I found this blog I left un-posted from halfway through this semester. These last four months have been exhausting. Emotionally. Intellectually. Spiritually. Bodily. It has been quite the exercise on many fronts. It seems that in the midst of it, I've learned a bit about living in the struggle...
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I dread going to class because I feel like my professors are bored with me. I don't understand half of what they say yet I'm supposed to contribute to class discussion. I'm supposed to be interesting profound provocative. Somehow I am supposed to stimulate them. Even though I've only been in school a quarter of the time they have. And even more amazing, somehow my classmates succeed in doing it. What does this say about me? More importantly,
how can i possibly think i can get into a doctoral program if i don't even know what i think, what i feel, if i have nothing to contribute?
i can't do it
i can't do it
i can't do it.
my insides are screaming. i'm paralyzed with fear exhaustion fear exhaustion.
what do i even have to contribute? why am i doing this if i have nothing to say?
This whole world is beautiful around me. The scents the flowers, the trees, the leaves. I have chickens. My dogs love me. I am young, beautiful. My husband adores me. Yet I am trying to exist in my own future. I am trying answer then problems now. Slow down Julie. Slow down.
Stop imagining yourself as other people. Stop hating yourself for not being the best parts of other people. Their legs, their ass, their intellect.
What does it look like to love yourself as a student at Duke? What does it look like to be kind to Julie while applying for Phd programs? Julie is a person too. Why do you feel so justified in picking on her? On hating her? Why is it okay to be kind and non-judgmental to others but not okay to yourself?
Also, you don't have to get the best grades of your life the semester you are applying to other schools. Your best is always the best under the circumstances. Give yourself permission to get Cs--to not do all the reading--to mess up--to be embarrassed.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Terrorizing the Body
Saturday night I had such unbelievable pain in my stomach that Tim almost took me to the ER. We had a normal day and evening, I'd eaten nothing weird, but for some reason I had an attack that night of epic proportions.
I laid on the bathroom floor, writhing, hearing myself groaning and occasionally screaming. It came in waves. Seeing Tim's worried face confirmed that this was worse than what I have experienced in the past with tummy troubles. After about two hours, the pain started subsiding and the waves came less severely and less frequently. I fell asleep and woke the next morning tired, sore and traumatized.
A few things have been hanging over me and infiltrating my mind while I'm trying to work, so I thought I'd write them down.
It's a strange thing to feel scared of your own body--not knowing what hurt it or why. I was nervous about eating food, yet felt so weak from the previous night.
Remembering pain is also an odd phenomenon. Even though I remembered the agony I felt and still felt afraid of feeling it again, it seemed so distant somehow. I can't physically remember how it felt I can only remember that it was physically painful. I wonder if this is somehow akin to childbirth, only then you're at least rewarded with a baby. Although the pain is excruciating in the moment, we only remember intellectually the pain we experienced. Somehow this helps us move on? Cope with our pain?
I've found myself stroking my arms, petting my stomach, caressing my cheeks without really thinking about it. Maybe it sounds strange to us Westerners, but it's almost like my body needs comforting for how it was terrorized, even as my mind shrugs at the past memory. My arms and legs want to know they're going to be okay, that Julie will be okay.
I laid on the bathroom floor, writhing, hearing myself groaning and occasionally screaming. It came in waves. Seeing Tim's worried face confirmed that this was worse than what I have experienced in the past with tummy troubles. After about two hours, the pain started subsiding and the waves came less severely and less frequently. I fell asleep and woke the next morning tired, sore and traumatized.
A few things have been hanging over me and infiltrating my mind while I'm trying to work, so I thought I'd write them down.
It's a strange thing to feel scared of your own body--not knowing what hurt it or why. I was nervous about eating food, yet felt so weak from the previous night.
Remembering pain is also an odd phenomenon. Even though I remembered the agony I felt and still felt afraid of feeling it again, it seemed so distant somehow. I can't physically remember how it felt I can only remember that it was physically painful. I wonder if this is somehow akin to childbirth, only then you're at least rewarded with a baby. Although the pain is excruciating in the moment, we only remember intellectually the pain we experienced. Somehow this helps us move on? Cope with our pain?
I've found myself stroking my arms, petting my stomach, caressing my cheeks without really thinking about it. Maybe it sounds strange to us Westerners, but it's almost like my body needs comforting for how it was terrorized, even as my mind shrugs at the past memory. My arms and legs want to know they're going to be okay, that Julie will be okay.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Eucharist Please!!!
For one of my classes this semester we are writing blogs each week that reflect on the readings, our perspectives, opinions, concerns or worries, and other things. I'm finding it such a wonderful and insightful way to relate and engage the class! This week's prompt was When was the first time you remember knowing you were a Christian? This is the blog I wrote about it--I thought I'd share!
~~
Well, I don't have an incredibly moving or inspirational story about how I "became a Christian" (honestly, I think that phrase is a little ambiguous and doesn't really account for the journey of relationships with God, but that soapbox is for another blog). My father was the pastor of a small Christian & Missionary Alliance church in Maple Valley, Washington. You will be shocked to learn that we only served communion once per month (yes, some churches don't do it every Sunday).
When I was about 4 or 5, I began to notice that the grownups were enjoying snack time in the middle of church every so often, and yet I was not allowed to partake! The silver plates with velvet bottoms with delicious looking bread and juice were passed right by me! When I inquired as to why I was not allowed to participate, my mother responded that it was only for those who "had accepted Jesus into their hearts." I was not about to let a little prayer stand in between me and snack time in the middle of church! So a few days later, I knelt with my mother and father in their bedroom and prayed. My mom cried. My dad might have too.
I've always thought it a little sad that the beginning of my relationship with God began so obviously because I wanted to eat during church, but perhaps that is quite fitting that there was a carnal need, a selfish plan. Perhaps my story only highlights what is present in all of our lives as we relate to God. I've actually never really thought about it that way until now. As much as we might like to be honorable, full of integrity and belief, perhaps we're more like the little girl anxiously hungering for snack time during church.
~~
I find it interesting that one of my first gestures toward Christianity centers around the Eucharist. As much as I have been challenging Church and services lately, I can't seem to reason away or ignore my hunger for the Eucharist. I smiled this morning as I wrote the above blog; I guess my hunger for snack time never went away. It doesn't really make sense to me and I don't think I can explain it, but I do crave communion; it is a part of church that is often (almost always) completely satisfying and fulfilling. One of my professors from my undergraduate confided to me recently that the Eucharist is what draws him to Church each Sunday, gets him out of bed in the morning. Maybe that will become my story too...
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Questions
Today was one of those days. My alarm went off at the proper time; the only problem was it decided not to make any noise. On my frenzied way out the door, the only thing I managed to grab for breakfast slipped out of my hands and bruised its little pear body all across my basement floor. "This is going to be a great day." On and on it went, just barely missing the most important part of a lecture because I was late for class, feeling directionless over a potentially fantastic opportunity to do a directed study, feeling totally indecisive about classes to choose for this fall, being told I should probably retake the GRE because my scores just aren't quite strong enough and finally, after having a pathetic but much needed little cry in a bathroom stall going to treat myself to a TWIX bar only to have the vending machine clog, only to finally get it only for it to be melted and rehardened and gross. YES. awesome day. Felt like it was straight out of a movie. "Martini s'il vous plait!"
Sometimes at Duke it feels like I am the only one questioning the validity and acceptability of denominations, the purpose of the church, it's current role in America, the institutionalization of the Church, the fact that we are paying our spiritual leaders. My classmates seem to walk around me nodding their heads and funneling toward the same common goal: protect and further the Kingdom, serve the Church and others. I certainly don't wish to patronize what they are doing or imply that any of them do it light heartedly or without thought--they are at Duke for fuck's sake. BUT. Why aren't these questions even being hinted at? Am I in all the wrong classes? Am I behind the learning curve or ahead of it? Have I become a crazy? Well, I suppose anything is possible, but here's the honest truth (please be kind): 2ish years ago Tim and I left the church we were attending (left is putting it kindly). We have not been regular attenders since. And do you know what? I DON'T MISS IT. I do NOT find that that is the only place to find meaningful relationships. I do NOT find that it is the only place to be instructed about the Word and about God. I do NOT accept that it is naturally indicative of my relationship with God or my belief in God. (And why is it at so many churches when they say they've missed you or ask how you've been there is this implied opinion about your attendance? How many people do or do not attend because of this guilt?) The only thing I can't seem to shake is the Eucharist. Somehow and for some reason I cannot explain this moves me. I find affirmation here. And I hope you will be gentle with me as I journey through this. Perhaps I will find my way back to a Church in the future. Perhaps I will come to a deeper understanding and appreciation of its role and importance. But for now, I'm really struggling with it. But perhaps also you might find some solidarity with my raw questions. Please don't hear me challenging your experience or your particular church--these are questions from my own journey. So I guess, take it as you will. (Sorry for the huge disclaimer). So I'm not sure what to do with this as a Christian, as an aspiring theologian and as a teacher.
A wise and compassionate friend rescued me from some of these thoughts today and took me for a walk in Duke gardens (which can I just say is one of my very favorite things about this school. Amazing landscaping, interesting plants, intimate walkways and hidden benches just steps away from me). I opened up, risked all and told her all of my anguish, questionings, feeling crazy. She listened oh so supportively and said, "You know Julie, the professors that were mentors to me and impressed me most did not have it all figured out. They did not have neat little quaint faiths. They were kind of cynical, challenging, and messy. One of the things I've realized as I get older is that my faith used to be a 100 piece jigsaw puzzle. Now maybe it's a 1000 piece puzzle. There are lots of little pieces. It's confusing how it all fits together, it doesn't always make sense and it's messy. But you are engaging it." It just consoled me a bit and also reminded me that I don't do much in life half-heartedly. I wrestle with things. I need to figure them out for myself. WHY does 5 times 5 equal 25? Why am I supposed to love God? Who says that Christians know the best way to live? Who says that God has an opinion on my life sheerly because one way is "right" and the other is "wrong"? Maybe God only cares because God experiences life with us and what affects us God allows to affect God's self?
I'm sorry if my questions offend, scare you or cause you to fear for my salvation. I guess the only assurance I will make is that I do not wrestle lightly or without a prayer that God will save my soul someday...prevent me from harming others with my own life thoughts. But if you don't live honestly, if you don't engage your own fears and raw questions, what kind of life is that anyway? Definitely not one I will have. For now, I think God cares about me, I think there is some longevity there. I think God likes love. I think life should be lived on a trajectory towards love...toward life--things and people that bring us to life and are life-enriching. For now, I think it's a lot less about the little things and more about ... love. Sounds so trite and simple. But I think it's quite big.
That's all for now. Cheers
Sometimes at Duke it feels like I am the only one questioning the validity and acceptability of denominations, the purpose of the church, it's current role in America, the institutionalization of the Church, the fact that we are paying our spiritual leaders. My classmates seem to walk around me nodding their heads and funneling toward the same common goal: protect and further the Kingdom, serve the Church and others. I certainly don't wish to patronize what they are doing or imply that any of them do it light heartedly or without thought--they are at Duke for fuck's sake. BUT. Why aren't these questions even being hinted at? Am I in all the wrong classes? Am I behind the learning curve or ahead of it? Have I become a crazy? Well, I suppose anything is possible, but here's the honest truth (please be kind): 2ish years ago Tim and I left the church we were attending (left is putting it kindly). We have not been regular attenders since. And do you know what? I DON'T MISS IT. I do NOT find that that is the only place to find meaningful relationships. I do NOT find that it is the only place to be instructed about the Word and about God. I do NOT accept that it is naturally indicative of my relationship with God or my belief in God. (And why is it at so many churches when they say they've missed you or ask how you've been there is this implied opinion about your attendance? How many people do or do not attend because of this guilt?) The only thing I can't seem to shake is the Eucharist. Somehow and for some reason I cannot explain this moves me. I find affirmation here. And I hope you will be gentle with me as I journey through this. Perhaps I will find my way back to a Church in the future. Perhaps I will come to a deeper understanding and appreciation of its role and importance. But for now, I'm really struggling with it. But perhaps also you might find some solidarity with my raw questions. Please don't hear me challenging your experience or your particular church--these are questions from my own journey. So I guess, take it as you will. (Sorry for the huge disclaimer). So I'm not sure what to do with this as a Christian, as an aspiring theologian and as a teacher.
A wise and compassionate friend rescued me from some of these thoughts today and took me for a walk in Duke gardens (which can I just say is one of my very favorite things about this school. Amazing landscaping, interesting plants, intimate walkways and hidden benches just steps away from me). I opened up, risked all and told her all of my anguish, questionings, feeling crazy. She listened oh so supportively and said, "You know Julie, the professors that were mentors to me and impressed me most did not have it all figured out. They did not have neat little quaint faiths. They were kind of cynical, challenging, and messy. One of the things I've realized as I get older is that my faith used to be a 100 piece jigsaw puzzle. Now maybe it's a 1000 piece puzzle. There are lots of little pieces. It's confusing how it all fits together, it doesn't always make sense and it's messy. But you are engaging it." It just consoled me a bit and also reminded me that I don't do much in life half-heartedly. I wrestle with things. I need to figure them out for myself. WHY does 5 times 5 equal 25? Why am I supposed to love God? Who says that Christians know the best way to live? Who says that God has an opinion on my life sheerly because one way is "right" and the other is "wrong"? Maybe God only cares because God experiences life with us and what affects us God allows to affect God's self?
I'm sorry if my questions offend, scare you or cause you to fear for my salvation. I guess the only assurance I will make is that I do not wrestle lightly or without a prayer that God will save my soul someday...prevent me from harming others with my own life thoughts. But if you don't live honestly, if you don't engage your own fears and raw questions, what kind of life is that anyway? Definitely not one I will have. For now, I think God cares about me, I think there is some longevity there. I think God likes love. I think life should be lived on a trajectory towards love...toward life--things and people that bring us to life and are life-enriching. For now, I think it's a lot less about the little things and more about ... love. Sounds so trite and simple. But I think it's quite big.
That's all for now. Cheers
Monday, January 23, 2012
I'm Addicted
I think I'm addicted to learning. I love trying new foods, cooking new things. I love hearing how someone else thinks. I seeing things from a different perspective. I love the tingle my brain gets when I finally catch on to something brilliant someone is saying. And not to be smooshy, but I love learning new ways to love my husband. I love listening to new music. I could go on. I don't have any brilliant insights or points about that, I guess. I have been loving that about Duke. Being exposed to crazy students, brilliant students, professors who are brilliant but chill and reading a shit ton of things inevitably means you learn something I guess. (I'm listening to my husband play and sing right now...ah, glass of wine, cream cheese stuffed baked chicken, playful dogs...tonight is euphoric).
Not to change the subject too abruptly, but the last few weeks have actually been a little tough for me. In the odd moments I wonder, what the hell am I doing here? Is it worth thousands of dollars for me to be in this class? How are the financial decisions I'm making now going to affect our future plans? What about kids? What about leaving the country? What about ... What if I get my Masters and realize I don't want to teach? Does it matter that I don't always feel "spiritual" or moved by what I'm learning??? Is it bad that sometimes I'm just objectively interested? I'm curious about how people piece together what they believe. What if I don't have enough of the "Jesus relationship" to support a lifelong career in theology? What if at some point I just don't care and don't want to talk about all the heady spiritual things anymore?
I have no idea how it came up, but the other night as we were drifting off to sleep Tim said, "You know, even if you don't do a career with this, just that fact that you have "mastered" something is remarkable." Apparently, it was quite a relief because I burst into tears. Geez louise, I have a fantastic husband. (Seriously, moving across the country, supporting us by working 50+ hours/week, and going a bazillion dollars into debt and he says, it's just impressive that you're doing this. Wow.)
SO I married up for sure, but I guess the point I'm getting at is sometimes I think we just need permission to change our minds, to change period. Maybe I won't be a teaching theologian, maybe I'll teach drama or P.E. or maybe I'll just be a mom. It's just nice not to be pressured. It's nice to be at Duke because I like it and I like what I'm learning and not because I have to do something afterward. I think it released me from pressuring myself into not enjoying being here. Or pressuring myself into being in a profession I don't want to be in. Not saying that I don't want to teach, but what if? You get the idea.
More stream of consciousness? okay. Today in class we talked about the history of sexuality and how much of how we interpret sexuality is really a product of our period of history (i.e. the term "heterosexual" did not exist until the 1900s). Before that sexuality was not a way that people "defined" themselves. I suppose it's way too much to sum up in a paragraph, but it was a way I had never thought about how we identify ourselves. Anywhoo... if you're curious send me an email.
Sometimes I think some of the things we expend so much effort on really won't matter in the long run. I think we're just supposed to love each other.
PS I looked up what the top 10 songs of my birth year were... and I totally kicked 1985's ass (Tim's birth year). I got Cindy Lauper "Time after Time," Madonna "Like a Virgin" WHAM! "Careless Whisper" U2 "In the name of love," Dan Hartman "I can Dream About You" oh yeah. Good year. :)
Not to change the subject too abruptly, but the last few weeks have actually been a little tough for me. In the odd moments I wonder, what the hell am I doing here? Is it worth thousands of dollars for me to be in this class? How are the financial decisions I'm making now going to affect our future plans? What about kids? What about leaving the country? What about ... What if I get my Masters and realize I don't want to teach? Does it matter that I don't always feel "spiritual" or moved by what I'm learning??? Is it bad that sometimes I'm just objectively interested? I'm curious about how people piece together what they believe. What if I don't have enough of the "Jesus relationship" to support a lifelong career in theology? What if at some point I just don't care and don't want to talk about all the heady spiritual things anymore?
I have no idea how it came up, but the other night as we were drifting off to sleep Tim said, "You know, even if you don't do a career with this, just that fact that you have "mastered" something is remarkable." Apparently, it was quite a relief because I burst into tears. Geez louise, I have a fantastic husband. (Seriously, moving across the country, supporting us by working 50+ hours/week, and going a bazillion dollars into debt and he says, it's just impressive that you're doing this. Wow.)
SO I married up for sure, but I guess the point I'm getting at is sometimes I think we just need permission to change our minds, to change period. Maybe I won't be a teaching theologian, maybe I'll teach drama or P.E. or maybe I'll just be a mom. It's just nice not to be pressured. It's nice to be at Duke because I like it and I like what I'm learning and not because I have to do something afterward. I think it released me from pressuring myself into not enjoying being here. Or pressuring myself into being in a profession I don't want to be in. Not saying that I don't want to teach, but what if? You get the idea.
More stream of consciousness? okay. Today in class we talked about the history of sexuality and how much of how we interpret sexuality is really a product of our period of history (i.e. the term "heterosexual" did not exist until the 1900s). Before that sexuality was not a way that people "defined" themselves. I suppose it's way too much to sum up in a paragraph, but it was a way I had never thought about how we identify ourselves. Anywhoo... if you're curious send me an email.
Sometimes I think some of the things we expend so much effort on really won't matter in the long run. I think we're just supposed to love each other.
PS I looked up what the top 10 songs of my birth year were... and I totally kicked 1985's ass (Tim's birth year). I got Cindy Lauper "Time after Time," Madonna "Like a Virgin" WHAM! "Careless Whisper" U2 "In the name of love," Dan Hartman "I can Dream About You" oh yeah. Good year. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)