you know that machine that randomly selects lotto numbers after the host presses the button? the white balls are bouncing around and rattling in a round plexi-glass bowl. that’s me. my thoughts are banging around in my head like those white balls, the problem is, when i hit the button, several balls are sucked into the chute simultaneously. the clog causes me much consternation and i can’t process them. i find myself anxiety ridden, likely self-induced, and feeling inadequate.

when i sit in the hot seat on sunday morning and the seasoned interpreters enter the sanctuary i instantly feel small. inadequate. foolish. like my lack of skill is glaring. they are kind, and gentle as they give me feedback on my performance. but you know what, feedback no matter how gentle, is hard to receive. even when it’s positive.

then i get on calls for work on monday morning. the acids in my stomach churn and twist my insides like taffy on one of those stretching machines. again, feelings of “i’m not enough” plague me and are almost paralyzing. i move slower than i desire, second guessing myself, listening to the call wondering what the hell they’re talking about but unsure if this is an appropriate time to ask for clarification.

the mirror i place in front of myself is flawed, perhaps less so than i think or feel but flawed nonetheless. i start to realize that my commentary about others may be the same commentary directed toward me. probably not worth the time i am giving it. the deal is, i’m seeing that i need to express compassion and grace, and above that, patience.  i need all 3 from those i engage with yet i struggle with giving that to others. again, the mirror.

the balls continue to bang around. disconnected, jumbled.