I'm at the V.A. hospital. It's always so heartbreaking here: all these guys with their wheelchairs, their prosthetics, their hollow eyes, and their sad faces. Broken bodies. Broken hearts. Broken minds.
I know I have problems. But I am truly blessed. Thank you, Jesus.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Monday, June 29, 2015
Joy Davidman on the Reality of Christ in our Lives
"For many contemporaries God has dwindled into a noble abstraction, a tendency of history, a goal of evolution; has thinned out into a concept useful for organizing world peace--a good thing as an idea. But not the Word made flesh, who died for us and rose again from the dead. Not a Personality that a man can feel any love for. And not, certainly, the eternal Lover who took the initiative and fell in love with us.
Is it shocking to think of God as a pursuing lover? Then Christianity is shocking. If we accept the supernatural only as something too weak and passive to interfere with the natural, we had best call ourselves materialists and be done with it--we shall gain in honesty what we lose in respectability. Here's a test to tell if your faith is anything more than faith-and-water. Suppose that tonight the Holy Spirit lifts you high into space, speaks a message to your conscience, then invisibly tucks you back into your safe little bed again. Will you consider the possibility that this experience is genuine? Or will you conclude at once that you must be crazy, and start yelling for a psychiatrist?"
-- Joy Davidman, Smoke on the Mountain
Is it shocking to think of God as a pursuing lover? Then Christianity is shocking. If we accept the supernatural only as something too weak and passive to interfere with the natural, we had best call ourselves materialists and be done with it--we shall gain in honesty what we lose in respectability. Here's a test to tell if your faith is anything more than faith-and-water. Suppose that tonight the Holy Spirit lifts you high into space, speaks a message to your conscience, then invisibly tucks you back into your safe little bed again. Will you consider the possibility that this experience is genuine? Or will you conclude at once that you must be crazy, and start yelling for a psychiatrist?"
-- Joy Davidman, Smoke on the Mountain
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Friday, June 26, 2015
Thursday, June 25, 2015
What Happened?
I've tried to convey here before the experience I had which changed me so dramatically. Or rather, that began the change in me. Because, although the initial change was dramatic and immediate, the transformation was not instantaneous: it was really only the beginning of a process. A process of learning how to live in the love he had put in me, and unlearning all my old ways. The process, in fact, in which you've all been accompanying me.
And that's the other reason for my intentionally brutal (to myself) honesty, both here and in my face-to-face relationships. He filled me with his love: I have to let it flow out to others: that requires me to be completely vulnerable. Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes it really sucks. It kills my pride and self-sufficiency, every day, one embarrassing revelation, one humbling act of unconditional love, at a time. Don't you think I'd rather have protected myself, feigned disinterest, played it cool, been aloof and dismissive about all this? Looked out for number one? Not let myself be responsible for other people's feelings? I know how to do all that. I know all too well: it's where I lived for a very long time. Don't you think I know, too, that all that self-assured aloofness is, ironically, somehow more attractive to women? I know. Again, I've been there.
But the love of God is more important than the admiration of women. It's more important than my comfort, my pride, and my identity. God told me "love", and so I love, no matter the consequences. I hope, and believe, that at some point he will bring me peace and joy in this life, and even love in return. But if not, I obey all the same, and continue to love. Because I don't do it for reward: I do it because of my love for him. And because I can't help it. Once you've experienced this supernatural, all-encompassing, overflowing Love of God, there's no going back. Or at least, if there is, it would be blasphemy and the road to damnation. Sometimes I feel so weak and beaten-up that I think I can't go on doing it. But somehow I always do. Sometimes I slip. No, often I slip. But I've got to keep coming back to it, because the Love of God is irresistible, in the end. And invaluable. "The Kingdom of Heaven is like a merchantman, seeking goodly pearls: Who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it." (Matt 13:45,46) I've found that pearl, and it is the Love of God, and I have traded, or rather am trading, all for it.
I've come across two other men, both teachers, who described having an experience like I had, and thought I'd let them give you their testimony. "Let everything be established by two witnesses."
This is what happened to me. This is why I am the way I am now, and not the way I used to be. Not that it's always going to be this intense. At least, I hope not. My belief, and this has been independently confirmed to me by others who have well-established history of serving and hearing from the Lord, is that what I'm in now is a time of preparation: that he's got big plans for me, and is making me who he needs me to be in order to accomplish them. I think that one day, hopefully not too far away, I'll get to that point about which Screwtape wrote to his nephew: “When He [God] talks of their losing their selves, He means only abandoning the clamour of self-will; once they have done that, He really gives them back all their personality, and boasts (I am afraid, sincerely) that when they are wholly His they will be more themselves than ever.”
And that's the other reason for my intentionally brutal (to myself) honesty, both here and in my face-to-face relationships. He filled me with his love: I have to let it flow out to others: that requires me to be completely vulnerable. Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes it really sucks. It kills my pride and self-sufficiency, every day, one embarrassing revelation, one humbling act of unconditional love, at a time. Don't you think I'd rather have protected myself, feigned disinterest, played it cool, been aloof and dismissive about all this? Looked out for number one? Not let myself be responsible for other people's feelings? I know how to do all that. I know all too well: it's where I lived for a very long time. Don't you think I know, too, that all that self-assured aloofness is, ironically, somehow more attractive to women? I know. Again, I've been there.
But the love of God is more important than the admiration of women. It's more important than my comfort, my pride, and my identity. God told me "love", and so I love, no matter the consequences. I hope, and believe, that at some point he will bring me peace and joy in this life, and even love in return. But if not, I obey all the same, and continue to love. Because I don't do it for reward: I do it because of my love for him. And because I can't help it. Once you've experienced this supernatural, all-encompassing, overflowing Love of God, there's no going back. Or at least, if there is, it would be blasphemy and the road to damnation. Sometimes I feel so weak and beaten-up that I think I can't go on doing it. But somehow I always do. Sometimes I slip. No, often I slip. But I've got to keep coming back to it, because the Love of God is irresistible, in the end. And invaluable. "The Kingdom of Heaven is like a merchantman, seeking goodly pearls: Who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it." (Matt 13:45,46) I've found that pearl, and it is the Love of God, and I have traded, or rather am trading, all for it.
I've come across two other men, both teachers, who described having an experience like I had, and thought I'd let them give you their testimony. "Let everything be established by two witnesses."
This is what happened to me. This is why I am the way I am now, and not the way I used to be. Not that it's always going to be this intense. At least, I hope not. My belief, and this has been independently confirmed to me by others who have well-established history of serving and hearing from the Lord, is that what I'm in now is a time of preparation: that he's got big plans for me, and is making me who he needs me to be in order to accomplish them. I think that one day, hopefully not too far away, I'll get to that point about which Screwtape wrote to his nephew: “When He [God] talks of their losing their selves, He means only abandoning the clamour of self-will; once they have done that, He really gives them back all their personality, and boasts (I am afraid, sincerely) that when they are wholly His they will be more themselves than ever.”
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Don't Fear The Reaper
This came on my ipod mix today, and I thought it would be apropos after the week I've had. lol
Easter Eggs
God sent me a gift yesterday. (Actually, he sent me two: I may tell you about the other one later.) You know those times, when you're struggling, and you just "accidentally" stumble upon the exact thing you need, like finding an Easter egg in the grass?
I've been pretty hard on myself about those years after my injuries, when I became grumpy, and angry, and withdrawn. Well, I'm hard on myself about everything; but I've been especially hard about that. I watched a movie last night about a woman with debilitating chronic pain after a serious accident. And as I watched, I saw myself during those years, dealing with the constant, terrible physical pain, the stress caused by the limitations it puts on your life, the anxiety it creates about your future, and the problems it causes in your relationships with other people.
Just a small example: we're talking about serious, constant pain here; and doctors legitimately prescribe drugs that were legitimately designed to help bear that pain. But no matter how careful you are with them, how conservatively you use them, how responsible you are about taking them, every time you go to get a refill or a re-write, or anything having to do with them, you get judged and treated like you're some kind of pathetic addict looking for a fix. Or, for another example, you'll be standing in a line, waiting to check in for something at a hospital or clinic. And it's killing you, standing there: just excruciating. And the clerk fools around, and dawdles, and ignores the patients, and talks on the phone. And finally, when you just can't bear it anymore, you try, as politely as you can manage in your pain-ridden and frustrated state, to say, "Could you wait on us so I can sit down, please?" But it just goes downhill from there. And somehow, it always ends up that it's your fault.
So after a while, between the never-ending pain, and the stress, and the frustrations, you end up changing. I mean, pain itself has an effect on your personality, even without all those other factors. Think about a time when you've been feeling awful: sick, or suffering a migraine, or whatever, and how hard it was to be kind and friendly to everyone around you.
So the gift that I received was seeing, from a different perspective, myself during those years. And I decided to forgive myself. Quit calling myself names, and beating myself up. I'm responsible for my actions: I'm not excusing them. I'm just forgiving them. I was a flawed man in a hard situation--that doesn't make me a horrible person.
So, thank you, Lord, for showing me this. For your forgiveness. And especially for all the changes you've made in my life: the healings, the treatments, the improved health and fitness, and the interior changes, so that I no longer have to live like that.
"The Lord is gracious, his mercy is everlasting, and his truth endureth to all generations." -- Psalm 100:5
I've been pretty hard on myself about those years after my injuries, when I became grumpy, and angry, and withdrawn. Well, I'm hard on myself about everything; but I've been especially hard about that. I watched a movie last night about a woman with debilitating chronic pain after a serious accident. And as I watched, I saw myself during those years, dealing with the constant, terrible physical pain, the stress caused by the limitations it puts on your life, the anxiety it creates about your future, and the problems it causes in your relationships with other people.
Just a small example: we're talking about serious, constant pain here; and doctors legitimately prescribe drugs that were legitimately designed to help bear that pain. But no matter how careful you are with them, how conservatively you use them, how responsible you are about taking them, every time you go to get a refill or a re-write, or anything having to do with them, you get judged and treated like you're some kind of pathetic addict looking for a fix. Or, for another example, you'll be standing in a line, waiting to check in for something at a hospital or clinic. And it's killing you, standing there: just excruciating. And the clerk fools around, and dawdles, and ignores the patients, and talks on the phone. And finally, when you just can't bear it anymore, you try, as politely as you can manage in your pain-ridden and frustrated state, to say, "Could you wait on us so I can sit down, please?" But it just goes downhill from there. And somehow, it always ends up that it's your fault.
So after a while, between the never-ending pain, and the stress, and the frustrations, you end up changing. I mean, pain itself has an effect on your personality, even without all those other factors. Think about a time when you've been feeling awful: sick, or suffering a migraine, or whatever, and how hard it was to be kind and friendly to everyone around you.
So the gift that I received was seeing, from a different perspective, myself during those years. And I decided to forgive myself. Quit calling myself names, and beating myself up. I'm responsible for my actions: I'm not excusing them. I'm just forgiving them. I was a flawed man in a hard situation--that doesn't make me a horrible person.
So, thank you, Lord, for showing me this. For your forgiveness. And especially for all the changes you've made in my life: the healings, the treatments, the improved health and fitness, and the interior changes, so that I no longer have to live like that.
"The Lord is gracious, his mercy is everlasting, and his truth endureth to all generations." -- Psalm 100:5
I feel...sane, for lack of a better word...again. Neither inexplicably elated nor crushed by hopelessness. And only now do I realize just how bad it was; now that I feel like myself again, I can see how unlike myself I've been. The literature on this drug talks about "depersonalization" and I guess that's what that was. I read one account of a man who had been on a high dose for a long time, and during his withdrawal, a doctor actually tried to diagnose him with schizophrenia, his symptoms were so bad, even though he'd never had any history of it nor has he had any indicators since.
Anyway, back to normalcy...or what passes for normalcy with me, anyway. :) Sorry again if I alarmed anyone or caused concern.
Sometimes I wonder whether my sharing pretty much everything here makes me appear weak. It may seem strange that I would want to be so...publicly intimate, I guess, to coin a phrase. But it really does help me: probably because I'm alone. The truth is, everyone has these doubts, and pains, and fears, and worries, and normally, these are the things that you'd talk about to the people who are close to you. Just the normal conversation of shared life; "I had this weird dream last night," or "I've just been feeling down today for some reason." When you're married, or living with your parents, or have roommates or friends or even co-workers who are part of your everyday life, or even, in my case, when my kids were older and still at home, you just share these things, get them out, and go on. But this blog and you who read it are all I've got at the moment. So thank you.
And it's actually an exercise in courage each time I do it. Every time I reveal something potentially embarrassing, I've got to get past the feelings of self-consciousness and pride. Sometimes I do it and then change my mind and delete it (and sometimes I realize I should take it back down for discretion's sake, or that something I wrote was insensitive or potentially hurtful to others). But I see other people do that too: people whose blogs I follow, who put something on there that makes them vulnerable, then take it back down when they get cold feet. I actually think more of them when they've got the guts to open up, but everyone's in a different place, and it's ok.
Well, it was another adventure, at least. And a learning experience. And another chance to draw closer to the Lord. Further up and Further in!
Anyway, back to normalcy...or what passes for normalcy with me, anyway. :) Sorry again if I alarmed anyone or caused concern.
Sometimes I wonder whether my sharing pretty much everything here makes me appear weak. It may seem strange that I would want to be so...publicly intimate, I guess, to coin a phrase. But it really does help me: probably because I'm alone. The truth is, everyone has these doubts, and pains, and fears, and worries, and normally, these are the things that you'd talk about to the people who are close to you. Just the normal conversation of shared life; "I had this weird dream last night," or "I've just been feeling down today for some reason." When you're married, or living with your parents, or have roommates or friends or even co-workers who are part of your everyday life, or even, in my case, when my kids were older and still at home, you just share these things, get them out, and go on. But this blog and you who read it are all I've got at the moment. So thank you.
And it's actually an exercise in courage each time I do it. Every time I reveal something potentially embarrassing, I've got to get past the feelings of self-consciousness and pride. Sometimes I do it and then change my mind and delete it (and sometimes I realize I should take it back down for discretion's sake, or that something I wrote was insensitive or potentially hurtful to others). But I see other people do that too: people whose blogs I follow, who put something on there that makes them vulnerable, then take it back down when they get cold feet. I actually think more of them when they've got the guts to open up, but everyone's in a different place, and it's ok.
Well, it was another adventure, at least. And a learning experience. And another chance to draw closer to the Lord. Further up and Further in!
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
No, it's got to be the drugs. I did some reading through forums and message boards, and it seems to be that the withdrawal effects continue for a while after it's reached its half-life in the bloodstream. Some people who've been on it a long time report symptoms of "Cymbalta Withdrawal Syndrome" up to six months after discontinuance. But most say that the worst passed within a week or ten days. Hopefully I'll fall into that latter category since I wasn't on it long. Sorry about that last post.
It's been three days, and it should be out of my system, but I'm feeling worse than ever. I'm wondering now if it's the medication, or if it's just reality finally sinking in: the reality of my total and utter aloneness. That I am, and always will be, completely alone. That, as one priest said to me not long ago "You're not special to them, and you never were," and that that applies not just to the people to whom he was referring, but to everyone I know. That no one really gives a damn whether I stay or go, live or die. And that I'm starting to realize that neither do I.
Sunday, June 21, 2015
I stopped taking this drug today, and apparently one of the symptoms of withdrawal from it is...yeah, suicidal thoughts. So here we've got an anti-depressant medication...that makes you want to kill yourself. And when you stop taking it...it makes you want to kill yourself. It's strange: I've been dealing with these kinds of thoughts since I was ten or eleven, but it was always just...feelings. How to describe it? It's always, before, been hopelessness and just wanting rest from the pain of life. But this is like it's coming from outside--there's an actual impulse to want to do the thing itself, not just a wish to be at peace. What kind of crazy drug is this?
Found this article on the very subject. Among lots of others.
Got Pain? Suicide-Linked Cymbalta May Be Right for You
Found this article on the very subject. Among lots of others.
Got Pain? Suicide-Linked Cymbalta May Be Right for You
"A 63-year-old man with no history of suicide attempts or ideation was similarly 'unable to explain why he was having thoughts of wanting to die,' say the authors, after becoming suicidal two weeks after being put on Cymbalta for fatigue, insomnia and sadness."
"Last January, a Texas man prescribed Cymbalta for peripheral neuropathy because of a job that required him to be on his feet all day with no history mental problems 'had a normal day at work, drove home, said he was going to grab a sandwich to his wife, and went and shot himself'.”Crazy. Apparently, there are now actual Crazy Pills. Why are they still prescribing this stuff?
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Duloxetine Depression
My doctor tried putting me on a new med for chronic pain. I guess the new thing is to use certain antidepressants for pain management, because the increase in norepinephrine and seratonin supposedly reduce the perceived level of pain. Anyway, I agreed to try it, even though I've refused to take any antidepressants for several years now, as they were a big part of what got me to the awful place I was in a few years ago. But as she described it, it sounded like it might be worth a shot.
What I got, however, was no noticeable change in pain, but a weird fog that both makes me tired and keeps me from sleeping. And a great sense of hopelessness and despair, along with bad dreams, confusion, and serious suicidal ideation, I mean, really, perilously serious. Last night was a bad night for the books.
It didn't occur to me until today that the medication was the cause of it--after all, it's not like I'm living a happy and joyful life here. So I took it again today, before I put it all together and did the research. Hopefully, the knowledge that it's drug-induced will get me through tonight, and the next couple of days until it gets out of my system. Kinda wish I had a friend nearby, though.
Oh well, whatever.
What I got, however, was no noticeable change in pain, but a weird fog that both makes me tired and keeps me from sleeping. And a great sense of hopelessness and despair, along with bad dreams, confusion, and serious suicidal ideation, I mean, really, perilously serious. Last night was a bad night for the books.
It didn't occur to me until today that the medication was the cause of it--after all, it's not like I'm living a happy and joyful life here. So I took it again today, before I put it all together and did the research. Hopefully, the knowledge that it's drug-induced will get me through tonight, and the next couple of days until it gets out of my system. Kinda wish I had a friend nearby, though.
Oh well, whatever.
Friday, June 19, 2015
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Vulnerasti Cor Meum
There is no bond more profound or powerful than that formed by two souls who have entered together into true worship of the Holy Trinity. And there is no worship that touches both Heaven and the human heart as deeply and sweetly as sacred music. Such a bond is indissoluble, because it is formed in, by, and through Him who does not change.
“The aim and final end of all music should be none other than the glory of God and the refreshment of the soul.” -- Johann Sebastian Bach
“The aim and final end of all music should be none other than the glory of God and the refreshment of the soul.” -- Johann Sebastian Bach
God Only Knows
People are always talking about what a masterpiece Pet Sounds was, but I've never actually sat down and listened to the whole thing before. Ok, they're right. "Greatest album ever" might be a bit much, but it's pretty great.
Friday, June 12, 2015
Judgments
I've been thinking a lot about the judgments that have been made against me over the last several years. And how false they are, and how much damage they've done.
It was revealed to me recently just how strong a grip one in particular still has on my heart--the one that I'm the kind of guy who would try to force his affections on a woman, or harass her, or stalk her, or...I can barely form the words...actually intend to hurt her. I won't go into the details of how I came to see this, but I saw clearly, in a moment, how completely this shattered me when it first happened and, more importantly, the power it still has over me. And when I saw it, I sort of had a meltdown. And so now I'm trying to deal with it.
And in so doing, I want to set the record straight. I know I make mistakes. God, do I know that. But I am NOT that guy. The mistakes I've made have come from trying too hard to be sensitive, considerate, and kind, ironically. Especially the second time. The things I said and did which appeared strange were my frantic attempts to prevent that very thing from happening. That judgment that was placed on me at grad school created this crippling fear in my heart, and out of that fear proceeded my desperation for it not to happen again, especially with those to whom I had completely opened my heart, and out of that desperation proceeded my odd-seeming behavior. Not an attempt to manipulate, coerce, or annoy her into loving me (how ridiculous that would be), but a desperate plea not to do that to me again. Not to reject me, as a person. I was terrified.
Anyway, what I'm here to say now is that none of it is true. NONE OF IT IS TRUE. As God is my witness. The idea that I could be the kind of man who would try to force a woman's affections, or, as I was accused by her father, to disregard her volition and free will, is so utterly repulsive to me that it makes me physically ill.
Here's what kind of man I really am:
I am the kind of man who would marry a woman whom he clearly sees is bad for him, because she needs him. In other words, who would lay his own life down for her and for a child not his own, completely disregarding his own welfare.
I am the kind of man who would drive across town in the middle of the night to help a woman whom he's only met once, because her daughter found his phone number on the refrigerator when her mother got sick, and spend all night there taking care of them. And not try to take advantage of her.
I am the kind of man who, when a woman with whom he had a first date scheduled got in a car accident, would change his plans, go grocery shopping, rent a movie, and drive two hours to her house to cook her dinner and take care of her. And not try to take advantage of her.
I am the kind of man who can share a bed with a beautiful woman, and keep his hands off her. Or just hold her.
I am the kind of man who can, after having been divorced and alone for over ten years, forego the clear invitation of a very attractive and much younger woman to physical intimacy, because he sees she is hurt and vulnerable from a recent breakup, and has been drinking, and has more regard for her as a person than as an object.
I am the kind of man who can raise two daughters to be strong, kind, good, and independent-minded women who don't seek their self-worth through relationships with guys. And who, even as teenagers and into their twenties, trust and respect him enough to confide their hurts and secrets to him.
I am the kind of man who, even when he has been hurt as badly as I have by a woman, doesn't turn to cursing and raillery, but continues to do his best to love and respect her.
I am the kind of man who will help his ex-wife move, when she's divorcing the guy with whom she was shacked up within a month of their separation, before they'd even filed for divorce. And who, rather than gloating, will tell her, "I'm sorry. I had hoped you'd find happiness." And really mean it.
I am the kind of man to whom a woman friend can turn with her most intimate secrets, of which she feels most ashamed, knowing that he will love her and not judge her.
I am the kind of man who would actually, literally, physically lay his life down for a woman he has never met. And would actively seek out opportunities to do so. Who would go against the scorn and disapproval of his peers, the establishment, and all respectability, and risk the wrath of the most dangerous organized crime on earth, to rescue girls he doesn't know and never will from sex slavery.
I am the kind of man who buys food, warm clothes, and a train ticket home for a woman he doesn't know, who's been living on the street since fleeing her abusive husband.
I am the kind of man who would rather not have a relationship with the woman he most loves in the universe, and even lose her friendship for himself, than to purposefully deceive, mislead, or manipulate her in any way: even in the ways which are common and acceptable by normal societal standards. Because he respects her that much.
I am the kind of man who, even after he has been rejected, abused, accused, and despised by a woman, would keep quietly supporting her in her life and career. Who would buy tickets to events he's never going to attend, and talk her up to other people at every opportunity.
In fact, I'm the kind of man who, when he talks about the woman he loves to other women, makes them say, "Wow. She is so lucky. I wish someone loved me like that."
I'm the kind of man who, when he told a woman who's known him for many years, who's been alone with him and "in his power" many times, that the very first thing a girl's father had done was to accuse him of having only a sexual interest in his daughter; of "not thinking past the wedding night", caused that friend to laugh, and say "Boy, has he got the wrong guy. He picked the one guy on the face of the earth about whom that is least true."
I'm the kind of man whom another longtime female friend accused of being a feminist, lol. Meaning no harm, of course: she intended it as a compliment, because she knew me to have such a high regard for women.
I am the kind of man to whom a friend would turn when she has been raped. And to whom she would say, "The only thing keeping me going is knowing that there are men like you out there."
And I am an imperfect man. A man who struggles with sin, and fear, and insecurity, and self-doubt. But who always, always, always, tries his best to do the right thing, in the end, no matter what it costs him or how much it hurts.
It was revealed to me recently just how strong a grip one in particular still has on my heart--the one that I'm the kind of guy who would try to force his affections on a woman, or harass her, or stalk her, or...I can barely form the words...actually intend to hurt her. I won't go into the details of how I came to see this, but I saw clearly, in a moment, how completely this shattered me when it first happened and, more importantly, the power it still has over me. And when I saw it, I sort of had a meltdown. And so now I'm trying to deal with it.
And in so doing, I want to set the record straight. I know I make mistakes. God, do I know that. But I am NOT that guy. The mistakes I've made have come from trying too hard to be sensitive, considerate, and kind, ironically. Especially the second time. The things I said and did which appeared strange were my frantic attempts to prevent that very thing from happening. That judgment that was placed on me at grad school created this crippling fear in my heart, and out of that fear proceeded my desperation for it not to happen again, especially with those to whom I had completely opened my heart, and out of that desperation proceeded my odd-seeming behavior. Not an attempt to manipulate, coerce, or annoy her into loving me (how ridiculous that would be), but a desperate plea not to do that to me again. Not to reject me, as a person. I was terrified.
Anyway, what I'm here to say now is that none of it is true. NONE OF IT IS TRUE. As God is my witness. The idea that I could be the kind of man who would try to force a woman's affections, or, as I was accused by her father, to disregard her volition and free will, is so utterly repulsive to me that it makes me physically ill.
Here's what kind of man I really am:
I am the kind of man who would marry a woman whom he clearly sees is bad for him, because she needs him. In other words, who would lay his own life down for her and for a child not his own, completely disregarding his own welfare.
I am the kind of man who would drive across town in the middle of the night to help a woman whom he's only met once, because her daughter found his phone number on the refrigerator when her mother got sick, and spend all night there taking care of them. And not try to take advantage of her.
I am the kind of man who, when a woman with whom he had a first date scheduled got in a car accident, would change his plans, go grocery shopping, rent a movie, and drive two hours to her house to cook her dinner and take care of her. And not try to take advantage of her.
I am the kind of man who can share a bed with a beautiful woman, and keep his hands off her. Or just hold her.
I am the kind of man who can, after having been divorced and alone for over ten years, forego the clear invitation of a very attractive and much younger woman to physical intimacy, because he sees she is hurt and vulnerable from a recent breakup, and has been drinking, and has more regard for her as a person than as an object.
I am the kind of man who can raise two daughters to be strong, kind, good, and independent-minded women who don't seek their self-worth through relationships with guys. And who, even as teenagers and into their twenties, trust and respect him enough to confide their hurts and secrets to him.
I am the kind of man who, even when he has been hurt as badly as I have by a woman, doesn't turn to cursing and raillery, but continues to do his best to love and respect her.
I am the kind of man who will help his ex-wife move, when she's divorcing the guy with whom she was shacked up within a month of their separation, before they'd even filed for divorce. And who, rather than gloating, will tell her, "I'm sorry. I had hoped you'd find happiness." And really mean it.
I am the kind of man to whom a woman friend can turn with her most intimate secrets, of which she feels most ashamed, knowing that he will love her and not judge her.
I am the kind of man who would actually, literally, physically lay his life down for a woman he has never met. And would actively seek out opportunities to do so. Who would go against the scorn and disapproval of his peers, the establishment, and all respectability, and risk the wrath of the most dangerous organized crime on earth, to rescue girls he doesn't know and never will from sex slavery.
I am the kind of man who buys food, warm clothes, and a train ticket home for a woman he doesn't know, who's been living on the street since fleeing her abusive husband.
I am the kind of man who would rather not have a relationship with the woman he most loves in the universe, and even lose her friendship for himself, than to purposefully deceive, mislead, or manipulate her in any way: even in the ways which are common and acceptable by normal societal standards. Because he respects her that much.
I am the kind of man who, even after he has been rejected, abused, accused, and despised by a woman, would keep quietly supporting her in her life and career. Who would buy tickets to events he's never going to attend, and talk her up to other people at every opportunity.
In fact, I'm the kind of man who, when he talks about the woman he loves to other women, makes them say, "Wow. She is so lucky. I wish someone loved me like that."
I'm the kind of man who, when he told a woman who's known him for many years, who's been alone with him and "in his power" many times, that the very first thing a girl's father had done was to accuse him of having only a sexual interest in his daughter; of "not thinking past the wedding night", caused that friend to laugh, and say "Boy, has he got the wrong guy. He picked the one guy on the face of the earth about whom that is least true."
I'm the kind of man whom another longtime female friend accused of being a feminist, lol. Meaning no harm, of course: she intended it as a compliment, because she knew me to have such a high regard for women.
I am the kind of man to whom a friend would turn when she has been raped. And to whom she would say, "The only thing keeping me going is knowing that there are men like you out there."
And I am an imperfect man. A man who struggles with sin, and fear, and insecurity, and self-doubt. But who always, always, always, tries his best to do the right thing, in the end, no matter what it costs him or how much it hurts.
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Unconsidered Words
I've realized that some of the things I've written sound like judgment and condemnation when I meant to speak them in the context of love and forgiveness, and I want to apologize. Often things come out sounding differently than we meant them in our heads, and very often too, we speak out of our fear and pain. I was writing about my own thoughts and feelings, and still struggling with trying to understand what has happened. Forgive me if I spoke too harshly. There is no condemnation: people make mistakes, even the very best people, which, to me, you are. I love you and think the world of you.
Monday, June 8, 2015
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Dating?
I'm meeting a lot of women these days, as I get healthier. And I'm thinking about taking up dating. I've never been much of a dater; it kinda seems like the worst way to get to know someone; but falling in love with my friends hasn't exactly worked out well for me.
And it especially seems to me that it wouldn't really be right or honest of me to lead some girl to believe there might be a real future with me. But on the other hand, it would help fill the void in my heart and ease my mind. And pass the interminable empty time.
What do my lady friends think? Would you feel misled if a man asked you out and then you later learned that his heart was unavailable? Or is there really such a thing as casual dating? I mean, obviously I'm going to be honest and up-front about it because that's who I am. But I can't just say, "Hi, wanna have dinner? By the way, I'll never love again."
And it especially seems to me that it wouldn't really be right or honest of me to lead some girl to believe there might be a real future with me. But on the other hand, it would help fill the void in my heart and ease my mind. And pass the interminable empty time.
What do my lady friends think? Would you feel misled if a man asked you out and then you later learned that his heart was unavailable? Or is there really such a thing as casual dating? I mean, obviously I'm going to be honest and up-front about it because that's who I am. But I can't just say, "Hi, wanna have dinner? By the way, I'll never love again."
Ray LaMontagne - Empty
Well I looked my demons in the eye,
Laid bare my chest, said 'Do your best, destroy me.'
You see I've been to Hell and back so many times
I must admit you kinda bore me.
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