Breakdown

What would Valentines Day be without some tears, right?

Ironically, the tears had absolutely nothing to do with Valentines Day...I really couldn't have cared less that today was a holiday.  For me, it was just another day of camping out in the library catching up on homework followed by a 3-hour class.  Nothing special...just the usual.

What was weird was, by the time I approached class time, I was actually really well situated in the world of homework; with the exception of coming up with a few discussion questions, I'm completely done for the week (excepting again those readings which I rarely to never actually do).  But STILL, I felt completely on-edge, completely overwhelmed, and once again out of my element at seminary.  The reading I was primarily working on was about personal vocation (that is, doing what is right for you and not what you think you SHOULD do or what other people EXPECT you to do).  Fifty-five pages of reading, and the more I read, the more I began to doubt everything about my present situation: my reasons for being in seminary, my reasons for wanting a ministry career at all, my reasons for being so into my faith in college.  Everything.  It sucked.

And then, I had to go to class, where I continued sitting in overwhelmed-ness, resenting my classmates who seemed attentive and interested and (heaven forbid) HAPPY to be in seminary.  Because this is the problem: I'm not happy.  Not really.  I'm occasionally happy, like when I'm with friends just hanging out and things...but I would not describe my overall daily demeanor as happy.  I would describe it as anxious, stressed, overwhelmed, and exhausted - perpetually.  So, by the time that we got to the "Circles of Trust", and someone made some comment about the "dark night of the soul", I responded a bit too emphatically about having experienced such a thing, and when asked to explain myself, proceeded to break into uncontrollable sobbing tears in front of four grown adults who are all at least 10 years my elder or more.

Great.

Honestly, I feel like I don't even know who I am.  Like, at all.  It seems like I've always defined myself in relation to my circumstances, or in relation to other people - who I am on my own completely baffles me.  It may be totally juvenile of me, but I feel like I'm struggling to even answer the basic "WHO AM I?" question.  Why did I decide to come to seminary?  Was it because I actually wanted to serve God?  Or was it because it's what I felt like I SHOULD do?  Or was it because I couldn't think of something else to do?  Or was it because my parents shot down the plan to spend a year in mission abroad, and this was the safer choice?  Or was it because I happened to have the occasional valuable thought in Bible Study?  Or was it because I wanted people to look at my life and be impressed with what I was doing?

Whatever the reasons (I'm thinking it was a combination of all of the above reasons, to various extents), I've now gotten myself stuck here.  You can't just throw away a full scholarship to graduate school...I'm more afraid of not having a masters degree in the present job market than I am afraid of being stressed out for the next two years.  Moreover, I refuse to be a "drop out", even at the graduate level.  Besides, I don't know where else I would go, or what else I would do.  That's what scares me the most, I think...doubting if this is my vocation and not having the slightest idea what else it could possibly be.  Even though lately I've been returning to the idea of French ministry, I keep doubting that seminary is necessary to achieve that end.  I already have a job working in that direction, and practically everyone in seminary is working toward being an ordained pastor.  I'm not doing that.  And every time I tell someone I'm not doing that, they seem surprised.  It's like I've gotten myself locked in church-leader-training land.  Maybe the reason this is hard is because this is the most individual I've ever actually had to be...does that make sense?  I can't find a group of people with similar interests to connect with and identify with, because I'm the only one with these particular interests in my present location.  That might be a good thing in the long run.  Right now, it sucks.

So anyway, I bawled for the entire 30 minutes of "Circle of Trust" time, then for another 20 minutes while two women stayed after to try to help comfort me, and then sobbed all the way back to my apartment.  Given all the sobbing, I didn't go to my friend's dinner.  I sat on my couch and ate leftover Chinese food and watched "Pride and Prejudice."

And that, my friends, is how I spent my Valentines Day: doubting my whole life, making a sobbing fool of myself in front of people I barely know, ditching friends, and drowning my sorrows in the stable predictability of Jane Austen.  I hope you had a better day than I did.