Showing posts from November, 2018

Diary of a chronically exhausted vicar. Episode 16

Catalogue of feeling.

Foggy. My mind cannot see, cannot think clearly. My mouth speaks only slowly, slightly slurred, sounding vague.
Tired. Goes without saying, I suppose, with this diagnosis. It is a heavy tiredness, a weighted blanket that gives no comfort.
Stifled. Creativity smothered, will depleted. I do not recognise me.
Wishful. I wish this would go away. I wish I could return.

Achy. Headaches and old aches I thought long gone. Muscles. All the muscles. It hurts to move, to be still, to breathe. It hurts. To breathe.
Lonely. Not that I want to see anyone, I have no capacity to be, to receive, company. But I am, utterly,

Bored. So I shop, online, spend more money than is wise. It does bring other humans to the door, when they bring the things, brief moments of connection requiring little effort, and then ...
Grateful. Brief moments of connection from friends sending messages asking nothing in return knowing nothing is all I have to give them in this moment.
Hope. Tiny gl…

Diary of a chronically exhausted vicar. Episode 15.

Three days into two weeks of enforced rest, I have achieved a lot. A lot of sleep, that is.

I have completed a jigsaw puzzle, too. Done some cross stitch, watched some tv shows and movies, did some shopping on line, washed dishes a few times, answered emails and texts and messages from, and talked on the phone with, lovely people who care about me, and today I have even managed to put some sheets and towels through the wash and hang them on the line to dry.

Those are the small things we do every day, mostly, without even thinking about it. But.

I feel flat, depleted, and still so incredibly tired.

I ache, from my glands to my head and my muscles all over.

I have achieved a lot.

But not what I need to, not yet. I have not yet begun to heal, to recover some energy and clear thinking and sense of wellbeing.

Two weeks of complete rest sounded a lot on Monday in the doctors’ surgery. Three days in, I’m beginning to think she might have been right.

To see dignity. Changing perceptions. A Midweek Musing.

Sometimes I talk with friends about how others see us, and how we can feel on the outer with our peers as unmarried and / or unparenting women. In one such conversation I remember wondering if our situation changed, how would others' perceptions of us change? If I got married, had children, would they see me as less of an anomaly, now that I was following society's 'script' for me? I wonder.

It got me thinking, more broadly about others' perceptions of me, and how I have changed my thoughts on that. In the past, I have been annoyed if I have felt unseen, or seen through or as something other than my own filters, understanding, picture, of myself.
Now, I am curious, intrigued by what others see that I cannot, from where I stand.

In the past, I might have felt I had to change to fit the pictures others have of me. Now, I feel free to look, from their point of view, and choose to agree, disagree, to change and how I will change, for myself.

Is it turning 40? Certainly…

Diary of a chronically exhausted vicar. Episode 14

So here we go again.

I thought I was getting better. I thought we had identified the problem. Glandular fever, low iron.

Six weeks of tonsillitis.

Small hiccough. I woke a few weeks ago feeling well again, feeling like myself again. Ready for life again.

It took me by surprise that I collapsed in a heap, energy completely depleted, this week. Are my energy reserves really so low still that a week of four special services with complicated preparations knocked me over? Granted, there have been difficult situations requiring careful negotiation in recent weeks. That takes energy. There has been much to write, reports and newsletter articles requested, sermons and stories and liturgies. That takes energy.

But I was starting to socialise again, making new friends, getting out of the house in the evenings.

And I was starting to walk again, half hours of moving, breathing, solitude with God and nature.

Then I heard myself starting to sound panicked: at the staff meeting, joking a couple of t…