I went to church today

After staying up till 4 am trying to decide if I should or not.

An announcement went out earlier this week saying a(nother) potential new minister was going to be in the pulpit. Part of me was like, “You’re off today, you’ve been thinking of popping in for awhile, you didn’t get to see the last potential new minister before they didn’t work out, maybe this is a good opportunity to dip your toe in the water.” I asked Kid how she felt about it. She was enthusiastic about it, said she missed it. Was not expecting that response.

Then I sat up all night debating whether or not I really wanted to go back. Other reasons kept me up, too. My crazy switch is easily flipped lately and WOW does fighting paranoia simultaneously wear you out and wire you up.

Real talk: I didn’t want to go back right away with Kid in tow. Not because I didn’t want her to go back, but because I didn’t want to face the realities of Stuff That Had Happened and The Fruits of My Labor are Being Enjoyed by Everyone But Me and That is the Ultimate Kick in the Gut and It Will Dredge Up All the Feelings I Keep Reprocessing and Force Me to Address Them AGAIN. I knew dealing with even the smallest part of the children’s aspect would hit every single movement in that hurt suite. Ideally I would have gone back alone first. But I had no child care today.

I woke up mostly groggy and commenced trying to talk Kid out of church. She was Not Having It. Damn it, when I had to be there for stuff she was throwing a fit to stay home. The one time I wanted her to say no.

I waited until the last possible moment to get ready. I drove under the speed limit. I had to do what Kid called a “courage lap” before making the turn on the road to church. When I pulled in someone I knew was supportive was standing in the parking lot. That helped keep me from circling and pulling back out. The new director not being there also helped a lot (I’m sure she’s perfectly nice and competent and I have no beef with her considering I’ve never met her but see brutally raw feelings above).

I was afraid I wouldn’t be welcome outside a few people, to be honest. I was surprised at some of the people who said they were so glad to see me back. I was also surprised at the seemingly chilly reception I got from a few people. Maybe it’s the paranoia; maybe it’s Maybelline. I’m sure there are people who are thinking “I know she saw me and didn’t say hello.” If you are one of those people and reading this, please forgive me. I borrowed from my peopling ability in order to walk in the door. Initiating conversation was not in my skill set today.

For the past few hours I’ve been processing the feelings that did get kicked up. Before service began someone intuitive asked how things felt. The best way I can translate the gesticulation I answered with is off balance. It was like coming home from college for break and your room is no longer your room, it’s the room you sleep in. It used to be my church. The past yearish it was the church I went to and am not going to for the foreseeable future so stop emailing me asking for money and/or things you want me to do. For now I think it will be the church I go to as I have the time and energy and both are limited so no thank you I cannot will not touch whatever task you think I would be perfect for.

But so many people were glad not just to see me but Kid as well — I would venture some were happier to see her than me — and that was heartwarming.

Relevant Hamilton moment:

A white clock with bamboo edging, white hands, and no numbers. Written on the face are the lyrics “It’s only a matter of time. Who will tell your story?” from Hamilton: An American Musical.

I may have achieved the three stages of Eliza.

Let me be a part of the narrative….

I’m erasing myself from the narrative.

I put myself back in the narrative.


No promises.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s