I’m Bad at Things

I’m Bad at Things July 26, 2018

Image Credit: Kristy Burmeister

I’m bad at a lot of things.

I’m bad at remembering I’m boiling water.

I’m bad at remembering birthdays and anniversaries.

I’m bad at making small talk, returning phone calls (or, honestly, even answering the phone), and spelling “Medieval” without Google.

I’m bad at crafts, writing neatly, and recognizing people I usually see in hats when they aren’t wearing hats.

I’m also bad at telling hatless people who approach me in public (and clearly know me) that I don’t know who they are.


So, I’m bad at things.

You get the picture, but what’s the point?

The point is I’m also bad at introductions. Most of the people who love me best didn’t like me at all when we first met.

The #1 complaint my friends had was they thought I was stuck-up or thought I was too good to hang out with the likes of them when we first met. I don’t really get it—maybe I have resting aristocrat face or something—but that was their first impression of me.

Once they got to know me better, they figured out I don’t take myself very seriously and I’ve probably done anything they’re worried about me judging them for doing.

Basically, they figure out I kind of suck at things.

You and I probably won’t get the chance to hang out in person, so if you hang out with me here, I want to introduce myself the way I wish I’d introduced myself to my friends back in the day.

Hi. I’m Kristy, and I totally suck sometimes, so don’t worry about it if you kind of suck sometimes too.

You won’t be getting any shocked gasps from me about anything.

“How dare you?!” is an exclamation I reserve for the person who ate the last ice cream sandwich and put the box back empty. It’s never something you’re going to hear from me because you’re having doubts or because you’re angry and venting or heart-broken and mourning.

And if you’re angry and heart-broken at the same time, and you want to cry-punch something, dude, I’m there for it.

After some church-related trauma, I left Christianity for around ten years, and I haven’t been back in Christian circles for all that long. I definitely haven’t been Catholic for long. I’ve spent a lot of time out in that metaphorical wilderness we like to talk about.

When I was trying to decide what the title of this blog should be, I went with Way Station in the Wilderness because I know what it’s like to be out there on your own. I know what it’s like to press your face up to the glass, and want so badly to go inside, but you just can’t.

If you feel that way, or if you want to understand people who feel that way, you can hang out here because I write about that a lot.

I’ll write about uncomfortable things sometimes. (I’m not bad at making people uncomfortable. I’m actually really good at that.)

In addition to posts about figuring out my place within Catholicism as a survivor of church trauma, you can expect to find posts about sexualized violence, disability, feminism, poverty, and suffering.

What you won’t find is me pretending I don’t suck. I know how much damage we can do when we pretend to be more pious and perfect than we really are. I won’t pretend to be the perfect revert/convert who doesn’t struggle with anything. I’m sure those exist, and that’s fine, but that’s not me.

It took me a long time to commit to joining the Catholic church. I’m glad I did it, and there are things I love so much about it, but that doesn’t mean it’s an easy road.

While you’re on your own journey, no matter where that road ultimately takes you, I hope you’ll find something here that will help you along the way.

If that sounds interesting to you (or if you want to find out what I’m good at) you can subscribe to stay updated.

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