Where I’ve Been

So, I’ve been pretty out of touch for about a month now. The first part of that I still don’t have words for, and then some of you know the second part and some of you don’t. Here’s the quick version: a little over a week before a large event, I discovered that someone had made an error and the 500+ person banquet and ceremony I was in charge of had no venue. We went into overdrive, switched venues, totally changed how we did everything, and had a fairly successful event. The two weeks before were hell, though.

Right now, I feel like I’m warming up after having been out in the cold for several days. I’m starting to feel again. I’m walking around at work remembering what it feels like to have a normal day, to walk across campus and notice the sky and the trees and not just the ground in front of my feet, to respond to people and questions without furiously calculating how long it’s going to take me to help them and whether I need that time for something else.

I’ve survived, but I haven’t yet fully recovered. I slept a lot over the weekend. I started looking at the things I’d been doing before I set them all aside to take care of the crisis. I cried, and felt some of the frustration and anger of the last couple of weeks. I looked up in the middle of my walk yesterday and suddenly felt like writing again. But I’m so tired. I’m tired inside. I need some books and people and slow mornings and time in prayer and completed journal pages and more tears before I’ll be completely myself again.

It’s a bit weird to feel like I’m warming back up to my own life, like I’ve been living as someone else for a couple of weeks and I have to remember what it feels like to be me. And then there are the places that I’m finding slightly different after these two weeks. I’ve found evidence for some things I’ve always doubted, things like, “Sarah is trustworthy.” Is she? Really? Will she be able to do what needs to be done? Will she be able to respond to people and situations in a reasonable and adult manner? Apparently, she will. Apparently, she doesn’t fall apart at the slightest sign of pressure or stress or resistance, but does what she has to do to make it through. Apparently, she can let go of what she needs to let go of and get on with the rest.

Another confirmation? “God is there.” I can’t quite explain the excruciating waters of doubt I’ve been sloshing about in during these last weeks. I don’t know where they came from and I can’t begin to tell you how one part of me can fervently believe in God and His love while another fervently denies, but it happens. And then, in the midst of all that was going on last week, God said, “Dance with me.” He said, “Do your part here, and I’ll be with you and do my own.” And that’s how we did it. I couldn’t take care of the rain, so I didn’t worry about. I couldn’t do anything about the speakers that didn’t work when people said they would, so I let it go. I’ve never really felt like I was working on something with God before, but I did last Thursday night. That doesn’t solve the doubt issues, but it adds another piece to the puzzle.

I’m sure there’s more here…things like, “double check other people’s work, and let them double check your own,” and, “it doesn’t have to be perfect, even if a few people are upset in the end,” but I’m not there yet. I’m still tired. I still want to cry when I think about how I was feeling, all the stress I was under and what I had to carry and how that doesn’t seem entirely right or fair, and how all of this kept me from enjoying some other things that happened during the last two weeks that I would have loved to be more present for. I guess I’m grieving the fact that this happened and that it happened to me, while trying to move forward on other things. I don’t feel ready, yet, to leave this place. Whatever it was, it’s not finished in me yet, or I’m not finished with it. When I’m finished, well, I guess I’ll be recovered then.

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12 Comments

Filed under My Days

12 responses to “Where I’ve Been

  1. Wow, Sarah. There is so much feeling here. So much that I got tears in my eyes twice while reading all of this. I can’t pretend that I know what it was like to be walking in your shoes in this past month, and particularly in that very difficult two weeks, but I felt at least a glimmer of that through the weight of your words here. It made my heart ache for where you’ve been, how you’ve been, where you find yourself still now.

    Loving you still. You are a beautiful, feeling, being-freed girl.

  2. Where’s the 85% chocolate when you need it?
    It’s a testimony to your character that you allowed God to use this ordeal to work in your life, to confirm that you are trustworthy and that, even more, He will never leave you nor forsake you.

  3. Joelle

    Bless you. For being strong and gentle. For being practical and sensitive. For being realistic and hopeful. For holding the tension of all that makes up this wild, wonderful life. Bless you as you “recover” and ease back into “normality.”

  4. sounds like a complete nightmare. i’m glad you’re emerging on the other side of all that horror. glad to hear your voice again. take care dear, and take your time.

  5. Christianne–Thanks…empathy is your special language, I think…you convey it every time you comment here, anyway.

    Heather–no kidding on the chocolate, and thanks for your observations…I hadn’t thought of it like that.

    Joelle–I feel so much rest in your words…it is a “wild, wonderful life,” isn’t it?

    Terri–total nightmare…confirms, once again, that Sarah Is Not An Administrator. I’m trying to take my time…it’s hard, because I want things back to “normal”…NOW.

  6. tears of familiarity. for different reasons, but your words: tired, doubting, sloshing, tired tired tired inside, frustration, anger … these are the words that swim inside me, too.

    so sorry you had to walk through this (or was it, run, duck, & cover while you’re pelted from every angle??) & for how you’re feeling now. it’s something profound to be in that, to feel like you’re drowning & dying, yet to make it through: you’re different, you’re tired, & you most need to recoup & recover … but you’re here. and you can see good things in the aftermath of all that chaos.

    and that means something, i think.

  7. Kirsten–you’re right…it does mean something…don’t know what yet, but something. It’s so comforting to know there’s something there…not just nothing. Because sometimes it feels like nothing…

  8. Sigh. I feel tired just reading this. You are right where you need to be, it seems, in terms of how you feel. What would it mean if you felt completely unscathed?

  9. Hi Sarah!

    Thanks so much for reading my blog and your encouraging words. Each time someone I do not know takes the time to enjoy my thoughts I feel a step closer to my goal of being a published writer. YAY!!!

    Hope this weekend refreshes you ๐Ÿ™‚

    Smiles
    Kelly Calabrese

    http://www.thekellyproject.com

  10. LL–that’s true, and I hadn’t thought of it that way…if it just didn’t bother me, there’d really be something wrong. I think I still sometimes feel like the “adult” reaction would be to not let it bother me, instead of letting it in, processing it, and letting it go.

    Kelly–thanks for stopping by. Maybe someday we’ll happen upon each other’s books in a store and say, “She commented on my blog once…”

    For the rest of you, read Kelly’s blog. It’s a gem.

  11. Tammy

    Hi Sarah
    Looks like i am dragging my feet girl. I have been sorta blogging on the run these days. I am wrapped up in studying……..i don’t even want to talk about it.

    Looks like you are a strong woman. You endured, you pressed on, you triumphed.

    There is a statement that you made here that sticks in my mind, it keeps echoing in my head. You said, “I couldn’t stop the rain, so i didn’t worry about it.” I don’t think i will ever forget that statement, not for the same reason you intended it. I turned that inward.

    I will meditate on that a while until what i feel about that statement makes sense to me………i am probably babbling, so no worries. Glad your life is getting back to normal.

  12. Hey, Tammy–I’ve read about your studying other places. Yikes, girl! That’s rough.

    I’m glad to give you something else to think about ๐Ÿ˜‰ Love you.

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