Comparison is the Thief of Joy: Or, Keep Your Eyes on Your Own Page

On a typical day this fall, I will walk into my apartment at the end of a school day at around 3:30. Sweet deal, right?  I'm usually carrying about three bags with me full of quizzes, homework, Expo dry-erase markers, an ipad, a coffee-holder...the list goes on.  By 3:30 I have usually taught about 4 classes and seen about 115 students.  I love it. I am usually so tired by the time I pass under my threshold that it takes only a few steps before I crash onto the couch, or switch immediately into yoga pants.  Each evening, I try to commit at least a half an hour to writing and researching for my dissertation, and try to catch up on entering grades as best as I can before heading off to bed. At the end of each day my heart is so so full from being able to be a part of the lives of young people- as much as I give as a teacher/professor, I get even more back in the form of smiles, kind words, and the looks of transformation and empowerment in a student's eyes and face.  As Meister Eckhart once wrote, "If the only prayer you ever say in your life is 'Thank You,' that will suffice."  I hit my pillow each night both exhausted and thankful- I have found my telos.  Then why do I always feel like it's not enough?

As is typical of someone in the 21st century, not a day goes by without my checking facebook, instagram, etc., not only to check out the latest gossip, but also to connect with friends. Most of my friends have either gotten married by now, are close to being married, and/or are starting to think about having kids. I find myself constantly surprised that I am at that age where these things are normal and expected- "Wait, wasn't that girl doing kegstands just a few years ago? Oh wait, I guess that was 6 years ago now."  I also find myself consistently comparing myself and my life with those peers and dear friends, even though the course of my life has taken a decidedly different turn.  I am single, living in the city, teaching high school and college, and writing a dissertation in a doctoral program.  I teach, research, live and try to embody feminist theory, yet I find myself inadequate or failing when my own life does not follow in the sequential pattern of falling in love, getting married, buying a house and having children.  I don't even want all of those things, at least not in the traditional sense...but why do I still feel like I missed something, or that my life is somehow "less"?

I have come to the conclusion that I need to look at my life right now for what it is: an alternative lifestyle. In my own way, I am taking on loves- children even- and forging a new path as a single woman.  When I work on my dissertation, I am putting my passion, my love, my memories, my entire self into creating this new "thing," this new extension of myself.  In a way, I am birthing something that is both an intimate part of me but also an extension of me, existing on its own. My students are, in an unconventional way, also a part of my family, as are my colleagues and friends. I look at my life right now not in terms of what I can leave behind for my biological children, but rather what I can leave behind for Catholic women in the Church. Is that not noble in its own right? While I shudder at the term "spiritual motherhood," coined by the late Pope John Paul II in his writings on the dignity of women, I must admit that I am taking on an alternate role as a woman in the Church, being a servant and role model for my students about what it might mean to be a lay, single woman of faith.

Still, even in these analogies, I am subconsciously referring to the "traditional" way that a woman should lead her life according to society and the Church as standard, and justifying my lifestyle up and against this standard. Even when I look at fellow PhD students, not only am I comparing myself to them in terms of scholarship and progress, but will also add something to the effect of "PLUS, she has a hot husband/boyfriend."  Why do I do this?  I never stop to think that maybe she or he thinks that I have some great things going on in this crazy little alternative lifestyle of mine.

I love the simple yet poignant quote: "Comparison is the Thief of Joy."  I say it to myself like a mantra, because my own comparisons are stealing my joy, a little more each day.  Joy is precious, and I have the right to bask in it, as a daughter of God. As a teacher and perpetual student, this quote can also mean, "Keep your eyes on your own page." I don't want my students comparing themselves to each other, or using another voice other than their own, so why do I not apply this advice to my own life?

ON

My "Happiness" Project

At the turn of the new year, my good friend Liz gave me a book called "The Happiness Project"- a memoir about a woman in New York City who made resolutions every month for a year in attempts to live an intentionally more "happy" life.  Although personally, as a theologian and philosopher, a lot of her ruminations on happiness seemed a little shallow to me, the project itself is admirable and inspired me to try something like that in my own life: the 28th year of my life, year 2014.  I read the book in January, and so set out to start the project in February.  

February this year was one of the coldest in the past few centuries, and at school professors and politicians spoke ardently on the palpable and tragic effects that Global Warming is having on our planet.  On a small-scale, my own life tends to become affected by the sleet and cold of February every year, but even more so this year in Chicago (or 'Chi-beria'), when many "snowpocalypse"s happened and people locked themselves inside for weeks on end.  I felt like I was trudging- there were many days were it took a concerted effort to drag myself to school and slap on a positive face for colleagues and my students.  So, it was fitting that my happiness resolution for February was: "Show Up." Woody Allen once quipped, "90% of success is showing up," and for this month of February, this addage proved true for me.

In January, I had joined a spanish speaking group from meetup.com, and actually ended up really liking it, despite the fear that I got before walking into a room of 30 complete strangers and then proceeding to speak in a foreign language for a few hours.  I also love to go to yoga at the studio in my old neighborhood (which is now about 30 mins away), but in the negative degree fahrenheit temperatures of January I would often say "not today."  So, for February, whenever an opportunity would present itself to me that I would usually REALLY want to say no to (already in my yoga pants, netflix could be my boyfriend), I made myself SHOW UP.  This was especially hard to do for things that weren't mandatory.  Besides going to school for the classes I was a Teacher's Assistant for, my PhD lifestyle is pretty flexible according to my wants and needs (believe me, not as glamourous as it sounds sometimes!)

My results for February? I was 100% happy that I decided to "show up," and if it wasn't for that phrase to motivate me through February, I would have had a lot of nights when I might have been tempted to "duck out."  I don't want to live my life like that, and honestly it makes me even more prone to the winter blues, which can take a toll on anyone living in the north at this time, but most especially people who already try to balance anxiety and depression in daily life.

Some other goals that I have going throughout the year involve body care and relationship care.  I am taking a plethora of vitamins to try to be more healthy, and am training for a half marathon in May.  I try to be gentle with myself when I have waves of anxiety, and make sure that I treasure being able to sleep naturally now compared to last summer/fall when I would have to take sleeping pills to make my mind shut off.  I'm really excited for March and to build upon my happiness resolutions each month.  Perhaps I haven't found any "keys" to happiness, but I'm trying, and that makes me feel better already 

:-)

The Happiness Project

Single Girl in the City

In attempts not to sound too "complain-y" or downright debbie downer, I wanted to dedicate a post to what life is like for me, as a 20-something single academic in a big city.  I have definitely spent a lot of time feeling defined by whether or not I was in a relationship-- and now, whether or not I am married-- by friends, family and the greater culture around me.  As a feminist, I hate that I give in to those pressures to feel bad about myself because I don't have the same things that I "should" at this point in my life, as a woman.  I fully believe that it is more than ok (even laudable!) to never get married, to never have kids, and refuse to give in to societal expectations about what being a woman means.  However, as much as I can write about things from an "academic" perspective (even as a feminist), I will admit that I do want some of those things, and that is ok.  Even when re-reading that paragraph, I notice that what I think and how I feel are totally different things, and that maybe I don't even fully believe what I write sometimes.

As I turned a year older this January, I reflected on where I thought my life would be at this age.  I know that I am still young, but there was definitely something sad about ringing in another birthday without someone (a romantic partner) to share my life with.  Ever since I was a little girl I would always think about what it would be like to get married, and how wonderful that would be to have someone to love, to have something that gives you that extra spark in an otherwise normal day, to get giddy about someone and for that to last.  I found myself envious of yet another engagement surprise posted on facebook, or monumental steps taken by couples in romantic relationships: planning weddings, celebrating marriage, first houses, first vacations together, etc.  I know that I don't necessarily feel called to have children, but the idea of having some sort of family that's mine and not just being "Aunt Karen" my whole life would still be nice.  Being ok with the fact that that might not happen for me is a struggle but one in which I think is necessary to face.  As a spin on the old addage is the question: "What if your  Prince Charming never comes?"

The reality of the situation for many girls in their late 20s is that outside of a college environment and now in the workforce, it's difficult to find a lot of single people in the same age-range who share some of the same interests, values, etc.  As the "sea" gets thinner and thinner, it's hard not to feel disheartened, thinking that you've somehow missed the boat.  With years going by and relationships not working out, there is also a lot of baggage to deal with.  How do you love yourself again and find your true authentic self after serious relationships fall apart?  Do you have to wait to fully feel comfortable alone to try and let someone else in?  I struggle with a lot of these questions, because above all else, I want to feel some sort of peace in the fact that I might not have someone to share my life with, and that it's still a dinner for 1-- but that doesn't make me any less loved.  It's alone, but in a different way.  Maybe that has its own beauty.

The Courage of Doing Nothing

A few days ago, one of my friends from college posted the following "Poem for Busy People" on their facebook page:

Cramped

I need margins in my life. But I am
Crammed right up against my limits of
timefocusemotionstrength

Therefore it doesn’t take much for me to spill
over into the spaces,
Filling them until I have nowhere left to go.

I need margins. But everything in me wants to do
all I can. Be all I can be. Save the world
from sin and destruction.

Then I have so little time for rest and love.
So little time for quality so great is my quantity.
Rest and Love are segmented parts of my week,
teetering on the edge of my schedule
Where the slightest breath can knock them off,
treated like chaff when they are really marrow.

If I have a Palm Pilot that can keep track of all appointments;
if I have the ability to add more people to my schedule;
if I know all about grace and rest and love
but have not love and rest,
I am a tired disciple, a dim light, a busy Martha.

All that I have been taught tells me to do more.
Tells me that I can be God. That God needs me
in 100 places at once. That I can be Superman if I
beat my arms furiously enough against the air.

In order to make room for margins,
what will have to fall?
If I don’t make room for margins,
I will be falling.

—Marshall Benbow

In such a fast-paced, utilitarian driven society, it's hard for most of us to not feel guilty in taking the time to rest, to make room for the margins so that we can fully nourish our minds, hearts and souls.  Sometimes I find myself making excuses for why I don't have enough time to go to mass, go to yoga, or even make healthy meals at home.  But for me, the undeniable truth is that sometimes the silence and the rest scares me.  This fall, I have had a change of pace in terms of my schedule, which is more socially balanced than last year, but much more of a commitment than I have hours in the day.  Thus, quiet and rest often fall to the wayside, taking with them prayer and contemplation.  I have never been too "good" at prayer to begin with, mainly because my mind is always flooded with thoughts of anxiety and competing voices.  However, it has become very clear to me that I've been keeping so busy not only because I like to feel useful, but also because I'm frankly scared of what would happen if I really self-reflected.

I am definitely not afraid of my own deepest fears or inner doubts- in fact, I would rather confront them head on and try to become more mentally healthy than live in denial of them.  But there is something within me that just doesn't want to "deal" with what is really going on in these changing seasons of life.  It's easier for me to just plunge into my work (be it pastoral or academic) than to go, take my journal, and go sit by the lake.  Because I know that I have a lot of things that I haven't really taken the time to process, but am scared of what that entails.  Sometimes we have things churning inside of us that come up so unexpectedly.  Maybe it's God continuing to knock on the door of my heart until I finally have the courage to open the door, and confront the fact that I don't even know if he/she is really there for me anymore.  I need to have the courage to do nothing, in order to find out. To do otherwise would be for me to be closing the margins of my life, to the point where I just spill over and fall.

In yoga, there is this heart-opening pose called "dolphin" pose, and you literally prop your body on yoga blocks in such a way that your heart is wide open and above the rest of your body.  During that pose, while an acoustic version of "Bring me a higher love" was playing, I cried.  I couldn't stop, and I was so embarassed!!  I wouldn't have known that I had that inside of me until I actually stopped, did nothing, and opened up my heart.  Maybe I need to try that again sometime...

Namaste, and other ways that yoga has changed me

About 2 months ago, I decided to go to the drop-in free yoga class that my neighborhood yoga studio has on the first Saturday of each month. That day, I knew that I had fallen off the wagon in terms of running, and that the semester had started out with a roar, draining me in a lot of ways that I didn't know how to deal with. By the time I reached the middle of the class, I knew that going to yoga weekly was the thing that I needed in order to calm myself down throughout the semester- I thought to myself, "I want to learn more about this type of spirituality." While I don't claim to know a lot about Eastern spirituality, or even about different types of yoga philosophies, I wanted to jot down a list of really important things that I have learned through yoga, and by practicing it 2 or 3 times a week:

- don't compare yourself. This probably comes as a given (as are most important, basic lessons in life), but whenever I'm in a group class, I always find myself comparing myself to other people or trying to get the moves *better* than someone else. In yoga, on of the teachers always starts off by saying that yoga is not a practice about ego, but rather about listening to how your body is that day and not worrying about whether you are doing it right or if everyone is getting the "tree pose" except for you.

-right now, you are perfect. When I was taking a class in Minnesota with my childhood friend Liz, the instructor told us to believe, for the next hour, that we are perfect. As soon as she said this, I got all "theology" on that statement and kept thinking about how we are all fallen, how we are far from perfect, how I'm far from perfect, etc. Then, as I was thinking about how much I disagreed with this statement, she said "don't try to analyze this thought, or question it." In that moment, I really was perfect, simply because I wasn't nit-picking things that were wrong with me, I was just loving myself.

-leave everything behind when you get on the mat. This hour is all about you, and you get to leave the world behind for a little bit and stop the freakin' broken record in your head of doubts, to-do lists, relationship drama, work drama, etc. and just concentrate on you. Although in principle it is not hard for me to indulge in myself, it is very hard to stop my worries, my anxieties and my thoughts about the day. My mat is the place where my mind stops analyzing...even if just for a moment.

-your breath is the most important thing, it is the center of life. For someone who finds myself not breathing deeply enough when I get anxious (most people don't know how to breathe through their diaphragms, and when we get nervous our breath naturally gets really short and "heady"), being reminded in yoga to breathe intentionally is the best thing for my daily life. I really loved it when my instructor said that when we find ourselves thinking about other things or worrying, to breathe so loud that it drowns out that little voice. At first I thought it sounded really funny when the people next to me where breathing so loud that it whistled, but it really does feel good. Good air in, bad air out.

-As you exhale, let go of anything that you need to let go of. Let go of anything that is weighing you down. This is perhaps the greatest lesson (again, really simple duh I know this stuff but don't live it) that I have learned from my yoga classes. Anything that isn't lifting me higher, that is literally bringing me down in my life, needs to be released with every exhale. I have believed for a very, very long time that to love someone means to love them even when they treat you badly, and that Jesus loved us even we we turn our backs on him so why shouldn't we do the same. The problem with this type of belief is that I have never been able to let go of things (mainly people) who, for the most part, just make me worry, make me feel bad about myself, and make me unhappy. I justify it by saying that love isn't about always expecting reciprocal feelings in return, it is not a give and take economic exchange that is always equal...it's just love, no matter what. But there is a problem in always loving people who just give back negativity in return, or make you feel weighed down, even if unintentionally. I need to let go. It's not because I haven't loved enough or in the way that they want me to, it's just because they are weighing me down, and I am better than that. I need to learn to love myself.

Namaste. The divine light in me recognizes the divine light in you. Or, as my friend Maggie translates it, "have a good day." ;-)

And I Will Try to Fix You

I have been meaning to write a post about this for a while, but when I'm not constantly reading, writing, or constantly thinking for my PhD program, I tend to want to do really shallow, mindless things like buying things I can't afford, watching reality tv, going out, etc. I also didn't know if I wanted to post this because it is pretty personal. Nevertheless, in the spirit of the famous feminine slogan, "The personal is the political," I am going to write about the uncomfortableness of this topic for the world wide webs to see, because it is really important to me as a theologian and a person, and I think it should be important for you, too.

Speaking of tv, I am definitely a Gleek and not afraid to admit it. I think that especially at the end of last season, the writers were brilliant when covering really hard topics like gay teens, teen pregnancy, sex in general, and mental illness. The "Born this Way" episode was amazing to me because it really empowered people to embrace who they really are, especially in the arena of mental health. Probably my favorite part of that episode was when Emma, the guidance counselor was in the therapist's office and finally admitted to herself how ashamed she was of having OCD. The therapist said to her, "Mental illness isn't who you are, it's preventing you from becoming who you are." She also spoke boldly about how mental illness is so stigmatized in this country and although most people deal with it, no one wants to talk about it. Brilliant.

Fast forward to about a month ago, when they continued to tell the story about Emma's OCD and how it affected the relationship with Will, her boyfriend/star of the show. When her parents came over for dinner (much to her horror), you could see how much of Emma's upbringing had contributed to and perhaps even created her OCD. Mental illnesses are definitely biological, however they are definitely also socially created by the actions/reactions that we have as children. The episode ended with Will trying to comfort Emma, who was in her own little world of pain, with the Cold Play song "Fix You" playing in the background. This episode was eerily similar to what was going on in my own emotional journey at the time when I watched it, and it definitely touched me.

In one of my classes, I wrote a response paper about H. Richard Niebuhr's book The Responsible Self, shortly after this episode aired. My paper revolved around the idea that for Niebuhr, morality is a person's response to actions done to him/her. Niebuhr views morality as responding to that which is acted or placed upon a person in their life. We as human beings and as moral agents are always in community, and there is no denying that the way we live and the way that we act is always integrally connected with interpretations of other people's actions and responses. We are communal beings, and for better of for worse, the way that we view ourselves is based on what we think others want us to be or what we think others think of us. In his chapter on the meaning of responsibility, Niebuhr claims that in our responsibility a person may attempt to answer the question "What should I do?" by raising a prior question of "What is going on?" or "What is being done to me?" It is impossible in Niebuhr's eyes to understand events or act upon each other as persons or groups without constantly interpreting the meaning behind another's actions.

Karen, where are going with this?? The reason that I am a big proponent of mental health awareness is because I myself have anxiety disorder. I have had it all my life I think, but it started to really flare it's nasty, cruel head in college. Ever since then, my relationships have been affected by it, and I have defined myself by it. Some people in my life have contributed to my anxiety, and some people have helped to calm me down. I am not at all saying that we aren't responsible for the way that we deal with our feelings (I know that I am in charge of getting help for myself and can't blame others for the way that I react to things), but I do acknowledge that my anxiety is not something that is an isolated affair, it is helped or hindered by my responses to other people's actions.

I have thought, many, many times, that if people found out what my anxiety truly looked like, they would want to run away. And some people have run away, which affirmed my great fear. But some people have seen me and stayed. Many of the people in my theology department here in Chicago have seen me in a bad state of anxiousness, and instead of fleeing, they stayed. That action caused me to have a reaction of peace, of calm...even if it was only for a few hours. I am eternally grateful for the people in my life, especially my family and dear friends who have sat with my by the bed like Will did for Emma in Glee, and lived out the song lyric "I will try to fix you."

The famous sociologist Charles Cooley present the image of the "looking-glass self" when describing the way that we view ourselves. "Each to each a looking glass reflects the other that doth pass." In other words, when a person responds to another action, they are interpreting the meaning of the actions upon them, and often reflect back to the world a version of themselves based on what they perceive these outside meanings to be. I want to be able to reflect back to the world a version of myself that is strong, confident, resilient and compassionate. Sometimes, however, life and mental health gets in the way, and we reflect back a distorted image that we aren't good enough, we aren't lovable, we aren't important. I hope to always remind myself that there are wonderful people in my life who are constantly building me up and are always there for me when the actions of others or my own reactions get me down. If we are always choosing to act based on the activity which is already around us, then I want to choose love, I want to choose life.

"The world will knock you down more times than you can imagine. Don't knock yourself down." ~Adam Braverman, "Parenthood"

Finding the Dalmatian

Ok, so I'm totally doing this when I become a professor. Today I had my second PhD course, and it was a course about fundamental Issues in Christian Ethics, particularly in terms of faith and morality. This is the kind of stuff that I love, learning about feminist ethics, social justice ethics, and just how the hell (pun intended) can we use this faith that we have to make a difference and to create a more just and loving society. Anyways, my professor is an Ethicist, and he is probably the funniest prof I have ever had thusfar...but amidst the joking was such a strong message. So here is the activity that we did today about a dalmatian and the kingdom of God:

We were all given a piece of paper with black and white splotches all over it, and on the top of the paper it said "top" so we knew which way to hold it, and at the bottom it said "Find the Dalmatian". So, being the visually astute person that I am, I stared and stared and within a few minutes I raised my hand to say that I could see the dalmatian. There were only 2 other people who could "see" it, in a class of about 20. When I went outside in the hallway so the professor could verify that I could point it out, he just shook his head no and said that I still hadn't found it. The other 2 people tried to show me what they could see, but the stipulation was that they couldn't blatantly trace it out for me, they had to try to explain it. Phrases like "it's actually smaller than you think" and "it's not looking at you" made me more confused, and I was trying for the ENTIRE class to find the Dalmatian. To the point where I could barely listen to the professor because I was so upset that I couldn't see it, or that I had thought that I had seen it but really was totally wrong.

The way the prof linked this with faith and morality is that in a very real way, this is how Jesus must have felt when trying to explain the Kingdom of God to people. He KNEW that the dalmatian was right in front of them, but all that they could see were black and white splotches. He couldn't "trace" the image for them, he had to explain the kingdom in parables, hoping that they would finally see it for themselves. That "aha!" moment can only arise out of the person finding the dalmatian and then, all of a sudden once they have found it, they can see nothing else. How frustrated Jesus must have been when he tried to tell his disciples "it's right there in front of you!!" but couldn't force it upon them (perhaps because of free will, perhaps because every person has to come to belief by themselves??). The prof said that the people like me were very much like Peter....they wanted so badly to believe, wanted so badly to see....but they just couldn't. I just couldn't. I feel very much like a Peter in that I believed that the dalmatian was there, but I just couldn't see it myself. I actually thought that I saw it, but then was told that that was a "false" image. Some people are like Paul and they all of a sudden see it and then their lives are changed because now they can't see anything else in the picture.

I'm not really explaining the powerfulness of the activity very well for those of you who weren't there, but it really got me thinking about faith, and about the constant struggle to see what is right in front of you. Right now, I'm having trouble seeing. I'm having trouble believing that God knows the desires of my heart and is going to give them to me at the perfect time. I'm having trouble seeing how being in a whole new city, torn away from my dearest friends and family, will feel like home. I really really want to see, but I can't right now. And like Peter, I'm walking on the water terrified that I'm going to drown- oh me of little faith! What would it mean to finally see things clearly? How jealous I am of people who do see it clearly, with no trouble at all! It's kind of ironic that I was so sure I saw it and then was told "nope, that's not it"...how often I think that I know what's best for me and what truth is, when really it's just a distortion of my human and biased eyes.

In the end, I forced one of the girls that could see it to go in the hallway after class and literally highlight the dalmatian for me. I had no "aha" moment, just a relief that I solved that puzzle for the morning. So I kind of cheated. But deep down, I know that me finding the kingdom of God will be the greater struggle, and there's no cheating. So, like Peter, I'm just gonna keep trying.