Motivated by a Lack of Motivation

We're beginning day three of our stay at my sister's house in Tennessee. We've had a very nice time so far. Once we arrived Monday night, we all sat around the living room and had our second Christmas. Leo is finally understanding the concept that there are more toys underneath all those odd, paper-wrapped, blobby objects. He seemed content enough to open a toy and start playing with it, so it was difficult to get him to move onto the next one. But just watching the scene, I couldn't help but think how unfortunate it is that we have to train him to not be content enough with that one toy to stay with it. He has to want more. Does he?

Seems to me that's a concept somewhere around the core of my self-diagnosed neurosis. Though the time to relax with everyone has been nice, my mind doesn't know how to relax. I've second-guessed, doubted, and tried reworking my rough plans for after graduation at least ten times since I got here. Good Lord, I have a whole semester of doing this ahead. And probably several freaking-out-don't-know-what-to-do blog posts, so here is my apology in advance for that. I'm caught in that place where I know it's not all about me and my choices and my desires and la-de-da, but then I also know I can't just sit around and watch the world happen around me either. This is the time in my life that I have to be proactive about everything I pursue. I suppose in those lovely days of being married and settled and what-not, a routine life develops. There is no life right now for me to even consider making a routine out of unless I want to sit on my parents' couch for ten years (I don't and I can't). So now I sit before doors 1, 2, and 3, too terrified to even touch the doorknob of any.

And as far as "rough plans" go, I'm currently looking at the New Teacher Project (TNTP), which was started by a girl who did Teach For America and decided to further the cause beyond the teach-for-two-years framework of Teach For America. TNTP makes a more direct effort at training teachers for careers and training them to be effective in high-need schools. The only way I think I qualify for this program is that I want the sort of change they want just as badly as they do. There's no guarantee I'd actually be an effective teacher. I'm a pretty terrible student myself, and I can't say I really care that much about academics. I like math because it's fun. I don't expect to go to a school and say, "Hey, see? This is fun!" and have everyone rigorously differentiating and integrating everything and its mother because I've shown them the light and the light is fun. If anything, I understand why they won't cooperate and just get the assignment done or bother studying for the test. I hated doing that, too, kid. No one ever lit my fire. I had who I imagine is one of the best math teachers in at least all of Virginia for my junior and senior years of high school, and I do strongly believe he's the reason I still loved math when I walked across the commencement stage. But I've seen his grief and his sorrow over the students who don't care and don't get it. I see that he is fueled by his ideal students, the students like me who get it and love it. He's in the dumps when he's lost in a swarm of unmotivated students.

And he is the one who is convinced that I need to be a math teacher. It all started one day in calculus my senior year when we were going over a challenging homework problem. He had the problem up on the board and random people were throwing out suggestions of how to start the problem and where to go with it. I sat and watched and noticed the guy next to me struggling with even the most basic of concepts we were discussing, so I turned to him to explain enough to get him caught up to where we were. Then, my teacher hushed all of the not-quite-right suggestions and asked me specifically how to do the problem. So I told him, and I explained why I did what I did. By chance, I was right (I wasn't always right), and that's when he said, "You need to be a math teacher." For the first time. I fought it long and hard, and I used my severe lack of motivation in college as an excuse still for not teaching. I hate school. I hate tests. I hate homework. Why on earth would I go into a classroom and expect my own students to be interested in doing these things? Do I really have to drag them along like my professors did for me in college? Will they shy away from me like I do with my professors because I can feel the shame of my "C-" in their classes when I look at their faces?

College isn't for me, but I did it. So here I stand with my barely respectable GPA thanks to all of my non-math classes, wondering if I should teach a bunch of unmotivated students like me. Maybe so. God will tell.

Thoughts on Therapy or Therapeutic Thoughts

I had my first counseling session ever yesterday. It didn't make me feel like as much of a crazy as I thought it might. In fact I came out seeing myself as a much more stable person than I thought I was. As far as the professionals and I know at this point, I'm not clinically depressed, meaning I don't need to be on medication for anything. I sat with Dr. Eva Abel yesterday and told her a lot of the stuff that you can likely find in the deep dark archives of this blog. We didn't get but so far considering these sessions are only an hour long and I'm used to conversations of this nature lasting until 4:00 a.m. with Sadie (because you can do stuff like that when you're in college). The doctor's take on the situation so far is that I am one of her "intelligent" patients, which I think means my depression phases are more a result of my thoughts and less on some sort of traumatic situation or period in the past. This I knew already. So she outlined a potential goal I could have if I continued therapy, which would be to accept that some questions will simply never be answered. I told her that is much easier said than done, and she agreed of course. I guess that's why it's a large, overarching goal. She also suggested I work on separating my deep thoughts from my emotions so that they will have less play on my behavior. Also easier said than done. This must be how therapists make money.

A weird part of everything is that this woman isn't a Christian therapist, so I'm not sure she can fully understand what it is I'm actually striving for intellectually--or rather, how I'm trying to figure out how faith can cooperate with intellect. She seems to think I should find a Christian leader person to talk to about this. That person should probably be my dad. I talk to him about it from time to time, but I may up the frequency. I think we'd both appreciate it.

Once the session was over, we scheduled to meet once more before I go back to school, because I don't think she's a quack and I enjoyed talking to her a lot. She's very expressive, which reminded me of Becca, and she has a certain spunk that reminded me of Noelle. And as silly as psychology seems to me, the truth of the matter is that I want desperately to talk about these things and if I can talk about them to someone who has made it her job to help me through it, well that just seems like a perfect situation.

Mumford & Sons have been playing in my car for over two months now, so as I was cranking up the heat in my freezing cold car and getting ready to back out of the parking space, I listened to what Marcus was singing:

"But you are not alone in this
And you are not alone in this
As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand
Hold your hand"

So I thought about how God teaches me things in life--in talking to a psychologist who doesn't even know that God has a plan for me. I thought about finding truth in some of the most unexpected places and how important that has been in helping me understand God and His sufficiency even when I was running away from Him. I started to feel tented by God's sovereignty, and for once I wanted nothing but to curl up and rest within the comfort of His power over my mind, soul, and body.

the post in which i admire many women, becca admires few

It's probably time for this blog to get out of my crazy head for a moment, especially since I get to spill it all out to my doctor in a couple of days anyway. So here, enjoy some lists Becca and I put together including some of our favorite women OF ALL TIME and why we love them. It starts with my faves, moves onto Becca's faves, and concludes with our joint faves. I typed for Becca while she spoke her reasoning to me, so according to her that's why she sounds like a five-year-old.

Katie's List 

Zooey Deschanel 

 










I didn't notice her much until she started She & Him with M. Ward. I was talking to an old high school friend about their single, "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?" and after watching the video, I fell in love with her personality. She's very free and spunky and adorable. She chooses excellent roles in films (especially (500) Days of Summer).

Daria

I watched Daria when I it aired on MTV, so I was really young, which is really strange. I don't know that I could really relate to her back then, but now I simply love her dry sarcasm and general whatever attitude. She doesn't take things too seriously, but when she does care about something she doesn't hide it and makes a point of doing something about it.

Jenny Lewis

Her band Rilo Kiley opened for Coldplay when I went to see them early on in high school, and I LOVED her music. That was back in the day that she was doing fun indie pop music, which is probably my favorite genre of music. Her lyrics can be kind of strange, but by nature of indie lyrics they're honest. And I can respect that about her.

Meg from Hercules

This probably doesn't come as much of a surprise to those who know me. She's the only Disney "princess" who isn't some sort of perfect female archetype that appeals to our ideals in women. Meg is raw and real with her angst and she, too, has a wonderful dry sarcasm. Apparently that quality will put anyone on my list. Excellent.

Becca

This explains most of it.
I also say "likewise" to most of her reasons for putting me on this list. I love her sense of humor, and I love that she can always understand and appreciate mine, even when it is simply psychotic. She's my best friend. Ever. She's my Gayle. ;)

Sylvia Plath

Yes, another sick twisted woman on my list. Would you really expect anything else? I loved Sylvia Plath in high school when I read The Bell Jar twice. And I don't usually read books twice... or once. I also have her collection of poems, Ariel, and I am mostly intrigued by the way she views life through the fog of her depression. I know that sounds creepy, but it's true. It fascinates me. This is my favorite poem of hers.

Bones 

Yes, as in Temperance Brennan from the television show. I like her Vulcan qualities and how unknowingly hilarious she is all the time. And yes, there are both Deschanel ladies on my list.


Becca's List

 Katie

Isn't it obvious?!?!?! She is the only one who completely understands my sense of humor, which is very important. There are so many times that I'll think something is hilarious but I can't share it with anyone because they'll think I'm stupid. But I know Katie will appreciate it (like QWOP). There are several other things I like about Katie. It's hard to think of them all right now. She doesn't judge me like all my other family members would, so I tell her more than I tell anyone else. She's my Oprah.

Anne Hathaway (minus all of her naked things)

When she's not naked, she is a classy individual. She is articulate and funny.

Anne of Green Gables

She's like the friend I wanted but I never had because she makes everything fun... cuz I don't know how to make things fun. Also, she loves to read and that's cool.

Belle

Another reader!!!!!!! I like that she's thoughtful (I love thoughtful people), and she is loyal, too.


 SHARED LIST

Ayn Rand

Becca's reasoning:
I like her because she knows how to think reasonably and put it all into an entertaining novel form. Not many people can do that. I like the whole worldview she has, but she needs to add God. Otherwise, it's really good.
Katie's reasoning:
I agree with Becca's reasoning entirely. I wrote a 10-page research paper on Ayn Rand's philosophy, Objectivism, in my 10th grade English class. I was fresh off reading both The Fountainhead in 9th grade and Atlas Shrugged in 10th grade. She reveals how ridiculous a lot of our conventions are, but yeah, like Becca said, she does miss the whole actual reason for man.

Deb

Becca's reasoning: 
She was the first best friend I ever had! I would always copy all the stuff that she did when we went through school because I thought, "That's such a good idea!" And I'd always do it. I like that she is so different from everyone else, and she's proud of it. I like that she likes me, because if Deborah likes you it's glowing praise.
Katie's reasoning:
She wasn't the first best friend I ever had! In fact, she despised me as a child, but I also looked up to her and copied what she did a lot because she was sodangcool. I do like her confidence and her competence in doing all of what she pursues. She also made the most adorable baby ever. Congrats.

Mom
Becca's reasoning: 
She carried me in her womb and gave life to me. She likes to make my life easier for me, WHICH IS AWESOME. I like that she treats me like an adult (most of the time) and can actually joke around and have a real relationship with me now instead of being disciplinarian mom. She was a really good mom during the time period when she needed to worry about raising us correctly, but I like now that we've been raised and we can just talk like regular people.

Katie's reasoning:
I also love that I can joke around with her these days and see just how weird she is and probably always has been. I like it when I recognize funny quirks I got from her. Though her concern for my life can become extremely overwhelming, I still do appreciate how much she loves me and wants the absolute best for me all the time.

Pictured above are Grandma Phyllis on the left and Mom on the right during a friendly game of croquet (that Mom beasted).

Grandma Phyllis
Becca's reasoning: 
I admire her relationship with God. I feel like I'll never have that, but I'd like to. I like that she doesn't choose favorites among her grandchildren. She makes super good food. Food is really important to me, so this is a big deal.

Katie's reasoning: 
She's wicked awesome. My sisters and I like to say she reminds us of Julie Andrews. They do have certain similarities in mannerisms as well as personality and interactions with people. So if you love Julie Andrews, you would love grandma. But even if you don't, you'd probably still love grandma. She's precious.

Matters of Awesomeness and Not Awesomeness

Once upon a time I got tested by my doctor to see whether I am actually clinically depressed. This was a couple of years ago, I think. She told me I'm not depressed, but yes, I'm on the slightly depressed end of the scale. I figure that sort of sucks, but hey, it's manageable. I know that it's simply not likely that I will ever be the happy-go-lucky type and it maybe won't ever be a consistent practice of mine to notice all of the half-full glasses around me. My weaknesses and my doubts are wonderful things that force me back into communion with God.

One of the girls I tutor who typically struggles with math was on fire this morning, and we breezed through four lessons. It was awesome.

This evening I met with a friend who desperately needed help with Statistics, and I was unable to help her given the really tight time constraint and urgency of the situation. I didn't feel like a failure for this, but I did have to watch her feel like a failure. That was hard. It wasn't all that awesome.

There are highs and there are lows. I get them. I feel them. I'm not depressed--just sometimes. That's normal. I think the fact that life can't always be peachy is an okay thing to be sad or upset about. I still want to get out of bed each morning, and I still want to figure out how to glorify God with the time He's given me on Earth.

My mom still thinks I might have mental issues, so I have another appointment on Monday to see if I'm crazy. Becca doesn't think I am, and I don't really think I am either. Still, it'll be nice to talk to someone about it directly--my sanity, that is. Plus, I get to talk about God to my doctor because He does play a big part in my psyche. So that's awesome.

I Will Follow You Into the Dark

Mom says I need to find someone to talk to who can understand the way I think.
Well yes, that'd be ideal.
Thus far my challenge in finding those people is that they are generally not Christians.

And I think there's something to learn and actually pursue there.

I know that Christian fellowship is important. That was one of those harsh lessons I learned during freshman year when I had my "I can handle my own spirituality without you hypocritical Christians" phase. It was when I stared in the face of my own hypocrisy and flaws that I was able to lay down my pride and walk through the front doors of the BCM. (Un)fortunately, I'm still not over my frustration with Christians/Christianity, and I include myself in that frustration. I'm frustrated with myself, us, them, and most generally I am frustrated with sin.

And that's good!

Also, that's how I feel more comfortable and like-minded talking to non-Christians about the matter. Who is more frustrated with Christians than non-Christians, eh? Who hates the exclusivity, the holier-than-thou attitudes, the formulas, the spiritual hierarchy, etc. more than those people?

What really is unfortunate is the fact that I start to define God by these terms. I start viewing God as an exclusive God, trapped within a book cover and performing according to the whims of culture comfort. I get so wrapped up in my frustrations that I fail to seek out the God who is there--the real, unchanging, unfathomable, loving, gracious, merciful Being above everything. I realized I had lost my desire for God, so I went up to my dad's office and started looking around.

"What are you looking for?" -Dad
"Piper's Desiring God." -Me
*Finds book.*
*Starts reading book and gets really excited about God again.*

Through all of this (and I think this is what I've been trying to get at for a long time), I think it's probably a passion of mine to acknowledge humanity at its ugliest in such a way that I can glorify God in His perfection without alienating those of unbelief. I want to understand them and be with them, too. Christian bubbles are uncomfortable. I'd rather fight down the demons in my path than take the rosy path around the muck. I want to be in both places at once--within the depths of woe but praising a victorious God all-the-while.

a break might be nice.

Sara, a co-worker and friend of both Claire and me, came over for our apartment's "French" dinner a couple of nights ago. The quotes are to signify how very Italian our meal was at the core--what with the pizza and bread and such. The French spin came in with the French bread, brie, and goat cheese. Oh, and the French wine. But anyway, the most significant part of the meal for me was how great Sara's company was. She carried conversation--shared about herself and inquired about the strangers sitting across from her at the table. I like the way she talks and the topics she chooses to discuss. Earlier today I told Claire what a "good person" I perceive Sara to be. Sara claims to be a Christian but also confesses she is not a "good one." I imagine she's just as confused about what a "good" Christian should look like as I am.

That's when I basked in a bite of solidarity. And when I discovered how much I am slipping.

Discovered may be the wrong word. I've noticed. I'm not that dense after the infamous hell that was last fall. Somehow it doesn't work to say that Jesus fixes these things. That's where I am right now. I'm in that place where I can open my Bible to read it, but I may as well be one of my religion professors searching for another academic gem that will add to some long-standing thesis I've been developing. They're just curious and they go into Scripture for a very specific thing they want.

I hate that, and I hate it when I do that. I hate the idea of *using* the Bible to fix my quick tiffs and woes. It can be so difficult for me to reach the deepest depths of despair that I have ever experienced (as shallow as they actually are) and fully yearn for Jesus to be the Savior out of that. I read about how God's grace is sufficient. I believe that. But in that moment--cynicism capsizing reason--it don't work. I don't have that faith. I see it in my roommates and in several other friends, and I hear them discuss it right in my presence. All I can do is sit there like a doofus and stare off into space wondering what the first step is in the right direction besides a desperate, faithless prayer. And then I type about it and toss it out there for vultures and Samaritans alike to take what they want out of this circumstance I'm in. I'd like to know what God is doing here, but I don't.