Adult Children of Alcoholics/Addicts

In the midst of finishing up my Mdiv, I'm also on a bit of a personal journey. On this journey, I'm attempting to reconcile with the parts of my self, deeply impacted by the disease of alcoholism and addiction. Although I am not an addicted person, I am the adult child of alcoholics/addicts.

Over the last two weeks, I had the fortune of doing some training with the Powell CDC staff. During this training, I went through two weeks of intensive, outpatient rehab. While in the program, I completed most of the required assignments. One of the things that I took away from this learning experience, is that the disease of alcoholism and addiction stole my childhood, held my loved ones hostage and re-ordered my life. As a result, I realized that just as my loved ones NEED a 12-step program for recovery, so do I.

Today, I attended my first ACoA meeting. As the steps for recovery were read, I found myself invited into a familiar place. Growing up in and out of Ala-teen, Al-anon and AA rooms, I became used to and, likely, somewhat desensitized to the disease's impact on myself. In my head, I had categorized the disease as my loved one's problem. However, as the meeting opened and The Problem was read, I saw myself:

Many of us found that we had several characteristics in common as a result of being brought up in an alcoholic or dysfunctional household. We had come to feel isolated and uneasy with other people, especially authority figures. To protect ourselves, we became people-pleasers, even though we lost our own identities in the process. All the same we would mistake any personal criticism as a threat. We either became alcoholics (or practiced other addictive behavior) ourselves, or married them, or both. Failing that, we found other compulsive personalities, such as a workaholic, to fulfill our sick need for abandonment.

We lived life from the standpoint of victims. Having an overdeveloped sense of responsibility, we preferred to be concerned with others rather than ourselves. We got guilt feelings when we stood up for ourselves rather than giving in to others. Thus, we became reactors, rather than actors, letting others take the initiative. We were dependent personalities, terrified of abandonment, willing to do almost anything to hold on to a relationship in order not to be abandoned emotionally. Yet we kept choosing insecure relationships because they matched our childhood relationship with alcoholic or dysfunctional parents.

These symptoms of the family disease of alcoholism or other dysfunction made us "co-victims", those who take on the characteristics of the disease without necessarily ever taking a drink. We learned to keep our feelings down as children and kept them buried as adults. As a result of this conditioning, we confused love with pity, tending to love those we could rescue. Even more self-defeating, we became addicted to excitement in all our affairs, preferring constant upset to workable relationships.

This is a description, not an indictment.

As I continue on my own path of recovery, I'm inviting ya'll in. This is tough work; probably tougher than anything I've undertaken before. However, the reward of self-knowledge, confidence, joy and peace will be so worth it. As I work through my own experience of reconciliation, I hope that it helps me to become a more honest leader and pastor to the reconciled community.

Happy Easter.
Be Blessed.

Pastor Anitta +♡

God Loves the Gays

Some of you may be wondering what I've been up to in my life of ministry, outside of the hospital. Well, I'm finally ready to tell you. When I moved to Des Moines a year ago, I had a packed car, $30 in my pocket and a whole lot of pain. I found myself seeking home, community, friendship, and affirmation. I tried to find these things in some of the local churches; however, I had become unable to make meaning in a space that used to feel so familiar. I could go on for pages about my struggle with God, faith and the Church over the last year; however, there's a time and place for everything and this is neither!

In the midst of my seeking, part of what I realized was that I needed to be connected to another part of my identity, so... I searched. I searched for a connection to the queer community through pride centers, gay bars and strangers. When my searching turned up fruitless, I created.

With the help of a friend, I created a Facebook group to help queer women, womyn, non-binary and trans folks across Iowa to connect, celebrate and understand one another. Over the last 9 months, this group has grown to 836 members, with more being added everyday. In an average month, we interact over 20k times through posts, comments and reactions.

As a group, we host monthly in-person meetups, an online book club, and other social events to get together and get talking. In the upcoming year, we're launching a coffee/social justice forum in three cities that will meet once a month, a queer prom and so much more. I couldn't do this or keep it going without an amazing leadership team of people who volunteer their time and energy. These are truly the patron saints of the queer community here in Iowa!

Some people may disagree that this is ministry because we don't talk about God everyday. However, the God that I believe in is unequivocally for me and the community that I represent. God shows up in community, in relationship and in the radical hospitality of strangers. God is for the creation of spaces in which the oppressed can be their true selves, share their pain and celebrate their joy.

This is my ministry, and I am so freaking proud of it. ♡

Pastor Anitta +♡

Chaplains Grieve Too

Let me tell you a story about healthcare, because apparently I have a lot to process tonight.

When our patients die, we grieve. Sometimes, we hold ourselves together just long enough to bid farewell to families. Other times, we don't. We crumble, getting caught in our feelings about this loss. And then, we dust off our knees, compose ourselves and walk into the next room. We introduce ourselves to the next person, before we've completely recovered from the images of mangled bodies, tears and grieving loved ones. We do our best to empty ourselves in order to make room for the person in front of us. Yet, we still hold on to the memories of those that we couldn't save... and the rest of the show goes on around us. 

There’s times when we run, and rush, and hurry, and skip eating, and go 12 hours without urinating, and we'd give our firstborn for a cup of water. We get covered in phlegm, urine, feces, blood, infectious drainage, sweat, and tears. 

Health care is a life of fighting, defending yourself, sacrificing yourself, working weekends, missing holidays, and sometimes things like losing a patient makes you want to throw up your hands and say, “Fuck it, I’m out.”

But, you can’t. You do it because you love it. 

Pastor Anitta +♡

Let's Talk About Shame, Baby

What words come to mind when you think about shame?

Fear? Anger? Disappointment? Disgust? Secret?

These are the words that come to mind when I think about shame. Shame, as I have understood it, is different from guilt. I would define guilt as feelings of remorse as the result of an action. Shame reaches beyond the action. It is more than the feelings of doing something wrong -- it's the bold, hushed, loud and soft voices inside of us that tell us that WE are wrong. Shame tells us that there is something deep within us that makes us inherently wrong as humans. Brené Brown defines shame as the "intensely painful feeling that we are not worthy of love or belonging." In her TED Talk on Shame, Brené Brown identifies the ingredients for shame as secrecy, silence and judgment. These three ingredients breed an environment in which shame thrives and becomes lethal. Brené offers a solution to dissolving shame. She states that empathy creates an environment that is hostile to shame. Empathy, is the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. It is being able to take on another persons perspective and emotions as if they are your own -- remembering the as if part.

This is relevant to both my ministry, and me personally. At the bedside, I hear stories of past experiences from 15, 20, 30 years ago which still causes pain for my parishioner. These stories of lost loves, offenses, wrongdoings and deaths remain hidden from most people in their lives. They feel as if no one wants to talk about these encounters, that they are all alone in their feelings and longings to return to a time before the events. As a chaplain, I am privileged into these sacred spaces -- acknowledging old wounds as I care for the current ones. Many times, the greatest gift that I provide to my parishioner's is an open ear, non-anxious presence and space in which their stories can be told.

As a person in ministry, I am often told that part of my own self-care is having somewhere to put these secrets. Furthermore, self-care also calls me to do something with my own secrets. Theologically, I connect with Nouwen's image of the Wounded Healer. The Wounded Healer is someone that simultaneously attends to their own wounds, while attending to the wounds of others. In the parable that Nouwen shares, he speaks to healing as being a process - one in which the healer unbinds and binds each individual wound on their body, instead of unbinding them all at once. By unbinding each individual wound, attending to it, and rebinding, the healer remains in position to be an aid to those around them.

So... what? What am I trying to say? I suppose this is the part of the story where I tell you how each of these pieces connect - the shame, the self-care, the theology. To be honest, I'm figuring this out as I write, so.. bare with me. It's no secret to most people who are reading this that this last year has been -- hard, to say the least. I have done a lot, been through a lot and somehow I still wake up every morning. To be honest, I'm not sure how sometimes.

In CPE, we talk about shame, about that feeling of not being worthy of love or belonging. I believe that it's easy for us to think no - that's not me, I know that I am worthy of both of those things! But, if this is a space in which I am looking to seek empathy from ya'll, I have to be honest with you. When I look at where my life is, I have doubts about both of those things -- being worthy of love and belonging. I hold an internal expectation about what my life SHOULD look like. Should, of course, is a shaming word. It is a word that implies that I am somehow less than this image of myself that I want to present to the world. Frankly, I'm tired of shaming myself for where I am, what I've been through and I'm ready to face it all - with you - trying to believe each of you love me with a love fierce enough to accept me just as I am. So, here is a list of 5 things that I shame myself about and how the shame impacts me:

1. Body. I am a fat bodied person. Surprise! I know, you're all shocked. I can't quite describe my shame around my body. It's like, walking around in the most beautiful thing you own, and everyone else thinks you look like a clown. I love my body, I do. But, it's fat... which in turn, means I am fat. If you want to know what it's like to live in my shoes imagine questioning whether you can buckle a roller coaster seatbelt, sit comfortably on a plane or being stuck in a crowd of people because there is no way you're going to be able to 'squeeze' between people. Oh, also, being fat means that I automatically get to wear clothes that look like they were cut out of those rainbow tarps that we all use to run under as children. So, cool.

2. Gender. I don't fit other people's expectations about what it means to be female. Those who know me best, know that I don't fully identify as female. I don't identify as male either. Honestly, this is probably related to my body issues above and my sexuality. As a fat bodied, queer identified person - I walk a balancing act between being over-sexualized and under-sexualized at every corner. I don't fit other peoples expectations about what it means to be human and that terrifies and excites me.

3. Money. Because money. I have a difficult time paying the important bills, which means things like my credit card... don't get paid. As a result, I feel as if I am single handedly crashing my own credit into the ground. Also, I entered repayment for my student loans in November and have been too poor to pay them. So, awesome. And, I think my car is tied in here too because I've been talking about getting a new one for YEARS, but I can't afford it.

4. Life. Because things haven't quite turned out like my peers. I didn't graduate from seminary last year. I probably won't graduate from seminary this year. I was homeless. For the last three months, I have had to rely on the generosity of strangers for a place to lay my head, for meals and for emotional support. My brain tricks me into thinking I should be just as good, in the same place as, or even better than my peers and colleagues. And, when I'm not, I experience shame.

5. Faith. In the midst of all of this, my faith has been shaken - despite working so hard to be a spiritual rock for those around me. Right now, my experience of the Divine, is limited. I believe part of that limited experience comes from feeling unstable and unsettled. What does it mean for me, if the times when I feel closest to the Divine, is the times when I feel most in control? How do I let go of that and live comfortably in the midst of where I am? Beats me - I don't quite have my M.Div. yet. (haha).

Sorry for the book. I hope you still love me.

Pastor Anitta +♡





Life, Actually.

I am completely dumbfounded by the way life happens. I get lost trying to follow the chain of events that allow for seemingly heathy people to have normal mornings and evening deaths. In my own life, I can't describe how one minute I can feel sane and secure, and the next unbalanced and bat shit crazy. Regardless of the blocks  and boundaries we put up to help us maintain an illusion of 'perfection', all it takes is one phone call... one text message... one sideways glance to change the minute, day or life that we have planned. 

(I'm about to get real here, so please stop reading if you don't want your image of who I am ruined.)

I believe that life actually happens in between our plans. Take me for instance: I planned on graduating with my Master of Divinity in 2016. I planned on being commissioned, beginning a residency, moving to a new state, meeting new communities. I planned, so well, so that I could have security and stability for myself. And then, it all fell apart.

My mental health prevented me from graduating, it interfered with my preparation for District Committee, one of my brothers died, one of my mothers died, I lost my job, I moved to a new state, I became homeless and I fell in love and had my heart broken twice within a three week period.

This last year has had so many ups and downs, twists and turns, sweet and sours.. that I can hardly list them all. I can't list how many times someone looked at me lovingly, held my hand, sent me "I love you" messages at the right moment, bought me ice cream, laid on the grass admiring the sun and then the moon with me. I can't count the puppy kisses, the long walks, the grains of sand that I've shaken from pairs of shoes.

The difference between what I can list, and what I can't... is curious to me. All of those ups, the I love you's, the kisses, the long walks... those are what life actually looks like for me. Those weren't planned, couldn't be planned. Frankly, when I look at these two lists.. the planned and the planned nots, there's only one that I'd want to experience over again.

So, here's to a year of life actually. Here's to a year of being present with myself, with those around me and those within my community. Here's to throwing specific plans out the window, meeting under the sky somewhere and being alive with one another.

Pastor Anitta +♡

Happy Belly Button Birthday, Ma!

I am the adult child of alcoholics.

This is not surprising information for most people. I am very open about my experience growing up, witnessing the ins and outs of addiction. Addiction, from my perspective, was an embodied part of my family. Not only did my parent's change when they were under the influence, my behavior changed as well. Addiction was the weird uncle who sat next to me at the dinner table, consuming more than its fair share of resources.

I recently had it reflected back to me that I am unlike other adult children of alcoholics. I was told that most of these children run from their past, keeping it secret because they grew up with a notion that revealing their inner world was unsafe. In a chaotic, unsettled life, their inner experience became a small area of control.

I have struggled with this reality. In the past, I have desired to disassociate, separate, define myself as different from my past experiences. I thought that these experiences somehow made me less of a person, less of a pastor.

However, another significant part of my story includes recovery. It includes sitting in Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, night after night. What was modeled for me in these meetings is people bringing their authentic, broken selves to a community. I was shown how to self-reveal, cry and be frustrated. In these meetings, I witnessed the full range of human emotions. These meetings and the people within them chose to love one another, and myself, as though we were family. In these spaces, we were all broken and hurting. We relied heavily on a higher power and we prayed, communally, for healing and support.

Through AA, counseling, spiritual direction, seminary training and clinical pastoral education I have come to understand my past experiences as being a gift. It is from this well of hurt and pain that I am able to relate best to humanity. It is in the midst of this brokenness that I am able to share in the common human experiences of loneliness, longing, depression and anxiety.

I would not be the pastor I am today without the AA community.

I think this has become apparent to me over the course of the last few weeks. After the loss of my mother, it is was both the AA community and my local church that went out of their way to show me an incredible amount of love and support. Although I do not wish the illness of addiction on any one, or their families, I am grateful for my parent's stories. I am grateful that AA gifted me with a mother over the last 16 years.

Despite my continued grief, I am celebrating ma's 54th belly-button birthday today.
I would not be the pastor I am without her in my life.

I will be saying the Serenity Prayer tonight, for her, for myself and for those of us who might need the extra serenity, courage and wisdom to make it through the night. I invite you to join me, on your own time.

In the Grip of God's Grace, 

Pastor Anitta +♡

Decidedly Disappointed

About a year ago, I got into a conversation with one of my colleagues. They were exploring the role of disappointment in leadership, consulting with a client.

Some of the questions they was encouraging this client to think about was:

1. How do you react to disappointment?

2. What is your capacity to be disappointed by family, work, church?

3. What does it mean to you to disappoint others?

These questions are sticking with me this week. Our opportunity for disappointment is great -- both as perpetrators and as victims. Disappointment sometimes reveals itself in the form of depression or despair. UCLA psychologist James C. Coleman lists several examples. "Shipwreck victims who lose hope may die after a few days," he says, "even though physiologically they could have survived many days longer." He notes that despair can contribute to suicide, while hopelessness bred by poverty might manifest as apathy. "Values, meaning, and hope appear to act as catalysts" for mobilizing energy and finding satisfaction. Without them, Coleman reports, life can seem futile.

Ministry, in and of itself, is people focused/centered. Everything that we do, reflects back on how we fellowship, lead, give and take care of one another. As a Christian, I believe that our relationship with the Divine provides the moral directive for being in these types of relationships. However, what happens when we, as leaders, disappoint ourselves and/or the people that we work with?

In the midst of disappointment, depression and despair -- how do we keep hope alive? How do we lead a community of believers in the midst of expectations held on both sides?