A little known affliction: MKs and the Perfection Syndrome

It isn't meant to hurt. It's not like people set out to cause pain this way. It is not intended to destroy and ruin. And yet Christians do some of the ultimate harm to a sensitive group: Missionary Kids (MKs).

One day when I came home from school, I discovered that the night before I had been tagged in a very inappropriate cartoon by some of my--what word should I use-- normal teenage male classmates. Spinning into a panic, I untagged myself, posted an apologetic status regarding the picture--I was, after all, friends with hundreds of supporters as well as people like our home-church Bishop. Sure enough, before I could even do all of this, I had received a furiously offended message from a supporter stating that she couldn't follow me anymore because I was too inappropriate and she would be praying for my salvation. I should mention that in this cartoon presentation of personalities of, um, male, uh, genitalia, I was tagged as the chaste one.

It's a very black and white world in most supporter's eyes. You are either a good or a bad MK, successful or unsuccessful. You are happy or unhappy, top of your class or bottom, following God or otherwise a soul lost to the Devil.

You may not see it this way. You may be excited to see them back at your church after a minimum of a two year span of not seeing the MK. But what you say on these short visits can be some of what causes the greatest harm that will happen in an MK's life.

You see, when you ask an MK what their ministry is, you are automatically insinuating that it is not good enough to be just a student, but that they should always have a ministry that goes above and beyond what you would expect from any other kid their age. I was thrilled for a while to go on about how I had spent x amount of time working in a slum, or how I had a project going in Northern Uganda trying to help a war-torn school. Certainly, I could trill on and on about my achievements for a vast expanse. I was trained that this was not arrogance, but instead righteous pride for work done in the service of God. And to some extent I still believe that, but it set me up for failure. When my project floundered, got dragged down, and drowned and I had to answer about what my ministry was I felt like I was being judged for a personal failure.

Another favorite question is whether or not the MK is happy in their host country. The MK may be very happy, but at the same time there may be difficulties in their life that you don't see. At one point, the question of whether or not I was happy in Uganda came on the heals of asking whether I felt better after I had just gotten off of crutches after I had Typhoid, Septicemia from a Staph infection, and another parasite simultaneously and whether I could have died. I honestly wonder what the person thought my answer would be. I'm not sure if I was supposed to just answer positively and enthusiastically--I did so and the person seemed satisfied. Point 1,197 for the MK!

 I don't know of any non-MK who gets repeatedly grilled on whether or not they are pulling straight A's. I do know, however, that people didn't understand my school system and so admitting that I may not have gotten an A in Music seemed like a crushing failure. I also know that none of my American friends had their specific GPA questioned consistently.

The effect of all of this can be devastating. The pressure to be perfect, to always smile, and to act like nothing is wrong becomes so suffocating that many MKs simply cannot handle it. I certainly could not handle it. At the worst time of dealing with Anxiety Disorders, being questioned and pressed and having constant expectations was immensely painful, and did not help my recovery.

I was so excited to remove myself from the MK lifestyle and avoid all of these questions and pressures. But I feel like the difficulties have continued following me for the last two years. I am constantly questioning my performance and my own ministry for the fear that my personal life will ruin a ministry. I practically mute the television or music if I think there might me an unsavory word that pops up. Honestly, just writing that I might listen to something with an unsavory word causes a moment of panic. 

Getting past the feeling that you are being watched and being paranoid that you are going to mess up is not easy. However, a good sense of humor helps a lot. Plus, a lot of us MKs are so resilient that if you drop us from the 10th story we will quite literally bounce.

I remember one day when a couple showed up with my mom to pick me up from school. They were a few years older than my parents, and he was on the board for our mission's agency. The concept struck terror in me immediately: here were more people to show off to. I had a bad day that day, I was tired, I was not at my best, and yet in my mind it was time to perform. When they asked to take a tour of my school, I simply prayed that none of my classmates would be around to say anything that might portray me as imperfect.

However, this couple rocked my understanding of supporters of missionaries. They were empathetic, asked honest questions, and asked about the toll of life on me. They cared, listened, prayed, and supported. In my mind at the time, I was undeserving of this. It turned out that this couple would continue to make trips back to Uganda, and would often stay with us. I came to treasure the time with them as an example of people who did not expect perfection.

We all are broken and we all struggle. I know this about the people who inflicted their expectations on me, and so I don't hold it against them. But I have also learned not to hold against myself the times that I didn't reach the bar.

In the Face of Pain

Facing pain is not an easy thing. It is not fun, it does not happen or pass easily. It lingers in the back of your mind.

“Could I have done something better?”

“What else could I have said?”

When you’re in a position where you can influence what happens in someone else’s life, half the time your prayer is simply “let me not screw up”.

Life is messy. It has tangles and knots and mats, like my hair used to get when I wouldn’t brush it. If you ignore it, it snarls and gets angry.

I desperately want to help people, especially the people that have been put under my umbrella for right now. I want to make things better, to fix. Simply and plainly, I don’t want there to be hurt. I want everybody’s life to be sunshine and rainbows and ponies and puppies.

But it isn’t. Grey clouds come. Thunderstorms roll in. Dramatic music plays.

(OK, maybe not the dramatic music).

But you get the picture. The pain follows the beauty and amazement.

In the wake of this pain, there is little to do but be present, pray, listen and ask questions, and pray some more. There is little to be said aside from sitting with the person, feeling with and for them. And sometimes, you simply have to stand alone and face the crashing waves.

These are truths that I became familiar with in Uganda, and that I am aware of in life and my job today. No matter what continent you are on, darkness follows you. This is a fallen world, after all.

And yet we know that the darkness does not have the final word. God’s mercies are new every morning. Hope and change and fresh growth follow the storm as surely as a sunrise, with all of the beauty and splendor of a sunrise over an ocean.