Recently I spent the afternoon on the beach of Assateague Island. And despite being as much of a beach person as I am (in an intense tie with Christmas), my heart was breaking. I was so uncomfortable even being there, I couldn't wait to leave and I didn't even don a swimsuit and hardly put my feet in the water at all. And most telling, I didn't build a sandcastle! (gasp, what?!?!)
So what was happening?
I was there a part of a week with an organization I have volunteered with for over 20 years. A week that I look forward to. The work for which, I am so pumped and so passionate about, that I preach to everyone for weeks after my return. My husband has said that the pictures of me doing that work are the happiest he's ever seen me. And now......right now, I feel like burning all of my manual pages on the campfire we're going to have tonight. I am seriously considering packing away all of the t-shirts I have acquired over the years and maybe even getting rid of all of them. Usually the sight of them brings back sweet memories and smiles. Now they only bring me pain. And only one memory.
It seemed like middle school girl drama - the scenes that made this love in my life crumble around me. One of the women on the trip made an assumption about me and accused me of things I did not do. Not being very good at conflict and confrontation, I believe I went into freeze mode - my brain shutting down and unable to carry out my duties. So basically I looked pretty incompetent and spent each hour of each day waiting to hear that I had screwed up again. It was like being fired and then having to work out a predetermined notice. So Wednesday, just before beach time, I was informed that someone was coming to take over in the role I was there for. All I could think of was, "I just got fired from volunteering! And in 21 years, I have never been this unappreciated, accused, .....this much of a failure. I felt like a complete failure. Initially when the first accusatory finger was pointed, I apologized, I groveled, I cried. And I mean, CRIED. I honestly don't think I even cried that hard when my mom died and I know I did a lot of heart and gut wrenching crying during that time. As I look back on my tears and sobs and dry heaves, it all seems pretty dysregulated. The range of emotions I felt are even hard to identify- shock, sadness, shame, betrayal, anger.
Thanks to the truly amazing grace of one person, I made it through to the end of the week. I tried hard to keep my head down, heal what I could of what I had hoped was going to be a good relationship and got the heck out of Dodge as soon as I could. I never regained the sense that I had a right to be there, I figured that others would wonder why I had been allowed to stay much less still participate. It's been 3 weeks since the final day.......And I feel bruised. My heart feels battered. I am angry at the injustice and heartbroken about the image the organization may now have of me. I wasn't ready to close the door to this chapter in my life and I fear that someone else, someone who doesn't know me and didn't give me the benefit of the doubt, may have slammed it shut in my face forever. Because she has influence with those in leadership. And she is well loved by those in her circle.
In the weeks that have passed (and in the 9 1/2 hour trip it took me to get home), I have been able to take a step back and realize that this was a spiritual attack. I am even more sure of it when I think about the days and weeks beforehand when I should have been doing all of my session planning and organizing, I was unable to put together a decent thought. My brain physically felt shut down, avoidant, truly incapable of designing a program for the week. I told myself it would all come together as it had in the past. I wasn't trying to be complacent. I felt like I was physically being blocked from accomplishing what I needed to do. And even with the knowledge that I wasn't really in conflict with a person but something in the spiritual realm, I am still deeply hurt. And I struggle to not hate or be bitter. I miss loving that purpose and that work. And I'm angry that the unseen enemy got the upper hand that week. So. Very. Angry about that. And I don't know what it will take to not feel so beat up. Or ashamed. Or to feel useful for that purpose again. But I do hope that the next time I have opportunity to have my toes in some sand, there will be something other than tears in my heart.
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