Face Plant

I feel as though for the past few days I've just been continuously falling on my face. First, my embarrassing outing on Sunday to Pacaya. On Monday, I got so flustered over computer problems that I couldn't hardly focus on making a phone call, and I had to ask someone else to do it. And it appears as though I have either lost our rent money or that someone stole it. - I went to take it to our landlady yesterday morning, and she wasn't there. So I came back to our apartment and left it on a little table by the door, grabbed my stuff, and left for the day. When I returned to the apartment last night, the money was gone! Granted: I am not the best at finding lost items, but I have searched high and low and even gone up to our roof to see if maybe I accidently carried it up there when I went to get my laundry down, and I went through the trash. It is nowhere to be found.

The real issue here is not the occurrences themselves, but rather how I react to them. When something goes wrong, I get serious tunnel vision. On Sunday, I couldn't think of anything besides how mortified I felt and about how people might have been thinking negative things about me. With this money mystery, I haven't been able to stop wracking my brain trying to figure out what happened. (I do have money to repay the rent, but it's still just so weird and mysterious and perhaps a little disconcerting.)

I fully believe that I am naturally inclined to worry and anxiety. My MBTI type is proof of that. But I think that maybe it has become my m.o. in a negative way. I want things to go perfectly, and when they don't, I just can't handle it without having a meltdown of some sort. Or, when I feel that I have messed up or made a bad impression, I can't help but beat myself up over it. It's not a good way to live. Lord, help me change.

Battling my pride on Pacaya

I just returned from Pacaya volcano. It was a real trek, and I am tired. I had read various accounts of the hike and its difficulty; some folks said it was quite easy while others said it was quite strenuous. Either way, it turned out to be too much for me. I am not currently in good shape, and I just couldn't do it. I did make it to the summit, however. There was a group of young boys with our tour group on horseback, and they had been offering rides; so about a quarter of the way up, I caved. Yes, I rode a horse. For the first time in, probably, 15 years.

One other person from our group got on a horse as well, so that allayed some of my embarrassment. But not all of it. The whole time (and even now) I was so worried about what everyone was thinking about me. Thinking that I am a wuss. And out of shape. And even that I shouldn't have gone on the trip to begin with. Maybe no one was thinking these things anyway, but I was overcome with shame and embarrassment nonetheless.

I so often feel the need to be things that I am not. I feel the need to be outgoing, when in actuality I am insanely introverted. I feel the need to be the best at things, but I know that there is often no prize for coming in first. And today I felt the need to prove myself physically, and when I couldn't, I felt the need to provide excuses. But...

I am an extremely introverted individual. And that's ok.

I am good at some things but terrible at many others. And that's ok.

I am not super-athletic. And that's ok.

I don't want to live in fear of others' opinions, nor do I want to continue to berate myself for not "measuring up" to the people around me. Comparing oneself to others is truly a prison. And I don't want to be in it anymore.  

Día de Todos Santos

Today I went with a few folks to Sumpango, Sacatepequez to see the big kite festival that is part of Dia de Todos Santos. The day commemorates the beatification of loved ones who have gone before us. Many people travel to family grave sites to clean and decorate them, and many people travel very far to do so. The trip to Sumpango today took over two and a half hours due to the masses of people trying to get out of the capital; on a normal day, the trip would have taken about forty minutes.

There is something poetic about being so dedicated to remembering loved ones who have passed. I like that today provides a concrete way for people to honor their families and to be reminded of how fleeting this life is. I don't consider myself to have had a tragic life by any means, but I have lost people whom I continue to miss. There are people who, I believe, if they were still here, would make life a bit funnier (Papaw, my dad's father), a bit more interesting (Mamaw, my dad's mother), a bit sweeter (Ingrid, my mom's close friend), and a bit more special (Mr. Meng, my best friend's dad). I want to remember them, honor their legacies, and I hope that I will see them again in heaven.

Distance & Engagement

Last week, while I was home recuperating from my lovely parasite, I heard that one of our young clients had attempted suicide. One of my coworkers was accompanying me to a doctor’s appointment, and while we waited at the clinic, I asked her about the client. She said, “She tried to swallow…” Before she finished her sentence, I said “Pills?” “No,” she replied. “Needles.” I was taken aback, to say the least. That is a picture of desperation if I’ve ever heard one.

 

I have not lost sleep over this case, and in a way, that makes me feel guilty. Am I numb to such horrors? Or am I just used to hearing them? I am, by no means, a seasoned therapist, but even in the few years in my grad program and as a clinical intern, I have read about and encountered so many horrific cases; and I have had clients of my very own who were suicidal. I can recognize this case as terribly tragic, so perhaps that is a sign that I have not reached a place of “burnout,” yet I almost feel bad for not breaking down over it.

 

It is a strange dance that mental health professionals have to do—maintaining a healthy distance in order to take care of ourselves while also engaging to the extent that we can convey empathy and understand our clients’ experience. Whatever the case with me and my reaction to such stories, I hope and pray that they continue to break my heart and that the Lord will give me the tools and ability to guard myself from becoming callous or unaffected.

What's Boring Is Necessary

Recently, I have spent a lot of time dealing with IT issues and doing other computer-based tasks for the Aftercare department here at IJM-Guatemala. For instance, this morning I found myself practically crab-walking under my desk to switch out the CPU for my computer. And most of today was spent changing the service status of this year's clients in IJM's online database. It's definitely not the stuff of glamour or excitement.

 

I think that we are all intellectually aware that this part of the work of justice and rescue is a reality and must be done; yet, for me, it is still a revelation to encounter it and do it firsthand. It is easy to imagine the rescue from the brothel, the arrest of the pimp or perpetrator, and maybe even the therapy that is delivered after rescue; but at least when I have read and thought about cases in the past, I have not thought about the computer/clerical work, the day-to-day logistics, and the other mundane parts of the system in any depth. The work of justice and providing rescue and healing is a long, arduous battle- full of frustrations, setbacks, and just plain boring work.

None of this is particularly mind-blowing or revelatory, I realize. But knowing something and experiencing/doing it are truly two different things. My hat (or sombrero, rather) goes off to my colleagues here at IJM-G and at HQ and around the world for fighting this difficult fight. I am surrounded by heroes as I type this. And that is the truth!

IJM Mission Statement

To protect the poor from violence by rescuing victims, bringing the criminals to justice, restoring survivors to safety and strength, and helping local law enforcement build a safe future that lasts. 

My Week as a Recluse

This week has been rather uneventful. We had Monday off for a national holiday- Día de la Revolución. It was a good day: I used my bus card for the first time and successfully navigated my way to the mall, where I enjoyed a delicious drink at Starbucks. Yes, Starbucks. Guate is cooler than you think, my friends. I also went to the ophthalmologist, where I learned that my current contacts/glasses prescription is insufficient. Good times! 

I spent the rest of the week as a prisoner in my apartment with the exception of my trip to the ER. It appears that I have a parasite. (It hit me in the wee hours of Tuesday morning.) It apparently happens to everyone who comes down- almost like an initiation of sorts. So I guess you can say that I’ve officially arrived! While it stinks to have missed out on an entire week at the office, I am grateful for the following things: to have a nice, spacious apartment in which to recuperate; sweet coworkers who have checked in on me and even accompanied me to the ER; two grocery stores within walking distance; and the fact that I am now feeling better.

Thanks for letting me share. 

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