painful realisations

On a trip down to Buffalo, NY this past month, my friend noted how, as much as she enjoys being busy and having people around, she eventually finds herself functioning 'sub-par'. We agreed on a working definition of introvert/extrovert that day: whether being with others, being outside rather than in isolation, drains or gives one energy.

I am an introvert, by no stretch of the above definition. And this past month I have pretty much been functioning 'sub-par'. It's not that I haven't been given the opportunity to be alone, to stop and think; it's that I haven't allowed myself to think. I've postponed, procrasinated, waited, distracted, and employed all forms of escape because I couldn't find the words to explain what was going on inside. Or, rather I didn't yet want to know. It felt so heavy.

Then life happens and places you into situations where you cannot help but be confronted by those post-poned thoughts. I helped organise a meal for an expected 100 people last night and at the end of the night actually heard myself turning away and shying away from every compliment extended. I tried so hard to think but could not find the words to express a gracious 'thank you'; instead, there were words of self-deprecation, words trying to excuse away every good thing. This has been on my mind a lot and it's slowly taking its toll. It coincides with the desire to melt into walls and truly be a wallflower; the belief not five minutes after being told the good news by the Assistant Director of Graduate Studies that there had somehow been a mistake; all of these things have made life difficult to walk through.

But God is good. Truly good. Last Friday I received the results of my dissertation and was overwhelmed by His goodness. In contrast to those moments of despair during the last few weeks in August, He gave back in abundance. That envelope mattered so much because it represented a belief that was outside of myself, a validation of some sort. It represented an assurance that things would be okay.

Of course, life is always complicated by expectations, and the contrast between the celebration on Monday and the silence on Friday has caused so many questions and thoughts to be unearthed.

Life happened again and I found myself Sunday night unable to accept an apology, feeling as if the world had again shattered and feeling like I had been the cause of every tear behind that apology. Logically, the apology made sense but emotionally, I felt so upset. Some days I think it's just because I'm so used to apologising and being wrong (even when I'm not) that it's become second nature. It's this sticky default place that I seem to be disposed towards.

Pastors preach all the time that humility is not self-deprecation; it is gracious acceptance of what is real, of the truth. That's something I have struggled my whole life to understand and practice. Humility is mistaken for the excusing away of compliments, the concomitant shying away and self-denial. It has been so confusing wading through these feelings.

I think part of the reason why I look for validation outside of myself, why I wanted so much to share that good news with those closest to me on Friday, is because I can't seem to find that validation for myself. I don't trust myself. This weekend I realised that I wanted others to see the good things that I sometimes felt but could never bring myself to acknowledge. But this too is a double-edged sword for how can any person ask that of another? And yet the flip side of that is silence and silence is sometimes painful.

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It seems easy to define humility as a gracious acceptance of what is true, what is real. Some of the most lovable people in this world are those who know how to take compliments, whose shying-away is still some form of affirmation and acceptance of the compliment that has been extended. It's the same emotion you feel when someone accepts your gift and truly loves it. I don't think the apostle John ever rejected his epithet as 'the one whom Jesus loved'. Such expressions of gratitude are most precious and I believe graceful.

But this humility of acceptance requires two types of faith: it requires you to believe that the compliment is sincere (that the person extending it is sincere) and, on some level, that what is said is true.

This morning, sitting in a Tragedy lecture no less, I realised that I have neither: I have trouble believing the sincerity and compassion of others but I look constantly for exceptions to the rule. I know that human beings (myself included) are selfish by nature, but I have also seen moments of compassion, empathy, and sacrifice. And these moments give me hope. That's one part - a disbelief in others, fueled by disappointment but at the fault of no one. The other part is the doubt I have in myself. It's a doubt that stops me from fully accepting that the compliment extended might be true.

Despite all this, I want to believe. I do. But I know that we're never supposed to expect and hope in the things of this world. I know that. It's just that as humans, we somehow always do.

Posted on October 10, 2006 at 05:03PM