Hot-tub Breathing

Our landlord unveiled a hot-tub. It has always been there; only now it works. In the space underneath the raised, second-story deck sits our hot-tub centerpiece, flanked by shelves of tools and cob-webbed patio furniture.

Carly and I broke it in last night. Dark; shivering; bare feet on patio cement; lift off the heavy lid; whispered, "Shhh!"; "Can you see?"; "Here it is"; eyes adjusted to darkness; climb; sink into warmth.

The jets hummed.

We talked about past elations, and heart-heaviness, and wondered out loud at how things might be. Carly listened, and prayed for me, and we stayed until we knew we couldn't stay any longer.

Monday was a stressful day. That time in the hot-tub with my dear friend was just what I needed.

Today was even more stressful. Grades for the quarter are due this next Monday, and I feel absolutely buried-- I feel overwhelmed. At one point today, when staring at my to-do list, I felt like I might start crying. I have no idea how it's all going to get done.

The day's one promised respite was a yoga class I planned to take with Deidra. My frantically beating heart would finally begin to calm, I thought, once I stretched out and worked my body.

We got to the studio and found out the class was already full. Thwarted.

So:

after getting home,

I went out to the hot-tub instead.

I sank into warmth; rested my head against the edge of the tub. Underneath the water, a light shone into the stirring and made a tiny rainbow swim beside me. I looked up at the sky, which was partially visible beyond the corrugated metal patio ceiling.

Cold air.

Quiet.

One tree trembled with brown, dried leaves, and I thought, quivering. I looked at the trees opposing it which had nothing left and I thought, threadbare. A tiny spider twirled from one of the rafters, increasingly silhouetted against the sky in the fading light and I wondered at the way things were.

Cold wind buffeted my face and hair. Dry leaves skittered across the patio. The evaporating water left nibbling, cold, chlorine kisses against my face.

I prayed.

The closest thing I know of surrender, I think, is the feeling that comes when sinking into deep water, when every muscle is finally-- finally-- allowed to relax. In the hot tub then, I let my muscles and my mind drift away from me. The cold air, the warm water, the skittering leaves, and the quiet voice somewhere deep in my heart spun together in a hum of rest.

You are safe. Be at peace.

Breathing

Last year, when I was studying for some of the horrendous tests that you have to take to get into grad school, I stressed out to a boy.
"I don't know how I'm going to pass this."
"You'll pass it."
"But what if I don't??"
"You'll pass it."
"But what if I DON'T?"
"Do you believe God wants you to be a teacher?"
"Yes."
"Then don't worry about it. He'll make you a teacher."

I thought my would-be advisor was awfully patronizing at the time, but the more I think about those words, the more reassuring I find them to be.

I have been stressing out ALL DAY LONG about getting a job for next year. I know of at least three districts in Seattle that are in hiring freezes-- in fact, I don't know if I know of a district that is NOT in a hiring freeze. MY school is being shut down, so all of the teachers are scrambling like rats on a sinking ship. Everyone's losing their jobs. Everyone's panicked. Everyone is freaked out.

I woke up feeling terrible, so I called in sick and just worked on my resume all day long. I've been to two resume workshops in the last couple weeks. Each one has said things like, "You need to do THIS, but you CANNOT do this, and you should definitely feature this, but by no means do THIS!" And so I've been working on my resume, but each little thing feels like a wire connected to a bomb-- it's taken on THAT much dire significance. Finally I called SPU and asked someone at the career center to take a look at what I had. They sent it back-- the version that I'd been working on all day-- with tons of suggestions for how to improve it.

Then I called my mom and cried.

Anxiety is not a new experience. Starting last year, on the morning that I took the GRE, anxiety has batted me around every once in a while like a cat toying with a mouse. Earlier this year, at one of my counseling appointments, I talked about how frustrating it was to feel so imprisoned by WORRY. We discussed a couple sides of it, and finally we just prayed and decided to see if God had anything to say.

I got a picture in my head, of me, barefoot, in a field that was dotted with wildflowers and bordered by some trees in the distance. There was a breeze, but it was warm. My hair was down, and I had on a linen dress with a skirt that was full enough to catch the wind and move around my legs. There was a full length mirror in front of me, situated in the long grass-- one of those old fashioned oval ones, that stands up on big wooden legs. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Wind-blown. Barefoot. Open. Light.

I heard: "THIS is you. You're meant for freedom."

Big deep breath in. But then came a flood of questions and doubts and worries, and "What if's???" and I asked the speaker in my dream, "But whatif, whatif, whatif??"

And I heard: "None of those matter in deciding where you go next. I am the one who chooses where you go next. And I have a good next step for you."

Then, something in that girl in the field rose up and floated like a kite over the trees, bobbing and dancing in the wind.

I heard, "THIS is you. You're meant for freedom. That's the sort of spirit I've given you."

... So now, after a day of stressing out, and feeling panicked, and feeling insecure, and feeling unsure, and feeling terrified by this economy, I come back to the simplicity of that question:

"Do you believe God wants you to be a teacher?"
"Yes."
"Then don't worry about it. He'll make you a teacher."

Resting in that this evening.

The Official Bane of My Existence

I have referred to many things in the past as being, "the bane of my existence." It is a great phrase. It is descriptive. There are many things that fit the description: things which are, in fact, the bane of my existence. Things like technology. Packing for trips. Paying bills. Yapping dogs. People who drive slowly in the left lane, or who walk slowly in front of me. These things all drive me crazy. But these things are all minor banes.

Do you want to know the most baneful of the banes? The most banefully baney bane of them ALL?

Keeping track of my online learning assignments.

Four classes: I'm taking FOUR classes over the internet right now. Each class has its own site, and each site has the assignments posted in various links, none of which match the other classes' links. A smart person would take the time to sit down at the beginning of the semester, root out all the assignments, and put them in one easily viewed calendar.

I am a smart person. I am SO smart, in fact, that I thought I could remember them all in my head.

I am now smart enough to realize that I was an idiot for thinking so.

I have now forgotten four, FOUR FOUR FOUR assignments for these classes. I have had to beg for forgiveness from each of my four professors. I found out about two of these assignments when talking with my other classmates at our class last night-- the one on-campus class we have. You know those nightmares where you think you have a huge paper due, or a test you didn't study for? You know that HUGE feeling of relief when you wake up, and realize it was just a dream? Yeah. The first part. But not the second. The second part never came.

"Wait-- WHAT is due today? Oh my gosh-- I'm going to have to go home and do that. CRAP!"
"Greta, don't worry-- it happens to all of us. I'm still working on the Glasser paper! Dan had to give me an extension on that!"
"The what?"
"The Glasser paper."
"The WHAT?"
"...The Glasser paper. It was due a couple weeks ago."
"I thought we just had to do a discussion post for that!"
My classmates looked at me in horrified sympathy. "We did... But we had to write a 4-5 page paper too..."

I literally keeled over. You guys. I have had enough stress. I am tired of feeling so stressed. I have been stressed about family. I have been stressed about relationships. I have been stressed about friends. And I am SO, SO STRESSED about this grad school stuff. The pressure is back on my chest. The breathing has once more gotten shallow. My appetite has once more disappeared. I am so tired of feeling this way.

And I'm EXHAUSTED. Almost too exhausted to go look through these syllabi, one by one, and FINALLY root out all the assignments due-- both those overlooked and those still impending.

But I am a smart person. And even though I am weighed down by fatigue, a smart person puts her assignments in her calendar. Better late than never, right?

I just hope my professors feel the same way...