Sitting down.

I’m falling apart here, folks. This grant is starting to feel like an analogy for my life. I saw the announcement, shook my head at it – too hard, not likely to get funded, not sure what I’d say. Then I decided to try to write it – just put some words on paper to see what happened. Nothing really serious – not scary at all. But then I started telling people about it – needed to ask for letters of recommendation and found that there were way more than three people who were eager to write them. And that’s flattering – a much needed boost to my fragile little ego – so I started to think I might be able to pull off a decent application.

But now I’m in the middle – at some point, I started moving really quickly into this, letting myself care a great deal, feeling strong and capable. But now, after 4 hours sleep and realizing I’m not writing fast enough – this draft needs to go out now and I’m not ready, can’t make it work. I’m going to disappoint those people who wanted to write letters because, well, I’m not good enough after all. I don’t know if I can do this.

Then there’s other stuff. I go all or nothing, so when I’m feeling strong, I start moving everything around. So my living room looks all different than it did a couple weeks ago, and while I liked it at first, now it feels strange. And I’m hurting people I love – my family, someone I think I could love really completely, a new friend with whom I’m not taking enough care. There are others, but why make myself feel worse?

It’s times like this that I’m so grateful I have faith. That I can take advantage of my ducked head while I sob, and fold my hands while they’re pressed to my chest and pray. Ask for help, for peace, for some idea – absolutely any idea – of where to go from here. I allow myself to be defined by how others see me, and if you want advice, don’t do that. It’s really hard. And when I start pushing around these important pieces of my life – how I look at family and friends and work and goals and love and happiness – there’s not a lot left to cling to when I look around and wonder how exactly I got to this spot.

Tears have been brushed away, and my skin feels tight – you know how it gets when you’ve cried too hard and the moisture dries on your cheeks? And I’m emotional and scared and overwhelmed – needing to soothe those around me so desperately – to make things normal and right and easy – but not seeing out of this exhausted misery very well.

I went to church in undergrad, and once we prayed for others – were told to ignore our own concerns completely and ask God to watch over other people – those around us. So we all stood and bowed our heads. Cal asked that those who felt especially weak – in need of prayer and help and comfort – sit down so we’d know where to direct our strongest thoughts. Who would sit? I thought. That’s embarrassing – to admit you’re not strong enough to ask God for what you need on your own.

But the woman next to me sat. I was uncomfortable - wanted to tug her up and whisper “You’re fine, it’s OK, just stand here.” Then she ducked her head and I saw that she was flustered, considering standing up herself. So I put my hand on her shoulder and bowed my head and prayed what is among the sincerest prayers I’ve ever given. I didn’t know what was wrong – whether she’d lost someone vital to her or not been able to find a good parking spot. Whatever it was, she needed help, and there was this inability to cope, and I was so moved. Suddenly found myself thinking she was so brave for sitting down, asking for just a few minutes of attention to regroup and heal.

I opened my eyes to see her covered with hands – mine on her shoulder, her husband curled over to rest his cheek on the hand he’s placed at the top of her head, Mom reaching across me to hold her hand, people bent awkwardly over their chairs from in front to reach her knees, those from behind finding places on her back.

God. It was powerful – so exquisitely profound.

I needed to sit down here, I think. Not ask for anything outright, just to take a moment and admit that I can’t handle this right now. So I prayed and it helped – eased the tears and brought some peace. But what should I do? I asked desperately, and returned my gaze to the laptop sitting open in front of me. I had been reading some email and looking at the 5 documents I have open to write my grant, and that triggered the initial break into tears for me.

But I opened a new document and wrote this. And it helped – knowing that even without comments, some of you might cock your head at me and find a spot on my shoulder to touch just for second. Acknowledging that, like that woman who was so radiant and beautiful when she walked out of church that day - I couldn't look away from her - I have something inside me that allows me to sit when I need to do so.