Hard Work in the Secret Spaces

“You look good. What have you been doing?” I’ve gotten this question a few times in the last several months. Each time someone asks, I squirm a little.  Have I really changed that much? What is so noticeable?

They press in, “What have you been doing?” I mentally reach for all the possible answers.

Well, I – fill in the blank with a million external things – sleep, do yoga, eat real food instead of Carnation Breakfast Shakes, actually shower, wash my hair, go on dates, say yes to new hobbies and no to things I don’t like.

Before I could do any of these visible options, much harder work was done in the secret spaces of my life. Things people couldn’t see.

This July I finished my fourth summer working as a staff developer for an organization called AVID (Advancement Via Individual Determination). This means I  get the privilege to travel and teach other teachers. I get to teach tangible ways to help students dream beyond high school and develop successful life skills to reach those dreams. In 2015, my first summer as a staff developer, I also had the privilege of speaking at an AVID Summer Institute in Dallas, TX. You can watch it HERE if you’d like to learn more of my AVID story.

This summer I was reflecting back on that speech from 2015. That speech holds an odd paradox for me. I see myself up on a stage. I remember thousands of people in the audience blurred between bright lights. I see a smiling girl, bright-eyed and bubbly. My laughter, genuine and true to who I am. The words I spoke, authentic and real. Yet, I was reminded of all the hard work done in the secret spaces of my life that year.

What people can’t see in that speech is my laughter standing side by side with my pain. The two clasp each other’s hands, giving each other strength. It had been one of the hardest years of my life both professionally and personally. How could so much pain co-exist with so much joy? That speech in June of 2015 marked the beginning of a desperately dark season for me. A season I honestly thought would never fade away.

That year I started putting in hard work no one saw. It set a foundation for the healthier place I am today. I come back to the unseen steps when someone asks me, “You look good. What have you been doing?”

What have I really been doing? Let me tell you. I have been…

Making Calls: 

I picked up the phone and made appointments. I picked up the phone and called the doctor, the counselor, the pharmacy. Then I did it all over again and again. My doctor walked me through a two-year process of taking antidepressants. He firmly but graciously scolded me about stopping cold-turkey when I thought yeah I’m good now. “Never again! Brooke, never stop like that again!” He saw how fast I slipped back to the darkness of depression even in a week of no meds.

At that first appointment, he recommended counseling. With a weak laugh I said, “No, I’m the last person in my family that needs counseling. Everyone else needs it!” He just stared at me and let the silence mingle with truth. He knew that I knew I needed counseling. After all, I was the one crying and shaking uncontrollably in his office.

I picked up the phone and asked for a counselor recommendation. From that moment on, I set up monthly appointments. I once took a hiatus from counseling. Yet again, I thought I had life under control. After a while life quickly reminded me I indeed did not have anything under control.

I recognized the benefits of sacrificing an hour of my time and finances each month. No one saw the conversations in counseling. I could cry freely, get angry, get honest, and say things I didn’t want anyone to hear. I said things I didn’t even want to hear. This private painful hard work made me stronger.

Make the call. Show up to the appointment even when nobody’s watching or cheering you on. You won’t regret it in the long run.

Making Space:

I naturally retreated from people. It wasn’t always healthy but it did help me shrink my social circles so I could make space. I didn’t have space to turn to people I trusted. I couldn’t even tell you who my trusted people were because there were too many people overwhelming me.

It took retreating in order to silence the needs of everyone else so I could recognize my own needs: friendship, companionship, a true community. From the outside looking in someone may have thought I disappeared from any community. What I didn’t realize is that retreating made space for an authentic community.

I had space to show up at a friend’s house for dinner. I ate leftovers and went on walks around the neighborhood with her growing family. I witnessed the daily banter between her and her husband. I laughed as I mediated disagreements about daily life. Who would do the dishes or what paint to use in the living room? I read books to their kids before bedtime. All the while they let me talk or sit in their chaos because I didn’t want to be alone.

Little ordinary moments like this repeatedly popped up in friendships over time. For once, it felt like a real community that accepted me for me. It helped me learn to tell my people what I needed when I needed it.

“I need food because I can’t make myself go to the grocery store. Can I come over for dinner?”  

“I need a hug and laughter. Can I come over for just a minute to do that?”

“I need to not feel lonely. Can I come to watch your kids play ball?”

I still kind of suck at this but I’m learning. The requests I make in the secret spaces of my life build a stronger community. It helps quench my need for companionship when loneliness sinks in.

Make space to know your needs. Make space to know your people who will help meet those needs. Then make space to tell them your needs.

Making it Real:

I found myself making conversations real, with God specifically. Most people would say I never get mad. My students try to make me mad, they fail every time. My patience and empathy run thick, too thick sometimes.

Suddenly, with God, I learned to get real. My conversations became angry. Lots of yelling, expletives were thrown directly at him. My bitterness and doubt unleashed itself. Maybe it was the counseling helping me verbalize what I held silent for years. Maybe it was the space I gave myself to step back and identify my needs. Whatever it was, it created unfiltered jarring conversations with God.

These conversations no one saw. No one saw me spill to the ground in the middle of the kitchen as I stared into the fridge. A rush of tears soaking my shirt and ugly-cry-snot falling to the floor. No one heard the angry screaming muffled by the shower night after night. No one saw me embracing my stifled feelings. The work done in these secret spaces was the hardest because it was just me. Me and God. No counselor, no friends, or little kids to distract me. Somehow the realness of my conversations made me aware of the realness of His answers. It was some of the best work I’ve learned to do.

Make room for real unfiltered moments with God. He is God. He is strong enough to take the punches. None of it surprises him. He is constant and never changing. He will stay until the end of your criticisms and questions. He will answer.

These three things set a foundation for me. I build healthier habits on this foundation. It’s the hard work in the spaces no one sees that allows me to live out the changes people now see.

So, let me turn the question around, “What have you been doing?” What hard work waits for you in the space no one sees? How will this change you over time? Go ahead. Make the call. Make space. Make the conversation real. Make it happen. Hard work in the secret spaces leads to healthier work in the everyday spaces. 

Picture via Pixabay.com