...which observed a rule of nearly absolute silence. However, the abbot asked new monks who were still in simple vows to meet with him at the end of each year, and in this meeting they were permitted to say two words to him.

Now, at the end of one year, a certain young monk came to the abbot's study, and the abbot nodded to indicate that he should speak. "Food bad," the young monk said, and the abbot nodded and sent him away.

The following year, the abbot again sent for the young monk. He entered, and again the abbot nodded that he should speak. "Bed hard," he said. Again, the abbot nodded and sent him away.

Again a year passed in absolute silence, and again it was time for the young monk to speak to the abbot. He entered as before, and again the abbot nodded to indicate that she should speak. "I QUIT!" said the young monk, and stormed out.

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The first year of my Master's program, the program director told us this joke at the beginning of the course called "Issues in Church Music." He said that one of his goals was to give us the tools and the courage that we needed to succeed in church music so that we would not find ourselves like the monk -- disgruntled for years and years, keeping it more or less to ourselves, until we couldn't hold out any longer without throwing up our hands and saying, "I QUIT!"

It's certainly a common pattern I've seen many times before, and one that over the past year I feel myself falling into more and more. Interpersonal, quasi-political things bother me more deeply than ever, and my coping mechanisms are wearing down fast. I have accrued more responsibility simultaneously in multiple domains, with only moderate reductions elsewhere. The shining sun / silver lining is the excellent relationship I have with my pastor and school principal, who are extremely supportive, and of course the many dedicated volunteers and students who give so generously and are so kind -- not to mention the supportive members of the community.

That being said, however, this kind of work, with the kinds of frictions, uncertainties, self-doubt, stress (and the ultimate feeling of partial responsibility for people's impressions of and relationship to God and the Church) is extremely trying for the sensitive soul, even in fair weather, and certainly in conditions that feel constantly ambiguous or threateningly cloudy.

I feel that, for every step forward, I turn over a new stone where someone was hurt or alienated by musical or liturgical developments that I support (most often things that were done before I arrived in ways in which, I think, I would not have done them, but of which / for which I am now the mouthpiece and advocate), and I realize that this is a huge part of the tension that seems to linger under the surface.

Of course, His Holiness reaching across the sea and ruining my vacation this summer "of his own initiative" (motu proprio) only magnified all of this.

So my question: I don't want to become the next dramatic burn-out story in sacred music --

All you life-timers, you organists and choirmasters who sleep well at night and can live with yourselves, who don't mutter, "I hate myself" and "death" under your breath constantly throughout the day and when anything goes wrong, who don't attend daily Mass with your head buried in your hands on your knees begging God to deliver you from the weight of the responsibility you exercise and protesting your unworthiness to even consider having such a role in parish life, who don't spend days on end wishing you had studied engineering instead of music so you could do something genuinely useful and appreciated with your life -- how do you do it? What strategies do you use to cope, to get by, to thrive?

Are you all just unfeeling sociopaths who lack empathy and thrive on making people uncomfortable or upset [/purple], or is there some way for people with normal human emotions to endure and succeed in this kind of work?

Thanks for your help!