know that you don’t have to stop your stressing for God to love you. Stress doesn’t show a lack of faith; it shows that you are living a stressful transition time. Don’t try run away or pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s ok. It won’t last forever.

When God Doesn’t Provide the Money

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I had heard the stories of God’ miraculous provision of finances for outreach, for rent, for plane tickets and for projects. Sometimes it came in a silk envelope. Sometimes a friend gave an amount, and it was exactly what was needed. Sometimes, an offering was taken that mysteriously expanded. But I had lived a safe, well-provisioned life. My parents are very wise with their finances, and we had never lacked. They taught me well, and I knew how to save and how to spend wisely.

When I left to do my Discipleship Training School (DTS), I only had $2000, a third of what I would need for the lecture phase and outreach. But I told my parents I wanted to place myself in a position where I would have to trust God, and allow him to provide for me financially. So they let me go.

I watched, anxious and then delighted, as God provided the money for my lecture phase through donations from friends and family. We came to outreach, and I received some of what I needed. The day before we were meant to leave, I was still $2000 short. I knew God would provide, but the tension of HOW was driving me crazy. To say I was stressed was an understatement. The next day, there was no mail. No miraculous cash in my Bible. I called my parents, wondering what to do. They decided to give me a loan of $2000. I was happy to have the money for outreach. But I was miffed at God. Why did I have to get a loan? Why didn’t He provide?

That was when I realized that God did provide, but not in the way I wanted him to.

Fast forward. I came home from DTS and worked to pay off my loan. Then God prompted me to do the School of Digital Filmmaking also with YWAM. I had less money in my account than when I left for DTS. But knowing that God wanted me to go, and trusting that he would provide, I jumped on a plane yet again. My parents said they were done with giving me loans. That was ok, because I was confident God would provide what I needed this time.

It was a similar story this time. I received about half of what I needed from donations. The deadline to pay grew nearer, and nothing happened. So I went to my sister for a loan, knowing this time that God could provide through loans just as much as donations. Once again, I was annoyed at God. Why was he allowing me to go into debt again? Didn’t he know that debt is bad?

Fast-forward again. I finished the school, and came home. This time I was $3000 in debt to my sister, ready to work and pay it off. That’s when God said, Don’t get a job. WHAT??? Jesus, are you CRAZY?! I did what he said, ‘cause it’s always a good idea to follow what God tells you. Through this time, God taught me a lot about how to trust him with my debt, and to rest.

Then I felt like I should do the School of Acting for the Screen, in the same place as I did my filmmaking school. My family thought I was nuts. I was $3000 in debt and I wanted to do another school? But they were used to me doing wacky things by this point, so off I went. My grandmother gave me a sizable monetary gift, as did a couple I knew, and I received a grant from my hometown council. But I still had a few thousand dollars to go. Maybe, I thought, maybe God will finally come through, and provide everything in a miraculous way. We prayed as a school. Multiple times. I waited, and waited, and waited. It never came in.

After living on the base for a while, completing the School of Acting for the Screen, and doing an internship, I added all my debts together.

It came to $6000.

That was hard to swallow.

Did my experiment fail? Was I foolish for trusting God so much? Was I even listening to God correctly? Didn’t God know debt was unwise??

Frantically, I started planning ways I could work: Picking blueberries or grapes. Getting a job at a restaurant in town. Writing blog pieces for money. But each time I moved in that direction, I felt restless, uneasy and even more stressed than before. It seemed like God was saying “no” to my good ideas to pay off the debt. WHAT?

I began to ask why. Why was I so far in debt? Had I been reckless? Then a friend said something that changed my perspective, “You’re not in debt because you’re irresponsible, you’re in debt because you’re obedient and that’s a good kind of debt to have.” I’m in debt because I was following God. If He got me into this mess, then He can get me out again.

Through this process, I have learned that being in debt is not the worst thing in the world. God can and does work, even when my bank account is below $0. I knew that I trusted God up until there was nothing in my account, but did I trust him enough to go beyond $0? I do now. Even debt is not an obstacle to God providing or working.

It’s still not fun. I would much rather be out of debt. But now I trust that will happen in God’s timing, not mine.

What You Have

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I graduated from Acting School a couple months ago.

My classmates and friends have gone home.

I have no job, blueberry picking fell through.

I'm $6000 in debt.

And I don't know what to do with my life.

My parents are wondering when I will get steady work, income.

My friends are wondering "What's next?"

And I'm freaking out about the future.

It's morning. I take out a carton of eggs from the refrigerator, and crack one into the fry pan. Now there are ten spaces. I'm running out. My brain starts turning: I don't have a car. How do I get to the store to buy more eggs? How do I pay for more eggs, with my account so low? The egg sizzles in the pan. I look back at the carton, and then I realize. There are still two eggs left.

Sometimes, I get so caught up in planning for the future, I miss the present. I get so worked up about what I don't have that I miss seeing what I do have.

I resolve to eat breakfast and enjoy the egg in front of me, without thinking about those ten empty spaces. I start to see the blue sky and the green vineyards behind the place that I'm house-sitting. Tall, yellow flowers separate the back yard from the rolling green hills. I breathe deeply.

I have a house to stay in. I have warmth, a roof over my head, and internet to stream endless music. I have cupboards and a fridge with food in them.

I have friends all over the world, and I have Skype and Messenger to talk with them.

I have books to read. I have imagination, creativity, and skills in sewing, writing and acting. I have eyes that can see beauty. I have hot showers and legs to walk me places and parents who care about me. I have time.

It's evening, I open the cupboard. Instead of looking at the empty spaces on the shelves, I look at what's in front of me. Black beans. Canned tomato. Rice. I find a whole bunch of spices, and there's cilantro in the garden, so I make chili. It tastes great, and I don't feel nearly as stressed as I did that morning.

I've learned something. Real creativity and satisfaction starts with acknowledging what you have.

After all, you can't do anything with what you don't have.

Why So Serious? Part II

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Why am I so serious?

Like I said in my previous blog post, I like to ask deep questions that get to the heart of things. I like to discover what lies beneath the surface of people, of issues, of ideas. I have a hard time with things that I perceive as superficial. I want real meat, not meringue fluff. I probe, I question, I consider.

And sometimes I obsess. I don’t like that about myself, because people often find it annoying. For example, when I was 11, I became obsessed with goldfish. I read books about them. I saved up money to buy a fish tank. I talked about them at the dinner table so often that my family banned the four-letter F word. That’s just one example of my obsessions. I’ll get distracted reading internet articles about emotional and spiritual abuse for days on end, simply because it’s something I’m interested in. I fixate on a specific area of my life that I want to improve on, and it occupies like 90% of my brain space for months. It annoys other people when I’m always repeating the same things, so I’ve learned to not talk about my obsessions and simply keep them to myself. I’ve often wondered why I just can’t let go.

Why can’t I just CHILL? Sometimes I obsess so much about relaxing, that I get worked up while I’m supposed to be resting.

Why do I get so worked up about things?

Because I care.

I care deeply about things and people. When I do something, I do it 100%, all in. I don’t like doing things halfway.

I take things seriously because I care.

And that is a beautiful thing.

I think the reason it bothers me so much when people would tell me to calm down, to relax, to chill, is because that translated to “stop caring”. When people were acting frivolous or shallow, it annoyed me because I thought they “didn’t care”. I’ve been deeply hurt in the past because I care a lot about something that the other person flippantly throws away, or doesn’t care about to the same degree as me. Group projects were torture to me, because often my partner wouldn’t approach the assignment with the same amount of energy, enthusiasm or caring as I did.

All that caring makes me tired. I burn out quickly when I give all of myself, but don’t take time to rest. Or allow myself to be cared for. I can tell when I’ve reached the danger zone and my tank is empty, because I don’t care about anything anymore. That’s when I know I have to stop and recharge.

How do I relax? How do I chill, if I care so much?

The answer is knowing that God cares even more than I do. He cares more about the people I love than I do. He cares more about hard situations and problems than me. He cares about smaller details than I can ever see. He cares about things I don’t even care about, like the hairs on my head and sparrows and bringing rain to far-off places.

Because HE cares so much, I can relax, knowing things are being taken care of. I can rest in His care, for me, and for others. 

Why So Serious? Part 1

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“Let’s go around the circle and tell each person something we like about them.”

We were halfway through the ‘game’ my friend had suggested, and now it was my turn in the hot seat. My heart started to beat a little faster in anticipation of what people would say. When my vibrant actress-friend praised my ability with words, the way they’ve brought her comfort and wisdom, my heart swelled. Then the next person, a fun guy who everyone loves being around, turned to me. He said “I really appreciate your seriousness.”

I was bummed.

Outside I smiled, but inwardly I was annoyed. Of all my character traits, why did he have to focus on the one I like the least? Why couldn’t he talk about traits I like: sweetness, vulnerability or intellect?

I have long hated my seriousness. When I was in my early teens at Drama or Choir rehearsals, it was the people who could crack jokes, tell funny stories or do magic tricks who would attract crowds of people. Very few people were attracted to the deep thoughts and questions I had to offer. My comments about random facts I found interesting would fall on deaf ears.

I wanted to really get to know people, hear their stories and learn what their big dreams were and discover what makes their eyes shine and their hearts tick. But others were more interested in making quick-witted comments about one another and laughing at ridiculous jokes. So I learned that if I wanted attention, wanted to be part of the group, I’d have to play along.

This gave me a kind of split personality. Some days, I would fake being funny, joking and laughing along with the others. But it wasn’t MY kind of humour; it was theirs. Other days, I would look at the group with disdain. How immature they were, laughing about the ridiculous, not talking about Important Things or ideas of Real Substance. So I became both overly serious and fakely funny.

This continued until my college years, where I let the fake funny mask drop. Funny wasn’t working for me, so I devoted all my energy to being a Serious Responsible Person.

My hypothesis that nobody likes a wet blanket and people like being around those who are the life of the party seemed to be further confirmed by more interactions with friends who were charming and amusing. Those friends seemed to always have people around them, like bees around a pool of honey. That kind of humour seemed far out of my grasp. Nobody seemed to find me charming or interesting, and I reckoned that’s because I was so serious. So I’ve worked on trying to relax, to be more chill, to not always direct conversations toward deep topics and to be cool with the superficial. I’d come a long way. But I still felt like my seriousness was a curse and a crutch.

And yet, here my friend was praising me for the very character trait I’ve tried so hard to get rid of. I was ticked off. But I smiled and said thank you anyway.

It wasn’t until later that night when my friend’s words finally sunk in. He LIKES my seriousness. What?? That blew my mind. He appreciates the very thing that I have despised for years.

I had such a hard time believing this was true, that a week later I asked him if he really meant what he said. Of course he did. And then he said something that I’ve been pondering ever since. “Lyndall, you need to own it.” Own my seriousness. Don’t try to play it down or ignore it or get rid of it.

This article is part of the process, part of me owning my seriousness. As I write, I realize things. Humans have incredibly fine-tuned BS meters. We can detect the tiniest hint of inauthenticity on a subconscious level. For years I have been trying to squeeze myself into boxes that I don’t fit into, either the Funny Person box or the Super Serious Person box. But people are most attracted to those individuals who are comfortable in their own skins, who are most fully themselves.

It wasn’t my lack of funny that turned people off. It was the masks I wore. If they were attracted, it wasn’t ME they were attracted to. It was a mask. When love or attention or affection is dependent on how well I can keep a mask in place, life is a hellish prison. Every move must keep the mask in place, or else I risk losing everything I’ve worked for. I know this is a bad idea, but I didn’t realize I was doing this with my personality until my friend somehow saw through the mask and said he liked my seriousness.

So I’m ditching the Super Serious Person mask, and I’m ditching the Funny Person mask. I’m going to be me. I am serious. And I’m not going to hide it, despise it, or push it down any more. I’m gonna own it.