Dancing Release

These days I have an irrepressible desire to dance, and I know it's because I need to release something...a tension or emotion. Sometimes writing will do, but other times I need to feel and let go through movement.

It will be all right

Already into mid-February and I'm more emotionally stable. I didn't know that leaving Catholicism would have such an impact on me. I'm still confused and I'm still sad, but it's much less dramatic than before. A friend and I had a general conversation about the ordeal today, in which I explained: "Catholicism was my structure (for my life and morality), and I like structure. It gives me a guideline to measure myself against. But when I separated from it in January, my structure shattered into pieces. I picked up the few I still believed in - God, Jesus, and Mary - and left the rest behind. So technically my slate was not wiped clean, but now I don't have a structure."

My situation is a mixed bag. On one hand, I want to find a Christian group to fit into again, but I also enjoy the freedom of being unlabeled. I also tend to feel sad when I go by a Catholic church or when I hear people talk about church in general. However, I don't feel right going back, because I just don't believe what they believe anymore. I feel like an outsider and I have too much respect for the Mass to intrude. I do miss the rituals, though...all the standing, sitting, kneeling, candle-lighting and incense burning that make non-Catholics sick...and I don't know how I will feel about Easter coming around and me not being a part of it. We will have to see; my religion is a work in progress.

Just know it happened

In my 2014 review, I had written that I was done "finding myself." I didn't flit after every idea anymore, thinking that each one was my life calling. I felt like I knew my mind and tendencies, and I wouldn't face regular identity fluctuation anymore. But I was so wrong: three days later my world fell to pieces.

The collapsing took place over two weeks while a heavy current of emotional pain poured out of me. I don't know how to describe the pain exactly...something similar to when my parents divorced perhaps.

Then everything stabilized...but I felt like I was falling in slow motion, and a numbness came over me. At that point, I realized I was on the other side of a divide. In my mind, I saw a stone wall with an iron gate and through the bars was the former Amy. I studied her face and saw all she knew and believed...and realized I would never be that same Amy again. I was aware. So I did the only thing I could: I picked up my bag - containing the few pieces of my life I could gather - turned around, and walked away.

I was in a fog for the last two weeks of January and felt very lost. When you go through a life-changing event, you tend to lose things. The thing I lost was my spirituality. If any of you have read the trilogy, His Dark Materials, I likened the feeling to when a person is separated from his dæmon (spirit).

In a way this event was a divorce between me and my religion. Some people are able to fade out this part of their upbringing, if it was there. Slowly they realize it isn't for them and decrease the time and energy they put into it. My religion, however, was my compass, my refuge, my heart, and my stronghold. I admit that it felt weak within the last year or two, but I never thought it would go away entirely. Maybe I've been in denial, though. Maybe if I looked back closely enough, I could see myself gradually chipping away at it over time.

As much as I want to tell you exactly what happened to cause this falling out, I can't right now...and maybe not for several years. I don't know. It requires a stronger Amy than the one that exists today. So please, do not ask me. I just want you to know, though, that it happened and that I am different.

Perpetual Darkness

I have been contemplating pain and transgressions lately. Many people strive to live free of these things: to do as little wrong and hurt/be hurt by as few people or things as possible. However, it is difficult to escape either completely. Sometimes we are the one committing the act and sometimes we are the receiver. I've noticed that after one experiences pain or commits a wrongdoing, a shadow is cast over him. His world becomes tinted and his views a little darker. Pain and wrongdoing, however, have degrees and therefore varying levels of darkness: the worse the affliction, the darker the shadow. 

Yet I've also observed something interesting happen when people learn from their darkness. It never goes away - because it occurred in time - but instead of hovering over someone and clouding her view, it attaches to her and casts off in a different direction. It reminds me of a 3D object: the shadow becomes a part of the object itself and gives it depth. 

I have found that my own pain and the pain of others - if we learn from it - makes us wiser. It makes us more knowledgable and gives us deeper insight to our humanity, because we actually experience the workings of our brain and body, i.e. the ruling of logic, emotion, adrenaline, hormones, and reflexes. Up until the point of living an event, we are ignorant of it or we've only heard it mentioned. But when it happens, we see, touch, and taste this knowledge...whether we want to or not. 

For better or for worse, I find myself drawn to those who have endured some kind of significant pain in their lives and have grown to become better people because of it. In my experience, many of them show they are more capable of understanding or show more empathy than those whose pain experience is relatively light. Of course, I do not wish suffering on anyone. I want people to be happy and live well. However, I cannot deny the insight that comes with adversity nor the greater depth with darker, everlasting shadows. This brings me to a question: is it better to be blissfully ignorant or scarred and aware? Is the knowledge worth the darkness?

Entitlement

One difference I can make between my last job and working for the university is the sense of entitlement regarding leave time. Because small businesses need to run as efficiently as possible, it's important to have just the right amount of people. This means that when a person is sick or goes on vacation, the business is short-handed and often times panic ensues if the absence is sudden. Inevitably, someone will be working overtime unpaid or handling the additional stress. I remember feeling guilty when I took off or feeling a little resentful sometimes (I'm embarrassed to admit) when someone else did. In my mind was a dialogue that went, "I'm so glad she's taking off (it was a business of mostly women), she deserves it," but then, "Did she have to take so many days?? We are swamped! There's no way I can finish everything!" 

However, at the university, when someone takes off, the resounding response is, "Good for him/her!" Or in the case of someone being sick, "Oh no! I hope he/she is ok!" There's very little or no guilt or ill feelings. Even if there are ill feelings, people seem to keep them in check. It's like a code of conduct for our right: that every one may take time off. These feelings were expressed less often at the small business, or were accompanied by slight resentment that someone was indulging in a luxury. 

Not surprisingly, two different tones are set in these environments, and each affects how you view your coworkers, the value of your work, and the type of goals you have (do you pursue a hobby or catch up on sleep?). In myself, I found the change in all the above striking: my goals are focused more on personal interests (instead of needs), I view my coworkers' attendance and business with more casualty, and - to be honest - I value my work itself less (it's still valued, but I don't have as much heart in it).

Which camp do you fall in and do you find these observations true for your situation?