I stopped blogging between May 2007 and July 2008.  Following is a list of posts explaining my absence:

• My dark year of the soul
• The bright spot in my dark year
• My rock bottom

So in my other post, I promised more details regarding my prolonged blogging absence. Why I make promises like that, I’m not sure, because really, more than a year has gone by and do you know how many details are in a year? Well, there are LOTS of details in a year. And here I sit staring blankly at this darn screen with nary a hint of where to begin.

So I guess I’ll get right to the point. My very worst point. Because isn’t that what you’d really like to know about anyway? I mean, when I’m reading someone’s blog, I’m generally thinking, “OK, that’s nice. But what’s the bottom line here. WHAT’S THE BOTTOM LINE.”

So my bottom (as in rock bottom) was about this time last year. It was probably the day my dad (a seasoned Marriage and Family Therapist who’s seen his share of people with issues) asked me very seriously if I was suicidal. The question alone was enough to take my breath away, but what really frightened me was my answer. I’ve had my share of anxiety and I’m definitely melancholy, but suicide? That was never even on my radar screen until last summer.

I’ve known people who were suicidal and you know what, being on the other side of it was totally different. I figured anyone who was suicidal just wanted to die, to be gone, had no reason to live. I suppose that may be the case for some, but not for me. Actually, I didn’t want to die. To the contrary, I WANTED my children to have a mother and my husband a wife. And I WANTED to be my children’s mother and my husband’s wife. I WANTED to see my children grow up, to grow old with my husband, to enjoy life and to fulfill my life’s purpose. My thoughts of suicide were not out of want to be gone, but simply out of want for <i>relief</i>.

It’s hard to describe, but emotionally, I felt like I was walking along the top of a sharp mountain ridge with steep cliffs on either side. I was desperately trying to keep moving forward but as time went on, I felt like I was losing control.  I was terrified that something was going to push me over the edge…make me snap, cause me to have a nervous breakdown, hurt myself or my kids, I didn’t know what. I asked myself on several occasions, “Is this what it feels like to lose your mind?” The energy it took to simply put one foot in front of the other and keep going was totally exhausting. I completely lacked motivation and my daily goals were literally reduced to two things: making sure my kids had three meals a day and making sure they were safe in their beds each night. Anything on top of that, like having fun, connecting with my husband, seeing friends or going to the store was gravy.

Now, I realize there are a lot of people in the world dealing with far worse circumstances than I was. And I think we humans are designed to withstand periods of intense emotional stress. But for me, the thing that made my situation feel so crippling was that it seemed endless, indefinite. I saw no “light at the end of the tunnel.” I couldn’t imagine how things might change. Stuck. Everything seemed immovably stuck. I now have a new understanding of hopelessness. And as tragic as it sounds even now, it’s the hopelessness that made death seem like a relief.

Keep in mind that the whole time this was happening, I really had no box to put it in.  The symptoms of depression showed up about the same time I found out I was pregnant and I had never had depression before.  But I have had challenging 1st trimesters in every pregnancy so in my effort to make sense of it, I figured I was just having a particularly difficult 1st trimester.  And even though the story sounds relatively coherent now, going through it was a different story.  It was nothing but blackness.

And then there was the guilt.  I cannot tell you how overwhelming the guilt was.  I mean, here I was with SO MUCH compared to most.  I had a great husband, 3 healthy children & one on the way, all my needs were met, etc.  I’d try to will myself out of it–”I just need an attitude adjustment,” or “I need to be grateful for what I have.  So many people would love to have what I have,”  or “I’ve been pregnant 3 other times, I can handle this,” or “Just pull yourself together and suck it up.  Stop being a wimp,” or “I’m sure God called us to this place so stick it out.”  I had one close friend tell me our church was not growing because of me.  I was plagued with guilt.

And then there was the confusion about what God was doing.  To me it seemed like God was showing signs that our time at our church was over.  Meanwhile, Brian was sensing the exact opposite.  And I’m thinking, “What gives God?  We both want desperately to do what You want us to do and we’re asking, so how is it that we seem to be getting totally different answers?”  And then we’d get opposite messages from people around us.  Some would say they thought we should leave; others said they saw us there long term.  I was desperately confused.

I had my moments of anger towards God, but mostly I felt abandoned by Him.  I definitely felt abandoned. Surely He saw me in pain; did He overlook me?  But as I said, this is how I felt; it wasn’t what I knew the Bible promised.  I knew the Bible said He will never, ever forsake me.  But was this an exception?  Was He really a good God?  At this point, I was even questioning whether I still believed the Bible.  In the end though, I chose to believe, not because I felt it (CERTAINLY not because I felt it), but because He had proved Himself over and over again before.  And believe me, I had to dig deeper than I’ve ever dug  in order to hold on to the promise that He never lets go and that He IS good, even when things seem so bad.  His goodness is transcendent, even if I can’t see it.  So I hung on…and I made it clear to Him that I didn’t know how long I could keep holding on.

Meanwhile, Brian and I were completely missing each other in every way.  We argued constantly.  We were both dealing with so much stuff (me with my junk and him with the huge responsibility of leading a church that was clearly at a major crossroads).  Saying we were on different pages is the understatement of the century.  But then, in the course of 2 days, God broke through as if to say, “ENOUGH!  The confusion is over.”  It was at that point Brian realized how badly I was doing.  He immediately resigned from his position…and watched his vision die right before his eyes.  I know it was enormously painful for him.  As far as I’m concerned, his sacrifice on my behalf is probably the single most healing part of my recovery to date, and a real-life example of Ephesians 5:25 (”Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her…”).

So, we sold our home and many of our possessions, we moved across the country to my parents’ house, Brian found a teaching job, we found a new church home that ministers to our souls, we bought a new home and we’re starting a new chapter.  I have no doubt we’ll be in full-time ministry again but I’m grateful for this season of rest and reflection.  There is a lot to process after an experience like ours and I expect we’ll be doing so for years.  But one thing I already know: I hit bottom…and there was my Rock.

So, now I’ve had a little time to reflect on the TIME article. It was good.

That’s all.

But I’ve never been interviewed for a publication like TIME—or any publication for that matter—and I’d just like to say a few words about the experience.

You know how it is when you know exactly what you’re trying to say and you think you are really, really normal, but then you realize that in fact, you’re not normal at all? Yeah, it’s like that. Because let’s face it, I’m weird. Yes, weird. Oh, it’s not bad, it just is. See, I think I’m just like every other normal, 32-year-old female in America, but really, that’s just me thinking I am.

But what I really want to talk about is Lisa Cullen, the author of this article. I mean, how often do you take note of the writer of an article? I never do. But this time, there’s a person behind the name and it’s high time someone paid a little attention.

So, here are the top 5 things I appreciate about Lisa Cullen, staff writer for TIME magazine:

1. She listened to me. For over an hour. While I gabbed. Incessantly. She even made me feel like I was interesting.
2. Her daughter’s name is Mika. I like this name. Good names often come from good people.
3. She said nice things about my picture which totally boosted my ego. (For full disclosure’s sake, I suppose I should have told her that that picture is several years old, taken while I was still a twentysomething. And did I tell you I recently found a long, dark hair growing out of a mole on my face? Just like really old people. And another thing, upon close inspection, it’s clear that the hairs on my chin can no longer be described as “peach fuzz.” Oh how I long for just fuzz. And the thing I want to know is, why have I suddenly started sprouting? I bet Lisa doesn’t have facial hair.
4. Clearly, she’s intelligent. If you read her stuff, you’ll see that she uses big words. I like smart people. They’re interesting. Even if I can’t understand what they’re saying.
5. But by far the most endearing thing about Lisa Cullen, New York-based staff writer for TIME, is that she’s got issues. Stomach issues in her case. She talks freely about blood and guts and colons and stuff. Issues? Now that’s something I can relate to.

I blogged the other day about being interviewed by so-and-so from such-and-such magazine. Well, What God Joined Together, an article about pastors’ wives by Lisa Takeuchi Cullen, is in the most recent edition of TIME Magazine. (You can read the article online here.)

So, if you’re here as a result of the article, welcome. Look around. Stay a while. If you’re a PW, you’ll probably be especially interested in the Pastors’ Wives Forum.

At first glance, it seems to me Lisa has painted a pretty accurate picture of life as a PW.

I’m pretty sure I’ll have more thoughts on the subject.

I just have to figure them out first.

As usual.

But enough about me. What did you think of the article?

So here’s what happened.

I’ve been taking a break from blogging, mainly because I hate writing and because one blog post takes a ridiculously long time for me to complete because it just doesn’t flow outta me. And I was doing other stuff—stuff which, for me, takes considerably less brainpower.

Anyway, I was beginning to think that maybe I could get back into blogging if I could just not be so perfectionistic about it.

At just about the time I starting thinking I might resurrect this here blog, I get an email that went a little bit like this:

Hi Amy,

My name is [so-and-so] and I’m a writer from [such-and-such] magazine. I’m doing a story about pastors’ wives and found your blog. May I interview you?

Thought #1: Someone is messin’ with me. This is just like those emails that tease me, wanting me to “click here” for my $50 gift certificate to Cold Stone. And that’s just cruel and unusual.

So, I forwarded the email to my husband to get his opinion. I also did what I always do: googled so-and-so.

Hmmm…

Apparently, this is a real person. Perhaps this email is not spam.

Thought #2: But really, if she’s doing a story on pastors’ wives, she must be looking for someone who actually knows what they’re talking about. Does she not know how insecure I am? Has she not heard how inadequate I feel? I thought I’ve made it pretty clear that I don’t have a clue about this whole pastor’s wife thing.

So, I shoot her an email which says something like this: “Dear So-and-so, Sure, you can interview me. I’ll even try to sound like I know what I’m talking about.”

Well, we I ended up talking on the phone for over an hour. It’s definitely fair to say I blabbed the whole time. And I think I royally confused her because, frankly, I do not think logically and therefore I don’t do a good job of communicating my thoughts in a linear fashion. (Now you can see why blogging gives me stress. To blog is like someone throwing up in my brain and then I have to sit down, put all the pieces back together and package it nicely and coherently. Sorry for the graphic description…that’s just the way it is.)

But anyway, one thing that I got quite a chuckle out of (especially later as I thought more about it) was hearing her computer keys clicking like mad as her fingers tried to keep up with my mouth. I can only imagine what it was like to go back to her notes later and try to make heads or tails out of whatever it was that was there. I was making no sense, I knew it and I even told her so. (”I’m so sorry…I know I am making NO. SENSE.”) She didn’t argue my point, but was gracious and said something like, “That’s OK, I’m confident it will all pan out.” And that was just nice of her.

Where was I. Oh. I definitely repeated and repeated and repeated myself as I generally do. (Incidentally, this is precisely why I hate talking on the phone and why I spend an inordinate amount of time reliving conversations in my head in the hopes that maybe the next time I speak to a human being, I just might be able to say what I want to say ONE time and then SHUT. UP.)

Geez, I’m totally rabbit-trailing here. I have no idea what my point was.

Oh yeah. So, I got that email, had that interview and the article is slated to be published next week. (I’ll quit being so cryptic about the so-and-so and the such-and-such when it happens.)

Aaaaaaanyway, the bottom line is, there’s nothing that’ll make you get your blog in order faster than the knowledge that someone might actually read it. And then here’s what happens. I start fiddling with it and, poof!, it all goes away. Well, it wasn’t exactly “poof!” (because that gives the impression that it wasn’t my fault, and it was totally my fault) but the point is, the whole thing was gone and I didn’t know how to get it back.

So, yesterday I spent most of my day wrestling this monster called technology which we are all so grateful that we have because it makes our lives so much easier (there’s sarcasm there in case you didn’t catch it) and I don’t really know how God feels about technology (and my wrestling with it) but I’m inclined to think it was His intervention which helped me figure the whole thing out. And for that, I’m enormously thankful.

So, if so-and-so really is real, and if she really was able to make sense out of my nonsense, and if she really did write an article, and if the article really is going to be published next week, and if people really start reading this blog as a result, well then, I’m prepared. Because (for today at least), it appears that I’m back.

Another answer to a question from this original post.

Amy asks:

Thanks for throwing it wide open. I’d love to know what kind of role you take on yourself as the wife of a pastor. How do you interact with the people in your congregation? How do you stay connected to the congregation without being completely open in areas where you can’t be, i.e. your husband’s ministry and it’s impact on your marriage? Also, how do you maintain boundaries for your family and keep ministry where it should be?

Hey Amy. Cool name.

Wow, tough questions. I’m not exactly sure what you mean when you say “what kind of role you take on yourself as the wife of a pastor” but I’ll just talk about my experience and hopefully will answer your questions.

I have no idea how to be a pastor’s wife. My husband went to seminary where he learned how to be a pastor and for as much is expected of pastors’ wives, it’s rather unfortunate there’s no Pastor’s Wife 101 class for us. The truth is, I totally wing it. (And so does every other PW on the face of the earth. That’s my theory anyway.) In reality, I can do nothing except be myself. Cheesy but true.

I am 100% certain God called my husband to be the pastor of our church. I’m also 100% sure I’m supposed to be my husband’s wife. Therefore, I can safely assume I am supposed to be the pastor’s wife at this church at this time. Scary if you ask me, but who am I to question God.

As for knowing what to share and what not to share, I’m pretty comfortable sharing most things about me and my life. I typically don’t just offer my innermost thoughts unsolicited, but if I feel like my experience is relevant, I generally don’t have a problem “lettin’ it all hang out” as my father would say. Some of the most valuable things I’ve learned in life have been from people who were willing to share openly the not-so-glamorous parts of their lives. If someone can learn a thing or two from my dumb mistakes or if my experience assures them that they are not alone in their own struggle then it’s one more way of experiencing God’s redemption as I see it.

Having said that, there are some things I will not share with the masses. I am blessed to have a small group of women with whom I can share most everything else. It’s great to have a place where I can be myself and know I will be encouraged, supported and prayed for. Beyond that, I have one very close friend not associated with the church at all. I can’t think of one thing I would not share with her. She is a kindred spirit and an absolute gift.

And boundaries. Ministry has a way of creeping into every area of life. Admittedly, I’m not very good at keeping them separate. Nevertheless, I can tell pretty quickly when I need a break from church stuff. For example, when I’m overwhelmed with the urge to run away to the nearest cave and post a sign at the entrance which reads, “WARNING. BEWARE OF PASTOR’S WIFE. ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. PREPARE TO DIE.”, that’s a pretty good sign.

It’s an older post, but still worth a gander if you haven’t see it already. Death by Ministry by Mark Driscoll is an excellent read.

Hey, are you a pastor’s wife? Do you have a blog (or similar site)? Wanna get your name on the super duper Pastors’ Wives Blogs list? Let me know.

Regarding my last post…

Thank you to those of you who expressed support in your comments. I appreciate your encouragement and your feedback.

At the same time, I’m of the opinion that there is generally some sort of growth potential in any situation, no matter how uncomfortable it is to walk through. Maybe I don’t know when to let an issue go, but I continue to mull over the things Carolin P. brought up, like, for example, whether or not I’m bitter. I think it’s a good question to ask myself.

I was interested to see that Carolin left another comment in response to my last post (or, in response to all the comments everyone else left on my last post).

Carolin,

I definitely want to hear you. I must admit, some of the things you’ve said have been slightly painful, but nevertheless, I think you’ve raised some valid questions and I’d like to explore them. I hope you’ll be willing to clarify a few things.

First, regarding the post which seemed to get this ball rolling, I wonder if a little more explanation would be helpful. I made the comment about “throwing the bad ones back” in a casual setting and completely in jest. I think it’s safe to say that all who were present took it as such. Granted, it was probably a little “edgy” in nature and it is true that there are very often individuals in the church that are challenging to deal with. However, my comment was not intended as, nor understood as (as far as I can tell), my heartfelt wish that any fellow believer become an unbeliever (or anything similar).

I was unable to ascertain from your comments whether or not you are a pastor’s wife yourself. Just wondering if you are and if so, for how long? The reason I ask is because I’m genuinely intrigued by your following statement:

For goodness sake, let’s all take a more simpler, organic approach to being the wife of a pastor. I get the feeling that, in her attempt to be “not the typical Pastors wife” that Amy, and so many other wives of pastors, have actually in some way built up this PW thing to be bigger than it is…

Obviously I have not met all PW’s, however, I don’t ever recall a PW describe her experience as being simple or no big deal. To the contrary, the PW’s I’ve encountered generally express their surprise at how difficult, challenging, stretching, complex and/or overwhelming the role really is. Therefore, if you are a PW, as I said, I’m genuinely interested in hearing your story, because when you said,

…from reading through this blog, I sense that, in general, she[Amy] feels inadequate and insecure about her job and her performance…which might breed the hint of bitterness and anxiety I detect,

a lot of what you sense is correct. I do feel inadequate. I do feel insecure about my “job” and my “performance.” That’s exactly what I feel and that’s a lot of what this blog is about—me working through it. I certainly don’t want those feelings to breed sin, whether it be bitterness or anything else, but I don’t think the struggle itself is wrong nor is it necessarily something to be avoided.

And regarding your statement:

Yes, being the pastors wife comes with expectations from others…but maybe the bulk of those expectations come from things of the world and the traditions of man (i.e., the title “First Lady” implies a lot).

I would agree that the bulk of the expectations PW’s feel comes from “the world and the traditions of man.” So, assuming that’s true, what should we do with them? I know I speak for many PW’s when I say that those expectations are not easily discarded or disregarded. They are real and often burdensome. For many, it is unbelievably difficult to navigate through them, especially when they are so varied in nature, when they come from so many people, when they are impossible to live up to and/or when they are inextricably tied to one’s own personal life and marriage.

I welcome your thoughts…

Amy

Hey PW’s. The forum’s up…again. Check it out.