Real Virtual Reality: Revelations About Going "Off the Grid" in the World of Social Media

Yes, I really do try to practice what I preach, especially when it comes to social media. In that domain, I generally try to test on myself everything I recommend to others. I also periodically re-test and revisit my recommendations to update my reality.

Last week, I decided to go "off the grid" for a few days, something that provided an opportunity to update my reality about burnout symptoms and palliative care for it. Here's what I learned:

My fabulous advice about treating virtual community as real community is fabulous advice.
Just like I'd let neighbors know if I was leaving town, I posted a tweet about going off the grid.

Within seconds, I received a direct message (DM) from someone wanting to know if everything was okay. Sweet!

By the end of the day I'd received three more direct messages and several public messages with well wishes and blessings for my time off.

I can't recall that ever happening during my time as a high-visibility church volunteer and then a (paid) pastoral associate. I do recall no inquiries about my well-being and no offers to bring Holy Eucharist to my home during times I was too sick to attend worship or work.

My fabulous list of social media burnout symptoms needs to be tweaked. 
In my own case, feeling "tired, frustrated, cranky, or apathetic" didn't completely capture the symptoms I provided in The Social Media Gospel (see Chapter 26, p. 106-109). Big fat affirmatory to "tired, frustrated, and cranky" but instead of becoming apathetic, becoming hyper-vigilant is a sure sign of burnout.

I typically spend a lot of time monitoring accounts, conversations, groups, and the like across denominations and social media platforms. I'm known for providing solicited and unsolicited advice. (You're welcome.) I'm also keen on staying current with changes in functionality and keeping my own accounts up-to-date.

A sign of social media burnout for me, then, is not apathy, but becoming over-the-top engaged; squandering creative energy by becoming too busy monitoring and providing advice and following conversations that really don't need my input.

Also, although there's some overlap in symptoms of "burnout" and "compassion fatigue," these are different conditions. Note to self: write a post about that...at some point.

My fabulous advice about prayerful discernment before pulling the plug is fabulous advice.
I slept 12 hours on Tuesday night after logging off after the #ChSocM (church social media) chat. I spent most of Wednesday napping and reading; wearing earplugs to shut out ambient sound.

Other than peeking at email once and handling a client situation, I stayed off-line. By Thursday evening, I was feeling unpleasantly disoriented. By Friday, I was slipping into depression. WTF? Time for the prayerful discernment I recommend on p. 109! I probably should have engaged in this before going off the grid, but better late than never. My revelation:

Social media is so deeply integrated into my daily life that pulling the plug without refining the terms of dis-engagement can be harmful to my psycho-spiritual health. 

Different social media serve different functions in my life. Fortunately, I knew enough to retain the visual social media platforms and posted this to Facebook:

Relative to creativity, I probably should have used part of my off-the-grid time to re-focus on my personal blog. Writing is, after all, one of my primary spiritual practices.

Also, because my community of support is online, going into solitary confinement for days was not the wisest choice for me. Better choice: creating stronger time limits for using highly interactive social media platforms (e.g., Twitter) and making better distinctions between work and play.

In addition, I know that I thrive within the safe container of structure. My regular engagement via social media provides that structure. No surprise I was getting disoriented without following some kind of structured routine for engagement.

Next time I unplug, I'll be more precise -- and smarter -- about what that means. So enough about me for a nanosecond, what about you?

Have you ever gone completely or near-completely off the grid? What, in practical terms, did that mean? How did you feel? If you felt like crap, do you know why? What will you do differently the next time you unplug?

Life as a Clergy Wife: Monday, Monday, Not So Good to Me.

Just when I thought Monday was the preferred day of rest for clergy who spend weekends working their butts off sharing the Good News of God's abiding love and mercy, I discover otherwise.

A quick bit of crowd-sourcing swiftly revealed how just about every other cleric I follow on Twitter takes Fridays off.*

"You need to get with the other Prots," I tell my husband, who takes Mondays off, thanks to episcopal fiat. Such are the joys of serving on a diocesan staff and getting blessed with a supply gig almost every [adjective] Sunday.

I'm having a tough time getting in alignment with this schedule.

So what if I've been baptized for well over a decade, Fridays are Shabbat. And thanks to years of serving in music and liturgical ministry during my very own Christian Era, Sundays begin the work week. In my weird world, Monday has always been the second day of the work week. It still is for me, but not for my husband.

Annoying, confusing, and somewhat inconvenient. Still, I must confess this situation is forcing me to acknowledge how I actually don't take any days off. Gee, not only am I violating the fourth commandment, but I'm also being stupid about necessary self-care.

Clergy wife life is proving to be quite illuminating.


*Years ago I worked for a priest who took Wednesdays off, primarily because that's when he and his BFF could get great tickets for Broadway theater, the reviews about which he regaled staff during Thursday meetings -- right after we cracked open the Word and before we dealt with parish angst.

Shabbot Slalom

sla · lom (noun)

any winding or zigzag course marked by obstacles or barriers

sla · lom (verb)

to follow a course with many twists and turns

This is not the first week I'm muttering "Shabbot slalom" to myself.  By 1:00 this afternoon, I felt like I was hurtling through an obstacle course on the way to Sabbath...peace? Yet another week when I think I might have to observe (if I could dare call it that) Sabbath from sundown on Saturday to sundown on Sunday, rather than starting at sundown tonight, Friday.

I suppose it could be worse, or at least more complicated. 

If I were an uber-observant Jew, I'd have to get everything prepared before sundown. I am not uber-observant (anything), but each Thursday I start feeling a certain urgency around making sure my apartment is clean, laundry has been done, and there's enough food for the weekend. (Do not ask how I define "enough food.") 

I have my Jewish mother to thank for this deeply embedded pattern because this went on in our home when I was growing up. Thursday was house cleaning, laundry, ironing, and food shopping day. It was also the day my mother went to The Beauty Parlor and the day I generally got yelled at to clean my already impeccably tidy room.  

On Friday night, usually after sundown, we'd light Sabbath candles, recite prayers, and tuck into something of the fish persuasion before schlepping off to synagogue. Yes, fish on Fridays in our Jewish home, which is probably why I start hankering for sushi by 4:00 pm on Fridays.  Go figure. Go...fish?

Yet Another Attempt at Happy New Year

Happy New Year...one more time? Under the best of circumstances I triple-dip this salutation -- once on Rosh Hashonah, on the first Sunday of Advent, and then again on January 1st.

We're sixteen days into 2012 and I'm declaring "do over" in the Happy New Year department. Now that another book is launched and recent health crap is resolved, I'm finally able to think ahead.

Like everyone else, I already have some exciting events on the calendar. I'm finishing up one terrific project and have inklings of what might be next. I will participate in Lent Madness with a gaggle of great bloggers. I'll probably write my annual post about how having a parish-based Seder is not evil, demeaning, or wrong. I know I must have a serious conversation with the young lovely who cuts my hair.

But really and truly, I haven't a clue what's next. I've been in this place before and struggled to escape it like a cat wrapped up to be pilled. I'm thinking that hanging out in the Great Cloud of Unknowing would be a very good thing at this juncture.

What on earth will this look like?

I don't know about that either, but suspect getting back to spiritual basics is the way to go.  For me this means getting back to discerning if whatever I'm doing enhances or distracts me from my relationship with the Almighty. I might have to start with a silent retreat somewhere. God knows it has been way too long since I've rearranged furniture in a monkish cell on my way to more clarity.

Sabbath Slippage

The bad news: my Sabbath observance seems to have slipped away during the past few months. The good news: I've realized this is a problem. Recently, in a display case for kosher meat, I saw this handwritten reminder, "Hang on! Shabbat is coming!" A few weeks later, I got a call from Christopher Ringwald, author of a wonderful book about the Sabbath.

It has been maybe a year since I sent Chris a fan letter after reading, A Day Apart: How Jews, Christians, and Muslims Find Faith, Freedom and Joy on the Sabbath. Since then, we've become buddies, swapping stories about being mid-list authors in the faith/religion marketplace and how friends don't let friends quit day jobs to write this stuff. He, by the way, has a terrific new day job as editor of The Evangelist, published by the Roman Catholic Diocese of Albany (New York).

Last Friday night's call was to congratulate me on my new book. I, of course, was delighted to hear from Chris. We both had a good laugh when I said, "And you're calling on Shabbat to tell me this?"

Yep, I'm a laugh riot but my smarty pants riposte has haunted me all week. I used to be more rigorous about keeping at least one weekend day holy having discovered how in the absence of at least one full day of rest, life becomes entirely too nasty, brutish and long. Now it occurs to me that when Jesus said that it's good to save a life on the Sabbath, I might start by saving my own.

Email Question: Shabbat Observance

Love getting reader mail so much that I'll actively solicit it. I mean, of course, mail from readers who are friendly and curious. I could do without snarky emails from readers who, for example, want to argue about the definitive translation of theotokos. No joke.

Just the other day, someone at Doubleday forwarded such an epistle from a religious sister. I guess I should be grateful that Sister Mary Isn't Divine reported me to the principal instead of disciplining me herself. I wrote back to the Doubleday rep, who is now all worried about Catholic bookstores dumping The Catholic Home. I explained how I'd already changed the translation of theotokos in the paperback edition in response to another reader's concerns. Another religious sister. From a different religious order. Not even Eastern Orthodox. Sisters, have mercy, please.

What a delight, then, to receive email from Gail. Gail is married to a non-observant Jewish man. She's raising their children Catholic and added Hanukkah festivities to this year's holiday mix. The kids loved it. Now she's thinking about having Shabbat dinners on a regular basis. Her email continues:

My mother in law is also moving in town to be near us next month and I thought maybe this would be a good way to include her in our weekly life...from a Catholic perspective, would you consider this okay to do?

In a word: yes! Observing Shabbat with a family dinner would be a wonderful thing to do. Setting a day apart is a divine commandment shared by all Abrahamic religions (i.e., Jews, Christians, Muslims). Gathering your entire family at the table is a great way to reinforce shared heritage.

As your children get older, titrate in teaching about shared symbols (i.e., candles) and rituals (i.e., table blessings, blessings over candles and bread). For example, you can make connections between the berakhot (blessings) said at your table and during the Mass. You might want to experiment with a Middle Eastern meal. Roasted chicken is customary fare among Ashkenazic (Eastern European) Jews. A Sephardic menu would allow you to introduce new foods while noting the geographic origins of Jesus, as well as his Judaism.

Opportunities abound but take it slowly, especially if your husband and mother-in-law aren't all that interested in Shabbat observance. Start by focusing on gathering your family together, giving thanks for the week past, and for whatever rest you can carve out on Saturday or Sunday.

You can learn more about Sabbath observance in Christopher Ringwald's fine new book, A Day Apart: How Jews, Christians, and Muslims Find Faith, Freedom, and Joy on the Sabbath. He does a magnificent, comprehensive job of explaining the biblical and historical origins of Sabbath observance. A Catholic and father of three, Ringwald writes with great passion about the blessings of Shabbat observance in his own marriage and family.

Note: this is not a how-to book, but in an Appendix, Ringwald provides practical, detailed tips about keeping the Sabbath. I recommend reading this first and then savoring the rest of the book at your leisure. As if a mother of two littles and a newborn has leisure time. What could I be thinking?