Tap Out

When the world around us never stops, it can be so easy to get swept up in all the stuff that doesn't matter. We are always moving and doing, not stopping until we have to do so. Our business becomes an excuse to push aside the small things and not have time to do things that may be hard or new. I am learning many lessons this week and one of them is that rest is not a want, but a need. 

In my unit, we utilize something we refer to as a tap out. When I have been dealing with seven tantrums and three girls crying for no reason, it is easy to lose perspective and not have the patience the one who is asking me a question deserves. That is when one of my team members will come up and simply tap me out. It also works really well when one of the girls ties emotion to you during a tantrum. When someone else comes up to take over, the kid is given the out they need and you are given a break. It is an amazing concept. Whoever needs a break gets one and the kids understand that they have many people who love them and want to help. Tap outs keep us sane. 

They also function to strengthen the team. If I can't handle something, I know that Emily and Jessica are right behind me, watching what I am trying and ready to jump in if I need them. It is so helpful to know that anytime I am dealing with a kid, Emily or Jessica are right beside me. If I jump, they jump, no question. When I first arrived at the unit last summer, the kids would try to set staff against staff. The new kids still try, but it doesn't take them long to realize that we are a united front. I have never taken a step that wasn't watched and supported. I realize how lucky I am to be able to say that. My team has my back, ready to step in whenever I need them, even when I don't realize I need them. 

We are short staffed right now, which means that there are three people trying to cover as many shifts as four people (optimally five) would usually cover. Because of that, I was stressing. I am still fighting my infection with my 1/2 frozen face, but I was trying to put on my brave face and be there for my team. Saturday, Jessica told me to take off a few hours early so that I would be rested enough to work the next day. I agreed and went home to be taken care of by my sweet mom. I should have known my team would see through my brave face. Well, my 1/2 brave face... 

As I am relaxing and gearing up for the next day, my phone starts going off. Jessica and Emily have somehow worked it out that instead of 1 1/2 days off, now I had 4 if I would take them. They were tapping me out because I needed rest. I felt so selfish. How could I take the days when we were short staffed? That meant they would be giving up most of their time off. They were telling me to take time that we didn't have to give. I texted my supervisor (who is also amazing by the way) and he said they worked it out between the three of them. He would cover them, and they would cover me. Everybody was willing to step in because my body needed time to recover and rest. 

As I contemplated taking the time, I was reminded of our old dog Rusty. Rusty was our dog when I was growing up. We used to take him camping with us and when we would swim in the lake, Rusty would swim in a circle around us, keeping us safe. My dad used to watch Rusty, and when he would get tired, my dad would hold him up so Rusty could take a break. Rusty would always keep paddling though, even when he was being held. He couldn't take a break because he wanted to be sure we were all safe. It exhausted him. He would have to lay down after we were out of the water and take a rest because he was too tired from trying to swim the whole time. I realized I could be Rusty, and go beyond my means exhausting myself, or I could rest in the arms that were being offered. I took the time. I can feel the difference. After two days off, my face feels less tight, my cough is less frequent and I can hear out of both of my ears. 

And the unit marches on. Emily and Jessica are doing fine without me. Our supervisor Mark is pulling extra weight and stepping in. The girls routine hasn't been interrupted and no meteors have struck the unit. I tapped out and life continued. It can be so easy to tell ourselves we can't afford to take time off or rest. We have valid reasons that sound so good and noble for why we have to be the ones who do the 897 small tasks we have for the day. But sometimes, we need to tap out. We need to take a break, and I mean a real one, not binge watching shows on netflix or filling all our time with social calls. We need to sit with ourselves and check in, making sure we know who and where we are in the moment. We need to sit in the quiet with God and listen to his voice. We need to recharge. Sometimes that looks like having a coffee date with yourself for 20 minutes, sometimes it looks like taking four days to get back on your feet after three+ weeks of being sick. Whatever it looks like for you, take the tap out. Rest. Take a Sabbath. Take time for yourself before your body forces you to or you lose perspective on the small things. Delegate what can be delegated, step in to tap someone else out, and take the tap outs that are offered to you. You matter so take care of yourself! I am praying that all of you find rest this week. We all need some! 

Inside Work

It has been a WEEK! When I first arrived at this unit last summer I was scared out of my mind. These kids were going to see straight through me and I was going to be of no help at all. What did I, the girl who couldn't even handle the crazy combination of emotions and college know that could possibly help these kids? But Jesus said go and I listened and here I am one year later! I have been trained to do things I never even knew you could do, met some amazing co-workers who share the load with me and found out that the "scary" kids and really just kids. They told me to give it a year before making any judgements and I have. My judgement is...it has been a crazy year!
My unit houses eight girls, and there was one girl who I was warned about when I was beginning training. She had been here for a year already and no one could see her moving out. She was not willing to work on her behaviors, and, in her words, "Change is too hard." I spent countless hours trying to brainstorm up ways to impact her. I prayed and prayed and the only thing I felt was God calling me to live along side her. So I did. We all did. I have no idea what clicked but eventually, she began to try, to work, and to change. We lived along side her, through the rough and the easy, the beautiful and the shameful, until she finally could see a way out. Now I can say with a massive smile on my face that the girl who no one thought could ever make it did the amazingly hard work it took to get her out of my unit and into a less intense cabin. She did it. As she left she said "Thanks for pushing me miss. It was time for me to go." And it was! She did so much hard work, put forth so much effort, and finally got the reward. She achieved her goal!
Sometimes we have no idea what it is that helps, or when seed will begin to produce growth. We just have to keep trying and waiting for the change to come. This is not an easy lesson to learn, or a fun one. For me, I have had a respiratory infection for weeks now, which last week decided to evolve into Bells Palsy. So as I walk around with clogged ears, itchy throat and half way frozen face, my girls are being very patient with me. At this point I have taken an anti viral antibiotic, an anti bacterial antibiotic and a steroid to deal with this craziness. Now I wait for my body to do the inside work it needs to do to get better. I have taken the meds, now I have to take the time. I tell my girls all the time, you do the work, take the steps you can, and the rest will come. Now it is my turn. It is so much easier to be the teacher than it is to be the student! But if they can do it, so can I!
They do the hard work every single day of getting up and trying. They are constantly doing the "inside work" that no one can really see at first, but eventually gives them hope and coping skills. If I had a magic wand I would wave it and magically make the "inside work" easier. The stuff no one sees, but no one can do without. My body wouldn't be infected with germs and they wouldn't be infected with shame from their pasts. But it doesn't work that way. Life would be easier, yes, but nowhere near as beautiful. We need the time to acclimate to the change. We need the failure to appreciate the hard work it takes to succeed. We need the rest to realize how hard we have been working. We need the inside work. So this week, pray for my girls as they do the hard work no one sees yet, but will make a huge difference later on. And selfishly, I ask you to pray for me too. This infection palsy thing isn't very fun.

My Big Secret

Dear Friends,
I am writing this post in a different form because it is far more personal than other posts I have done so far. This is my letter to each of you and if you need to ask me questions after reading this post, please feel free to do so. My posting this is not an admittance of weakness or shame, but coming forward to say this where I am, where I was, and expressing my willingness to jump in wherever you are in your life at the moment.
 I had a happy childhood, I have an amazing family, I was never inappropriately touched or abused. I have met some amazing people who jumped in this crazy thing we call life with me and have been willing to walk with me in storms. The worst thing to happen to me so far, is that I was unable to fill an expectation I placed on myself because I never stopped to think God might have something different for me. I have been, in short, extremely blessed. My big secret however, is that for a period of time, I completely and utterly despised myself. Not in an "I could lose five pounds or change my hairstyle" kind of way, but I could not even look in mirrors because the person who looked back at me made me want to throw up. I could find no worth or meaning in her.
I didn't know her, didn't want to know her, and hated that this was the form I had to use in order to meet the world. If I hated her this much, surely everyone else did too. Everyone who smiled at me, or was nice, I carried the weight of their unwanted pity. There was no way that anyone actually liked me. Being alone was dangerous, being around other people was dangerous and I found myself in a pit. The only reason I didn't just end it all was because I did the math and realized my parents had taken out loans to pay for my college and I didn't want them to be stuck with more debt from a funeral.
During this time I led a bible study, helped other people with their lives, smiled and laughed and fooled the world. No one knew anything was wrong me with me. When I finally hit my lowest point one night I decided I wasn't worth it anymore. I wasn't going to ever be anything but a burden and I was tired, so tired of fighting. I looked normal, people thought I was fine, but standing upright and breathing was a battle everyday. You never really know what is going on in someone's head and just because they seem "normal" or "strong" or "okay" doesn't mean they actually are. Some people are just brilliant mimics who can make you believe they are fine when that is the furthest thing from the truth.
In my tired darkness however, something amazing happened. I got PISSED. I was FURIOUS. I had one of my yelling at the sky moments when I screamed all my pain and frustration to God. Other people got "normal" and "happy". I asked God how me being in this pit brought him any glory. If my entire existence was brought about to edify him, how was loathing myself glorifying? I realized that my pit was not a place of glory. It was a place of darkness and I am a child of light.  I clung to John 10:28-30 which says that no one  can take me from my Father's hand. No one, not even me, or the girl in the mirror that disgusted me. No matter how dark I thought it was, God was with me.
But as comforting as that was, I needed a human person to walk through this with me. I had begun to recognize the lies I believed were truth, but I could not do it alone. My parents listened to me say scary words without flinching. My sister and brother in law gave me a safe place in a storm. My soul sister Elizabeth helped me connect lines and be vulnerable. These people stood with me. These people gave me the courage to talk to doctors, see a therapist and a place to break and have it be okay.
I worked with a therapist for two years and came to the point that I found myself again. I liked me. My darkness receded and I could breathe. It will always be a struggle. There are days that are tinged with darkness. Those days are the days I call on reinforcements because when I am my own enemy, I need other people on my team. That isn't weakness, it is strength. Asking for help is hard. Admitting you can't, is humbling, but necessary.
One thing I realized amidst my struggle is that "normal" and "happy" are subjective. We are supposed to call on Christ for all we need. He is all sufficient, but there are times when his sufficiency is provided through the community to which he calls us. Christ will provide, but sometimes he provides through others. We all want to be strong and have it all together, but we are all weak and fall apart. We are humans on the path to sanctification, but on the path we are all broken. We live in a broken world. God is here, but we are by no means there. We are all going through something that has the potential to be the thing that tips the scales, from manageable to overwhelmed. Community isn't a want, but a need.
 We HAVE to start being vulnerable with each other. We sin, we struggle, we doubt, we fall, we question, we break, we are paralyzed with fear, we are burdened with impossible weight, we feel, we need. It is not that we are not strong in our faith or doubt God, or just need to be better Christians. Everyone, from the person who looks like their life is perfect, your pastor, your rock in the storm, your enemy even, needs someone to stand unshakably in their storm. You have to be willing to let someone look in the dark corners of your pain and you have to be willing to look at someone else's.  I would much rather walk a hard road with someone, than to wonder why and miss them when they are gone.
We are called to bring light to dark places, and depression is nothing if not a dark place. Christ, who is our model, feared the cross and asked for another way. He went alone to the father, but he took his disciples to the garden. There are parts of my struggle that only God and I know, but I let others in my garden. Let someone in your garden. Our burden is not the cross, or the sin of the world, but it is significant. If it matters to you, it matters. You matter. Asking for help is not weakness. If we are called to be the hands and feet of Christ, and called to community, in not asking for help, you are depriving your brothers and sisters of the chance to be what God has equipped them to be. You are strong, but everyone needs help sometimes. Everyone.
Dear friends, I am imperfect, I am inexperienced, I am no different than any of you. My words don't have special power, I am not stronger or better in any way. You have no reason to listen to a 26 year old girl talk about how she used to be depressed. But, please, be honest and vulnerable with someone who can go to God with you on hard days. Please be open to being that person for someone else. We cannot do this alone. Be strong enough to let someone in. You are worth it. You matter.