The Damage Beyond What We’ve Done
First things first, for the folks who need to know what, if anything, occurred on Hail Mary Monday:
As of 8:30 pm on Monday, May 9, 2022, I was informed by the Conference office that:
The clergy will be permitted to vote this morning (May 10) to affirm their recommendation for my ordination.
Another candidate and I will need to present ourselves before the Bishop for actual ordination service in the next few weeks; the date the other ordinand and I are both able to be present is currently being confirmed.
In a nutshell, it looks like I will not only be fully voted this year (which was my actual confusion and only genuine expectation), I will also become fully ordained.
(As of my completing writing this, I was just fully affirmed for ordination by the clergy vote, so now comes the scheduling of the ordination service.)
Yay.
For folks who want to know, “How are you doing?” Well, that’s not two basic bullet points.
It’s important for folks to understand that one of my ministries is as an equity justice coach and consultant. Our ministry is something we do to fulfill our life mission; our life mission is towards manifesting our vocation[1]. So I don’t “witch hunt” when I think “we’re doing things wrong,” which is what we’re societally taught to believe about folks asking for meaningful community attention and redress to ways we are unloving with one another—aka, inviting accountability towards who it is we claim we are.
Being an equity justice coach and consultant in relationship with my vocation in fact means is that: 1) My soul and heart are innately deeply grieved and hurt when we’re clearly not loving with one another, especially when I can see the pattern in how what looks like an individual interaction is in fact an aspect of ongoing unloving dynamic in our relational community or ecosystem; and 2) Holy Spirit often calls me to do something towards addressing and help healing it. As one of our participating reverends said in the vocational grant I help facilitate, “If we were going to do it, God wouldn’t need to call us.”
When we as human beings are not and are even refusing to be our best with and towards one another, and given that that’s often, I would personally prefer to throw up the peace sign, go live in isolation in the woods, and meditate until my final breath passes me from this plane of existence. I don’t know why us committing to being messy has to be my problem if I can just leave.
And Holy Spirit says, “Not so! That is the opposite of why you here. You all have to actually learn to be together, and part of your contribution is to help heal back towards who and where humanity is created to be.”
*long sighs* Fine.
Well, the first step towards relational healing is truth-telling as and toward assessing any wounds, so here is where we are:
I am glad that what was removed was replaced.
And I am not okay.
Because that removal is not everything that happened. It rarely is.
I am thankful that my ordination process is proceeding towards fulfillment this year—after 7.5 years, I think we would all be relieved and appreciative for that.
However, the experiences and feelings that have been churned up—in my heart, my soul, and my body—by how this has gone down are not just gone.
This may be because, as a society, when we cause hurt or harm to one another, we like to believe (insist even) against obvious reality that if the person(s) who cause the hurt or harm can just undo what they did, then all is well, because everything is “back.”
But there is no “undo” and there is no “back.”
I think we know this, and I also know we (myself included) love deluding ourselves with “See? It’s fixed!” This gives us the opportunity to pretend that we don’t need to actually deal with and work through uncomfortable situations, ignoring that discomfort is often warning us of relational misalignment and further harms to come. Discomfort is often an invitation towards realigning with our souls and community.
Something was removed and replaced, but the way that the removal occurred I experienced as a relational assault. So two actions occurred, but to date, only one has been addressed.
A metaphor that is also relationally literal: If someone broke into our home, even if what was stolen was recovered, there’s the emotional psychological trauma in the aftermath that often stirs unending, cyclical anxiety and questions such as: Why me? Am I being targeted? None of us are perfect people--Did I do something to deserve this? What can I do in the future to prevent this happening again?
We all know that this is what happens in the physical break in, and even in that we often still try to assure the person that, “The things are just things,” and “Don’t worry because…”
But the “things” themselves are not necessarily the issue. The issue is more that being so forcefully and unnecessarily reminded that someone can violate your boundaries and sense of peace—and even well-being just because they can and so decided—is terrorizing. Literally terrorizing. Physically and relationally.
How has this show up in my life and body the past several days?
Friday was scheduled to be equity justice coaching in the morning, and then I had the rest of the day off because we had been all hands on for a few emergencies at work last week.
Instead, I ended up meditating while coaching to ensure I was being present with my coachees (and it requires a TON of energy to be co-present). And then my responding back with the few folks that I had notified of the Conference’s decision and gaslighting, blaming notification to eliminate me from the ordination process, because several of them had advice and suggestions since they have some familiarity with what next steps might be.
I spent the early afternoon, in which I was supposed to be writing just for my own life and for fun, because Half Day Off to rest after a harrowing ministry week, writing the hail mary email to the folks to who I was recommended, and then anxiously cleaning my home because I couldn’t be still. I was literally rocking all day, both as self-soothing, because it’s something my body does to burn off anxious energy. And constantly self-talking through the situation, because that’s why my brain does so I don’t get lost in the anxious streams of internal thought. Pick one thread, talk it out loud. There was a LOT of talking out loud.
Saturday I was in spiritual direction training from 9-3. Because it was online, and this happened to be the day that the wonderful Naomi Ortiz was visiting and leading us through grounding somatic exercises.
Instead of being present and co-creating beautiful grounding practices for my life, I instead ended up connecting the grounding energy of the group to be able to sit still and write out an explanation for all my homies as to what was going on, because I had so many people to share with as family, friends, mentors, and supporters, and I just could not keep telling the story when I needed to get back to being present with the life I’m actually supposed to living.
That explanation ended up turning into the blog post, because I knew with Holy Spirit—this is not at all about me, or just this situation. So now we have responsive, healing justice ministry to engage (aka, energy output) when we were supposed to be sitting in a space of co-creating proactive, celebratory just alignment (which is energy renewing). Yay.
I spoke directly to two people after sharing. First my father, who I called after knowing he had time to read the original post, because I knew he was going to be focused on the holy and affirming, and also angry for his child. And then my Aunt Jeanette, because we were supposed to Zoom call just to chat this weekend; she wasn’t feeling well, and she wanted to reschedule. I didn’t send them the post because I wanted to inform them directly, but not while she was under the weather. When she mentioned, “You must be so excited for this week!” I made response that meant absolutely nothing, because Holy Spirit said don’t tell her, but I technically also didn’t lie. I just didn’t really say anything at all.
Sunday was my other day off.
I was supposed to spend the morning meditating and journaling. I spent it walking in confused circles around my home, trying to remember what I was supposed to be doing. Picking things up and putting them down. I was also having chest and stomach pains which I knew were psychosomatic. But the thing about psychosomatic sensations is that they can remain until you feel some sense of resolution with the psychological emotional event generating them. Praying, meditating, and medication are all stopgaps. We have to actually heal what was causing it. That can take time healing, and we had possibly only just begun experiencing.
I couldn’t talk to anyone because most people wanted to talk about this, and soothe me or cuss about the Conference, none which I could do energetically, because there was nothing else to tell, and nothing else to do. So I isolated myself for the day to have as much of a sense of stillness and quiet as I could receive.
The afternoon was unclear, which is a beautiful thing. It can be anything! I ended up going to the park (I thought) to sit by the water and work on my life guide for the next several weeks, which is a typical Sunday activity. I instead stared at the water while I ate lunch—I hadn’t been able to eat much in the past couple of days, which is a huge no-no for someone with a chronic illness, and had otherwise been force feeding myself. The water and the waves moving where they were moving despite the various things—wind, boats—cutting across it definitely helped. Seeing people enjoying life and the sun definitely helped.
I don’t remember what I did the rest of the day, and I don’t remember when I went to bed. I remember that I was vaguely concerned about not having the work I needed for a ministry client meeting on Monday, because I hadn’t been able to do it since I could barely focus. Holy Spirit said, “It’s fine. Just keep swimming…” And of course Holy Spirit was correct. The ministry client is a UMC reverend and (unfortunately in the sense that it shouldn’t be because of familiarity) completely understood. We had the meeting we could have, reset the work for later, and kept it moving.
Monday was a full-on ministry day from 6 am to 8 pm.
I woke up with jaw pain, because I had been clenching my teeth and biting my tongue in my sleep for the past few nights from anxiety. Our sleep wants to work out problems; our body tries to “help,” and it’s not help, lol. It always takes 2-3 nights for me to know that it’s happening again, and now my body was letting me know.
And I also had to leave space open for if/when the Conference office emailed or called on a day when I was also aware many of them were already scheduled into preparations and events for ordination. So I was constantly checking my phone and email (which I typically don’t do, because it’s disruptive to focus) to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. First, because I had requested direct contact and second because, given how everything had gone so far, it felt like it was going to be on me if I missed them at this point.
My last meeting of the day was in-person. I was an hour early. And my arrival was the first moment I had had to breathe in so long. I remember I couldn’t get out of the car. I kept reaching for things, and my arms just felt so tired. And my legs felt so tired. All of a sudden, I just felt all of the tired, all over my body. So I agreed with Holy Spirit and just put my head on the steering wheel for several minutes and just let life…fade away for a few minutes. And then I gathered myself and my things and went to the patio. Where we proceeded for the next 90 minutes to spend about 70 minutes holding space for myself and another meeting participant, and 20 minutes meeting the meeting. (These practices are usually more 60/30 in the other direction, and the other participants usually get to share more…)
I noticed in the middle of this meeting that I missed a call from an unknown phone number (the neighbor was mowing their grass), but from the area code that meant it was probably the Conference office. I started fumbling in my speech and nearly dropped my phone a couple of times, because I needed to call them back right away. I don’t know if I even dismissed myself from my colleagues when I stood up in a haze and and walked inside to call back. But then I saw I had missed the call about 30 minutes prior, so I should probably check my voice messages first. But my phone doesn’t overload voice messages over data (I have been trying to change that setting for a year—apparently it’s past time to figure it out for real). So I needed to get my friend’s Wi-fi password, which seemed confusing because I already had it on my computer, but right that was from a few years ago and my phone was newer so I didn’t have it on my phone so I needed to get it. And I took a breath and decided to go use the restroom first, because anxiety peeing (honestly, this is just funny to me, because if you know, you know) would both be releasing and give me a moment to ground, slow down, and come back into my breath before I potentially heard something that was going to really take me out.
Per the Conference office’s updated time, we connected around 7 pm (my time). Holy Spirit had me put on my walking shoes and go out at about 10 til, because whatever came from this, we did not want the energy holding in our home. I reached a set of picnic benches, and Holy Spirit said, “Sit and wait.” And then the call came in the next few minutes. I would be included in the clergy vote. And my actual ordination date would be rescheduled with another person who also was unable to attend. A three-minute call, and what had been removed had been returned, thanks be to God. And I have no idea what happened. How we got to this point together, what might happen going forward aside from ordination itself. I don’t know.
I sat for a few minutes to let the energy slide. That was it. That was it. That was it. And then I got up and walked home.
When the call came in, This is Me had been playing on my phone. (Kind of prophetic, but I also generally listen to music that’s meaningful, so also…) I let it keep playing, and when I got home, I danced. I danced for an hour and a half. I couldn’t stop dancing. In some ways it was exorcising, and in some ways it was self-affirming.
I just played it over and over, and danced and danced, for all the times that I experienced needing to know that everything is all right about who I’m created to be and whatever conditions I may face, no matter what the circumstances of my life might otherwise try to say. And I danced for all the times I’ve been a part of and/or witnessed someone being told they were not all right in who they created to be, or despite conditions they were facing. So my body couldn’t stop because that’s a lot.
I wasn’t done dancing, but my mother called. That probably was a God thing. I updated her, and then she told me about some things she’s happy about in her life, which makes me happy, so that was lovely.
I laid down for an hour because I was just…tired. After all of this, I was just…tired.
I got up and took a shower. And then I used my neck and back massager, because even with the walking and dancing, all of the clenching, seizing, and teeth grinding over the past few days meant I could no longer self-relax my shoulder and jaw. The massage hurt. It’s never hurt before—it usually tickles (which I also don’t like but is also funny). I now know I would rather it tickle than hurt. It hurt. But it was necessary, so I continued through, because the morning would be far worse if we didn’t do it now.
When I laid down to start to fall asleep, I had to do it with a massage ball under my shoulder. The massager can only do so much, and the massage ball keeps doing the work, and also forces me to align my body so that’s more innately relaxing rather than clenching muscles. So it keeps doing the work, and helps me sleep better. I’ll have to repeat both the next few nights, because this was just the start to beginning to undo. Once the muscles are tight, they want to stay the way. (The jaw clenching, absurdly and unhelpfully, is in fact my body trying to help me relax. Going the wrong way, sis. Going the wrong way.) So I’m going to have to be consciously present with the work of undoing the
I fell asleep at…I don’t know when. I’ve been going to sleep when I just can’t stay awake anymore. So at some point, I fell asleep.
So there’s also this part. Which I knew at the moment, and more clearly in writing, is largely the absurdity that a space that’s supposed to supportive and nurturing to us in ministry has been distracting me (and other concerned folks, including folks from the Conference office who weren’t necessarily involved, but were offering personal support) from ministry, as well as screwing with my psycho-emotional and physical health. And cause undue stress and worry in my communities. The space responsible for facilitating love and care seems to have dug in on harm. What. The. Fuck? (This is truly what I’m most aggravated about.)
And we’re not done in other ways. I attended a few information sessions for our coming annual conference, and—even had I not publicly shared what was happening, folks always know things. So I entered into the space knowing I need the info, because there’s so much I don’t know about our Conference that I need to begin learning as a responsible member. But I also entered into the space not knowing—before the call with the Conference—was I actually supposed to be there? Because I didn’t know what part of my ordination was being revoked per last week’s conversation, I wasn’t clear on what I was supposed to do, or what I was allowed to do at this point.
I don’t even know that the intention from the Conference office is to be done at this point, but given how we presently address concerns, this is where we are for now.
And I was and am now unclear about my own place in community, because this is a community relational issue. Do I fit here? Am I wanted here? There are always individual people who love us, and are so affirming and supportive. But what about this community? Does it want me? Does it care?
And none of that is answered. And much of it may never be, because we as a society rarely do this part of the work. And in the church, it can be even rarer. If and when we return what was removed, we rarely do the work of addressing the relational damage. And in spaces where we name that we live in beloved community, the issue is not hurt or harm. It’s the devastation of dishonesty when we refuse to follow through in meeting one another belovedly so that we can go forward well.
So.
I am glad that what was removed was replaced.
And I am not okay.
Because that removal is not the only harm that happened. It rarely is.
I love this poem from iambrillyant (Billy Chapata) because it’s a reminder that, no matter what’s happening, no matter what we’ve done, we can still be and become who we are unto ourselves.
And also. For me, experiences such as this are never (or really at all) an issue of solely myself. This is a question of who we are and who—how—we can and will be together. I want us to be able to say “and here we are…” And it be genuine and true, not just a continual hope we state while living too frequently the adverse.
This is about leaning towards proactively and primarily co-creating intentional engagement and experiences, rather than simply hoping (which at a point becomes fantasizing, which quickly becomes perpetuating injustice) that we’ve loved more than we’ve hurt and harmed, and that it will just all turn out okay. God didn’t put us here to hope for “okay.”
God placed us here—and with one another—to co-create wonderful. To co-create thriving. To co-create belovedness. And all of these are conscious living, not magical manifestations despite whatever we may be doing to the opposite.
[1] Vocation is not our work, as white Westerners have historically pushed in a cultural drive towards affirming overwork and inappropriately centering work as the purpose of life. Vocation is not so much what we do as it is our vision or purpose for living—it’s what we must live in order to have a sense that not just our life but our soul is being fulfilled. I believe that this is to what Rev. Dr. Katie Geneva Cannon in part referred to when she told us that we “must do the work that our souls must have.” We can’t not do it, or we are incomplete in the misery that not satisfying our own souls inherently generates. So the ministries or works we live of our lives should fulfill our life’s mission (mine is that I am a calling and vocation coach, because Holy Spirit is meta), and our mission must help us sense that we are moving towards fulfilling our calling/vocation, or purpose.