In my post-college life, I've come to know a great number of freedoms and perks. Washing dishes when I feel like it? Fantastic. Buying food at the grocery store just to binge-eat it as soon as I get home? Awesome. And nothing will ever beat the joy of not having a bedtime.
Yeah, those are all pretty sweet deals, and I generally enjoy living the life of a carefree bachelor. But their is one massive disadvantage to the post-college life that no one prepared me for.
The crushing, debilitating loneliness.
When you're in college, no one talks about life after college. Sure, your professors talk about your career, and you go to bed every night at 3:00 a.m. dreaming of the day you win the Academy Award for Best whatever-you're-majoring-in, but who ever talks about your life (read: the time you don't spend at your job)? I mean, I value my education, but my theology degree won't go see movies with me.
Recently, I was reminded that I am no longer 19 when a friend asked me to be the subject of an interview she had to conduct for one of her youth ministry courses. Having done this exact assignment five years ago (SO OLD!), I was really quite thrilled to be asked. I spent that entire weekend churning up clever turns-of-phrase and nuggets of wisdom, to the effect that it would not only impress my friend, but also show my former instructor what a big-shot I had become.
I finally ended up answering the questions over a Facebook message because my schedule never matched up with my friend's (what can I say? #Big-shot). If my old-codger brain serves me right, the last question asked me what the most important pieces of advice would be that I could give a just-starting-out youth ministry professional.
After I got over the realization that I am looked upon by others as a professional in ministry, and after resolving to wear more ties, I finally closed out the interview saying that passion and enthusiasm are important, to keep an eye on the big picture, and to make sure some- if not most- of your off-time is spent away from the church (or at least away from the church you work at). It wasn't until a few days ago that I realized I forgot to mention to not let the feeling of loneliness discourage you.
This isn't to say that youth workers are the only people who experience post-college blues, but ours is a unique circumstance. Being a 20-something professional in a church is... ...hard? I don't know if that's the right word, but I at least know it's not easy. It's life between a rock and a hard place: you want to grow relationships with the people at your church, but you also want your downtime when you can get it. If you're lucky enough to work at a church with a healthy population of people your own age, you're over-joyed...until you remember that you essentially work for them too. There's definitely room for a deeper friendship, but discussing any issues that relate back to your job is still inappropriate.
In my case, facing this consequence of life has been a real slog, like trying to walk through mud with flip-flops. For a long time, I had no one in my life in Longview to just be friends with. I had plenty of adults at my church interested in my life, but my day-to-day was monotonous as a road trip through west Texas. Real Talk: I'd never understood the diagnosis of depression, but now I totally see it. It's never gotten quite that bad for me, but there were times when I considered it.
I've been editing and re-writing this post for over two days, trying come up with words to convey how the feeling I'm writing about...there's just nothing that compares to being able to engage with people my own age about...well, about anything, really, but for the sake of this post, we'll say "frustrations at work".
For a time, it was easy to blame others for not asking how I was doing. It was easy to stew anger at other people, saying it was their fault. And, hey, who doesn't enjoy a nice pity party? But one thing I enjoy about who I am is that I am, for better or worse, acutely self-aware. I know when I'm just being a bitch, and I know when it needs to stop.
But the flip-side of that self-awareness coin is that I second-guess myself ALL. THE. TIME. I'll sit and think out the perfect text message for a good ten minutes because 1) I don't want to seem too eager, 2) I want to be funny, and 3) I don't want there to be any confusion as to what I'm saying. And, you guys, that's just to respond 'yes' to a dinner invite. #MyNameIsDanulAndIHaveAProblem
I said that to say this: I find it so uncomfortable to talk about my frustrations. I hate talking about what grinds my gears because I don't want to come off as complaining. So, I rarely tell people what's bugging me. Do you see my catch-22 yet?
I talked to my dad about this just yesterday, actually. He basically told me to get over myself and just effing ask someone for help. He has this crazy idea that friends want to help friends...he even said that my friends would be excited- honored, even- to be asked advice on how to deal with my frustrations. He then said I got this flaw from him, so thanks for that one, Daddio. Not griping, but facial hair would've been nice too.
Seriously though, this is something that I'm working on, but it's no Easy-Bake Oven. Back in August of 2010, it was hard for me to work up the courage to go ask a group of people if I could roll with them. What I found was a community that welcomed me, nurtures me, and cares about me. It's gotten easier to be open with these wonderful people, but the uneasiness is still there, slowly being chiseled away.
So, to new youth-workers, and to anyone entering the professional world out of college, take heart! You're not the only one who feels this way. It's not going to be easy to face, and it'll make you want to give up and move back home, but I promise there is light at the end of the crushing tunnel.
Jesus calls us to be lights in the darkness, cities on a hill, crosses on a bluff. By nature, we are meant to be lone, but no one said we had to be lonely.
-Danul
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