I've always been sensitive about my voice. When I started middle school a girl scrunched her face and asked, "Why do you talk like that?" I feel myself shrink when people say things like, "You need to speak up," or "You need to learn to enunciate better." Even during seminary, when I was taking preaching and speech classes, after a sermon in Pennsylvania someone said, "You should try taking a speaking class."
I know I mumble and often talk too softly. Sometimes, though, I just can't get words out. It's one of my biggest fears about ever trying to preach again. What if nothing will come out??
I don't think it's the shyness - though that doesn't help. Maybe it has to do with pain. It just hurts sometimes. The depression... Perhaps emotional trauma... A broken heart... And, yes, sometimes I can actually "feel" it. It's like my head is sideways and there's an ache in my chest. Only recently have I considered it might be PTSD.
Anyway, this past week has been among the best, and worst.
FAMILY TIME
We had all of our kids and grand kids together (plus Isaac & Ricci's two dogs). It SHOULD have been a great time, and some of it was.
I & R arrived Tuesday afternoon. They rented a moving pod and had it picked up from their former home in Atlanta, GA on June 9th. They spent a few days with Ricci's mom in Indy, then were to be at our house from Tuesday until early Friday (when the pod was supposed to be delivered to their new home in Minneapolis, MN).
Of course the grand kids always want to come spend time with them. Which I'm glad about. I love that they love them so. It also happened to work out that Drew's family were having some things during this time (his dad's long-time partner died suddenly, and there was her funeral and then a wedding too), so it helped that we could keep the kids some.
The original plan was that Jane and I would take a few days off last week while they were here, then drive their second car up on Saturday and fly back to Fort Wayne late Monday.
All was going well until Thursday night when the pod company notified them that instead of it arriving Friday, it was actually going to be... Tuesday, June 20th!
Everything was suddenly tossed into the air and if there wasn't enough stress from a house-full of people and pets already, there was now more.
The dogs weren't being terrible, but they were used to only having two people around them, and their world had been completely turned upside down. The grand kids weren't being terrible either, but they are kids and their world was in a bit of turmoil at the moment also. None of the adults were being all that unreasonable but... Dang, there was a LOT going on!
We did have some great fun. We all went out to eat one night (Hop River). We all went to Lunch on the Square and wandered around downtown one (or two) days. Jane and I worked a Selwyn Birchwood concert Friday night (while the other Horwedel's relaxed). We took in a baseball game for the boys and took all the grandkids to the zoo one day. On Father's Day we were all able to go to Ribfest - which is kind of a family tradition and I didn't think we were going to make it this year, so it was good we could.
But... you know how I get...
THE WORST
It wasn't that Father's Day was the worst. It's me. Just me.
Saturday was a long day. I thought about opting out of the zoo because I knew it would wear me out. And the grand kids weren't supposed to spend the night that night, but things changed, and I wasn't informed, and... Oof! I spent the Saturday night before Father's Day... freaking out.
It was bad. One of the worst cases of sensory overload I've had in a long time. I don't think I can describe it now. You probably don't want to know what all was going through my head. My body shut down. The pain was immense.
Fortunately most everyone just left me alone. I sat in a chair by myself upstairs while the others were in the basement watching movies. I finally went to bed by myself....
You know, I just can't describe it. When these things happen it wears my body out more than running a marathon. I still haven't recovered. I'm still not sure if I can keep working at my job. I feel like the world's worst father and don't trust myself that I'll be able to keep my shit together much longer. I think it will pass... At least I hope so.
But, you know, ... who knows.
You know what else: when I hear people talk about how self-centered someone was who committed suicide... I know that they just don't understand.
I should have been ecstatic to have our family together, and on the week/weekend of Father's Day to boot! I wish I didn't have to be so difficult. I wish I could just 'go with the flow.' I wish my nerves were steadier. I wish I didn't have this pain where there shouldn't be any. I wish I were always able to "use my words" as they say...
Well, I & R ended up leaving Monday morning for Minneapolis. Their pod arrived Tuesday morning. All is well with that. Hopefully we can go visit someday. The other kids and grand kids are back doing their normal routine (I guess).
Me. I'm still alone in my shame. I know I haven't always been like this. I'd like to think there was at least a time when I was a good dad, a good grandpa, someone people liked to be around. People used to say things like that sometimes, you know. They used to.
I also know I'm different now. I don't know what happened, and I don't like it anymore than anyone else. It sucks!
Sometimes... the distance between my small shallow voice... and the great big world out there... is just too far.
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I wrote the above yesterday. When I woke up this morning and read through my daily devotions from Common Prayer, there was this:
Cyprian of Carthage taught in the early church, saying, “My friends, anyone who worships should remember the way in which the tax collector prayed in the temple alongside the Pharisee. He did not raise his eyes immodestly to heaven or lift up his hands arrogantly. Instead he struck his breast, and confessing the sins hidden within his heart, he implored the assistance of God’s mercy... For he did not place his hope of salvation in the certainty of his own innocence — indeed no one is innocent. Rather he prayed humbly, confessing his sins. And the Lord who forgives the lowly heard his prayer.”
The reading closes with this prayer:
Lord, you have brought us safely out of Egypt and prepared a table before us in the presence of our enemies. Have mercy on us today that we might not be overwhelmed by evil attacks or distracted by bad thoughts, but humbly trust in your power to save. Amen.
This is my hope. My only hope. I appreciated the reminder today, Lord. ...
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