Catching Up

When I think back on the last eight months, part of me can’t believe how fast time has gone, yet another part of me feels as though they have been the longest, most agonizingly slow months I’ve ever lived. For example, I can’t believe that Cam and I have been married for almost eight months already (it sometimes feels like it was just yesterday), but then I also can’t believe we been married for ONLY eight months. Pandemic Time (my new term for the passing of time) is weird like that. In some ways, it follows the regular ebb and flow of life, yet in others, it feels like an eternity has passed and nothing has changed.

Our world experienced something it wasn’t prepared for. No one knew the impact COVID-19 would have on our lives – our everyday routines, our economy, our communities, relationships, vocations, gatherings- our entire livelihood. Even as we watched it spread across the globe, it was still a shock when it hit “home” – when our world as we knew it, shut down. Ever since the initial lock down, my life has changed. I became overwhelmed with depression… I couldn’t dress myself because I was just too exhausted from breathing to remain alive. Being a newlywed and dealing with Mental Illness that debilitating is incredibly humbling, to say the least and did a real number on my self-esteem and self-worth. I was trapped in this never-ending battle within my mind – am I worth it? And this, dear friends, is where my story begins (again)…

In the first week of December 2018, I was attacked at work leaving me with fractured ribs and a heck of a lot of trauma. Going to work became terrorizing. I stopped sleeping and eating. I lived in fear. So it was no surprise when I came down with a bad case of strep throat and my doctor wrote me off work until the start of Christmas break. It was then that I realized returning to work was not going to be an option. I was a mess. I developed agoraphobia to the point where I wouldn’t leave my house. It was bad and it was then that my journey with Extended Disability (EDB) began. At the beginning of 2019, I was put onto EDB and to be honest, I’m still on it. It has given me the opportunity to do a lot of therapy, a lot of processing and a lot of healing.

Trauma therapy was the hardest thing I have ever experienced in life. I honestly would argue trauma therapy was worse than the original traumas, solely because therapy required me to take those experiences out of the boxes I’d packed them into and relive them – over and over again. Worth it? Yes. A million times yes. I’m so thankful for my therapist who walked me through hell and back. I can honestly say I wouldn’t still be here without him. And looking back on things, I know that God placed me in that town, in that room with my attacker because He knew I needed to heal from things from my childhood that were still haunting me. And He knew that my safe person was there and he’d help me through. (I have tears in my eyes after writing that. I’m honestly so amazed at how God redeems our pain for His glory and how He knows exactly who you need to help point you back to Him. It gives me shivers.)

When I first was taken off work, my therapist kept saying, “Our goal is to get you back to work as soon as possible, because the longer someone is off work, the harder it is for them to go back”. Now, at the time when he said this, it terrified me, because I knew deep down that I was not ready to go back to work. I was too battered and bruised mentally and emotionally. But I now can say that I understand why he said that.

When I was working, I felt that I was not only following the calling God had placed on my heart to love His children, but I felt like I had value. I was contributing to society. I was needed, I was loved and I was good at what I did. To have that suddenly stripped away from me was SO hard. I remember crying on my therapist’s couch, saying, “I don’t know who I am if I’m not a teacher”. I felt an overwhelming sense of grief. I felt like I had lost my identity. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I felt worthless. The longer I was deemed “unfit to return”, the stronger the grief came, because along with time came the realization that I might never go back. One of my case workers told me at one point that I may never be able to go back and that EDB may end up being my life. Which, ok, the financial compensation and health benefits that come with EDB wouldn’t be the worst thing to live off, but it was also a somber realization that I am not who I used to be. That was a hard pill to swallow. I mean, I’m 27. I didn’t even make it through 5 years of my chosen vocation and now they’re telling me I may never make it back?

And so, the slump began. I don’t know if there is any science to back this, so take this as you will. I firmly believe that my brain changed. Now I know it changed from the trauma, I know it changed from the therapy. I know those things. Neuropathways in my brain were physically changed. This is not what I’m talking about. In the 1.5 years that I was not working, my brain changed. It went from being a creative, avid reader, writer, planner to not being able to read a paragraph without becoming exhausted. Emails were impossible to read, yet alone respond to. Text messages? Yikes. Forming thoughts, speaking fluidly and cohesively was incredibly difficult. I felt like my brain stopped functioning. Even though my brain and I weren’t communicating the way we once had, I craved feeling like I was contributing to the world. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to feel valuable again.

Enter March 2020… The month it all began (in more than a few ways). I was lying in bed one day when I received an email from my church. They were looking to hire a new Director of Children’s Ministry to begin in May. The email was brief, saying if interested, email one of our pastors and they’ll send you the job posting. Something stirred within me when I read those words. However, I was right in the middle of COVID-ifying our wedding, so I let it go. But try as I might, that stirring within me wouldn’t ease up. I emailed our pastor and asked for the job posting. He sent it back promptly and as I read it, I remember thinking, “THIS. I could do this. But I’m not sure I’m ready”. It was a part time job, 15 hours a week, flexible hours, planning Sunday morning kids’ lessons, coordinating and scheduling volunteers… All things I had done before and done well. But I was afraid. So again, I let it go and shifted my focus back to wedding planning. Cam and I were driving around town one night and I suddenly blurted out, “I think I’m going to apply to work at the church”. I honestly don’t remember what Cam said or how our conversation went. I know he said he’d support me no matter what I decided, so I decided to apply.

Y’all, sitting down and updating my resume and writing the cover letter was harder than you’d believe. A skill that once was so easy for me now took triple the time to sound not even half as professional. After obsessing for an entire day, I finally just said, “I’ve done my best. If this is where I’m supposed to be, God will work it out”. About a week and a half later, everything shut down and Pandemic Time officially began. I received an email from the church leadership thanking me for my application, but that due to the pandemic, they were putting hiring on hold. To be honest, part of me was relieved and part of me was crushed. I was relieved that I had “an answer”. The door was closed. But that was also crushing because for the first time since leaving my previous profession, I felt like I had found something I could do. It checked all the boxes. Part time, flexible hours. Working with kids but not for 8 hours 5 days a week. Supportive staff. Amazing church family. It was the first time I was excited about something work related.

Somehow, we made it to May (yay, pandemic time). I received another email from the church, saying they decided to go ahead with hiring, asking if I still wanted to be considered as an applicant. I quickly emailed back that I would and not long after, an interview was scheduled.

I used to be really good at interviews. I could think on the spot, make good connections, recall significant moments and achievements. Every job I ever interviewed for, I was offered, always with the comment, “You’re a very strong interviewee”. But when I began to prep for my interview, I literally couldn’t remember ANYTHING. I couldn’t remember any of my teaching terminology. I couldn’t remember any significant teaching or learning moments/achievements. I couldn’t recall a time I dealt with conflict, everything I knew I felt had been sucked right out of my brain. It was as though when my brain went into trauma mode, EVERYTHING associated with teaching was packaged up in that “ouch” box and pushed down into the deep, dark abyss. It was gone. Somehow, by God’s grace, I made it through the interview. But man, it was SO hard. I remember sitting in the chair, trying to answer the questions and my mind going completely blank. I remember trying to stifle the panic I was feeling because I was failing at something I used to do with ease. It was another smack in the face at just how far I had fallen and at that point, as I stumbled over my words, that I wondered if my one case worker was right – that I would just be an EDB lifer. I cried on the drive back home. I not only felt like I had failed miserably in that interview, but that I had embarrassed myself in front of people I would see every week for the next how many years. I felt awful. I remember praying, “God, if this is where You want me, make them remember my words better than they were. And if this isn’t where I’m meant to be, help them forget the words I said.”

Needless to say, when my phone rang the next morning and my pastors name was on the screen, I froze. I debated letting it go to voicemail but knew that would only prolong my agony. So, I answered.

Y’all. Somehow, some way, God used my stuttered, poorly formed sentences and they offered me the job. I was ELATED… and also in shock. For the first time, career wise, I felt like something good finally happened. I was so excited and so nervous at the same time. My brain, even though it miraculously got me the job, was still in rough shape. My concentration was all that of 5 minutes. Going back to work was going to be HARD. I was incredibly concerned, but I wasn’t supposed to start until July 1, so I felt I had time to condition myself.

Then… COVID changed that plan. The Alberta government gave the OK for churches to open in June. My pastor (boss?) called and told me the news, asking if I could start Friday (it was either Tuesday or Wednesday). So much for time to prepare. I was fully prepared for a hard transition back to work. Expected it even. But, y’all, when I started, it was like no time had passed. I could focus. My creativity came back. I came up with a COVID safe Summer Program in a day. I felt pieces of the “old” Rebecca peeking through and it felt good.

June 15th, 2020 will forever be a special day for me. It is the day I returned to work after years of believing I was finished at 26. I absolutely love my job. I built some incredible relationships with kids this summer and I absolutely adore them. Seeing them on Sundays is the highlight of my week. I planned and launched our Sunday morning Kids Programs on October 4th. Minus a tiny tech hiccup, everything went smoothly. I get to love on kids and teach them about Jesus. It is literally everything I’ve ever wanted to do with my life. I am so, so thankful.

Pandemic Time has been hard on all of us. I’ve seen kids develop OCD out of fear of the virus. I’ve seen marriages begin to crumble, I’ve seen the pain and hurt in many eyes as they fight battles no one knows of. My walk through Pandemic Time hasn’t been easy either. But I have had time (yay, lock down), to really sit down and evaluate what is important in my life. I’ve had time to reflect on past events in my life and see them in a new light. I’ve learned so much about myself and God’s faithfulness.

I feel like in a sense, I’ve made it to the “other side”. Don’t get me wrong, I still have massive amounts of healing to do and there are some traumas that have been too fresh to process yet. I still deal with overwhelming anxiety and depression. But as I sat and wrote out part of my story, I’m overwhelmed with how far I’ve come. These same stories were once penned with gut wrenching pain and a flood of tears. But today, I see strength. Resilience. Growth. Hope. Faith. Grace. Love. I am valued and I am worthy. Not because of what I do and what I can offer society, but because I am me. I am enough, just as I am and I matter.

If I leave you with anything today, let it be this. You ARE enough and you matter. Don’t let anyone (not even yourself) convince you otherwise.

Stay strong, dear ones. This journey is hard and healing is slow, but it is worth it. You’re stronger than you know. You can and will make it through. We’ll fight together. Keep your eyes open for even the tiniest moment of joy in the midst of this darkness. I promise you that they’re there.

Fight on.

Love,

Becca