Behind the Curtain: Growth Doesn't Happen in a Vacuum

Something I noticed over the past couple months is that my Facebook comments, Messenger replies, and text threads were increasingly turning into novels. Even my Instagram Stories started to sport large chunks of text. "Guess this means I need to start blogging again," I would say.

Well, I'm here now. And I accidentally wrote a novella.

The purpose of this post is to show a more complete picture of what goes on behind the scenes when there's obvious growth. Social media can only show so much. And not much is shared in the first place, because it's just not the place for it. So, here's my novella on the struggles that have prompted any growth you may have seen on my socials.

If this helps even one person navigate their circumstances, it will be worth it.

A lot of growth happened for me during 2021. I did not seek out these growth opportunities. I did not decide "I'm going to work on this aspect of how I view myself and the world!" and go after it. It was practically forced upon me - I would have been quite content to stay as I was and continue on with my comfortable life. Ha.

Some personal context: I'm the type of person that seeks comfort through routines, familiarity, and (relatively) conforming to norms.

When those things are disrupted or I feel as though I cannot attain them, there is distress. My first inclination is always to assume there is something wrong with me, because whatever it is I'm struggling with just shouldn't be that hard. That is my typical thought process, but over the course of this past year I have started to give myself options other than "it's because you're a failure."

The way I have typically dealt with this discord is to mentally run away, to ignore it and just keep trying to fit myself into whatever box I think I need to fit into. Believe it or not, this usually works out fine for me. (Probably because most of my problems up to recent years have been school related, and I'm actually really good at "doing school.")

Well, this year my struggles finally refused to be ignored. I was going to have to start dealing with the lingering sense of deeply rooted shame.

There had been warning signs during PT school. Times when I would be so overwhelmed and stressed that I would literally call in sick, just to give myself some breathing room and mentally recover.

And I would be so ashamed. Ashamed! Why should I need to take that space, take the extra time? I don't have any mental illness or disorder, and all my peers were struggling too, but they didn't ever have to run away for a day. So it was something wrong with me.

As a new grad physical therapist, there was an expected learning curve and expected adjustment phase. Thank God my professors and clinical instructors all made this clear, because it would have been so much worse otherwise.

I had amazing support at my first job, which was with a relatively small organization serving rural communities in Eastern Kentucky. (I grew up in Alabama, but I have never been more in the South than when I moved north for this job.) My clinical director was wonderful. My co-workers were great people who always welcomed my questions. They all actively, repeatedly encouraged me to actually ask my questions instead of trying to do it all on my own.

Despite that incredible support system in my ideal clinic setting, I still had some dark days. Probably had a few "sick days." I am a firm believer in counseling, and sought it out, which helped a little bit. The person I worked with wasn't a great match for me, so it wasn't as effective as it could've been.

We were all laid off for about 5 weeks during the COVID-19 outbreak in 2020. When we returned, it was slow going to get people back in the door.

During that time, if I saw 6 people in a day, it was a "busy" day. For reference, in an outpatient orthopedic setting, seeing less than 10 patients in an 8 hour day will get you some unwanted attention regarding productivity levels.

I'm not a fast-paced person by nature, and I have a lot of difficulty revving myself up for extra bursts of energy, focus, and critical thought. I crammed for tests in school like anyone else, but those were always short-lived with plenty of slower days in between to recover. I was in physical therapist heaven seeing so few patients during the pandemic.

Like I said earlier, the company I was working for was relatively small. The numbers did pick up (which was bittersweet for me), but they'd taken a hard hit and had to let people go. I'd only been on for a year, so I was one of the ones let go. It became the opportunity I needed to finally move up to Lexington, which had been my goal from the start. I moved out of my place, got a job with a larger organization that didn't make me feel like a cog in a machine, and found a house to rent. In that order. It was a whirlwind summer.

New job means new documentation system, new patient cases, new coworkers, and new organizational infrastructure to learn. (Living in a new city in a new house wasn't as much of a stressor; I'd already moved plenty of times before, and I'd made several trips up to Lexington while living in my previous place.) I expected it to be hard, because I'd been through similar adjustment phases already with grad school and my first job. And it was definitely hard. But again, I was surrounded by genuinely helpful people and working in a setting I legitimately enjoyed.

I took it for fact that the dark days would come eventually. I tried to be proactive with taking PTO this time, and my clinic director actively encouraged this for all his staff therapists.

I still took "sick days" sometimes, and used them to catch up on notes.

It felt like I never could stay caught up. The notes always piled back up. I asked for help in managing how I was doing them, which helped me not overthink them quite as much. But the problem persisted.

Again, I was ashamed. Why was this fundamental component of being a physical therapist so difficult for me?  The paperwork struggle is a common theme in the PT world, and we all joke about it. But it caused me so much anguish to know that I literally was not measuring up. I hated our staff meetings, because numbers were always discussed, and I knew I would always be lacking. No matter how hard I tried, I would never be able to do enough.

One day in the Spring, I pulled into the parking lot. Stared at the employee entrance. And cried.

It wasn't the first time I'd had that response. So, like every other time, I pulled myself together. Mostly. There was still a tension in my chest, an urge to run. But, I'd ignored it every other time prior, and told myself that if I could just get rolling with my patients for the day, I could ignore it and get through the day and that tomorrow wouldn't be as bad.

I walked inside. Opened my computer. Checked the schedule. And decided.

I sent an email to my boss and to our patient service specialist at the front desk to tell them I would not be in that day.

I gathered my things (including my laptop, because I still had notes to do) and went home.

That was the deepest hurt and shame I'd ever felt.

How could it possibly be true that I was so weak and selfish and slow that I had to leave my coworkers to manage their caseload, plus the patients I abandoned for the day? How could I possibly be such a failure? Why couldn't I do this normal thing like everyone else? Why did I have to be so needy?

I connected with a new counselor that day and was able to get on her schedule really quickly. I needed help. Running away has been a theme throughout my life (though evidently I must hide it well), and things had finally come to a point where that method was hurting instead of helping. Whatever is inside me that triggers that reaction had to be dealt with. This could not happen again, not if I wanted to stay gainfully employed and reasonably content. Even if I gave up PT and became a tradesperson, whatever was inside me would just follow me to the next thing.

My boss, who I will never stop applauding for being the kind of leader I hope to be some day, worked with me. We adjusted my schedule and talked practicalities. Obviously he was not in a position to be an emotional/mental support, but he supported me in every professional way possible. His kind heart and incredible servant-leadership was a blessing. Still is a blessing.

We waited two months to see if the counseling and the practical changes would have enough promise that I would feel confident in staying on as a staff PT. And I did feel better with the reduced workload, of course.

And somehow I was more ashamed than before. I knew it was just going to come right back. Something inside was refusing to heal, and it refused to be rushed. Damn me for having something broken inside. Damn them all for trying to help.

I was ashamed. I was about to become a stereotypical Millennial who can't hold a job because it's not a good fit. "Sorry, everyone, I know y'all were really excited for me to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy, but looks like I can't hack it after all. Don't mind me, just going to go quietly disappear."

What a shame, that I had been able to attend the program I felt so weirdly called to, work the perfect job for me right out of school, and work in another fantastic and supportive setting in the city I was called to - what a shame that I'd gotten all that and would have to throw it all away. What a shame that good things had happened to me. Shame.

During those two months of "wait and see," I was in a very lonely place. I researched other ways I could use my very expensive doctorate. I looked at other career paths that could pay at least enough to cover my living expenses and impressive student loan debt. Somewhere in there, I decided that if I chose to continue in the traditional outpatient ortho setting, that I would end up in the same lonely, desperate place again. It would only be a matter of time. Taking that off the table broke my heart. After all, I had been so sure that God had called me to physical therapy. I didn't want to be anything else.

And during those same months, while I had some breathing room at work and some good, difficult discussions with my counselor, I found a Facebook group. It was almost an accident, really. During one of my many internet expeditions for alternative work, I searched another physical therapy group I was already part of to see if something like what I wanted even existed. If there was any way I could still be a PT without wrecking myself, that was what I wanted.

I wound up clinging to that new group like the lifeline that it was. Excited and hopeful as I was, I tried to consider my options as objectively as I could. Big decisions shouldn't be made from a place of deep hurt or ecstatic joy.

After what I hoped was careful enough consideration, I wound up leaving my job and starting my own mobile private practice.

And y'all, I WAS STILL ASHAMED.

Aside from informing my patients that I would be leaving and their care would be picked up by another member of the staff, I barely told a soul about my decision. Despite all my consideration, it still felt like a desperate, reckless move.

Everyone I did tell was happy for me. Several people have told me that they look up to me and they admire my bravery. And I honestly still can't wrap my head around it, because nothing I did was brave by my estimation. In my heart and in my mind, I was just another failure Millennial who couldn't bring herself to conform to what everyone else was doing, and then decided to become an entrepreneur. To me, it looked like the sketch of a storyline for some hokey, stupidly optimistic movie that completely ignores reality in favor of fantasy.

Except now I'm living that storyline. And I get to tell the whole of it, not just the pretty highlight reel.

~~~

This post was mostly to share the truth about what's been going on behind the scenes. It's hard to get a good grasp of these things through social media. Facebook and Instagram make it look like I'm put together and taking bold steps and generally being a badass. Some of that is true - I have taken some pretty bold steps! - but it's not the whole story.

I'm not all fixed up now. I've grown a lot, but I still struggle with shame pretty regularly. However, through the past several months of internal work, those thought habits are not as strong as they once were. The demeaning things I tell myself don't imbed themselves as deeply in my heart, and sometimes they barely stick at all.

Some of the things that have helped me the most during these past several months have been a couple challenges my counselor laid out for me, which helped me start to actually like myself. I even started to admit that I'm good at some things that others are not. It's still hard for me to say these out loud, because it's been such a habit to downplay everything about me. It's hard to start owning the space you occupy when all you've ever tried to do was stay out of the way. But I'm practicing, and as with anything you practice, I'm getting more comfortable with it.

Another thing that has been particularly helpful is to ask myself if I'm doing things well. Did I do everything I could to stay? Did I put in the work to start getting better? Did I research and prepare as best I could for a new step? Did I take action well? Did I choose my people well? When I've had to ask for help, did I do it well? Did I receive help well?

Sometimes the answer is no. But more often than not, the answer has been yes. To the extent of my limited capacity to predict possible paths, I have done as well as I could reasonably expect of myself.

Every path you choose in life is hard. There is no easy way through this life. But you can choose your hard.

You are capable of doing hard things. After all, you're already doing something that's hard.

Whatever you choose, do it well. Something I've learned is that doing something well doesn't mean doing it all by myself. It means being honest about my limitations and enlisting help from others so that I not only accomplish the task, but stay true to who I am throughout the entire process, so that when it is finished, I am still me and have made myself, my helpers, and my task better because of it.

Choose your hard. Do it as well as you reasonably can.

The True Joy of Easter

What a morning. I've had the incredible privilege to worship in song and teaching three times, including a sunrise service. Normally, that would feel like a burden, but today? Today I can't get enough.

Growing up in church, Easter was always just assumed to be a special day. But, I never really understood why. All the important work was done on the cross, right? It was cool and all that he rose from the dead, but so what? Every song that crescendoed at him rising from the grave perplexed me.

By the grace of God, I've been a Christian pretty much all my life. But, as any Christian who's been at this for long enough can tell you, there is always something you don't understand, and always some new facet of the gospel that God is teaching you. In many ways, my college years were not just for higher academic learning, but deeper theological growth. During that time, the Spirit of God started pulling weeds and nurturing seedlings that had been neglected. It's an ongoing process, and I'm so grateful for it.

Around that time is when I started getting serious about Easter. WHY did everyone make such a big deal about this Resurrection thing? (Remember, this event was, for me, simply a given fact. I grew up with it, and my intellectual familiarity with it meant that it did not feel all that strange to me.) I worked my way through the Gospel of Mark one Spring semester, and during Holy Week I read accounts of the respective day's events across all four gospels. With all that lead up beforehand, feeling like I was getting to know a beloved story character (and remembering that he was a real man with real friends and real family)--with all that, I finally began to feel the weight of the Last Supper on Maundy Thursday. The sting of his betrayal. The anger of his mistreatment while on "trial." The soul crushing grief and anguish of his death on Good Friday. And then the emptiness and loss and longing on Holy Saturday.

...

And then! Then!! HE WAS BACK!!! The best friend, the wisest teacher, the kindest heart, the purest soul, the Son of God, the promised salvation had come BACK!!! The joy was so overwhelming! He would never die again. Happiest day!!! I had asked and sought, and I praise God for that truth and inexpressible joy that I found.

That was one of a few events around that time in my life that I can point to as being truly pivotal in my understanding and love of God. Easter has never been the same, though it is usually not as intense an experience as that time in college. But I'm still learning, and the Spirit continues to nurture truths that I've known in my head for years, coaxing them to grow deeper into my heart.

Today, because of churches livestreaming during quarantine, I had the privilege to hear the resurrection story three times, each time presented by a different person with a slightly different perspective. I'd like to share what the Spirit showed me this year during today's Resurrection Sunday sermons.

• "Jesus didn't just die for us, he ROSE for us." The cross and Christ's death is crucial. But the story doesn't stop there. Everything Jesus does is to glorify God by making a people who worships the One True King in spirit and in truth. That applies to his resurrection, too.
• Because of Christ's resurrection, we have a living hope. That hope never fades or fails, and is never at risk of being taken from us. (1 Peter 1:3-9)
• The hope which is so secure is this: Jesus is the firstfruit of a new creation (1 Corinthians 15:20). Our hope is that we are, and are becoming, and will be part of that new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17). Because of that, every aspect of our lives is being transformed, past, present, and future. And in the last day, the transformation of God's creation will be completed, down to the molecules (Philippians 1:6).
• Jesus died to settle our eternal debt. He rose to begin fulfilling the promise of salvation and new creation. He ascended to sit at the right hand of God, a place of honor, power, and favor; in his new place, he continually intercedes for us and grants us access to this place of unprecedented favor with God. Not only that, but at Pentecost following his resurrection, he sent the Spirit of *God Himself* to live inside of us, to give us power to be active participants in the glory of God's kingdom, and to make our lives full to the brim for the glory of God.

Wow! What a wonderful Savior!!

***

Brothers and sisters in Christ, I hope that some part of my story speaks to you. I hope you felt something new in your heart that increases your joy in our incredible Lord and Savior.

And to those of you who may not know what in the world I'm talking about, or understand why all these Christians make such a big deal over Easter, to you I say two things. First, wow, thank you for reading this far. Second, if you have questions, I've got ears. And, God willing, I might even have some answers.

Happy Resurrection Sunday, everyone! He is risen!!!

Single Doesn't Mean Alone

There's a lot to be said about the freedom of being single, especially in the Church. I get to save a good bit of my money, which means I can help support various endeavors from my local church. There's not much pulling on my time, which frees me up to volunteer. Need someone in the children's church last minute? On it. Somebody needs to stand guard at this door and say hi to people? Not my thing, but yeah, I can help with that. Invest in someone younger in the faith? Yep, I've got the time to do that, too.

Plus, I get the incredible opportunity to learn what love and service and "doing life together" looks like in a platonic way. I have the space to invest in deep friendships and learn what it means to live in community with others. I get to learn what that community paired with my singleness feels like, and be empathetic and supportive of my fellow brothers and sisters who for whatever reason are not married. Maybe they're still hoping and waiting, maybe they've chosen singleness for its own sake, or maybe they're attracted to the same sex and have chosen to live single in obedience to God's design for gospel marriage. (I realize that last bit may step on some people's toes, but it's my blog and that's what I believe.)

Married people do all this, too, of course, but from what I've observed it's a lot more challenging for them. There's the bills and the kids and the house and the marriage itself that they've got to keep pouring into. Marriage is a beautiful picture of Christ and his bride (the Church), but it sure looks hard to do. And it takes up a lot of resources, both tangible and intangible.

For all these beautiful opportunities singleness affords me, I would be lying if I said I was fully content with it. I can think of a few reasons why contentedness eludes me, but the fact remains that there is a sense of loneliness that constantly threatens my sense of identity. It tells me I'm unlovable, that I wouldn't be worth a good relationship anyway, that no one should care how I'm doing, that I'm doing fine on my own. It tells me that alone and isolated is what I deserve and all I should ever expect. The pain of those whispered untruths makes me just want to curl into a ball and wrap my aloneness around me like a blanket, as if covering myself in it will somehow make it more comfortable.

Praise God that my walk the past 10 years has led me to local churches that so heavily emphasize being in community with other believers. Not just as a social club (though those are fun, too), but a group of diverse individuals who come from all walks and share a common faith in Jesus Christ, Son of God Almighty. There's a level of excitement when I meet someone who shares similar interests with me (where my Hufflepuffs at??), but there is something profoundly deep and joyful about meeting someone who loves my God for who he is. It's something holy, which means "set apart." It's the kind of deep connection with others that I crave as a single woman. And thank you God that I don't have to be married to experience that kind of connection and share in that kind of love and joy with someone else!

I have been blessed to be part of several such gospel centered communities, in multiple states. I have grown so much because of the love of Christ lived out in a variety of ways, from all kinds of people. The group that showed me how to bring corporate worship into a small group setting, and what it looks like to invest in a particular population in as many ways as possible with all devotion. The one that helped me raise money to go to grad school by donating yard sale items and helping me organize said yard sale. The one that showed me how to continuously and actively engage in the lives of my sisters in Christ. The one that even now encourages me to embrace the kingdom of God and follow wherever the Spirit has laid a path for me. And a hundred other friendships and blessings I'll never forget, but are too many to mention here. I thank God for all of you.

I am single. And when I am very honest with myself, I want to not be single - I would enjoy having someone to partner together with me to love God and for us to grow in our love for Him and for each other. But I also rejoice in my singleness! Because there is incredible treasure to be found here, and because single does not mean alone.

Getting Focused

I wanted to throw out some thoughts from the day. Twice, in completely different contexts, I heard the message, "don't get distracted"/"stay focused." There were other motifs surrounding that theme, but that was the gist of it both times. And the point both speakers were trying to make was to stay focused on what's actually important. Because let's be honest, we can all get laser-focused on the wrong thing and totally miss the point.

So what's that important thing? What do we stay focused on?

With very simple things, like skill acquisition, the focal point is whatever the purpose of the skill is. Not just performing like you would for a talent show -- performing with an understanding of each facet and the overarching context of why you are doing that skill in that particular way. Anyone can take a picture, but a photographer has the understanding to make it something excellent. Anybody can learn to shoot a basketball into a hoop, but true skill means you also know how to get around the opponent's defense and set up your team for continued successes. The focus is not just the skill itself, it's whatever the point of the skill is: art, athletic victory, music, etc.

Let's expand beyond the relatively simple. Skills and hobbies are great, but they are themselves subject to an even bigger focal point. Why are you taking pictures? Why are you playing basketball? Why do you play music? How you define that ultimate focus is up to you, but it will determine how you perceive everything in your life. It is the True North that you will be (and already are) navigating by.

For me, my True North, my focal point, is the kingdom of God. This means that Jesus is my King, and that I am one of his subjects, and I follow my King's orders and reflect who he is to those around me. The ultimate focus of my skills and hobbies are (ideally) centered on that. Maybe not always in a directly obvious way, but the "vibe" of how I do things and why I do them should always reflect that focus.

Tangent Time...
I know monarch language is a little out there for some of my readers, so think of it this way: Every nation has a "vibe" to it, if you will, and that vibe is set by its governing power and the response of its people to that governing power. Tyrannical dictator and frightened people? Scary vibes, not great for tourism, people escape if they can. Warlord who won a rigged election, with rebel factions in the populace? Danger and civil unrest vibes, no travel zone, lots of refugees. Group of bickering politicians ruling over populace with no greater enemy than themselves? Self-centered vibes, great for tourism and money-spending, people mostly settle for the way things are.

Then imagine this: A unified voice in leadership, with impossible wisdom to both exact justice and extend mercy, indescribable love for his people, unmatched power to protect his kingdom (and its citizens) from all who would harm it/them, and literally all the wealth (both material and immaterial) in all of creation to offer his citizens. His people know they're valued and loved and safe, and they show that to each other, and invite others in to experience it, too.

My Point Is
My point is that life has a point. All life does, not just mine. But since I can only speak about my experience of that, I'll reel it back in to first person. My focus for life is being a Kingdom Citizen. There are a lot of ways to get distracted while I'm about that purpose, because let's be honest, life is messy and it's really much easier to just focus on myself. But if I keep my eyes on the real goal, it colors how I view the messiness and even the tedium of boring everyday stuff. It's usually not easy, but if you're able to look at and through the thing in front of you to what lies beyond, it makes a world of difference. I think it's important to not ignore what's going on in front of you and around you, but if you allow yourself to focus only on them, you'll often find yourself going miles off course.

It's worth clarifying that losing focus and getting off track is never the end of the journey. Just because you drove for hundreds of miles to the west or slowed to a crawl doesn't mean you can't start going north again. It just means you'll have spent a lot of time and emotional and mental resources going the wrong way. It happens.

I tend to get pretty heady when I have time to think, and I had a lot of that today. Writing this post close to bedtime probably hasn't helped my coherency. Maybe some of this made sense to you and challenged you to stop getting distracted and renew your focus. Maybe it all only makes sense in my own head! But on the chance it helps someone else, I wanted to share my thoughts. I'd also like to share this encouragement: You can always renew your focus, no matter how distracted you got. And if you are my brother or sister in Christ, no matter what got you distracted and off course, no matter how long you wandered for, you can always come home.