Last night, I did something a little scary. Maybe a little brave. Maybe a little foolish.

It happened because I had a rough day. I got some emails and phone calls that involved some conflict between people, and I felt caught in the middle of it. I felt as though it was my job to solve the problem, and I just couldn’t see how to do it. Then I got word that someone in my church died. Then some more phone calls came, with some more concerns about various problems. (I know this is annoyingly vague. That’s deliberate. Think of it as an invitation to fill in the blanks with your own “bad day” events or messages.) I had a meeting with my bishop in the afternoon, and thanks to a few of the phone calls, I ended up getting there late. And the whole day I was dreading the meeting that was scheduled for that evening. I always dread congregation council meetings, and not necessarily with good reason. It’s just one of those triggers for me, I suppose. Power outages trigger me. Congregation council meetings do too. I don’t know why.

By the time I was driving to the bishop’s office, I was feeling anxious, guilt-ridden, and frightened. I did a quick body-scan, and observed a very familiar sensation – I felt like I was wearing a headband, a headband wrapped tightly around my head at about the temple level. It squeezed my head, not to the point of pain, but it felt like it was constricting my brain, preventing the blood from flowing to the topmost parts. I really don’t know what that feeling actually is physiologically, but that’s the way I interpret it. I’ve felt it many times before. I used to call it “the unseen hand.” I reached into the messenger bag which was lying in the passenger seat, found my hydroxyzine, and popped a pill. I rarely take these during the day, more frequently at night to help me sleep. But it felt like this is exactly what I needed.

I arrived (late), and had a good conversation with the bishop. (It was about sharing the story of Darkwater in a synod setting, so it was a really empowering meeting.)

On the drive back, the guilt and worry returned. I scanned my head as I drove, and I noticed the “headband” was gone. Perhaps the anti-anxiety pill did its work. Interesting, I thought. I was still thinking anxious thoughts, but the physical manifestation was noticeably changed. I felt a little more in control, and I thought about the council meeting coming up in only a couple hours. I thought about whether I felt ready for it. I was still so guilty, so worried, so tired. I didn’t feel ready at all. But I thought of a plan. I wondered if I had the guts to do it.

So that evening, when everyone had assembled in the room for council, I said something like this:

“Before we get started, there’s something I’d like to share. I have had a really rough day today. It’s nothing for you to worry about. It will all be fine, but it’s…not fine yet. I’m telling you this to let you know that I’m not at my best tonight. Usually when I’m feeling like this, and come to a meeting like this, I’ll try to push that all down, and tell myself, ‘I’m the pastor, I have to be above this.’ But you know what usually happens then? I leave that meeting regretting something I said or some way in which I overreacted.

“So I decided tonight to try just telling you. And I have a request of you. If you see me losing focus, or overreacting, or anything like that, let me know, so I can stop. Thank you.”

I hadn’t been sure what their reaction would be. But it was very positive. Someone said, “Thank you for saying that.” Others nodded. If anybody thought it was weird or inappropriate, nobody said anything, and I didn’t see any sign of it. It felt like maybe I’d even given permission to the others to say something like that in the future if they’d had a bad day. Who knows? Maybe this will catch on. Either way, it seems like it wasn’t a bad thing to say. And I felt much better during the meeting – I wasn’t worried about doing something wrong on account of my mood, because I knew that I had been honest, and we could deal with it together.

As it turns out, it doesn’t seem like I did anything wrong in the end. But I wonder – is that because I was so honest, and let out some steam that way? I’ll never know. And maybe that’s okay.

Image by Peggy und Marco Lachmann-Anke from Pixabay