A Year in the Life: Winter Part 1

I was fishtailing, the back end of my car whipped around and I slammed the breaks not having yet learned you’re supposed to pump the brakes in icy conditions. My car flew into a horizontal position as I headed down the hill of our apartment complex and then skidded to a halt leaving only inches between my front bumper and a parked car’s driver side door. My hands shook as I tried desperately to slow down my breathing. There was no snow on the ground just a thin layer of ice that my eyes hadn’t detected but my tires easily found. Winter had begun. 

Winter. Part 1. 

They say whenever you try anything new there is an adjustment period. A time for growing pains as you learn your new normal. The winter of 2017 had pains; loads of them. It was filled with growth as well, but the pain is what felt the most palpable. Winter is the longest season in New England both literally and figuratively in my emotional journey. I knew it would be hard taking on this new adventure both the work of actually helping to start a church and just trying to find my role in a new place. But damnit, it nearly broke me. All of it. The newness, the church, the unknown, the daily fight, the loneliness, the distance, all of it. 

I was working two jobs at the time and genuinely loving both of them. Every time I was inside those four walls of the dental office or in the mass of bath bombs at Lush inside the bustle of the mall I felt more at home than I did anywhere else here. In those spaces I had a constant beam of positivity flowing, from Lush especially. The sweet people I worked with are some of the most authentic, raw, exposed, and loving humans I have ever met. I am better for having them in my life and I know I will love them each forever. Most of them differed in religious views from me, but it didn’t matter. What mattered is that inside that shop people were welcomed, treated with respect, celebrated for being themselves, reminded they were important and ensured that they were loved. In those people without them knowing, but because of their insistence on love and boldness I saw Jesus. 

The apartment known to our friends here as “The Burrow” however was not a place of positivity or peace. Instead it was a source of anxiety, strife, and loneliness. Nearly all my roommate situations before this had included three people and it had been beyond easy. Not this time. My two roommates, Megan and Kate -who gave their permission for me to write about our journey- had been best friends for a while. Megan and I knew each other from years ago when I worked for her at a summer camp as a counselor. Kate and I met for the first time three weeks before I moved up when I visited for my job interviews. Shortly after I moved in things were strained and tension was high in the house. Kate and I weren’t necessarily oil and water but we definitely had a hard time mixing. A lot of that is because we both communicate and love so differently. But as time would reveal when we love we both love with all we have. We started off really well. We found out we shared the same size and taste in shoes so that was an immediate connection. However, there seemed to be something that was inhibiting us from finding a true stride towards friendship. Have you ever held two opposing charged magnets end to end and tried with all your might to make them touch? We were the magnets and what was between us was more powerful than either of us. I’ll dive into The Burrow’s arc of friendship and how our home went from war zone for all three of us to a respite and place of love in Winter Part 2, but I’ll let you in on a secret...the friendships we have now were worth the struggle(s). 

I wish I could tell you about this one particular thing that happened that started my heart down the course of pain and unhappiness here, but there wasn’t some cataclysmic event. It was as though a dark cloud seeped in so slowly that I didn’t notice it at first until it had become so thick I was choking on it.  I had a “built in” community by joining the group for the church that had already formed, but I still felt like an outsider. Building authentic relationships takes time and it requires true vulnerability. That’s not the easiest thing to freely give. My tribe back home is loyal down to the bone, but we had years to cultivate what we have. I wanted that familiarity and I kept expecting a community here to be like the one at home. That was a mistake on my part and it was unfair for the people I was just starting out with here. I knew before I moved that I would face challenges and it would be a hard adjustment, but what I didn’t anticipate is how difficult it would be to explain why it was so hard. There was this heaviness I could not shake. A feeling of loss even within the sense of purpose. Have you ever felt that way? Like you made the right choice, but everything is pushing back against it and pulling you apart inside? Surely I am not alone in that. So for any of you who thought perhaps you were alone in that tangled mess of feeling lost within your purpose, I have been there and I know it hurts like hell. 

The culmination came on Super Bowl Sunday. I walked along the street outside of a Super Bowl party my roommates and I were about to attend with tears streaming down my face. I called my dad with my heart aching because I was so confused what I was doing here. I had spent all afternoon being pushed, prodded, and hassled all over being a Falcons fan instead of a Patriots fan. I had been with a group of people who were supposed to be my community, friends, those I could lean on and some who were supposed to be leading. I was being pushed further and further to the outskirts feeling like I should just pack up and go back to Tennessee. I got back in the car and my roommates wiped away the remaining tears, fixed my makeup, and prayed over me. They hadn’t been the ones to push or hurt me, they were the ones who showed me there was a family here and though it may have been small, it was fierce. I sat silently through most of the game as the Falcons kept their lead. I refused to make any more comments about either team because it had all become so infantile. A day that is meant to celebrate the sport had turned into a day that had made me feel like I had to defend who I was all because of who I was cheering for. Sound ridiculous? It was. Two hours of non stop hounding over a football game that wouldn’t even start for hours. Two hours of me trying to keep my cool and joke along until I finally had enough. Two hours of what should have been community. Two hours of what will forever remind me that community should always be led with love. Some people may be thinking-seriously? Aren’t you being a bit intense? Yeah, I am because the reality is sometimes the simplest things pile up until you just can’t breathe anymore. And that right there is what is so hard to explain to people who aren’t battling in an invisible war, raging on the inside. Sometimes things come at you from all sides and you have to dig your heels in and fight back. And sometimes you have to sit and cry for a while. If you have ever done the latter, I promise you aren’t alone. For most of last winter in fact that’s what I did. I cried. I fought. Then I cried some more. 

The winter story is far from over and I would love to have you come back to read the next part.