The pastoral visit

As a minister part of my role is to visit, especially those not able to join us at church.  Living with depression, as an introvert and probably with roots in my disconnect from others when bullied throughout school - I find this the hardest thing I face in the job. This is a poem that expresses how it feels when I am unwell and trying to visit -

It’s not you it’s me – the pastoral visit

I come into your home, your space

You welcome me, grateful that I have come

The church has come with bread and wine.

You deserve my attention

Care to the tales you tell

The memories you recall

I turn my face to you

Nod and smile in hopefully the right places

I mustn’t show the scream inside

Don’t let the mask slip

It’s not you it’s me

And this is supposed to be your time

Your time - that I have put off again and again

Denied you my time

Because, because, because…. I am broken

Because my head is full of fuzz

Because though I can do the act from the front

One to one I don’t know the script

People may see me visiting you in your vulnerability

But I am the vulnerable one

And you can unmask me

I feel a fraud – pretending to be normal

When inside is a mass of chaos and the suppressed scream

I want to be home, safe in a duvet cocoon

But finally I have made it here

I sit still, I nod, I break bread

And countdown to when I can flee

It’s not you it’s me

Helen Roberts Feb 2016