Plan 9 From Outer Space

Plan A:
Get up at 5:15. Race my wife to see who gets to the shower first. Rush to get ready and leave at 6. Arrive at work in time to say hi to the night shift and get some work done until the class I am supposed to audit at 9:30. Spend most of the day stressing about how there is never enough time in the day.

Plan B:
When alarm goes off, nudge wife and turn off alarm. Sleep until wife leaves at 6:15. Sleep some more and dream about saying hi to the night shift. Get up at 6:45 and decide not to go in until 9, completely blowing off the class. Look in mirror and regard face covered in lipstick kisses. Make tater tots and coffee, and relax.

Guess which plan I chose?

(no subject)

My life feels like the old part of town when the earthquake hit. It feels out of control, and I don't like it. For some reason, I think I am close to discovering some essential truth about myself--something that is going to make sense, but will require a lot of work.

I think I've created all these roles to hide behind so that I never really have to be myself. I work hard at maintaining them. That is why I am a good nurse. But it also explains why it is so hard for me to just be present to a friend or family member who is sick. I can't use the nurse role, and that leaves only me to deal with it. My first instinct when someone I care about is sick is to run. If you want to become a better nurse, you can take a class or read a book. But what do you do to be a better person?

It is the same thing with death. I wrote the other day about how I struggled to comfort my friend, but what I really wanted to do was get as far away as possible. And I hate myself for being so selfish. I called him the other night to see how he was doing and make plans to meet him for coffee in a few days. It was so hard just to call him, and I stumbled over my words. Shit. This guy just lost his wife and all I stress over whether I said the right thing or not. I clearly don't have the selfless thing down.

I wonder what the hell I'm doing. I am three years into diaconate formation, and now I wonder if it is just another role I'm trying to master--another layer of insulation between me and the world.

What do I need to do so that it is ok to just be me?