I look desperately for an explanation. I think that would put me at ease. Why does my brain feel so scrambled?
In regular conversations I look for words, basic words. Though when I take the stage my translating brain turns on and runs better than when having basic conversations.
I vaguely remember feeling this way before, after pushing myself to perform for long periods of time. Hosting my Romanian family in the states, launching products at work, hosting a conference and translating all the sessions. But I bounced back quickly then. The flexible youthfulness is something that eludes me now. I wonder if 40s come with their own set of limitations. I feel physically fit, and one would think the mental fitness is not something that should elude me with older age.
I think a question that rings in my ears is: am I desirable? do I have room at the table even if I don’t deliver excellence? Even if i’m tired? Is my imperfect contribution useful?
A wave of grace pulled me into this fold of friendship. For three years I have showed up with everything I have, but a nagging feeling that I’m so different, like an outsider. Yet I still show up.
I’m not a perfectionist, as in I accept and embrace the concept of doing my best even when I know full well that others could do better. Even I could do better in different circumstances.
Words have been my bonus strength, my unexpected gift. When I rely on it as my main contribution I feel like a fraud.
For half a year I have prepared for an international event for moms. I took my time to observe and to listen. I learned to rest in the company of these amazing women, while accepting the challenges and responsibilities up my alley.
At the end of the event, when we were invited upfront to be recognized, I felt nothing really. No pride & no accomplishment. We did what we could. We did what we were called to do. I’m not going to fabricate other feelings.
But then someone makes the actual accomplishment real. We have met so often past my bedtime and talked through the details of the event. Things that are out my scope or expertize. But I soaked it all up. I showed up to learn and to offer my skills.
Translation requires a flexibility and agility that, in my burnout, it starts to elude me. I thought I was ready and brought my best game. But as I arrived, the amount of women and their excitement an energy, made me feel sluggish.
As I engaged in conversations I couldn’t find my words. Basic words for small talk. Switching between languages I realize it’s a season when I feel again more comfortable in English, like that dictionary is on top currently. Yet I had to translate in Romanian.
By faith I stood up to translate 20-30 min talks. When you have a hard time finding basic words, what insane faith gets you up from your chair to translate smoothly big ideas and stories?
If you had laryngitis, would you lead worship? if you have a broken leg would you go for a run? if you had eye surgery would you sign up for a reading?
I haven’t had words for even writing in my journal, processing basic emotions.
We had a handful of famous women visit with us. And I didn’t go over to pursue a personal connection. The woman I translated for came over and I had the best conversation with her. She has a gift of putting people at ease.
In a sea of over 100 women, I didn’t feel I’m so noticeable. I actually hoped to rest in invisibility. But as the weekend passed I hope our out of country guests didn’t have higher expectations of me – I didn’t go over to take selfies or offer small talk. I am barely keeping it together – like Nichole who could only be grateful for her sleepers on that first attempt to practice gratitude as a means to climb out of depression. Was if I crawl emotionally and events are not waiting for me to be in shipshape to participate?
What if this is my new normal? How long would I need to rest and to feel like myself again? I want community while I heal but I also want space and silence.
I wake up some days feeling determined to be happy. What holds me back, I wonder. So I take it easy and do my daily tasks and feel good about life and myself. And then a flood of requests, questions, plans, change of plans, group texts, homework to help with… and I hold on tight and go with the flow and hope this is not my downfall, I worry I will slip into an overwhelmed state.
Say no. Pull away from things that don’t belong to me.
I realize these friends have only known me after the pandemic has started, as an adoptive mom of two, always climbing out of some event or processing my burnout. I wonder if I see myself through their eyes and that reflection trips me.
I say I’m not myself, but what if this is part of who I am, and the solution is to embrace it and go through, however long it might take. I may remember myself with more energy and clarity of ideas and words…