physical and spiritual burn out

What’s been going on with me? A glimpse into the continuing pilgrimage of a trauma survivor – the physically difficult stage.

About a year ago, my sister began telling me that I needed to rest. It felt so frustrating. Of course I needed to rest. I didn’t have time. I had many responsibilities and obligations. I needed to work. I needed to care for my family. Honestly, it felt like one more weighty item sitting precariously on the top of my to-do list. Drink more water. Exercise daily. Do your taxes. Keep a spotless home. Get up early. Cook from scratch. Eat sustainably. All good things. All yelling at me to have more than 24 hours in a day.

But, as usual, my sister was right. Her words foretold what was coming. Within a few months I would find myself in full-blown burn-out. It started as a kind of exhaustion I had only ever felt in small amounts before. And let me tell you, as a mom of three, a business owner, and a recovering people pleaser, I have lived tired for a long time. This was different. I couldn’t function. Laying in bed felt like it took more energy than I had. I struggled through work each day, came directly home after, and laid in bed, napping on and off, until bedtime when I went to sleep for the night. The next day was the same. And the next. Then I got shingles.

Over the last year I have rested and napped and said “no” to many, many things. I have neglected to do lists and friendships and my world has become smaller than it has ever been. And the exhaustion has eased. And then come back. It ebbs and flows like the waves. It waxes and wanes like the moon. On the outside I appear normal. I go to work each day. Sometimes I go out with friends. I laugh and text and take pictures. Then another wave knocks me flat. I struggle to keep up with daily tasks.

Some days the neediness of my body feels normal. I accept that my body is now like an old Apple iphone battery that loses its charge long before it should. Some days I loathe this prison of weariness with all its quiet and lack of doing. But I am getting a little better at listening. Listening to my body, at least. And in this time of stillness, I have begun to gain an awareness of some other things deep in my being that have been calling for my attention. I have had a growing sense of spiritual dissonance. And it is getting impatient with me. I have pushed it down for too long. Like my need for rest, I added it to the pile of “things to deal with when I get the time.”

The thing about not doing a bunch of things is that the distraction those things brought is also gone. And I am left looking at the very things I’ve been running from. For me, one of those things was the ways I have used performative obedience as a very unhealthy coping tool. As a child, this was the quickest way to feel better during the years of my abuse. I convinced myself it was my true self. It was not. And with that “me” firmly installed in my life, there was no room for the real me. She got pushed aside and covered up and trampled on. I’m beginning to realize that if I’m ever going to heal, I have to make space for her – for me. This means I cannot simply go with the flow anymore, especially against my own deep beliefs.

It is with this in mind that I feel compelled to be open and honest about some of the things I have allowed to be foggy, especially for the purpose of keeping the peace.

I have inherited a faith tradition that is filled with beauty and depth. It is also filled with questionable conclusions and harmful ideas. The history of Christianity shows me that re-examination of the practicalities of this faith is necessary on a regular basis. As I have been actively healing from childhood trauma, I have gained a lens of pain that is possibly what grew in me a captivation with the abundance of compassion embodied in the stories of Jesus. The Bible I grew up hearing used to justify a wrathful God was transformed after I removed the lens of atonement. When I read the stories without using them to prove a theological viewpoint, what I discovered there was beauty, compassion, and the belovedness of all of creation.

I have no interest in arguing or debating, or even convincing. I have no interest in converting anyone to my way of thinking. My only goal is to be honest, and true to myself. I do own one of the core beliefs of the Christian faith – that individuals can be taught by the Spirit. The compassion and sensitivity that has grown in my heart over the last decade in particular is surely the work of the breath of the One who created and so loves this world.

One of the things I am currently struggling with the most is the ways I see people hurting as a direct result of the teachings of the church. Individual churches might protest, “But we’re not teaching that. It may have been taught in the past, but not now.” To that I respond, “If you’re not actively teaching to correct harmful past beliefs, you are responsible.” I understand how political these controversial topics can be. I understand that many church-goers might not be “ready” for new thinking around these issues. That does not relieve us of our responsibility. As long as we are not actively putting forth better ideas – providing options and new ways of thinking – then we are culpable.

I feel compelled to outline some of the ways I have changed what I believe. As a Christian, I must be clear about ways I disagree with teachings that have been traditionally Christian. This is a difficult thing to write about, mostly because I recognize that my beliefs change. If I write them down, how will I feel if they change further?

However, the risk of staying silent is more dangerous than the risk of disagreeing with myself in the future. There are Christians who haven’t yet encountered ways of thinking that challenge what they learn in the church. Maybe their hearts are pulling them toward compassion and away from harsh moral judgements, but they mistakenly believe they can’t change their beliefs and still stay Christian. Every time I hear someone articulate a fresh way of looking at a seemingly harsh passage in the Bible, it feels like a breath of air. Like the air that the creator breathed into the lungs of their creation in the origin story, this air brings to life things that are good and good and very good.

1. I am unequivocally and entirely an affirming Christian. I do not believe the passages in the Bible that have been interpreted as being about the LGBTQ+ community are about anything other than sexual misconduct with an imbalance of power, used to shame and dominate another person. The very things these passages are condemning are the kinds of abuses that have been swept under the rug and “forgiven” by the church in the past, at the expense of the oppressed and abused. I stand in solidarity with my LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters and siblings as fellow Christians and humans. I welcome wholeheartedly the things they have taught us all about inclusivity and compassion. I am grateful for their sacrifices and patience. And I grieve the hurt, the anguish, and the turmoil they have endured at the hands of those who claimed to be (and often believed they were) speaking for God.
2. I don’t believe that everyone who isn’t a Christian is going to Hell. One of the strongest feelings I think the Spirit has blossomed in my being over the last few years is a strong aversion to the “Us vs. Them” mentality that was so prevalent in old Christianity. This way of thinking comes across to me as so incredibly arrogant. “WE have all the answers. WE are God’s chosen people. WE are the only ones who have access to the truth. THEY are depraved. THEY are selfish and greedy and evil. THEY are deluded by the devil, but WE can tell them how to be like US.” These days, anything that comes across in this way gives me a bodily reaction. I can no longer hear these types of statements and not feel repulsed. When we aren’t trying to create a neat theology, the words of Jesus will work in us unity and expansiveness, with no need for exclusivity.
3. I think purity culture is harmful and shame-inducing. I believe the way sexual morality has been taught has done much more harm than good. I believe the church has been obsessed with sexuality and sexual behavior for the sake of control and fear. This has done much harm. It has minimized the weight and beauty of marriage, and has reduced women in particular to bodies.

As is the case with many things, it isn’t the Bible that is the problem, but the conclusions that have been drawn and the ways it has been weaponized. I’m not attempting to change anyone’s mind or teach my own beliefs. It is for me an exercise of honesty and congruency.

I have a feeling this list is only just begun. It will grow as I search and listen. Feel free to come along.