When learning hurts...

So I had a rough learning experience this week.

A little background to set the scene. I have been experiencing some inconsistent knee pain this last week during certain movements in workouts, like when squatting, or even just everyday activities, like going down stairs, getting in and out of my car, etc. I say inconsistent, because sometimes the pain is there and sometimes it's not - weird, I know. In any event, I met with my trainer for our weekly workout and I let him know about what's been going on. So we began the workout and he had me do some new exercises/movements to help investigate what might be causing that pain.

Pretty close to the end of our workout, and after seeing that there wasn't any one particular movement or position that made a difference - again, pretty inconsistent - he had me do some body weight squats. He showed me the form he wanted me to use and could see after just one try that I was having a hard time. So on the second attempt he stands behind me and brings his leg forward to brace my back as I squat and he instructs me to push my hips back even further. I could only go down so far before losing all strength and feeling that twinge in my knee. In order to compensate for that I leaned forward to maintain my balance, not just in the squat position, but in order to stand back up, which I did.

I realized that being overweight and carrying most of that weight in my belly has pushed my center of gravity forward, such that when I went down to a certain height, I needed to lean forward in order to maintain balance. With him telling me to move my hips backward, it completely threw off my center of gravity and I didn't have the strength to hold myself in that position without feeling like I was falling backwards.

On my third attempt, this time with him insisting that I push my hips back, and even though I felt his leg bracing me, I couldn't do it. I fell. It was only about 4-5 inches, and the physical fall didn't hurt, but what hurt was the emotional toll that short action had on me. Craig (my trainer) walked around and held out his hand to help me stand up and said, "come on, one more time." I took his hand and let him help me up. I was feeling very weak, embarrassed and ashamed of myself. He walked around behind me one more time and told me to try again. I didn't want to do it, but I did. He tells me, "Bring your hips back. I'm here, I've got you." I tried again and really focused on bringing my hips backward into the sitting position. Same result. I could only go so far before my legs completely gave out. I fell again.

"It's okay," I hear Craig's voice behind me as we walks around to face me. He holds out his hand again to help me stand up, but this time I hesitate. I didn't want to take his hand at first; I was too angry - mad at myself. I didn't even want to look at him. I was so ashamed of myself. I was mad at being so fat that I couldn't even hold myself up. I was mad at being so weak that I couldn't even complete the simplest exercise. Then I got mad at myself for everything that had happened to me in my past that led me to this humiliating moment - most especially my own bone-headed decisions. You know, the little ones that you don't think will have any consequences? "Just one little bite won't hurt (which then turns into an entire pie/cake/pizza/etc.); I had a rough week, I can have some ice cream; I'm too tired to exercise, I just really need to rest/relax;" etc.

"Come on," he beckons again. I take his hand and stand up, then bend over forward - out of breath and defeated. As he walks away, while I "recover," he says, "we can stop there for today, but lets do some foam rolling." In that moment, I'm just trying to keep my shit together. I'm flooded with emotions and feeling like a massive failure. As I get my breath back I walk to where he is with the foam roller and he goes through what he wants me to do. I've done some foam rolling before and even though I don't tell him that, I'm glad to be doing something I kind of know how to do. But my mind isn't really on it and when I finish he tells me to just relax and breathe.

But he can see on my face that I'm not okay. "Are you still thinking about what happened back there?" he asks me. "Yes," I said with my head hanging down, "I'm pretty upset about it actually." I proceed to tell him how I'm feeling about myself and that prompted a pretty frank discussion about what I can learn from this experience. I wish I had a tape recorder with me to remember all of the details, but some of the major points he made were these:

I didn't fail today.
He pointed out all of things I WAS able to do - like learn a brand new exercise while keeping great form; being better conditioned in that I could actually talk to him between sets of prowler pushes; even one of the other trainers in the gym let him know that he sees me there working out on my own; etc. He pointed out that struggling with one exercise, while showing improvement in others is still a win.

In that moment I was choosing to feel bad about myself.
(That's always a tough one to hear, but he was right.) I was choosing to focus on the one thing I "failed" at, while not acknowledging all the other things I had done well. I was the one bringing up all my past mistakes and failures and causing myself to drown in regret. Additionally, he pointed out a danger in that, when I do that, I am also projecting my fears into the future, ensuring that I won't change when my focus is only on what I've done (and by extension, will continue to do) wrong. He instructed me to do some meditations to project into my future what my vision for myself is, but then to "come back" to the present and look at what choices I can make today to help lead to that future vision. In essence - have a vision of who I want to be, but focus on today (what I can control), not on the future (what I can't control).

Life is not black and white.
Coming from a highly religious background, I tend to paint most things as black and white - either you're good or you're bad and there is no in-between. But the truth is, there is gray. Humans aren't perfect, there is some good and bad in all of us - all of us make mistakes. Sometimes we make "bad" choices; sometimes we exhibit "bad" behavior. If life were only black and white, there would be no hope for us; but life has shades of gray - that is the training ground that allows us to learn how to make better choices. You can fail at something and not BE a failure - which is a totally foreign concept to a shame-based way of thinking. There is no gray for shame-based people, but that is not how life was designed.

If you have beliefs that are hurting you, then they are garbage and need to be thrown away. YOU CAN CHOOSE NEW BELIEFS. It may sound surprising, but this one is very difficult for me to accept. Again, due to shame-based thinking, wherein labels ARE the thing itself. What I mean is, I come from a past and a way of thinking that says: "if you do something bad you ARE bad. If you make a mistake, you ARE a mistake. If you fail at something you ARE a failure. If you ARE fat then you don't fit in and you ARE unacceptable. You can't be yourself because who you ARE, at your core, is unacceptable." When these beliefs are adopted at a young age they feel permanent - as if set in stone and unalterable. In my case, I know that these beliefs were instilled by the time I was six. And when I say instilled, I mean that by this age these beliefs were so ingrained that they were automatic. I had fully accepted their reality - this is who I am. There has never, ever been a time in my life when I didn't know that I was a failure, or a mistake, from the beginning. This is my foundation. Even though it's wrong, it's the only foundation I've known, so the prospect of removing my foundation is terrifying.

But what is the result? I have built a house on my crooked foundation that has resulted in unnecessary pain, an "ugly" house that is fat and un-athletic and lives in misery and sadness. The windows only see and reflect pain, sadness, and loneliness. A house of misery. What I am going through in attempting to improve my fitness is the equivalent of trying to tear down and rebuild my house, but in the process realizing that my house was poorly constructed because the foundation was misshapen and uneven to begin with. Which means, basically, that I need to gut the foundation and start over. I need to throw away the beliefs that are hurting me and choose new ones. Insightful imagery aside, this is much harder to do than it sounds. Hmm... harder to do, but not impossible...

This is why learning hurts. It reaches to the core of who I am. It forces me to examine the beliefs, experiences and circumstances that have been a part of me, seemingly from the beginning - and many of them, as I begin to shine a light on them, are dark, disgusting and terrifying (okay, not ALL of them, there are some good things in there too!). When I see the "bad" things I regret them or feel ashamed of them and the cycle continues. But the cycle CAN be broken. Actually thy cycle MUST be broken in order to progress.

The irony is not lost on me - the only way to progress is to fail. I need failures - I need to experience failing AND STILL BEING OKAY. I need to learn that I can fall on my ass a few times and "fail" at something, i.e., discover a limitation, AND STILL BE OKAY. In order to change my beliefs it will take deciding to believe different and then experiencing believing different and that isn't going to happen overnight, because experience takes time. And that's how it's supposed to be.

So how would you finish the phrase: "When learning hurts..."?

Here's how I think I would finish it: When learning hurts, be grateful. It means that what you're learning is significant and it's helping you become what you were meant to be.

All that I have to be thankful for!

With all of the emotional turmoil I’ve been through the last few weeks, I made sure I took some time today (Happy Thanksgiving!) to do my best to put all of that aside and reflect on all that I have to be thankful for. Here’s my list:

I am thankful to be alive

I was born with inadequate oxygen and almost died at birth. My mom says I was black and blue and they had to rush me to an incubator to get me breathing. My entry into this world was traumatic and, looking back, it seems like the fear that accompanied my birth has remained with me throughout my life. Yes, I’ve been through some difficult experiences, but I made it. I survived that difficult beginning. And I’ve survived many other traumatic experiences since. I’m still here and I’m truly thankful for a loving Heavenly Father who has helped me through all of it.

I am thankful for my body

This is a tough one for me. I have very mixed feelings about my body. “Body Dissociation” is a very common symptom of people who have been sexually victimized. In essence, because my body was violated, my body became an object to be despised; something that was violated, abused and untrustworthy – a place where I was no longer safe. So I disconnected. I saw my body as something that was detestable and worthless. Consequently, I didn’t treat my body well because I didn’t see it as anything worthy of caring for. I didn’t listen to my body. I inflicted self punishments in negative self-talk, addictions of various kinds, and in general treated myself with contempt. I was trying to punish my body for being weak, for being violated. It may not make logical sense, but a six year old doesn’t have sufficient logic skills to process that kind of trauma.

Fast forward to today. I have come to realize that I can’t be healthy in an unhealthy body. I have come to realize that the shame I feel over what happened to me should really be the shame of the people who perpetrated the crime, not me. I am in the process of regaining the innocence of my inner child, who was wounded and never left that state of being. Basically, I’m learning not to be ashamed of what happened to me, because it wasn’t my fault. That also means reconnecting with my body. It means learning to listen to it and learning to treat it with respect through exercise and proper nutrition. Yes, I am in terrible shape, but that is the result of years of (self) neglect and abuse. It will take me time to challenge my old beliefs and thought patterns. It will take time to get into the shape I want to be in, but I am SO thankful that I have this opportunity to change. I am so grateful to have a body that is capable of change and improvement. I am so fortunate to have a body that can move, taste, touch, see, smell, hear and feel.

I’m thankful for my family

I seem to have a really good ability to criticize my family and point out their flaws – clearly a defensive, or “victim” mentality. But that’s not an accurate picture of who they really are. I don’t think I could adequately sum up how incredible each of them are – or what they mean to me in one post. The truth is, they have been far more patient with me and understanding than I deserve. I’ve done my share of hurtful things, for which I sincerely beg their forgiveness. Briefly, I would like to share just a few things that I love about each of them:

Mishka – the Compassionate

Mishka has a very caring heart and protective of the underdog. She cares about how others are feeling and desires to lift the burdens of others (at least until M&M’s get involved!! You know what I’m talking about Mish!! J). Too many times to count she’s offered support and encouragement and helped me feel like I’m not so alone.

Rebecca – the Noble

Rebecca has been a great supporter of mine, even when I haven’t really deserved it. She’s been a great example of perseverance and dedication – of meeting challenges head on and overcoming them with patience. She carries herself with pride and I love her resilience. I wish I were more like her in that respect. She is a great sounding board and I know her advice is always sound, well thought out and has my best interest at heart.

Mom (Tina) – the Generous

Mom is, without a doubt, one of the most generous – if not, THE most generous person I know. She is always willing to sacrifice for the benefit of others, sometimes at great cost to herself. She has a great attitude towards giving – always giving thanks to Heavenly Father for all that he has blessed her with. She is a great example of selfless giving and I know her riches in heaven will be abundant!

Dad (Bob) – the Benevolent

I really don’t know a kinder man than my dad. I can’t stress how grateful I am for his patience with me. I am eternally grateful that he did not anger easily. Even when he was angry (which was RARE!) he never raised his voice and he never acted violently. He was a peacemaker in our home and I love him for that. In my mid-twenties I had some very significant problems, for which I received some intensive treatment. He supported me through what was truly hell for me in ways I can’t begin express and any attempt I made to honor him would be woefully inadequate. He is one of my heroes.

I am thankful for adversity

This may sound ironic, after my last post. But adversity and the lessons I have learned have blessed my life immeasurably. I have developed and strengthened my testimony in ways that I would not have accomplished otherwise. I recall one time I was seeing a counselor and I had expressed dissatisfaction with the presence of a challenge in my life. She shared her opinion on the matter (she was very supportive and had only the intent of comforting me) and suggested, in loving kindness, that I accept it – even though it was contrary to my religious beliefs. In that moment I realized that the challenge had a purpose. I was able to bear my testimony to her about why I felt as I did and I know she was deeply touched by what I said. I know, historically, I have expressed hatred of my trials and how I would rather not have them. But I’ve learned something – these trials are how I will come to know the Savior. I am deeply grateful for that. Which leads me to my last item.

I am thankful for my Heavenly Father and Savior

Heavenly Father has always been the father I needed, not always the father I wanted. With my limited perspective of life, with all my lack of wisdom and lack of experience, and with my severely limited understanding – I don’t always ask for the right things and I don’t always know what’s in my best interest – but he always does. He answers “Yes” when I need to hear “Yes;” “No,” when I need to hear “No;” and He is silent when it’s in my best interest. I often confuse silence with absence and I have since learned that is not the case. Just because He is silent, doesn’t mean He isn’t there, or interested in me. I know now that He wants me to be happy, but how we obtain happiness is still a lesson I am learning. So often I think of obtaining happiness as being given what I need – when I need it – and that is SO NOT the case!! Happiness comes from strength and strength comes from being tested by adversity. There is no strength in a lack of opposition. It’s precisely the opposition that develops strength, which generates happiness.

I’ll be honest - the Savior is not someone I know well. I haven’t been as committed to Him as I could be. I haven’t made Him a priority in my life, as I could have. The reason’s are as varied as my past experiences and rooted in faulty core beliefs, feeling neglected, defensive, prideful, etc. I haven’t truly appreciated the atonement for one main reason – I never believed I was worthy of it. I was angry that he suffered and died for all men’s sins when I felt like I didn’t deserve to benefit from that gift. In essence, I had a testimony that the Savior was able to save all mankind, except me. Or, in other words, I had a testimony that He is THE Savior, just not MY Savior. That is changing, but I have a long way to go. In the meantime, I am thankful that He is so patient with me. I am humbled to know that He loves me, especially in those times when I push Him away because I don’t think I deserve His love.

So that's my (short!) list. I have so much to be thankful for! I am so glad that I took the time to look back over all my gifts and to see that, even the hard things, are helping me to become better and ultimately, helping me to be closer to my Savior and Father in Heaven and I am eternally grateful for that!

Setbacks

I had a big setback last weekend. I'm still trying to analyze what happened.

I went out of town to a convention and I was nervous regarding how I would eat. My trainer gave me permission to not exercise, since I would be doing a lot more walking around the city and convention center. But what really worried me was eating.

I've been eating a ketogenic diet for the last 4-5 weeks. I'm not sure how long it took me to "adapt," but the little ketone testing strips I use indicated that I was in ketosis for roughly 3-4 of those weeks. I didn't want to lose ground as the scale (used infrequently!) was indicating weight loss. My clothes felt about the same and the mirror certainly wasn't reflecting weight loss, but I had faith that I was doing the right things - and I trust my trainer.

But I'm not good with trusting myself. I am definitely a "when in Rome" kind of guy and being on vacation is a chance to let my hair down (figuratively, since I'm bald). Knowing all of this, I decided to plan ahead. I prepped a bunch of food that I could eat and carry some of it around (yes, I was carrying around bacon in my backpack for 3 days!). I knew that I would be going out to eat with friends, so I decided that I needed to look for the best options - salads, meats, etc., and just stick to those. I decided to look at eating out, but choosing healthy options, as my treat - instead of my usual idea of a treat - eat as much of whatever I want while eating out!

And it seemed to work! I was feeling pretty good about everything - feeling good about my preparation, about my execution, about my restraint in restaurants, etc. Looking back, I was probably feeling too good.

I need to interject something here. For most of my life, I haven't felt very good about myself. When I "mess up" or make a mistake, it usually stems from a place of feeling bad about myself, or feeling sorry for myself. The idea is based on shame - I do bad things, because I am a bad thing. But there are times, when I fall victim to a pretty classic "temptational justification," i.e., "just one won't hurt..." And this usually happens when I'm on an upswing. It's usually when things are going great. I'm thinking to myself, "hey, I'm doing pretty great right now. I can handle indulging in just a little bit of (fill in the blank). It's not going to effect me too terribly, I mean, how can it, when I'm doing so well...?"

So when I had a largely successful trip, I was feeling really good about it and I got lulled into a false sense of security. (Those of us who are shame-based/traumatized - ok, maybe just me - aren't great at differentiating pride from confidence. In other words, I won't allow myself to feel good about myself, because that is prideful and pride deserves to be punished...) Well, I decided that since I'd had great success, that I was going to allow myself one treat on my last day. I knew it would kick me out of ketosis for a day or two, but hey, I was doing so well that I was certain I could regain ketosis in a day or two as well, right?

So I sought out the perfect treat and I found it in a little gelato shop. I told myself that I would not be neurotic about it. While I knew it wasn't the right thing to do, I decided that I was just going to enjoy it and then let it go. And boy howdy, did I enjoy it!! I was walking down the street on cloud nine. I ate slowly and savored every bite. It was nearly a transformative experience. I was going to go home the next day feeling like a winner! ...or so I thought.

While I was driving home I kept mentally replaying difficult scenes from my life. I didn't even realize what was happening at first. It was probably two to three hours into my drive when I realized that I didn't "feel right," but couldn't identify why. So I did my best to do some self-talk and tell myself that I was okay and that I was safe and that everything was going to be ok. It should have worked, but it didn't. It seemed that my self-pity and defenses were up pretty high and didn't want to be pulled back down.

One interesting thing that happened was when I stopped in Grand Junction to gas up. I had the last of my prepped food to eat, but I really wanted a hamburger, fries and a shake. I decided to go to Wendy's, but on the way, I realized that I was not making a nutritional decision. I knew that I was making an emotional decision. I knew that my body didn't really want fast food, but my emotions did. In a completely uncharacteristic move, and what I can only attribute to divine intervention, I turned my car around and just continued driving. I ate the last of my healthy food and for a little while, I felt pretty good about making that decision.

But my emotions had not been appeased and it wasn't long before my previous feelings of being unsettled, or not feeling right, intensified and my thoughts turned to self-shaming thoughts. I berated myself for anything and everything. I beat myself up for being me, i.e., weak, pathetic, a loser, fat, ugly, etc.

After eight hours of driving, I made it home just in time for dinner. At this point, I think I had given up. I didn't have the energy to do anything good for myself or the will power to restrain myself. Even though I made it a point to eat healthy food first (e.g., meat, salad, etc.) I then proceeded to go down pretty hard on some pasta salad, baked carrots/potatoes, bread, chips and salsa, pie and ice cream, etc. It felt so good to give up. It felt right to give up on myself. I had blissfully checked out and it seemed that all my bad feelings had finally gone away - as if filling my belly had filled my emotional needs.

You can jam a round peg into a square hole and pretend that "it fits," but it doesn't fit...

I went to bed that night feeling physically satisfied, but emotionally burned out. I'll just summarize the rest of my week: depression, sleeping late, pulling a muscle in my neck that was painful, avoiding people, self-hatred and negative thoughts and round after round of promising to eat healthy and then binging on whatever I could find...

So, it's not been a great week for me. Actually it's been a pretty shitty week. Which is so strange because I was so worried about the time I would be travelling, when it turns out that all of that time actually went pretty great. It was the time immediately following that somehow triggered a shame spiral. I think I have something inside me that won't let me be happy for myself. It's as if I sunk into a shame spiral BECAUSE I had such a good weekend! As if there is some internal sensor that says, "hey, you had a great week, and you were really successful, but you aren't allowed to be successful - or too happy, so we need to re-balance that out with some self-pity..." It's as if I was punishing myself for being happy about having a successful weekend. No, it doesn't make logical sense, but that is because that is shame-logic at work and proof that I have more work to do.

Maybe the worst part is that I know why. I know exactly why I feel this way. I know exactly how this faulty-shame logic started. I have been through some really traumatic experiences in that I was sexually traumatized by two different neighbors in two different neighborhoods about three years apart. But you know what's crazy? As damaging as that was (and it WAS damaging), I suffered a greater trauma by not having my dad's attention. I was neglected by a man who was supposed to love me more than anyone. I was rejected by a man who was always in the next room, but didn't have time for me. Whatever he was involved in was always more important than me.

That is how I learned that I was worthless. That's the only explanation possible for why he didn't spend time with me. I was so bad, so ugly, so fat, so stupid, so broken, so disgusting, that my own father didn't want anything to do with me. I don't deserve to have anything good in my life because I'm not worth it. The adult in me acknowledges how wrong those statements are, but I wasn't an adult when I was neglected. I was a child and I wasn't capable of understanding why my own father wouldn't pay attention to me. The only "logical" explanation was that I wasn't worth it. That child still lives within me. That child is still hurting from not having his dad's attention. And the soul of that child is starving - starving for attention, starving for affection, starving for his father to hold him and tell him that he's important to him and that he's worth his time and attention. Starving to be told that he's okay and that everything is going to be okay.

Is it ironic or completely apparent now why I use those phrases to comfort myself when I'm not feeling right. "You're okay. Everything's going to be okay." The problem is, because it's coming from me, I don't believe it. I feel stuck because these are things I need my dad to say to me, but he's not here to do that. So how do I get that need met when he's not here to meet it?

How am I ever going to move forward with my life, when these missing pieces keep holding me back. It's like my life has been one continuous round of me trying to move forward, but then having a major "setback." But is it really a setback, or me just trying to move beyond my painful past and getting yanked back by a tether that won't seem to break?

Approval

I just got off the phone with a gal who recently graduated in Speech-Language Pathology (SLP) and was looking for some advice on CF and job hunting. I related to her my experience moving to Washington to take a job and how it was a really difficult experience for me. I had been promised a certain level of mentorship and guidance, which, ultimately, didn't happen. That was a very difficult time in my life. It made me doubt everything I was doing and whether or not I wanted to keep working in Speech-Language Pathology at all.

Our conversation caused me to reflect on what I learned from that very difficult experience. It also occurred to me that what I learned is very applicable to what I'm going through right now.

To give you some background I need to explain something - I need approval. Specifically, I need my dad's approval. I have an emptiness in my soul that I believe can only be filled by my father holding me and saying that I'm ok - which is obviously not going to happen now that I my dad has passed away. I know that I go through life looking for anything to fill that emptiness, i.e., addictions. Even my shame and self-pity is really a cry for help to fill that void. I want someone to look through my sadness and see that what I really need is reassurance. But self-pity has the opposite effect. Far from making people want to comfort me, it makes them want to run from me. Self-pity, like pride, is off-putting.

It may be less profound, but this need also translates into the need for approval from others. The need to be recognized, praised, etc. The need to be seen as smart, accomplished, wise, witty, competent, etc. It was precisely this need that made my life hell while starting my new job after graduation.

I found myself in a situation where I was not going to receive feedback - I was on my own. I would have to work without being noticed by my superiors. How was I going to be praised if they weren't around to see my work? I didn't realize that all through graduate school I held on to my supervisors praise/feedback like a lifeline. It was everything to me when they praised me and equally devastating when they didn't. But I depended on their feedback in order for me to feel validated. And now, that was gone. I was going to have to learn to work independently and trust my judgment regarding patient care. I mean, this is another human being we're talking about - being dependent on me to help "heal" them?! That's a lot of pressure!!

I only worked in that job for nine months - long enough to get my SLP national certification and then I left. But something happened in that nine months that I didn't expect. I learned to trust myself. I learned that I could BE a Speech-Language Pathologist. I learned that I could be a GOOD Speech-Language Pathologist. I learned that I was good at my job - even without someone else's approval!

How did that happen?!?

There isn't one moment that I can pin it on. It wasn't like someone flipped a switch and I just woke up one day confident in my abilities. It happened over time, little by little, step by step, line upon line... you see where I'm going with this? It happened by doing the job. It happened by learning from every experience - making good decisions and making bad decisions. It happened from all the moments of uncertainty, of being put on the spot to make a decision, of having to make a snap judgment with no guarantee that I was making the right decision. As I gained experience, the see-saw of uncertainty gradually gave way to certainty. The more I saw and experienced, the more information I had to compare each time I had to make a decision and the better I got at knowing what to do the next time. 

I tried. I failed. I succeeded. I learned.

So, how does that help me now? It helps me see that I can be ok without the approval of others. That, given enough time and experience, I don't "need" the approval of others. That realization doesn't just make that desire for recognition go away, but it helps me see that I don't need to limit myself simply because I don't have someone else telling me how awesome I am! To some extent, I'm always going to want my father's approval. There may always be a bit of a hole there, where that need went unmet. But I don't have to stop living until that hole gets filled  - and if I'm honest with myself, that's kind of what I've been doing.

I guess it's time to move on...

Going it alone

I went to the Lantern Fest by myself. I learned a lot about myself from doing that.



When I first learned about the Lantern Fest, I immediately had a desire to go - it was something I've seen other people do and I wanted to be a part of it. So I was really excited as I went to the website to purchase a ticket. I think my heart was even beating a little bit faster, so I was clearly anticipating the experience. But then something hit me - and it's not the first time I've felt this feeling. It's a mixture of sadness and regret. It hit me about the time I had to specify a ticket quantity - one.



I was super excited to be a part of something special and it hit me that I would be doing it alone. I didn't have anyone to share this with. I hesitated. I thought, "maybe next year, when I have someone to go with." I just about closed down the page, when I reflected on what was really going on. I was letting my feelings of loneliness decide my actions. I was keeping myself from experiencing something I really wanted because it wasn't going to be exactly the way I wanted it to be.



Did I want to go to Lantern Fest? You bet. Did I want to go with someone special? You bet. But did I HAVE to go with someone special...? No, not really. I think I tend to put conditions on lots of things and when all the conditions don't line up exactly as I want them to, I reject the entire experience. I limit myself and keep myself from experiencing anything remotely fun or exciting, simply because it's not how I'm "supposed" to experience it.



I didn't realize that I had been doing this because while I lived in Washington, I traveled by myself all the time. As much as I realized that I wanted to have someone special to share in my travels and experiences, I knew my time there was temporary - so I traveled. I saw some pretty great places and had some wonderful experiences that I will treasure forever. And I would have missed out on all of it if I had said, "maybe someday, when I have someone to share it with."



So I bought a ticket for one. And I decided that, yes, it probably would be more fun with someone to go with, but that didn't mean I couldn't have fun on my own. It's only now, as I type this, that I realize that this experience wasn't about being lonely; it wasn't about being single. It was about being okay with myself the way I am.



This is not something I'm good at! (Not a surprise for anyone who's read my blog!) My decision to go to Lantern Fest was really about me saying, "I'm okay. Whether I'm single, dating, or married, I'm okay. I'm worth having fun experiences and enjoying life." It seems like this is something that should just be instilled in every person, but for me, it's not. It's taken quite a bit of work for me to get to this place, but I'm glad that I'm changing!



And guess what happened? I went to Lantern Fest and I had a great time!! I walked around for a bit and picked a random tiki torch to set my things down around. I ended up sitting next to this fun couple.

They were kind enough to reach out to me and made an effort to include me. It may be ironic, but I think they felt sorry for me because I was there alone! As we chatted and I got to know them, I realized how awesome they are and it occurred to me that if I had been there with someone else, I don't think I would have met them. I would have really missed out on meeting some awesome people.  I don't know if I'll ever see them again, but they helped me forget that I was there "alone." So thank you, "B" and "S" for making a fun night that much better!

It would be fun to run into them again someday, but not professionally (they're both officers at the correctional facility!).

As much as I do want to be married, I don't want to miss out on getting the most out of life, and I certainly don't want to continue to limit myself because conditions aren't exactly the way I want them to be. But mostly, I just want to prove to myself that I'm okay the way I am. Ultimately, isn't that what I want to bring into a marriage? The ability to offer my complete self as an equal partner, not an incomplete man who needs others to define him?

Yeah, I still have my share of challenges and obstacles, but for a single guy, I have a pretty great life - even if I have to "go it alone" sometimes!

*Authors note: Sorry about the weird formatting, I'm writing this on someone else's computer until my new computer arrives!!

Filling needs

My whole life I thought my needs could only be filled by my parents. But what if I have a room in my soul where all of my needs can be met? But I never use it because I think it can’t come from me; I think it has to come from my parents. I never think to look inside because I don’t believe I have it within me to fill those needs because I don’t believe in myself… that’s a vicious cycle.

It makes sense that if you think you’re worthless you’re not going to look inside to find a way to meet your needs – you don’t think you’re capable. What if you just decide to tell yourself that you are? It means disconnection from parents and that disconnection feels like death. What if you just tell yourself that it’s time to die? Maybe it’s time for the “worthless” you to die, so that the worthful you can finally live?

At The End Of The Storm

I want you to imagine something with me.

Pretend that you are in the middle of a terrible storm. You are walking down an unfamiliar road and you’re only thought is to return home. You are cold and shivering, with only a light hooded jacket to protect you. The wind and rain are beating down on you so hard that you draw the hood around your head and you hunch over trying to minimize the force of the wind and rain battering you relentlessly. The only things keeping you warm are walking and your thin, hooded jacket. All you can see ahead of you is a few feet of rain-soaked pavement, and your drenched shoes, as you put one foot in front of the other.

Imagine this continues for days, weeks, months, years. This darkness, this coldness, this discomfort – and even pain – are all you know; they are all you’ve ever known.

Then one day you stop. You just stop walking. You see that there is no water on the pavement. You feel that there is no wind or rain pelting your hunched form. Your shoes are dry, but your feet are weary and throbbing from constant movement with no rest. You try to stand up straight, but your back screams in protest from being hunched over for so long. Nevertheless, you remove the hood and look around you. You don’t really recognize what’s around you because all you’ve seen for so long is dull, gray pavement.

The storm is gone. The sky is blue with puffy, white clouds. The grass is green. The valley you’re in gently sweeps up to rolling hills, which become tall, jagged mountains. You see rivers and waterfalls; wildflowers, trees and forests. You hear birds singing nearby and the unfamiliar warmth of a zenith sun. It’s beautiful and breathtaking and completely foreign. This is not the world you know. You feel more lost now than you did before.

You want the clouds to gather and darken. You long for the wind to pick up and the rain to fall. You don’t want to see vistas and panoramas; you want your vision filled with the few yards of pavement that you’ve grown accustomed to. You just want things to back to the way they were because that is what you know. That dark, cold, wet, furious world is what you know.

This new world is terrifying. It’s so open, so uncertain, so vast. There is no safety out there – there is only safety within the hood of your jacket. But you can’t help but wonder, “when did the storm end? How long have I been walking in this terrifying sunshine and not known it? How many miles have I traveled hunched over, alone and scared?” And even more terrifying, “what do I do now that the storm has ended?”

This is what life is like for me right now.

The storms of my childhood were criticism, bullying, neglect and sexual abuse. The hooded jacket I wore was inferiority, self-pity, self-doubt and fear, because I learned to use these beliefs to protect me from the storms. This is all I’ve known. As I have aged and received much counseling, I’ve come to realize that the storms of my childhood are over. They no longer rage, though I have no idea when they stopped, because I never stopped feeling the storm!

Yet, I look around me and I see that the world has changed. My circumstances have changed. I no longer need to walk through life as if in a storm, because the storm is over. But this is a new world that I don’t know anything about. I don’t know how to navigate a world where I’m allowed to have desires, wishes, hopes and dreams. I don’t know how to live in world where I don’t have to suffer anymore. And a part of me wants that suffering to come back. I want the storms to return, because it’s all I’ve known. I may be in pain and uncomfortable all the time, but it’s familiar, it’s what I know.

I see that I create negativity in my life. The storm around me did not end, it simply moved within. I needed the storm. I needed the suffering. I didn’t know there was any other way to be. What the storm taught me was that I wasn’t worth sunshine (being loved). I didn’t deserve wide open spaces (freedom to be myself). I thought that I was a mistake; that with me, God had messed up. That’s just the way things were! It was just an unchangeable, immutable fact. All mankind can be saved… except me, because I’m not worth saving.

Having your eyes “un-blinded” is terrifying. You would think that seeing a world where good, beautiful, hopeful things exist would be welcome, but it’s not. It’s terrifying in its unfamiliarity. The implications for regret over living a life in fear (i.e., not knowing when the storm ended) are soul-crushing because it forces you to ask: “how long have I lived this way… and DIDN’T NEED too?!?”

This is the crossroads I am at in my life. I am looking at the immense and open world around me, seeing the hope and freedom it offers, but longing for the familiar storms to return. I am asking myself, “what do I do now? How will I survive a world I know nothing about? How do I begin to believe that I have worth, when I have never known worth?”

The "Santa Clause" Trauma

...and no, I'm not talking about the trauma of being forced to sit on a foul-breathed, fat, old stranger's lap while someone gets a photo op out of it...

I'm talking about movies.

It's funny how common it is for a Christmas movie to have the following premise: Child desperately wants something; Child asks Santa for it; Child doesn't get it; Disappointed child "grows up" in that instant and refuses to believe in Santa Clause. (Only to find out years later that he IS real and that their gift was delayed, but just what they needed, when they needed it, whether they recognized it or not... cue sleigh bells for a happy ending!!)

Which leads me to this question - what do you do when someone hurts you by what they DIDN'T do?

As in the case of so many Christmas movies, when a child does not receive what they expect to receive, it can be traumatic. It can shape that child's experience of the world and their fundamental beliefs about themselves in the world. This is especially true when the child has done all they know how to do to get their desire, even if all they know how to do is have hope, faith and belief.

I guess what I'm talking about here is a little more serious than a Christmas movie, but it's the principle of the analogy that I'm going for here.

How does a child grow up to believe in herself/himself when the actions of their own parent(s) say, "you aren't worth my time..."? A child naturally believes in the superiority of their own parents; even sees them as "god-like," in a way. Developmentally, a child doesn't have a mature sense of attribution of cause and effect. In essence they, themselves, are the cause of everything. For example, it's ridiculously common for a child to blame themselves for their parents divorce. For the child, there is no other possibility.

I think that could explain why so many people hurt themselves. And hurt could be anything from negative self-talk to actual physical harm, leading up to suicide. It could explain why some people have a hard time believing in themselves. Or why change is so hard for some people - their own parent(s) taught them that they aren't worth it.

While both of my parents were loving, or at least, did their best to be, my mom often served as an active critical influence (there are loads of reason's why, which I won't go in to...), and that has it's own type of trauma associated with it, but my dad was absent. It's not ironic that I write this today. Today is the anniversary of my dad's death, March 11, 2007. As I write this, I miss him, but I am also realizing that I've been "missing him" since childhood. He was kind; he was gentle; he never yelled or got violent - and I absolutely love and honor him for that. But I have more memories of seeing his back than his face. I have more memories of him retreating, or walking away, than I do of him coming toward me. I realized just today, while I was thinking about him, that I think I was able to let him go when my parents got divorced when I was 14 and I was able to let him go when he passed away 8 years ago when he died, because I had already had to let him go as a child - because he wasn't really there to begin with; at least, he just wasn't "present."

You can be in the same room as someone and say that you're "with" them, but if you aren't giving them your attention, you aren't really "with" them. You're near them - that's all. There were loads of times when my dad would come home on a Saturday evening and I would find out that he'd been out metal detecting, or rock hunting, or fishing, or whatever, and I'd think, "why didn't he take me with him?" I learned early on that my dad liked being alone. In fact, in those rare times when he did take me with him, I always felt like he didn't want me along. I knew that he'd rather be alone and that he had brought me along out of obligation. No child likes to feel that they're a duty.

I talked with him about that before he died and what he told me blew me away. He said he loved being with me, but he felt that I never wanted to be around him! Here we both were, thinking that the other didn't want the other around. As an adult, with a more mature sense of cause of effect, I can look back and see that he liked to be alone because that was what he knew. His own siblings had alienated him and I don't think he ever dealt with that resentment. But he learned to function in the world alone. I see now that his "absence" was just his own loneliness, but for me, as a child, I didn't see that - I couldn't see that. All I could see was that he pulled away from me because I wasn't enough to keep his attention. That was my "I don't believe in Santa Clause moment." But, what I really mean is, that was my "I don't believe in myself," moment. How could I believe in myself, when I wasn't even good enough for my own father's attention?

What happens to a kid with a fearful/critical mother, a present, but "absent" father - and don't forget to throw in some traumatic molestation for good measure? You get a kid who isn't able to see his own worth. You get a kid who thinks very little of himself. You get a kid who doesn't know why he's here or what his purpose in life is. You get a kid who gets involved in lots of addictions and self-defeating/self-harm behaviors. You get a kid who gets anxiety and depression, because he doesn't believe that he's worth being happy, or deserving of it. You get a kid who will do almost anything to avoid the pain of being himself.

I may not believe in Santa Clause, but I am starting to think it's a Christmas miracle that I'm still here...

Here is my plea to fathers: Please pay attention to your children! Please don't just be in the same room with them, give them your undivided attention!! Be interested in them. Ask them to share their thoughts and feelings and then listen/accept without judgment or criticism. Ask them what their interests are, or what their hopes and fears are. Put your arm around them and tell them they are loved. No, more than that, tell them that they are precious to you; that they are important to you and that you are proud of them. Console them when they are scared or lonely. Tell them that they are okay and that everything will be okay. Hug them tightly.

Just to be clear - I do love my father and I miss him terribly! But the disappointment I feel is real and I know that it will just take time to work that out. I look forward to the day when I can think of all the good my father did for me and not feel the hurt anymore.

Trauma

I want to write about Trauma. I’ve been thinking about this post for some time. Writing it, deleting it, writing it again, revising it, then deleting it, and so on. It’s not something that people talk about casually, and that’s appropriate. It’s a big topic – and an emotional one in most cases. But it IS something we should talk about.

Why? Because of all the trauma’s out there, the worst kind of trauma is “Silent Trauma.” The one that no one else sees. The one that buries itself deep inside the soul of the victim and sits there, menacing, dark and heavy. It isolates its victim and twists it into all sorts of knots, until the person feels like they’re going to turn inside out. It tears them up inside, minute by minute, second by second. It never goes away. It is ALWAYS there. Its voice is harsh, grating, and tireless. It is unrelenting. It is unforgiving. It thrives on secrecy and shame.

And you still have to get up in the morning and go to work. And you still have to smile and tell everyone that everything’s great, when you don’t mean it. And you still have to go to church and learn about how the gospel is supposed to fill your life with joy, except that you don’t believe that that really applies to you… Trauma, secrecy and shame make you a liar every single day.

Secrecy and shame are really the two best reasons to talk about trauma. Getting it out into the open and shedding the light of day on it allows a person to acknowledge that it’s there; to see it for what it is, and – hopefully – to be rid of it. The honest, thoughtful expression of trauma removes its secrecy and it gives the victim a chance to challenge the shame they feel for what they’ve experienced. It takes a great deal of courage to be that vulnerable.

I’m not saying that we should walk around dropping trauma bombs on people, willy nilly. That’s sort of “borderline personality disorder-ish.” We should have appropriate boundaries with people, but we should also be thoughtful about how we express it and maybe more importantly, who we express it to.

It should be someone you trust, but also someone whom you know truly cares about you. Once you can do that, there is a relief that comes that can’t be described. It may sound funny, but to express this secret shame and NOT die as a result, is honestly an empowering moment. It’s a feeling that says, “ I just did something unimaginably hard, and I’m still here – I’m ok.” Slowly, you begin to realize that, while whatever trauma you experienced hurt you, it didn’t kill you. That is a profound moment. I hope that others in that situation are able to feel what I felt – gratitude. But it’s more than just gratitude… ugh, words fail me here. It’s the beginning of a shift. It begins to take you from, “I hate you, God, for letting this happen to me,” to “thank you, God, for helping me survive this…”

I don’t mean to make this sound like a linear process, because it’s not. I didn’t move along a line from one belief to another, it’s more like a spiraling pendulum. I still have days where I pray and demand to know “why did you let this happen to me…? I was a good kid… I didn’t deserve this.” Then other days…? I don’t know, I guess I just feel like He’d scoop me up in His arms and hold me, and I’d just know that everything was going to be ok.

To be honest, I don’t know with 100% certainty what happened to me. I know that sounds ridiculous after what I’ve just described. But while I don’t have 100% certainty, I have very real emotions and flashes of memories. I know I was sexually traumatized at a young age, somewhere between the ages of 6 and 9. I don’t know who it was and I don’t know where it happened. Do I have my suspicions? Yes. But I’m not about to fling accusations around without having 100% certainty. I’m not going to run the risk of wrongfully accusing someone and casting aspersions on their character when there’s a chance I could be wrong.

So for the time being, I’m just going to express it here. Not because I need to, but because I want to. I’m tired of living with silent trauma. I’m tired of the secrecy that I feel every single day. I’m tired of living with the shame of something that happened to me. You can give me all the logical arguments you want – I already know “it wasn’t my fault,” “I didn’t choose this,” “I didn’t deserve this,” etc. But all the logic in the world isn’t going to replace the deep-seated secrecy and shame that I’ve lived with for roughly 30 years. Because the truth is, I DO feel like it was my fault. I DO feel like I could have avoided this if I had just been better. I don’t recall, but what if the Spirit warned me and I didn’t listen?  Then it WOULD be my fault, wouldn’t it? Because I was disobedient. Or because I wasn’t good enough. Or because I wasn’t worth protecting.

I’m just going to tell you right now, you can’t believe horrible things about yourself and have a good life. Because no matter what good happens, you don’t feel like you deserve it. No matter what blessings you receive, you don’t feel like you’re worth it. You don’t measure up and you never will. The judge has passed sentence and the result is immutable. You are defeated before you even begin. That doesn’t lend itself well to feelings of joy. It doesn’t make a relationship with God satisfying. It’s also not in harmony with the gospel of Jesus Christ.

All the more reason to encourage people to talk about trauma, to acknowledge that it’s there, and end its silent tyranny. To free yourself from shame and to begin to believe that you have worth, and that you are still good and that you do deserve to be happy. I know this shift hurts. It isn’t easy. Trauma will dig its claws in and refuse to let go. After a lifetime of being a victim, what am I without this trauma? What am I without the struggle to fight this trauma? What will I have without it? I may not like it, but it’s familiar; it’s comfortable and it’s how I learned to live my life. Without it, I don’t know who I am… and that’s terrifying.

This is where faith meets darkness.

I get scared because sometimes I don’t know which is stronger.

But I am tired of living a life of fear. Wasn’t there something about that in the movie Strictly Ballroom?!? “A life lived in fear is a life half lived!” or something like that? I know what a half-life feels like. Hell, I know what a quarter-life feels like!! And I don’t enjoy it. It hurts to see other people successful, and happy and pursuing their dreams, because I just look at them and think – why is that ok for them, but not for me? Why is it okay for other people to lose weight and be confident and feel good about themselves, but not me? Why do I have to live with this burden and they don’t? Why are they so blessed/special/better than me that they don’t have to have these burdens? That’s when I begin to feel like my life – no, my existence – is somehow wrong. It’s maybe why I have often felt that Jesus Christ has the power to save all mankind, but not me…

This is why trauma is insidious. It robs you of hope. It robs you of happiness and joy. It robs you of feeling able to change, let alone feeling worthy to change. It robs you of your identity. It keeps you stuck; stuck in misery, stuck in doubt, stuck in fear, shame, helplessness, hopelessness and so on. What is someone to do when they feel this way? I can tell you what I’ve felt and done. Sad, depressed, ugly, worthless, and a desire to avoid it all or make it go away, hence my love of pasta, pizza and every other comfort food out there! In my darkest times it made me feel like there was only one way out – suicide. I’ve never come close to committing suicide, but there were times in my life where I had decided it was the only option.  Times when I had decided that I just needed to find the right way to do it.

I don’t know why I’m still here, to be honest. I think I can do more than sympathize with people who attempt or actually complete suicide, because I know that darkness. I do know that the Spirit has intervened. I know that happened on at least one occasion. But it didn’t really take anything away. It didn’t change my past, it didn’t resolve what happened to me. I have gone through many rounds of counseling and I do thank God for every single person, whether therapist or co-survivor, that I’ve come in contact with. I have needed every single one of them.

Maybe we don’t talk about these things because they are so personal, or maybe we just don’t want anyone else to think we are damaged as badly as we are. I don’t know all the reasons and I certainly don’t pretend to understand every type of trauma out there. I know for a fact that many, many people go through, and have gone through, horrific things a thousand times worse that what I’ve been through. But only because these people have had the courage to talk about it. To open up and express it. I wish I had all the answers. I wish I had a program that could help people verbalize their trauma and help them move through it, but I don’t. All I have is what I went through. All I have is what I experienced. And all I can offer is a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. Maybe that’s all we really need. Maybe that’s all I’m asking for.