Diary of a Chronically Exhausted Vicar. A new chapter

Small plugs to fit in your ears and filter, minimise, or block sound. I have three sets, each filtering sound in different ways. My purple pair I wear when I want to rest or focus, as they block out most sound. The grey pair help with filtering background noise and allow me to hear and engage in conversation. My black pair are for concerts, theatre, sporting events. The Thunderbirds SuperNetball membership gifted to me at Christmas was the final impetus for purchasing the pods. I was afraid I’d not be able to use the tickets, after a trip to the theatre in the month before the new season was to commence. For the first time I can remember, the sound of people gathering, chattering, anticipating the artistry to come was painful. Overwhelming. Exhausting. Yes, processing, even filtering out, sensory input uses energy, drains energy. So I got the ear plugs, and these little devices are making the impact of sound smaller, helping to conserve energy.

In this current chapter with the ME/CFS, I have again been learning about the illness. I discovered affirmation for a practice that was instinctive, even necessary: rest. Not only the longer afternoon naps or days of quiet solitude, but the small acts of rest between activity. Sitting upright with feet on the ground tires one with such illness as much as standing. Sitting with feet up, reclining, is almost as restful as lying down.

I have a red wing-back armchair and footstool in the vestry at the church. Mostly it is there because I moved from a large manse to a smaller house in 2023, and I didn’t have room for all the comfy chairs I had accumulated during Chronic Exhaustion chapter three. I love my wing back chairs, and did not want to part with either of them. So I gave some space in the vestry to the red one. And now, I can sit with my feet up while I read, reply to emails, take phone calls, thus conserving energy in a restful posture. I also sit with my feet up and simply breathe, micro rests even for five minutes restoring and sustaining energy through the day.

At home I have started putting the ear plugs in and placing a small wheat bag over my eyes when I lie down on the couch to rest. Even five or ten minutes of this sensory care is enough to restore energy. I find I can focus on my breath, connect to Spirit, and let go of my thoughts with the sensory deprivation of ear plugs minimising sound, and wheat bag blocking light. The wheat bag also places gentle pressure on the eyes, which is comforting and restful.

I am working from home a little more, which means I can lie down when I need to, in addition to reclining in the wing back chair. This also helps keep travel to a minimum, drawing my geographical orbit in somewhat. I have switched to a GP clinic five minutes from home rather than 20. I minimise how much I drive, with support from friends and family; bestie driving up the hill to collect me for a film; sisters detouring for concert and netball excursions; and mum, who takes picks me up for one of the two pool sessions each week – the other I put on a day when I will already be down the hill at the church. This latter practice of putting two things onto one day can break up driving into smaller trips. Further, I am experimenting with arriving earlier and sitting in the car (or the armchair in the vestry) for a micro rest to recover from the exertion driving requires.

With encouragement from my congregation, I am learning again to let go of the ‘doing’ that I can entrust to others. Notably, pastoral care is led by our team of volunteers, and ably so. My feelings of how I ‘should’ be involved seem constantly to be balanced by reminders of the other important ways my presence is needed with the people, and that I cannot, and ought not, do it all.

For such a long time, the church has lived with an unhealthy set of expectations of their ministry practitioners, their clergy. Members all want access, want a personal chaplain, feel they have only received pastoral care if the person calling wears a clerical collar. Committees need people, and every committee wants to be important enough to be affirmed by the participation of the minister; mission needs doing, and we take pride in our minister being visible at civic events and in our neighbourhood. Then there’s the sermons and liturgies and weddings, baptisms, and funerals, not to mention bible studies and our own continuing learning.

I am in a part time placement, and many congregations face the reality of finances allowing for supporting a minister part time, if at all.

I am recovering from burn out, and living with chronic illness. Let’s face it, so are many clergy now, and have there not always been many?

This being the case, I wonder if I have a story to tell that encourages my tribe, the church, to reflect and reform our approach to working with paid ministry agents among us? Can we celebrate a gentler pace? Can we recall the priesthood of all believers? Can we remember and enact the nuances of the set apart few among the whole, who do not do it all, but enact the way of Christian living with their community in such a way as to equip and encourage each in their enactment of the Way of Love?

Gratitude abounds for the community of faith with whom I will explore these questions; for family and friends learning more about ME/Chronic Fatigue with me in generous support. I delight in this chapter with my illness, this season of my life, rebuilding a smaller life that is paradoxically deeper, richer, and more profoundly enough with less.