I asked a friend recently, if his Christmas decorations smell, and I quote:: “like the outside?”
Because, ya know… English is hard.
And Januarys are hard.
And explaining- in very broken English acted out in charades- I’m traveling to 11 countries in 11 months is the most exhausting ever. I sat down (on the floor) mid conversation with someone after church last week, because I LITERALLY couldn’t stand up for one more second.
I’m two days away from month six and I’m tired. All. The. Time.
And when I’m tired like this… I cry. A lot.
And I’d love to have pictures and stories of all the good works I’m doing to make me so incapable of awakeness. Legends of all the wood I’ve chopped to keep children warm, or clean water I’ve pumped from a well for a remote village somewhere.
But I don’t.
Because I painted my fingernails blue this week-and you cant do manual labor with blue nails!
Also, I haven’t seen a village or orphan to hold, or well to pump in fifty-eight days. So reason says, my weariness is without valid cause. Being the ISFJ I am- I prefer valid weariness.
I am surrounded by teammates who love me.
I sleep comfortably in a bed each night.
I have beautiful quiet time in the mornings with a mug of coffee by my side.
I have been led into worship constantly this month.
I have seen God work in remarkable ways.
I have no wants.
I am on the world race.
And yet, I am sad.
Unexplainably and undeniably sad.
The kind of sad I could convince myself World Racers shouldn’t feel.
But I do, so maybe you’re here too.
Maybe you’re stuck under the heavy emptiness of your own January.
Here is the bummer about the doldrums: the very efforts needed to lift out are the same things you’ve lost energy for. The simplest remedies feel like weights drudged up from the bottom of the ocean. Your mind knows to do them, but your will refuses to cooperate. Which makes your mind furious and mired in shame, which makes your will dig its heels and wallow, which makes you realize you are turning on yourself, you are your own worst enemy. No one can oppress me like myself. – Jen Hatmaker,Stuck in the Doldrums: An Attack Plan
That.
In my real life the weight of the empty is mostly manageable.
A conversation with a friend at Barista Parlor
A long run
Monday’s counseling hour
Anthropology… I never said all my coping methods were 100% healthy
But on the race- everything feels more.
And whatever you’re struggling with, a teammate is struggling with more.
About that run, you’re gonna need to find a buddy who also doesn’t want to talk, and who will agree to ignore the water running down your cheeks half a mile in.
And while we’re at it, let’s just all stop pretending nescafe is coffee.
So here we are.
Feeling all the feelings and trying to prefer others.
Saying goodbye to the people we have been family this month- anticipating a continent change and living with Mennonites in Albania!
Singing Lord, I Need You between every deep breath.
Packing. Again.
To other racers facing hard Januarys:: you are not alone. You are not unworthy, or less loved. It's true that our brokenness can enhance those feeling of lostness, aloneness, and hopelessness; our transgressions, and failures, can work to further deepen sadness. But being sad, even on the race, is not wrong.
Today, I go into month five debrief. Weary and worn-
The next five days will be spent in the mountains without wifi.
The days will be ordinary, or as ordinary as they can be for world race life.
Here's my plan for the final days of January::
I will write when I need to, but when the words aren’t there I will not force them. I will stand at the top of a mountain in awe of my Creator. I will drink lots of water. I will change out of my sweatpants and consider it a win. I will cry if I need to want to. I will go on walks in the mornings with my teammates. I will keep All Sons and Daughters on my iPod.
Here’s to a slightly lighter February?
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How do you lift yourself out from under the January?
