How to neglect yourself
I woke up today with stomach pain.
Not the reasonable kind that waits until you're awake to ruin your day — the kind that kicks you awake and says, "get ready for a shitty morning!"
When I was younger I had chronic stomach pain, which ended up being ovarian cysts. Nothing serious — just painful. Gradually as I've gotten older they've disappeared. Now my stomach related issues are either the lovely side effects of too much alcohol, or gas.
But the pain didn't feel like either of these. For one, I knew I hadn't been drinking on my candidacy retreat this weekend: and I haven't been eating anything so disruptive that it would give me stomach aches this painful. Unless all the Indian food I ate last year is making a late curtain call.
I went into work feeling nervous and anxious for the next time a wave of excruciating knots would swell up inside of me. Half way up the escalator I felt it — a hot lead ball of pain making it hard to breath. I imagine it's slightly akin to what a "jackass" cast member feels every time he gets hit squarely in the nads with a golf ball launcher.Suddenly I needed to vomit.
Don't worry, I didn't blow chunks down the escalator. I kept my cool...
"Maybe it's stress," says Lilly one of the head cashiers.Maybe she's right, I think. Lilly is one of those people who's constantly having the same conversation with you about their relationship troubles. I used to offer up all sort of rational advice to these kinds people. But nobody every takes advice when it comes to relationships. Now I just shrug and coolly add, "you can't lead a horse to water." This anecdote may or may not be relevant, but it beats the two birds in a bush thing I was using before. When it starts becoming obvious I'm just saying the same arbitrary phrase I change it up. Next in the rounds is, "Whatchu talking bout Willis!"
In any event, Lilly is also a perfectionist. This woman knows about stress. I think that has to be it. If I haven't been worrying about grad school lately it's been work, or ordination, or when I'm going to start my next diet... I honestly haven't been so over committed in a very long time. All the time it was stress twisting my organs inside out. It's the first time I've ever had a physical reaction to stress.
Tonight I decided I would force myself to take it easy. Even though I have three different papers to write for grad school, parking passes to buy, and work schedules to rearrange. When I finally slowed down. I realized how long I have been neglecting myself. Kneeling down to shave tonight, I discovered a prickly forest of leg hair growing wild, and uncontrolled. I could have braided my ankle hair.
I've also been neglecting myself spiritually. I miss the days when I believed in God. This isn't a way of saying I've lost my faith. I've just lost my personal relationship with the creator lately. In the Jewish tradition, believing something didn't just mean acknowledging it to be true — in meant knowledge through experience. Just as Lily will never truly believe her boyfriend is going to break her heart, until she lets him.
I believe in God, in that, I acknowledge Her existence. I believe She can hear me when I pray, and wants me to pray often — and yet I don't pray very much at all lately.
I believe Christ lives in every person I interact with — and yet I don't treat them as if this is so...
I'm tired of all this God talk, it's not healing me. I want direct conversation with the divine. A real exchange between spirit and flesh.
Elizabeth Gilbert expresses my desire well in her book Eat Pray Love,
I will only know God when I meet with Her.
Not the reasonable kind that waits until you're awake to ruin your day — the kind that kicks you awake and says, "get ready for a shitty morning!"
When I was younger I had chronic stomach pain, which ended up being ovarian cysts. Nothing serious — just painful. Gradually as I've gotten older they've disappeared. Now my stomach related issues are either the lovely side effects of too much alcohol, or gas.
But the pain didn't feel like either of these. For one, I knew I hadn't been drinking on my candidacy retreat this weekend: and I haven't been eating anything so disruptive that it would give me stomach aches this painful. Unless all the Indian food I ate last year is making a late curtain call.
I went into work feeling nervous and anxious for the next time a wave of excruciating knots would swell up inside of me. Half way up the escalator I felt it — a hot lead ball of pain making it hard to breath. I imagine it's slightly akin to what a "jackass" cast member feels every time he gets hit squarely in the nads with a golf ball launcher.Suddenly I needed to vomit.
Don't worry, I didn't blow chunks down the escalator. I kept my cool...
"Maybe it's stress," says Lilly one of the head cashiers.Maybe she's right, I think. Lilly is one of those people who's constantly having the same conversation with you about their relationship troubles. I used to offer up all sort of rational advice to these kinds people. But nobody every takes advice when it comes to relationships. Now I just shrug and coolly add, "you can't lead a horse to water." This anecdote may or may not be relevant, but it beats the two birds in a bush thing I was using before. When it starts becoming obvious I'm just saying the same arbitrary phrase I change it up. Next in the rounds is, "Whatchu talking bout Willis!"
In any event, Lilly is also a perfectionist. This woman knows about stress. I think that has to be it. If I haven't been worrying about grad school lately it's been work, or ordination, or when I'm going to start my next diet... I honestly haven't been so over committed in a very long time. All the time it was stress twisting my organs inside out. It's the first time I've ever had a physical reaction to stress.
Tonight I decided I would force myself to take it easy. Even though I have three different papers to write for grad school, parking passes to buy, and work schedules to rearrange. When I finally slowed down. I realized how long I have been neglecting myself. Kneeling down to shave tonight, I discovered a prickly forest of leg hair growing wild, and uncontrolled. I could have braided my ankle hair.
I've also been neglecting myself spiritually. I miss the days when I believed in God. This isn't a way of saying I've lost my faith. I've just lost my personal relationship with the creator lately. In the Jewish tradition, believing something didn't just mean acknowledging it to be true — in meant knowledge through experience. Just as Lily will never truly believe her boyfriend is going to break her heart, until she lets him.
I believe in God, in that, I acknowledge Her existence. I believe She can hear me when I pray, and wants me to pray often — and yet I don't pray very much at all lately.
I believe Christ lives in every person I interact with — and yet I don't treat them as if this is so...
I'm tired of all this God talk, it's not healing me. I want direct conversation with the divine. A real exchange between spirit and flesh.
"I want God to play in my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on the water.”
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