A fundraising letter

Okay, this is like, really embarrassing, but…

I used to make fun of people who ran races for a cause.

I know! Who mocks fundraisers? I guess thought it was pretentious to link a personal fitness goal to a cause. “If you’re going to raise money,” I’d grumble to Jack, “just raise money. Don’t pretend your walking for 3 days has anything to do with it.”

Then I shuttered all my windows and fired Bob Cratchit.

The most I’d ever run before a few months ago was probably about 2 miles. Then one day my friend Grace told me, “the secret to running a long way is to tell yourself that you’re doing a great job, and to not let yourself stop, even if you want to stop.” The next day I ran ALL THE WAY AROUND GREEN LAKE without stopping.

If you don’t know, Greenlake is 2.8 miles, which doesn’t sound like a lot, BUT IT WAS A LOT. Greenlake was the barrier that separated me from People Who Are Fit. People Who Are Fit can run around Green Lake. The rest of us pick a day on our calendar to try to run, dread it all week, slog 1/3 of the way around the lake, give up, and tell ourselves, “I’m just not a runner, I guess.”

And oh my gosh, when I ran around Green Lake without stopping, I felt like I could do anything. Which is why it was so timely when, the following Sunday, my pastor made this announcement to our church:

“I’m trying to get a team together to run a 1/2 or full marathon in November so we can all feel really good about ourselves and brag to all our friends and finally prove that we are superior to others.”

At least that’s what I heard, but apparently that’s not what she said. She actually said, “I’m trying to get a team together to raise money for World Vision as they provide clean water to people in Africa.” But I didn’t hear that because it violated my core belief that it was pretentious to raise money while training for a half marathon. “If I’m going to raise money for World Vision, I’ll just do it,” I told myself. “It shouldn’t be connected to my personal fitness goals.”

My pastor spent the next few weeks reminding us that some people don’t have access to clean water. Some of those people are children. Children without clean water. It doesn’t seem like it should be possible.

But guess what? Africa is really far away. I don’t know anyone who lacks clean drinking water. Despite such tragedy, I can’t bring myself to raise money for anything so remote from my own life. So, I figure I have two options.

One, I could spend a few years drinking lattes and lamenting the Human Condition (which I plan on doing anyway, btw).

Or, I could joyfully give in to my narcissism, and connect my personal fitness goal to World Vision’s wonderful work in building fresh water wells. I can make it about me.

To get to the whole point of this post: I AM RUNNING A HALF MARATHON TO RAISE MONEY FOR WORLD VISION AS THEY PROVIDE CLEAN DRINKING WATER TO PEOPLE IN AFRICA. I AM ASKING YOU TO DONATE TO WORLD VISION ON MY BEHALF.

I would love to raise $100 per mile, for a total of $1,310. So, you can sponsor me for, say, one mile by donating $100. Then I will think of you for exactly one mile of my run.  Or, if you can give $10, I will yell your name into the heavens for that last little sprint at the end. You will have funded my poor broken narcissistic body over the damn finish line.

Here’s where you can donate. And thank you:

http://www.firstgiving.com/christinecanty

(One last thing. When I donate money, I’m always concerned about the integrity of the organization. I have a lot of trust in World Vision… they have been one of only two organizations allowed into certain closed countries because of their excellent work. If you have any questions about them or this project, feel free to call me. I would love to do some research on your behalf.)

Empathy, Listening, and Confidentiality; or, Everything I’ve Learned So Far.

I’m doing my first real counseling-related project through my school.  It’s confidential.

No no, listen.  IT’S CONFIDENTIAL.

There’s something so grown-up about having confidential work.  After my first meeting for this project, I went home feeling panicked and unqualified, but I still relished the moment where I said, “Jack, I’m going in the office to do some confidential paperwork.”

“Okay hon.”

“That means you can’t know about it.”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s confidential.”

Sigh.  “Okay hon.”

Mostly for this project I sit and panic that I won’t have anything useful to say to the people I’m interacting with, or that I’ll say something really wrong and they’ll act on my words and end up suffering even more.  Then I think, “All I ever do is make thing worse.  I’m going to ruin people’s lives.  I should just stay in bed all day.”

Then during my next counseling appointment I tell Susan I feel depressed and I have no idea why.  And she says gently, “no idea why?” and I say, “Well, I’ve been telling myself daily that I suck.  Could that be related?”

Step one to becoming a therapist: learn your own patterns.

When I started my first year at Mars Hill I figured the main qualities of a good therapist were empathy and listening, and I believed that for the most part, I had those skills.  They just needed some fine-tuning.  Turns out my empathy and listening skills were in the wrong key, on the wrong instrument, and not even the right music.  Fine-tuning actually meant unlearning and relearning the song.

Empathy isn’t just understanding another’s emotions.  It involves knowing how you feel in the presence of the other.  Next time you’re with your best friend (or better, the friend you’re not sure that you really like), or your sister, or your kids, having a conversation or baking cookies or whatever, ask yourself what emotions you’re feeling right then.  It’s tough.  You’ll leave that person and realize you had no idea at the moment how you really felt… especially if you felt something not noble, like anger or boredom or disgust.  Most of us were never taught to listen to our quietest inner voices, even though they whisper truth about ourselves and others.

The prerequisite to empathy is knowing your own story.  We all know the surface events of our lives, but not always the underlying currents.  I thought I knew my own story before, but holy shit.  HOLY SHIT.  If you want to hear more, buy me a beer.  If you want to hear more and you’re related to me, buy me 2 beers.  If you want to hear more and were in any way involved in my conception and/or birth, please ignore this paragraph completely.

If you don’t know, really know, your own story, then your feeling of empathy for another is more likely the ache of your own unfinished business.

So much for empathy.  Let’s talk about listening.

I realized with a shock around February that I’m a terrible listener, even though I’ve always been a very gifted nodder and smiler.  But listening actually means recognizing a person’s patterns–what words does she repeat?  How does she draw you in, and how does she push you away?  What does she want you to believe about her?– and catching when those patterns are interrupted, say by anger or sadness or delight.

I’m getting better at this pattern recognition.  But it’s tough to look for another’s patterns while you’re tracking your own emotions and keeping your own life in mind.  You need to make sure you aren’t seeing the other through the lens of your mother’s criticism or your middle-child issues or whatever else you might have going on.

Sometimes, when I’m not preoccupied with proving myself to others (which is pretty much never… that would be one of my youngest-child issues), I have moments of empathy and listening that surprise me, and usually whoever I’m with, too.  I love watching friends connect the stories of their lives, take hold of their own heartache, and put words to their as-yet-unnamed strength.

It’s hard not to come home bursting with the beauty and tragedy of these stories… stories of friends I’ve known for years!  But I try not to spill everything to Jack, at least not in the first 3 minutes of walking in the door.  The hardest part of my future career might be confidentiality.  I need to start practicing.