The Way to Now

There’s something I experienced first hand this winter that I did not realize was so scary and uncontrollable.

Depression.

I wouldn’t even want to talk about it, because now I can pretend it never happened, but I realize how un-talked about it is.  Probably more women in their 30s experience depression as a result of infertility than from any other cause.  This is only what my intuition tells me, but I have a feeling it’s true.  I have been dealing with what infertility does to a woman’s body, psyche, spirit, and lifestyle for over a year and a half.  I know that does not even touch on how long many women have dealt with it, but eighteen months can seem like an eternity when you want to start a family.

So, what’s the disappearing act?

Well, I don’t know where the depression goes, but it’s not a present reality in my daily life anymore.  I am not under any illusion that it will never return, but I think there are steps I took to create some places of sanctuary in my life.  First, I recognized last fall that something was not right.  I felt hopeless, I had no interest in my work, I did not want to see my friends.  To anyone who knows me, that does not sound like me.  I only sought out a therapist because I knew I should seek out a therapist.  But, talking it out really does help.  The steps I needed to take included finding a doctor who specialized in reproductive medicine (the closest one is four hours away), finding a local acupuncturist, and finding a way to take some time for me.

In the beginning years of my career, all I wanted to do was nurture it and grow it, and build something that meaningful.  Throughout high school and college, I guess you could say I was an overachiever.  I always had a goal of blowing away the expectations.  I don’t even know where that comes from – I haven’t gotten that far in therapy!  I was president of Future Community Leaders of America by the time I started my sophomore year of high school.  I was president of my youth group my senior year.  In college too, I was hired to lead the group that designed activities for the students living in the dorms.  I was editor of the English department’s undergraduate literary journal.  So, for my body to tell me that I couldn’t achieve motherhood at exactly the time I planned for it to happen was unacceptable.

There’s a show on TV right now called Life Unexpected and it takes a really honest look at life for several adults in their early 30s.  Two of the characters find out the kid they had in high school is now 16 and seeking emancipation.  Since they had given her up for adoption, they never expected to see her again.  In fact, after the mom found out she was pregnant, she never told the father.  He was the quarterback of the football team and never thought in a million years he fathered a child.  The 16-year-old kid, Lux, shows up seeking emancipation from the foster care system and they discover a life they never expected.  All the mom’s issues from her own father abandoning her, to her current distance from the rest of her family play out now in meeting her daughter.  Lux’s dad, the quarterback, can’t seem to get his life together – his father has never been emotionally unavailable to him, and he has a hard time making himself available to others … until Lux.  His daughter changes him.  They all have to confront their issues and it never comes out in a neat package tied with a bow, but they allow themselves to open up to each other.

We are all living unexpected lives in some way or another.  Think about your life for a moment … did you expect everything that has happened?  And, even the disappointing realities have taught you something, right?  Well, that’s where I’ve come … to a place of trusting the unfolding of my life, unexpected.  When I felt really hopeless and forgot that God had a future set out for me, I needed other people to remind me of the huge track record God has had in my life of giving me everything I’ve wanted.  Was now really the time to lose hope?  Since I wasn’t sharing any of this with most of the people I know, the circle of people to give me hope was pretty small.  But, for me, a few voices pulled me to a new place, a place of healing.  A couple of the voices were authors I read at that time.  Then there was my therapist, whom I only needed to see five or six times, and then a couple of minister friends, and of course, my family.  I chose not to be on any kind of medication for depression, and within a matter of three or four months, I began to feel better, more like myself.

With my medical doctors being four hours away, I set up some time away from work as well.  It was time to follow the protocol they set up for me, but even better, time to spend with my family on the Front Range.  I really needed some weeks of unscheduled, uninterrupted time to do what my spirit asked of me.  I truly rested.  I cooked with love and ate with family.  I just stopped putting so many expectations on my body.  At the end of my time off, after I followed the doctor’s plan, did everything work out perfectly?  No.  I am still waiting for my time of impending motherhood.  Maybe even better than being able to put my infertility behind me so quickly, I succeeded in listening to myself and renewing a right spirit within me.  I have not felt that awful, lifeless feeling of depression in a long time.  That was the real gift of giving myself some time.  Even more so, sharing with others the challenges and new understandings I’ve learned spread far beyond just what I’m going through.  It’s a matter of living and experiencing life.  We either choose to do it all by ourselves, or we share it, because that’s one of God’s gifts to us – community.  It is easier to carry something that 200 people are holding up, than to carry it all by yourself.

Here’s what I learned in the last two months: to the average young person the church does not seem relevant AND all people are searching for community.  And, I’m pretty sure many of the people I know would like to find a church that fits their needs, that voices relevant issues, that allows God’s Spirit to burst through everyday occurrences.  As a minister, it is not often that I’m not in church on a Sunday morning, but this winter I had a full eight Sundays off in a row for a time of spiritual renewal and writing.  Not only did I live a “normal” person’s weekend life, but I also observed a lot of what my friends experience without a church community.  At first, it felt odd, but I have to admit, I adjusted just fine to having two weekend days to sleep in and do whatever I wanted.  I realized that I could probably live my whole life without stepping foot in a church and not really realize anything was different in my life than anyone else’s.  But, I also was able to contrast this time outside the church with what I have known since childhood, which is the church as a personal community of friends and mentors.  One of the highlights of a church community is that you can develop relationships with people who are generations older (or younger) than you and you learn infinitely more than you would if you choose only to be around peers.  From one set of our older friends, my husband and I have learned to value the concept of contrast.  I observed, for two months, the contrast in my life with and without the church.  The conclusions I am drawing, now that I have been back in the pulpit for three weeks, are that my life became pretty insular without this broader community, and that I did not have that outside source that is bigger than me pulling me into new areas of my spirit.

Do I miss the sleeping in?  Yes, but I think I found the solution to that.  You have to be willing to forgo the late Saturday nights, (but who in our 30s isn’t willing?!) and put yourself to bed at a reasonable hour, and morning’s not so bad.  In fact, overall, I have been shutting it down around 10 or 10:30 and getting into bed and finding that morning is a much more enjoyable experience!

The other point I talked about with everyone I spent time with over my time off talked about how the church is broken, can be hypocritical, and has too many issues.  Come on, now – doesn’t that sound like each one of us?!  The church is really a reflection of us.  It is the place where people go to work out their issues – sometimes people are unhealthy in the way they do it and sometimes the church suffers for that.  But, ultimately, get a group of people together to share in their faith and you will undoubtedly get a huge dose of inspiration and Spirit.  You know, I thought I would be writing more about how church might be irrelevant.  But, I see now that the church is vital and it is time to get more young clergy into churches where young people live.  It is also time for the church to claim more boldly that it is a progressive place for people to come with their questions, with their doubts, and find community with others like them.

Now, the second part for me is this: how do I make my career manageable and meaningful without giving up my Sabbath time?  This might be a question that accompanies me throughout my career.  Since I have been back at work, I definitely feel a new sense of balance and delight in my work.  I guess this is why people should periodically take time off.  There are some things that have fallen off, like my writing.  I desperately wish I would keep writing with the same depth and intensity as I was this winter.  But, the reality is, I expend that energy at work and in my sermons now.  Here’s hoping I can figure out a balance there.  Back on the Sabbath search, I have been practicing using the whole afternoon and evening on Sundays just to relax and do exactly what pleases me.  That’s what Sabbath is, you know.  It’s a day of rest and delight in the Lord.  It’s a day to recharge and be still and separate yourself from the cares of your busy life.  Try it!  Don’t pay bills or prepare for work or work on the house (unless you love it) or run errands.  Instead, read a book, watch a movie, take a walk, have dinner with those you love (casually and without great effort), and catch up on sleep if you need it.  I am amazed at what even eight hours of Sabbath time does for me.  Don’t feel guilty about it – God actually commanded it.  You will rest on the seventh day.

A note on my continued quest for health and healing of my body … I downloaded a book on PCOS and natural ways to cure it (specifically how you eat).  I had a procedure last month that included an IUI, but it was unsuccessful.  It just goes to show that even when the circumstances are perfect, sometimes it doesn’t work.  However, I finished my treatment with the acupuncturist, Bing Lee, who was working on restoring my hypothalamus.  He feels like after the month of taking the supplement and continuing with my regular acupuncture, that everything is restored in my brain – hallelujah!  I am always skeptically on the fence about whether that is too good to be true or whether my hypothalamus is truly restored and ready to start kicking out hormones.  Time will tell, I guess.  I do feel better and more balanced.  I actually get tired at night now (it produces the sleep hormone, serotonin), so that’s a positive sign for me.  I will continue pursuing natural and western medicine on my journey toward restored fertility and family.

For now, though, I am resting in God.

Surrender is not a word we often like to hear, much less think about doing.  It sounds weak.  It sounds like we just can’t hack it and so we resort to surrender.  Today is Ash Wednesday, and for me, Ash Wednesday symbolizes our fragility and also our strength in letting what will be, be.  Ash Wednesday signals the start of Lent, the Christian season of repentance and preparation for Easter.  Why do we need to prepare for Easter?  It is because throughout the year we forget about the our vulnerability and our need for a Savior.  Throughout the year, we begin feeling like we are doing it all on our own.  We are controlling our destinies and our futures.  But, when the unexpected happens, it can throw us into a bit of a tizzy.  By tizzy, I mean drinking the whole bottle of wine or being so frustrated with our partner that it makes a tiny problem feel insurmountable, as if our life is about to be ruined forever … over a messy kitchen!  When we feel like we have control, we start acting control-ish.  We become control hungry.  Control is the thing that keeps everything normal and manageable.  So, at whatever point your annual crisis comes, you feel the weight of the whole world descending upon you and you cannot be consoled.  The worst thing someone can tell you is to not try to control it.  First of all, they are not supposed to point out your control-freak tendency, and secondly, it makes you realize you are probably self-imposing your crisis.  What it comes down to is trying to play God.  So, every year when Lent rolls around, I remind myself that I have very little control over the world and what happens outside of my small circle of friends.  Who am I kidding, I don’t even have control over that.  On Ash Wednesday I sing the songs of surrender, I get imposed with ashes on my forehead,  I remember that from dust I was created and to dust I shall return.  I feel myself breathe in and and I notice a distinct need to breathe out, to exhale.

The Ash Wednesday service is one that rebalances the soul.  It feels almost unnatural to take myself down a notch, to remove myself from the overwhelming echo in society that says you have to follow a prescribed set of steps in order to be successful.  Intentionally coming out of that path allows me to examine a little more objectively what path I actually want to continue on.  While marketers really only have one message, work harder so you can have more, we actually have many other options from that.  During this time, maybe more because of my personal circumstances than the Lenten season in particular, I feel like I’m changing course.  I’m choosing a new path.  It feels different because it is not in a controlling way of wanting a certain outcome, but more of an open exploration of being in balance.  I think Lent for me this year is marking the first steps on a new path that has no mandatory goals, no set ladder of success.  It feels like the beginning of an adventurous trip to a new place I’ve never been.  I had the same excited feeling before I flew to Kenya.  It’s a whole new world, and I knew it would change my life forever.

My journey over the last year or two has been one of coming to this place of surrender.  Surrender to what is.  Surrender to non-control.  Surrender to God.

The unexamined life is not worth living.

Who said that?  I can’t remember but it came to me in a big way after the thoughts I had last week about choices and when to take advantage of different opportunities in life.  At times I feel over-analytical and stress inducing (to myself) and I think, why am I thinking about all of this stuff so much? But then, this quote popped into my head and I see that it is all part of examining one’s life.  I think the worst possible thing might be to slave away at the daily grind and come to the end of your life thinking, I wonder what Paris looks like and I wish I had spent more time with my kids and less time stressing about work.

I recently got to know my husband’s aunt and uncle better.  They are hippies.  They live in a house now, but only in the last eight years.  They spent most of their working years flitting between New Mexico and Alaska.  She’s a teacher turned administrator.  He’s a plumber, carpenter, pot farmer, wanderer.  It is really a kick to know these people now – grey hair, knee replacements, living off the government (social security) but bitching all the way!  They have a wonderful attitude about life.  They go where the wind takes them.  They lived for several years on fifteen acres in New Mexico, in a trailer, with a huge vegetable garden out back, a water well (with the best water in the state, they say), views on all sides, and not a person in sight.  He bathed in a bucket by the fire.  There is something really enticing about that life.  It is simple.  It is not bothered by the world.  Part of my conflict is that I really like the world, and yet, I feel suffocated by it at times.  There can be too much world.  As soon as we pulled back into our driveway, my husband said, our houses are too close together.

Yes, I think maybe our houses are too close together.

What does that mean for our lives that are dependant on the places we work, the stores we shop at, the services we expect (mail, trash, roads)?  When we were out snowshoeing on the aunt and uncle’s land, after an hour, I felt the pull back toward town.  It was time for lunch, I wanted to see people, I needed creature comforts (like a real bathroom).  But, when I get too bogged down in traffic and close quarters, I just want some space and I’d give anything to sit around a fire with all the stars in the world, peeing against a tree.  So what is it?  Is it a perpetual leaning toward being unsatisfied?  Is it a restlessness about feeling caught in this work-world we have created?  Besides all this, I think it comes down to something some friends said to us a few months ago.  There is a real gift in having friends of all ages.  This is a couple that retired early, no kids, and makes the huge decisions we all wish we could make.  They lived in a mountain town for a few years.  When they got bored, they moved back to the city.  They seek out meditation with a Buddhist monk even though they are Christian.  They read several papers and take art classes, but yet, live on a golf course.  You see, what they’ve figured out is the magic of contrast in their lives.

Contrast.

Contrast is what allows camping to seem like a great adventure after the weekly commute between work and home.  Contrast is what makes grand-parenting so great – these are your beloved babies, and yet, you are not with them through every weepy and sleepless night.  It is the glory of a huge mountain around the bend of some foothills and forest.  It is the excitement around engagement and marriage when before you were just an individual living a life for yourself.  It is the same with having a family.  The pursuit to have a family is biological, sure, but it is also the contrast to living selfishly and without knowing if your family with grow and carry on after you die.  The contrast in life is what gives each color its brilliance.  I believe that is why young people seek out adventure.  Travel brings the vibrancy to life at home.  It is time apart from that which has become routine.  If traveling is your life’s work, you may not find it as appealing.  For me, Kenya is a magical place, a place where all my senses come alive and I see things more vividly.  Most people ask why I would want to go to a developing country on my vacation time and spend the same amount of money I would if I went on a cruise.  It is because of the contrast with my own life.  I find the people to be wonderfully different, British accent and all, as they pedal around on bicycles barefoot but always wearing a suit coat and stopping for tea.

The real question is then, for all of us who have just established our careers and hadn’t thought about what’s on the other side: how do we create a life of contrasting opportunities?

I can see for myself that I am in grayscale with my job right now.  Because I desire to have a baby, I no longer desire to put all my energy into my job.  For the last eight or nine years, I have thought only of the ambition to establish my career and shine as the all-star minister.  What I realize now is that it is not a realistic pace for the long-term.  However, maybe short-term bursts are fine if you decide to pursue a life of contrast.  In listening to my hippie aunt and uncle, I heard them say they bounced around from job to job and tried out all sorts of living situations.  They were not afraid of change and were definitely not afraid of what the future held.  That is probably one of the keys to living a life of contrast: no fear.  Believing is a powerful thing and one that I wholeheartedly put my faith into.  We create our lives around that which we believe in.  Perhaps that’s the next question, what do I believe in (my values, desires, faith principles, and dreams) and how is my life taking me there?

When I think about what it means to start a family, it means a lot less energy into a job outside my home and a lot more energy inside my home.  That feels like contrast – that sounds like heaven.

It’s the New Year.  New thoughts.  New attitude.  Same emotional nightmare.  I literally heard myself saying this to my husband on the phone the other day.  He was saying, in a round about way, “I thought we’d be having more sex while we’re trying to make a baby.”  And, my response was, “I’m in an emotional nightmare.”  I think I meant, nothing is how I thought it would be.  I never thought it would take this much time or require so many trips to so many different people who poke and prod at you with various types of invasive machines.  I never thought so many of my friends would get pregnant, then have their babies, then have 1^st birthday parties for their babies.  During each day, I can take it in stride.  But when I add it all up, it is like living in an emotional nightmare.  I couldn’t tell you from one minute to the next what I am going to feel like or what’s going to set me off crying.  It’s embarrassing.  I guess the real surprise of it all is that not even my optimistic and out-going attitude have been able to get me through these months unscathed.  I feel scathed.  ewww, I don’t like even thinking about it.  I just wish everything was happening according to plan, and I was happily buying maternity clothes and thinking about how to design the perfect gender-neutral, but still stylish, nursery.  I am doing those things, but without the bulging tummy to necessitate them.

This fall I’d say was the hardest.  From September, when I turned 31, and had the realization that I was not celebrating another birthday, but was, in fact, mourning that a whole year had passed of trying to get pregnant.  Everyone around me, including my husband, was oblivious to the emotional implications of this fact.  I experienced them on a level that I didn’t even know I felt.  Suddenly my bright outlook and my optimistic attitude went down the drain.  I wanted to crawl into bed and emerge in the spring with a big swollen belly.  Not only did I have to deal with this crazy new emotional reality, I still had to work.  My work is not just any work – it’s a performance, but not as a character, as myself.  So, I have to be my best and brightest self in order for everyone to assume everything is all right with me.  The last thing I wanted was to be explaining this ridiculous hellhole to my congregation on Sunday morning.

The part of my job I love most is that I get to work with young adults, with people my own age!  But, at this point in my unraveling, it was almost the last thing I wanted to do.  Many of these people are my good friends, but it got really hard to be around girl-who-accidentally-got-pregnant-twice-and-then-had-a-longed-for-son-like-clockwork.  Her husband got a vasectomy, by the way, before he turned 30.  Then there’s my friend who doesn’t work and decided to start trying at 31, a couple months before getting married, and got pregnant immediately.  Not only is she married to an olive-skinned, dark-haired guy, but the baby somehow looks exactly like her (strawberry-blonde with blue eyes)!  And my favorite, our young youth director who got married in August, and in September, went in for strep throat, and came out with a positive pregnancy test!  Who are these people?

Here’s the real kicker for me: anything I’ve wanted in my life, I’ve attained.  Not this, though.  This is either God’s ultimate lesson in patience for me, or I forgot how to get what I want.  Actually, what I think it is, is that I forgot how long some of those things took for me to get them.  I wanted to go to Ireland with three of my friends – we started planning when we were 15 – and they have all gone (separately) but I still haven’t made it there yet … so that’s 16 years and counting.  But, then there was college — I wanted to finish so that I could get a Masters of Divinity and be a minister.  I did finish my undergrad, although it took an extra semester … so there’s 4.5 years.  I began my Master’s the next fall (9 month wait), and finished 3 years later.  I needed to wait an extra year before I was commissioned as a minister.  And then, I had to work for 3 years before being officially ordained as a minister.   And that’s just getting my career on track.  I also knew I wanted to get married.  I wanted to get married at age 22.  It was a couple years after my first serious boyfriend was ready to talk marriage.  I jumped ship on that one at 19, after 6 months of dating, and freaking out about what an actual marriage meant.  Then, when I was thinking about it, at 22, there was no one in sight!  I wasn’t really serious about it then, but I knew it was something I wanted.  As grad school rolled on, I realized I was getting closer and closer to BEING a minister, and who would want to marry a minister?!  I remember my favorite, “What do you do?” answer being, “I’m a nanny.”  Oh brother, was that ever going to change!

A full year after I had been sent to Grand Junction, a small-ish town, 4 hours from everything I knew, I settled on being single for the rest of my time here.  Who was I going to find in this small town?  Wouldn’t you know it – I found someone I had known as a teenager!  Yep, I had my “husband” list and he matched every criteria on it.  We dated for a year, were engaged for four months, and then got married, in a perfect ceremony, in my tiny town of Grand Junction.  I do feel a bit sheepish, after looking back over my life, thus far, and realizing, I have gotten everything I have wanted.  So, the real question here is, “where is my faith?!”