Confessions of a Grieving Pastor

Blogging has been on my mind a lot lately... because I am acutely aware that it is yet another thing in my world that I feel I am failing at lately... and ultimately it ties into the running theme of this season in my life... While those of us who are Christians just celebrated Easter yesterday, and the resurrection and promise of new life that it means to us, I find myself still stuck in Holy Saturday... stuck in grief and sadness and a heaviness that won't lift.
Now, I know this blog has been set up as primarily a blog of my weight loss journey, but the reality is, it's called "Uncovering Me: Shedding my Hide" and there is a whole lot more involved in the vulnerability and humility that requires than specifically weight loss related exploration, and of course, what I know about my journey is that, directly or indirectly, because of the nature of addictions, regardless of the substance of choice, there is nothing that isn't tied to my weight and my relationship with myself, and with my substance of choice.
A few weeks ago, my parents came to visit us in Fort Worth and on the last day, while we were at lunch, Mom shared with me that she could see the absence of peace within me.  She was right.  I am living in turmoil and anxiety and fear and shame and... ultimately grief. 
Part of my Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) Residency involves having weekly "Individual Supervision" for one hour with just me and my supervisor, as well as a weekly "Interpersonal Relations" seminary with the rest of my CPE peers and our supervisors.  The past couple of weeks have been difficult as I have poured myself out and allowed myself to be vulnerable in these places, but apparently not vulnerable enough, because my shame and my pride prevent me from being completely exposed... and ultimately that deadly pair are my worst enemy. 
In IPR one of my peers called me a spoiled brat... that was tough to hear!  I just said thank you when she was finished yelling at me... and then continued to figure out what it meant throughout the rest of the day... I didn't cry... I kept a face solid as stone... but of course, that can't last forever... and the tears that came later that day poured out like a fountain flooding over...  Somewhere in there, after the berading and before the flood, I received an email through facebook in response to a posting I had made on a FB group called "Sisters of the Cloth" where I asked for prayers in my search for a ministry position.  The email was from a woman who had been a Peace Intern at my church camp my senior year of high school, when I was president of the state youth group.  She just wanted to let me know that she remembered me and my leadership fondly... It was humbling and affirming, but frustrating at the same time... because I know I'm a good leader... I know I'm a good minister... but somehow that doesn't matter... it's not good enough! 
Later that day I asked my supervisor for some supervision time and he got in my face too... He has been beating his head against a wall the past weeks trying to open my eyes and help me out... He has repeatedly challenged me to acknowledge that something is dying... and I am not going to be able to move forward until I honor what is dying and allow myself to grieve... only I can't for the life of me figure out what it is that's dying.  He has hinted that it might have something to do with my dysfunctional set of standards for myself that are ultimately crippling me... this idea that my success is measured by a timeline of my accomplishments (or lack thereof) and the reality that life hasn't played out the way I imagined... not that it ever does for anyone... and I guess that does make me a "spoiled brat" to think that I would be different or special... but as my future charges at me like a fast-moving train, with my current residency position coming to a jolting halt in September... and, as much as I'm ashamed to admit that I care, the fact that my 30th birthday is creeping up... I guess maybe I'm grieving that I'm not where I'd hoped I would be... and that due to my own human limitations... I have no earthly clue what my future holds... my desires and passions are on hold and there's nothing I can do... and I'm searching for peace... and I feel sometimes as though I have found it... and I can feel myself just allowing myself to be in the present and not worry about the future... I find myself laughing with loved ones, singing in the car at the top of my lungs with the windows down and the wind blowing in my hair... but ultimately I keep coming back to this dark place where I feel alone and ashamed and trapped, suffocated and paralyzed by my own lack of faith and I wonder, how in the world can I be a spiritual leader with such a fleeting faith?  How can I expect the patients, families and staff in my hospital to feel safe with me when they are exposed and vulnerable if I can't allow myself to do the same with the people who love me and know me... The problem is, that in order to be fully loved... we have to be fully known, otherwise we're only loved as much as we're known... and in order to be fully known... we have to be transparent and vulnerable... and that requires putting away shame and pride in order to be real with people... Shame and pride can lead to deep loneliness... surrounded by people who want to love you... but can't unless you let them in.
So in the spirit of "uncovering myself" and "shedding my hide" I am trying to challenge myself to be more humble and transparent and less driven by shame and pride...
I am grieving... so I hope that you can be patient with me... I'm not asking to be coddled... In fact, call me out if you feel I need it... just don't give up on me... I promise I am trying...