Meeting the crises of exhaustion and hypocrisy

I’m tired.  Not sleepy tired.  I’m mind tired.  It is an occupational hazard.  I’m probably only one week’s rest from a complete recovery, but that week’s rest is a few weeks off yet.  I know so many who feel the same way at this time of year.  And, as I said, particularly it’s true of those in ministry.  When I’m nudging exhaustion, my mind slows down, is less efficient, and I get a little more irritable.

Still, I’m thankful that since I first burned out 15 years ago my body and mind function differently now; I get glimmers of warning before shutdown commences.  This means, that though I suffer dysfunction early, I’m highly unlikely to suffer complete burnout — which can take 12-21 months to recover from. The fact that my mind shuts down is a protective mechanism from further harm.  It’s my body’s activation communique that, respond-now-or-else.

The problem of exhaustion is at the polar opposite end of another problem I used to have, nearly 20 years ago now, but that I no longer have and will never have again.

Let me paint a picture for you.  I was state health, safety, security and environment coordinator for Shell distribution company.  I was well remunerated and travelled a lot.  I flew in a lot of planes and stayed in some great hotels.  I managed an alcohol and other drug program, carrying breathalyzers with me in my company four-wheel drive.  Like the police, I conducted random testing on fuel tanker drivers and depot operators.  If they were caught, there were consequences.  Yet, regularly on Monday and Friday mornings I would drive to work with that foggy feeling in the mind having over-indulged myself the previous night.

I could tell you exactly what blood alcohol concentration I had having consumed 15+ standard drinks, and I would only just be over the legal limit (0.05) that previous night.  I was inebriated.  But I was well under the limit in the morning.

Yet, the amount of times I left home feeling the shame of having lost control yet again, feeling seedy, and like someone was going to smell it on my breath or through my pores.  And perhaps there were more pangs of guilt for having been less than cordially patient with one of my young daughters at the time.  The fact is I had less patience with my children when I was hungover.

But it was the exposure of my own drinking problem I feared the most; especially when I was meeting regularly with drivers who had breached the company alcohol and other drug policy and procedure, as I spoke to them about what the long road of rehabilitation looks like.  I felt sure that the teetotaler drivers could see right through me.  Such hypocrisy of shame gets to you after a while, and counter to what you might think it made my drinking and smoking worse, not better.  Tragically, though fortunately, I was exposed when my first marriage collapsed.  The house of cards crumbled.  I would not be who I am today without that having happened.

As I sit here tonight, I truly wonder what the worse problem is.  I seriously know that being exhausted in the name of serving others has integrity about it.  There’s nothing worse than feeling like a complete phony.  But rubbing up against a little burnout is scary.  It can feel as if nobody cares when your care is the care they seek out — like it’s only you who will work for them as is so often the case, because people don’t trust just anyone with their deepest material.

The common thread of these dipolar problems is they both give us the sense we’re not in control.  The former problem has the fear about it that you could be caught out at any time, yet the latter issue — when it goes unacknowledged over the years — is so often the cause of a broad range of clergy misconduct.

This is why at least in this short period before a longer break I’m taking Tuesdays off — my Invitation to Retreat (my strategic withdrawal).  I do not want to and cannot accept that my problem will become another’s problem; that my problem would be for them, harm.  I must take responsibility to get all the rest I can.  Any person who has a role in ministering needs to take their responsibility in this area seriously.

So I guess I would much prefer to be exhausted than feel hypocritical.  Both form out of a fear for what might occur.  Both call aloud for action.

For the present problem, there’s attention needed toward self-care: good diet, plenty of sleep, regular exercise, spiritual disciplines of silence and solitude, saying no when you can.

For those who are also feeling tired, can I encourage you that you’re not alone.  Can I also encourage you to do your self-care and not put it off?  For those who have the opposite problem of a secret hypocrisy, the only advice I can give you is, in the words of Sy Rogers, “You must tell on the sin or (ultimately) the sin will tell on you.”

We must be both gentle yet truthful with ourselves.