Burnout Phase
2026-03-22
Divine Liturgy was great today, thanks for asking.
I had a really good thought while I was out on my patio earlier, and I wanted to make it the central theme of today's entry, but when I sat down at my computer to start writing, it just completely vanished from my memory. My work short-term memory is like a game of Russian roulette: sometimes I get it, but there are plenty of times where I shoot blanks. Oh well, c'est la vie.
My church attendance has been sporadic, but I'm glad to be going at all. The last few times I've been, though, I usually head out whenever it's time to take the Eucharist (still not even a catechumen yet!) and haven't been going to the lunch hour or classes. I've been wanting to speak with a priest and get my catechesis started, but I've been hesitant to do so because of social anxiety and because I have a hard time asking for things. I generally don't like being put in a position where I have to seek something from someone else, whether it be for help or even for strictly transactional reasons. I had a streak of hyper-independence when I was younger, and I'm still trying to mend some of those old wounds.
Regardless, Divine Liturgy was good today. It's Great Lent, and our bishop gave a homily on the passage from the Book of Mark where Jesus casts out the mute demon in a young man after his father cried out to mend his own unbelief. After Jesus cast out the demon, the people around Him asked how it was supposed to be cast out, and He said that it could have only been done through prayer and fasting. The bishop, while giving his homily, expressed the importance of the inclusion of the word “fasting” in that passage due to how common it is for other denominations to exclude it in their respective biblical translations. The core message was that fasting is an essential discipline required for spiritual battles that faith alone cannot always win.
I haven't been observing any of the fasts during Great Lent, particularly because of my already inconsistent attendance of services. Often, I feel that when I want to do something, I've got to either go all the way or don't bother. As I've gotten older and faced my particular life challenges, I've come to understand that this dichotomous thinking isn't sustainable. While it's important to give undertakings your best effort, it's even more important to be aware of what that best effort should look like. For me, I have an additional bad habit of setting myself to unrealistic standards, and so when I encounter inevitable bumps in the road, I would usually prescribe that as a personal failing. The shame that created would grow over time and sometimes led to resentment—usually of the thing I was pursuing or other people that were part of it in some way. From there, I would burn out and give up altogether, making the aspiration of that month erode like dust.
As I've matured, I've come to a better understanding of what my best effort should look like. I can still be ambitious and creative with my ideas, but nowadays I try to think an idea through past the one-month line. I try to ask myself questions like, “Is this something I see myself still doing next year? What kinds of efforts would make that possible?” I've found that this often filters out a lot of my shitty ideas. I used to annoy a lot of my friends with my ambitious schemes, and one of them would say, “Oh, looks like Noahie's having another phase!” after I explained how I was totally gonna be the world's greatest psychedelic brain surgeon.
I probably should try to keep some kind of fast during Great Lent, even if I can't hold the full yoke of it. If I get a chance to speak with a priest soon, I'd like to ask for some kind of advice. I still feel like I'm barely maintaining the bare minimum regarding my works of faith. I know that's not a unique position to have, so in that sense I feel emboldened to keep pursuing what I can further.
After all, faith the size of a mustard seed can move a mountain.
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