Self-Care, Don't Care

I have no idea where the summer went. None. I am back in the thick of training for my fellowship with Residential Life at WashU and soon enough I will be back in the classroom for one last year of classes before you can call me Abby MacDonald, Master of Social Work!

Yesterday, we had one of many tough conversations surrounding racial justice: how to discuss the negative racial narratives in today's society and share counter-narratives to influence social change. During a time when many people feel uncomfortable discussing race and how it impacts the way an individual moves through life, Res Life has been clear about the need to have tough conversations. The talk yesterday shined a light on a lot, and while we didn't solve all the world's problems, or come up with a solution for institutional racism (which I think would solve MANY of the world's problems), it got everyone at the table thinking.

I've written about the need for self-care on this blog before and last night, I listened to my own advice.  I lit a lavender (supposedly calming?) candle and got back on my yoga mat. Normally I watch a video at home as a guide, but this time I just did what felt right. I realized I am not at all ready to lead a class, but I listened to what my body needed which was a lot more difficult than anticipated.

I love the fact that I can do yoga at home for many reasons: 1. It's free. 2. I can do it in my sports bra and underwear should I choose to (sorry if that was too much information). 3. If I want to do some yoga at 2:30 in the morning, I can. I haven't ever done that, but should I find the need, I can. 4. When I make a mistake, or take a risk and fall on my face, no one is there to laugh. Today, though, I put some pants on and went to a yoga class at the local YMCA. I love my Y because I am usually the youngest person in the room so I don't feel intimidated or judged. Nor do I feel the need to compare myself to the 70 year old man wearing khakis on a treadmill.*

Getting on the yoga mat has always been both a challenge and a blessing for me. It forces me to concentrate on my breathing, an intention, and on balance. I often look at yoga as a connection to my faith. Many of my intentions are just prayers to God. It is where I can be fully present and contemplate what His plans are for me. Today, as I packed my mat and waterbottle for a class, I realized that not only is my personal time with yoga a reflection of my faith, but going to a class with a teacher is comparable to heading to church.

I love going to church with my parents and family each week. I'll admit there are more days where I choose sleep over church, but each time I return I am reminded why it is worth going. As a good Augustinian alum, I go for the community. I know that my faith is my own journey and the church is a reflection of a man-made religion, but I discovered during my volunteer year that immersing oneself in a community directed towards the same end goal-to be closer to God, can strengthen faith.

I went into this class today pretty confident. I knew how to do the balance poses, I could touch the ground with straight legs, and I could anticipate the next pose the teacher would ask of us. Toward the end, I didn't really feel like I was pushed very much. I thought I would just go home and work on some other poses. Then a funny thing happened. As I was rolling up my mat, post-namaste, I realized my legs felt well stretched, my body was calm and my arms felt a little noodle-y. The class had an impact on me, even though I thought I was above it.

All this work I do on my own, be it on the mat or for my faith, can only take me so far. I eventually need to find a class or a church to find inspiration or comfort in the community. Even if I think I'm better than my classmates or stronger in my faith than those around me, I am learning. I am improving as long as I push myself to do so. It takes an effort on my end to go to that class or get out of my pjs on Sunday and go to church, but I am reminded time and time again, that I still have plenty of work to do.

I am writing this out so that everyone reading can hold me accountable. I am ashamed of how little I blogged last year, especially since it is one of my favorite self-care activities. My goal for this year is to post once a month. I have put a reminder on my calendar for the 25th of every month to write. Feel free to publicly humiliate me if you do not see any posts for more than a month at a time.

*Sorry if you're a 70 year old man wearing khakis at the gym. I applaud your determination to stay fit, just not your outfit choice.

How I really feel about April

I got a not so subtle hint from my mom that it is time for a new post on here, so here it goes.

Everyone who has asked me how I'm doing lately has gotten the same response-I hate April. I can't remember the last time I looked back and thought "man, that was a good month." Most Aprils I've been in school and last year was a really long April because my grandmother was sick. This year the month seemed to start a few weeks early. Individual and Group projects are picking up (thank God for good group members this time around) and the weekend nights are getting longer-not because I'm out with friends, but because I'm drinking coffee at 9pm and staring at the page count on my papers.

Enough of the Debbie Downer talk, though. What's strange is that I'm really happy. I'm increasingly stressed, but loving what I am doing. I know my last post was about the overwhelming effect stress has had on me, so this one will hopefully be a little more encouraging.

I LOVE my practicum. Working in the legal realm wasn't ever something I considered, but I am seeing through practicum and through my classes, that real change has to come from the policy level. I considered for a brief period of time getting a J.D./MSW but I think I am getting enough with my MSW at this point to navigate the legal world. I did just find out that WashU is offering a new 24 credit Master of Legal Studies degree that has sparked my interest (surprise Mom and Dad!)...more info on that later. I will finish up at The MICA Project (check out their website here) after June and I am starting interviews for my second practicum in the Fall. Fingers crossed I get more experience working with immigrants and refugees in a different setting to see what else I enjoy. I am also still on track to do an international practicum next summer so stay tuned for that as well-I wouldn't mind prayers for any of the above!

I cannot even begin to describe the joy I feel being back in St. Louis.  It is so strange to think that I haven't been home for this long since high school, but I couldn't imagine going through grad school in another city.  Even though we have been known to drive each other crazy at times, my parents and sisters (and Matt!) have really kept me sane through this first year. They might feel like they don't see me very often, but I am beyond grateful to be home for most Sunday family dinners. This is a tradition I hope continues for a long time!

As I am sitting outside on one of the most beautiful Spring days (another perk of being back in St. Louis) yet, I can't help but think of my sweet Grandma Janet, who has been my guardian angel this year. We are coming up on the year anniversary of the day she passed away and I find myself thinking of her much more often. There are so many things I wish I could call her and tell her about on Skype, to see her reaction and hear her voice. Instead, I say all these things to her in my prayers. I know she likes being in the known (she was actually the first to hear about my interest in the Master of Legal Studies!) Not surprisingly, I think of her when I notice the beauty of nature. The gorgeous daffodils coming up lately remind me of my last moments with her when I brought some from her own yard to 'beautify' her hospital room. I am so grateful to have so many reminders of her blooming throughout the city.

As much as I hate April, it's been helpful to sit and think of what makes me happy. I think I have the energy, now, to finish strong. If anyone else is having a rough go around, I encourage you to do the same. Write it down, tell someone, just get it out of your head and into the world. Cheers!

I should have seen it coming...

It's taken me a few days to sit down and write this post. One that is LONG overdue, but hopefully, you will enjoy it.

Here's how many of my conversations have gone lately.

"Oh Abby, how are you?? How's school?"

With a tired smile, I normally answer "Grad school is hard! (awkward laugh), but I'm learning so much! It's great, I love it" Lately, though, that smile is getting more and more tired.

Last Monday was my tipping point. I skipped one class to read for another (funnily enough the reading was over burnout) and then worked from 3-11pm. I got to my car, turned some calming music on and thought "just make it home, Abby. Just make it home."

I got to the second to last stop sign on the drive home and lost it. I was sitting there in my car, crying for no apparent reason. Nothing drastic had happened that day, I didn't have any huge assignments due that week, but there I was, crying uncontrollably.  The breakdown that had been inching its way to the surface for days, if not weeks, finally got to me. I was mentally, physically and emotionally EXHAUSTED in a way that I haven't felt in grad school thus far.

Social workers are fantastic at reading about and advocating for self-care, but we are terrible at practicing it. And I mean terrible. Ironically, my class on Friday (which  I wasn't sure I would make it to) was devoted to self-care for social workers. We discussed what we like to do for self-care when we have time. Social workers are great at recognizing when reactions to stress go from productive to detrimental but for some reason, we can't take the next step and actually do what we enjoy doing when we need it most. We're always 'too busy' to exercise, or have too many assignments to go grab a drink with friends. We advocate for so many, but can't advocate for ourselves, so we end up crying at a stop sign less than two minutes away from home.

A classmate of mine brought up the guilt factor. She mentioned that often times we feel guilty for practicing self-care because so often our clients need us, or don't have what we have. We feel bad turning off our phones and reading when clients or classmates might need us to answer questions.

So I made it to Friday afternoon and I wasn't quite sure what I could change from last week to this week to make sure my neighbors didn't see another impromptu meltdown in my car. Then Sunday came. I feel as though this blog is slowly turning into an advertising campaign for the Catholic Student Center at WashU and Father Gary because every time I go, I feel like writing a blog post.

Anyway, he told a story about one of my favorite authors and priest, Gregory Boyle, and his conversation with a woman who felt like she had given everything she had but still didn't know how to accept gifts from others. She didn't feel like she deserved to be on the receiving end of someone's love/actions. I bet she was a social worker...

It's a hard lesson to learn how to receive love and help when your whole life is dedicated to giving it. This is especially difficult when the one giving love is God, who gives unconditionally! It is hard to build up the courage to ask God for some of that much-needed love and attention.

Sometimes, though, we don't even know we are asking for it...it just looks like a poor girl crying in her car at a stop sign...

A week later and I think I have a little stronger of a grip on life. I took a step back from everything going on, spent a lot more time sending prayers to God, and reached out to friends and family for love. I truly believe that God's love rests in those who know you best, and spending time with them is like a visit with Him. They inject you with the strength you need to keep going.

So thank you to anyone who listened to me last week, who saw that I was exhausted and needed encouragement. You are truly a gift from God.

Taking on a big challenge

For family, friends, God, my home, my dogs, my school, my country...

All these things and plenty more I have been thankful for over the years. This year? I'm grateful for the challenge.

The challenge that comes with moving back home, with school, with life. In my daily prayers the first thing I say is 'thank you'. I can't remember who told me about this habit, but I like it. If you can't think of anything else to tell God, just say thank you. So coming up with something to be grateful for this year wasn't hard. I make that list daily because I am beyond blessed with so many great people and gifts in my life. What I try and do now is find the silver lining (sometimes it's really thin and hard to see) in all of my challenges. I am thankful for the challenge because it makes everything I thank God for on a daily basis that much more meaningful.

It has taken me truly ALL semester to find a time to sit down and write this post. I have barely taken a breath but as tired as I am, I love it. It is a series of challenges that I am learning a lot from. I am learning that not everything should be started the day before its due, but sometimes that happens. I am learning that talking about how stressed I am takes up too much time so it's faster and easier to just push through. I am learning that group projects are less about the paper and more about the people. I am learning that it's hard to miss a family dinner, but the leftovers for lunch are really nice...I am learning that my parents and sisters notice that I'm not around very often, but it makes the time I am home that much better.

About a week ago, when I wasn't sure the silver lining was there, I reached out to a friend about how much harder grad school is than I anticipated. I knew it was going to be more difficult than undergrad, and I knew WashU was going to be tough, but DANG it is kicking my butt. I knew I reached out to the right person because she can always find the silver lining. Always. She reminded me that the academic stress is temporary, that I am building plenty of new relationships with all my classmates, and I get to learn a new campus (let's be honest, I love college campuses!) So as much as I feel like I'm drowning in papers, projects and reading, I am learning SO much. Both what is in those textbooks and what I am made of.

I am loving my fellowship with Resident Life. I get to build relationships with people from all different walks of life. I get to have conversations and experiences I never thought I'd have and I get to (hopefully positively) influence the undergrads. I get to be behind the fun they are having on campus.

Next semester I am starting a practicum at The MICA (Migrant and Immigrant Community Action) Project here in Saint Louis. It provides legal aid and community resources to the needs of the migrant and immigrant populations and I will be helping with the nonlegal needs of the community. More to come on that once I start but I figured I would give those interested an update.

I'd like to say I will be posting more regularly but I can't make promises.

Though My Voice May Tremble

As some people know, I have started intensive training for my graduate fellowship with Residential Life at WashU. And I mean intensive. The quality of training by WashU Res Life is apparent in the level of satisfaction in the students. I can already tell how much I am going to love my staff, supervisors and the other grad-fellows. The environment is so inclusive and open-minded, I can understand why people love working in student administration. 

That being said, WashU goes to great lengths to make sure the RAs are prepared for the year. Everything from what it means to be a leader, Title IX and emergency procedures, to Mental Health and Diversity Inclusion activities. Today,  two Social Justice facilitators were brought in to discuss the reality of microagressions and biases towards marginalized populations. 

We were asked to walk around the room and look at images, social media platforms and incidents from past university settings that displayed racist, ignorant and/or biased comments. In other trainings we were made aware that some of this may be triggering and difficult information to digest, however there was no warning before today's activity. And it hit many like a brick wall.

I was made very aware of the fact that I am in the majority in most aspects of my life. Aside from being aware that I am a woman, which has a lengthy history of struggle, I am white, middle class and heterosexual. I have never had to fight for my right to marry the person I love. I have never had to defend myself to an authority figure based on the color of my skin. Rarely do I have to defend my religion-one that is relatively standard and accepted in America. 

This isn't the first time I have been made aware of my 'standing' or my privilege. In the past this privilege has led to a lot of guilt, which surfaced today. I have worked damn hard to engage in education and conversation that would lead to me being cognizant of my surroundings. Lead me to be more understanding and to be an advocate for those who may not look or act like me. Deserving of recognition nonetheless.

In the time we had to ourselves, I pulled my phone out and began writing. I don't exactly know what I wrote-if it is classified as poetry, creative writing, etc (I wasn't an English major) but as I have blogged about before, this is what I do when I have too many thoughts bouncing around. So, here it goes. 

 I am sitting in a silent room that could not be screaming louder cries. Witnessing those who have hurt for so long be re-traumatized, re-living their greatest fear, facing their biggest enemy. My internal cry asks why is this still an issue? Why are we still struggling for acceptance? 

I hope those who have been marginalized know if they are not loved by all, they are at least loved by one.

 I hurt because I cannot reach out to everyone. I cannot scream loud enough for all to hear that they are enough. They are worthy. They are strong. I hurt because being an advocate is not enough in this instance. Advocating for the future does not fix the past. It does not erase their struggle. A positive outlook doesn't eliminate the present pain. 

I am not gay, bi or transsexual. I am not Black or Latino. I am not Muslim or Jewish. I am not an overshadowed minority. Though I am a woman, I am privileged. I am guilty. 

My voice is strong but trembles when I hear stories of those who have been beaten. Those who have been ignored. I am infuriated by peers, elders and those younger than myself who exert dominance over any group. Over any person different from themselves. 

Though I am angered, I refuse to believe this is a loss. I refuse to give up on the idea that one person can love all. That my thoughts can have an impact. Though my voice may tremble, it is still a voice. One to be taken seriously. One to be heard. 

While this exercise was draining for all and traumatizing for many, it taught me something. It taught me that I have to do more than simply engage in conversation. It is my hope to build my reputation as one of love, respect and advocacy. Working in ResLife is a great start, but this need for acceptance and recognition reaches far beyond a college campus. It infiltrates our personal and professional lives. 

I can't think of a better way to tie my faith into my training then by quoting 1 Peter 4:8 "Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins." We are all human. With recognition of our differences must come love and respect, or no progress can be made. 

Living with intention, on and off the mat

Like I said in the last post my Spring has flown by and the summer-like weather outside has made me feel like I should update this blog a bit. 

I was doing yoga today and it got me thinking. In both online videos and live classes most of the time I am asked to set an intention for the length of the practice. It can be one word or it can be a thought-anything that I want to dedicate my practice to. It gives me the opportunity to focus on what is happening on the mat and nothing else. It also allows me to have a tighter grip on what I want to do, how I want to feel and who I want to be when I leave the mat. 

We were asked at the beginning of our service year what we wanted to accomplish. Why we were here, what we wanted to get out of it-our intention. At the start, I was focused on everyone else. I wanted to serve the poor and build community-like a good Augustinian. I thought it would be the perfect way to put my needs and life on hold and focus on others. 

At mid-year, I came back to 'my mat' and realized my intention had changed. While living as a good Augustinian made me feel accomplished, I wasn't recognizing my own needs. Thinking I could put my life on hold for a year while I served others was a crazy thought. Life has been moving at lightning speed and there are days I wish I were anywhere but serving in Philadelphia but I try to still live with intention. I'm leaning into the vulnerability of being on my own. 

I came back to my mat for grad school applications. That became my main focus for months. It was really hard not to base my worth on the potential outcomes of my applications. My intention for that time period was to believe in myself. To believe that whatever the outcome, I was moving in the right direction. I was good enough. Boy, was it a surprise to read "Congratulations, Abigail..." in an email from all 5 schools. Choosing Washington University in Saint Louis was a very hard decision. One that I spent a lot of time praying about and discussing with friends, family and roommates. Leaving the mat, I am able to rest comfortably knowing it is where I really want to be. 

One of the hardest days of this year was May 1st. It was the day I lost my sweet Grandma Janet. It was also the hardest time I've had trying to set and keep an intention for yoga. As I did the different poses with tears in my eyes I kept repeating, "May she rest peacefully in the arms of the Lord. May she be at peace." And you know what? It worked for me. It has been so comforting to know she is free and at peace. So while it was the hardest day yet for me to return to my mat, and stay focused on my intention, I am a firm believer in the power of yoga. I am confident that the focus it allows for is beneficial to the mind and heart. 

I believe with all that I am that my Grandmother lived with intention. Everything she did, she believed had meaning behind it. Everything mattered to her. She listened to the sounds of nature because wanted the birds to know they were heard. She painted portraits of her children and grandchildren so they knew they were seen. She held my grandfather's hand so he knew he was loved. She left her mat, this world, living out her intention. In the words of one of my friends, I believe now she is 'painting a mural on the walls of heaven'.  She accomplished what she was here to do and I can only hope to do the same. 

I came back to the mat today with the intention of "letting it be". One that I often return to. My anxious mind has had a hard time lately with the idea that in one month I am essentially starting over. I am moving back home, starting graduate school, diving into a new job. I am returning to the ever changing world I thought I could put on hold a year ago. While my mind constantly wants to move forward, I cherish those 45 minute to an hour times that I get to sit on the mat, take deep breaths in and out and focus on calming my mind and heart. While I am far from being an expert in yoga, I have fully embraced the mindset.  

Sewing seeds for the rest of my life

We can shape but can't control

These possibilities to grow

Weeds amongst the push and pull

Waiting on the wind to take us

We can write with ink and pen

But we will sew with seeds instead

Starting with words we've said

And we will all be changed

-Seryn, "We Will All Be Changed"

My Spring is about to FLY by so I wanted to slow down for a second and get back to this blog. 

When my parents come to Philadelphia next week it will mark the 7th month that I have been in Philadelphia. SEVENTH. Some days I'll admit it feels like I've been here forever and other days I feel like everything is still so new. A lot has happened in the last 7 months, both for me and those at home and I never could have predicted such an experience. One that has been a HUGE lesson on vulnerability. A word and an action I'm not so comfortable with. 

Coming into a new job in a new city with new roommates can be a little nerve-wrecking. It's an experience that screams vulnerability and at the beginning I was forcing myself to be okay with it. I opened myself up to my roommates from the get-go- I think we all did. We were going to be sharing a similar experience for the next 10 months, there was no use in sugar coating anything. In this, I found myself really happy. I didn't know why I was ever so cautious to be open about myself with others in the past. Then stuff got hard. I was missing out on exciting family events, I wasn't able to be there for a friend going through the loss of a parent and I had no one 'familiar' to talk to, to hug, to be near. This was the true test of vulnerability-not moving to a new city or going through awkward "get to know you" activities. It was realizing that this was my life for the next 10 months and whether the girls I lived with liked it or not, they became my familiarity. They became the ones I talked to and hugged and cried with. 

As for my job, I hate to brag but I think I'm pretty good at what I do-at least that's what it seemed like at my mid-year evaluation. Though vulnerability takes a new shape with this job. I have learned that this job is not always go-go-go like I may wish it were sometimes. I have to find a way to be grateful for the time this job has given me to take a break and breathe sometimes. I don't always see immediate change like all social workers wish they could. I have realized I am not meant to teach three year-olds and that third grade math is hard for third graders...no matter how easy it comes to my mind. It has made me vulnerable in the sense that I can't always do exactly what I want to do when I want to do it. God is giving me this time to figure out my next step and I'm not exactly comfortable with how much time He has given me. I feel like I'm SO ready to move forward and do more and He keeps pumping the breaks. As my good friend Margaret reminds me, I'm still experiencing a big life choice, I don't need to worry about the next one yet"

Speaking of-graduate school. Holy cow I didn't realize that the application process would be so much different than undergraduate. After MANY Skype sessions with my mom and having my roommates read and reread my essays, I have submitted applications to five schools for a Master in Social Work program. Saint Louis University, Washington University in Saint Louis, Temple University, Boston College and University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. While I still wait (very anxiously) to hear back from the first four schools, I am happy to announce I got in to University of Illinois! I obviously have made no decisions but it has been a long, hard, process and I am happy to know I at least got into one school!

So what's with the song lyrics above? I'm sure you're wondering. This has been one of the songs that has gotten me through some tough parts of the year as a volunteer. Not necessarily tough as in feeling like I can't make it through but tough as in remember not to simply go through the motions. In remembering that I chose to do this year for a reason, not just to be a resume builder. The line "we can write with ink and pen but we will sew with seeds instead" has been a huge mantra for me. It continues to say 'start with words we've said and we will all be changed' which mirrors what I am doing. I spent four years of college writing with ink and pen, studying, researching, writing papers, all on what I want to do in the future. What will that get me if I never actually do it? I can be the best student in the world, but if I haven't experienced vulnerability, hard work, and joy, what is there to relay to others? 

As a volunteer, I am using what I have studied-I am starting with the words I've said, and using it to push myself forward into a real world experience. I am sewing seeds to grow something, my future self, into what I want it to look like. So while there are some days I feel I am just going through the motions, and not actually letting myself feel vulnerable, or even powerful, I remember that this year was meant to sew seeds. I meant for it to be a year of action to spring me forward for the rest of my life. For that I am grateful. 

I hope this catches everyone up on what I've been experiencing the last 7 months-it has been a huge lesson on vulnerability-what it is, what it feels like and how to deal with it. Luckily I have 3 more months of it. Wish me luck!