From the Gut
My son, Michael, is taking his scuba class this week and next week I'm driving him to So. Cal. to dive off Catalina next week (I hope). I haven't travelled much, but I know no place I love more than the Island. A few days in the sea does wonders for my constant tension. And this is a very cool father/son activity. Mike spends the summer with his dad in Long Beach, and this will be my last chance to spend time with him for about another month when we'll dive again off Cat.
I hardly have time to blog, and yet I need to. I'm actually typing while my son is next to me taking his scuba final.
Hardly two weeks ago I didn't even have a blog, and then I thought blogging would be fun as I babbled about fitness and whatever else for my readership of one: scooter, my old friend who was also blogging. Now I'm linked at Colors of Long Beach. Wow. I'm very flattered, but so many feelings have come pouring up, like burning water. You see Dave works at the church where, as I used to say, 'I was married and divorced' and where I spent nearly a decade of my life (not including the junior high, which I also attended). Perhaps what I have to say is an overlong comment to his posts, but since it really is about me here goes:
I read (June 7 2004) how he went with his wife to the beach and played her new songs he wrote and they talked about spiritual goals for the year and tears filled my eyes. I don't know remember where Jonah was going when he was ditching Nineva, but let me tell you it's a long way back.
That's not really fair to me, though, I recant. The fact is I exchanged a surface faith for a genuine one, and though I spent much more effort on that process than would seem necessary, I found closure. A bit sadly, my faith still relies more on intellectual delivery (what a term) than experiential faith derived from actual moments of Grace. But I know that, and that's something. As I said at the outset, the intellectual whirlwinds I undergo as part of my faith are a gift and curse, a strength and a weakness. And I have barely begun to share them.
But what I would like to say now is that my marriage at this moment is hard, or that marriage is hard for me. Intimacy is hard. Accepting my spouse with all her human flaws is very hard. It's not always like this, but it is this week, maybe this month. Parenting is a constant challenge, though it's easier than having a spouse because my son (thank God, my wife, and myself) was raised in a drastically different environment than mine. But I want to feel close to my wife again. The bottom line is I had a very, very critical, shaming and raging-rigid mother (with some very strange religious ideas as well) and an absent, passive/aggressive, depressed father. And then my parents split, when I stayed with my dad and he really went to pieces. Those early experiences with my mother have colored me in radical ways: multiple phobias, perfectionism to an extraordinary degree, near constant anxiety/tension (what disaster is about to fall?) and a sense of never being good enough, never. I know that's some deep shit, but grab a shovel and dig with me.
And my wife, naturally, has issues as well from her upbringing (which included some strange religion also). We clash (usually silently) over stupid things: cleaning the bathroom, cooking dinner, whatever. Sometimes bigger things. We both need to be nurtured more than either of us can nurture, and I strive to be superman on the outside while I victim-style on the inside. As I said earlier, I am rarely relaxed. And my critical apparatus, though almost always silent and kept to myself, is withering. And my anger. I'm not nearly as angry as I used to be, but I tend to hold it in and ruminate and obsess. I can even feel anger behind the language in some of these posts (a constructive release I'd say). Finally, I can hardly take any criticism of any kind because it activates my mother's relentless voice. Yeah, things are a bit challenging right now. Oh, I need a single-malt. Just kidding.
I didn't plan to write so transparently. There are people in my past I don't want to read this; this is after all the Web (one of the reasons I don't use a last name here; google has eyes like Apollo) and also my wife wants to read my blog to feel closer to me. Hi honey; you are the most welcome guest here. But I, we, don't have the support up here we had in Long Beach either, and sharing on the blog helps. And it seems like an honest complement to other things I've said; again, anyone looking to read a together Christian needs to look elsewhere; I yam what I yam.
Digressive recollection: I remember when I was in Campus Crusade. We had the Four Spiritual Laws and the Spirit-Filled Life tracts (what my campus director called San Berdu Gold and San Berdu Blue; hey, it was 1985). And in the Four Laws book there was this little circle which showed self on the throne and Christ ouside the box and all the little dots which represented areas of one's life were skewed; then (after conversion) Jesus was on the throne and all the little dots were balanced. Of course, the Spirit Filled Life book had the circles too, and it showed how most Christians had self on the throne and the little dots were still all bejeezed. Even then I thought it was ironic: just how does one get all the little dots aligned? Well, I am convinved mine never will be. Maybe I should call my blog 'asymmetrical dots.' But Crusade has done too much good to take even a side shot like that.
I want to read some poems for my wife and talk to her about spiritual goals, too. That is the center of this entire post, the thesis. I can't even imagine that kind of maturity; well now I can. We did start a small group bible study at a friend's using the African method: it works nicely, is very egalitarian, and we get to pray for the person next to us. A few kind and sincere words can move either of us to tears. But our relationship has changed so much in eight years; the party-days honeymoon is way over, and I'm having a hard time making the shift.
Unfortunately there's more: yes, I'm in therapy; truth is I've spent years there with several therapists wth good and very bad outcomes. I have a history of depression, which is largely in remission (I would probably hardly slide out of the 'normal' range on that one anymore; should have seen me ten years ago), but I still have OCD, Obessive Compulsive Disorder, and it is an uber-bitch (sorry for the gender-slanted term, it just fits). I've had it since grade school but of course had no idea. Within the past year I had bad reactions to several of the new meds for OCD after long resisting trying them; and I'm now doing ERP, or exposure response prevention, which really can work just as well though it takes time and lots of work. The cause of my OCD is no mystery to me, though the medical community flails over this and there is no definitive answer. I am fairly confident in my case: la madre (though evidence is strong that once OCD is entrenched a biological component appears, and a biological component may be present at birth; yet this component can be minimized or perhaps even changed). Whatever the cause, my disease puts strain on my relationship of a special kind: most men with OCD never marry. At our core I think neither my wife nor I is a quitter; we love each other despite all our anger and fear, and the ERP is clearly helping, still...meet the thorn in my side, OCD.
And now for a final, and seemingly unrelated, topic (the gut is non-rational). In one sense I envy Evangelicals: I cannot accept the Bible as inerrant for important reasons (again, I could be wrong) but how simple life appears when one reveres the book. Oh, here's a verse: issue solved. This book is God's complete plan, the vox dei. It's like parents choosing the spouse. Though perhaps it is true God works through the Bible with evangelicals the same way he does me when I read it; I just take what jives with Christ's character and leave the rest. Of course I have to read it.
I was asked to lector (read scripture) in church Sunday though I don't think it was my day, and I read that passage in Isaiah where he enters the throne room and sees the seraphim and has his lips burned with a coal. And when God asks him who to send, he says, 'Here am I, send me.' I've often felt a special presence when I read in church, and this passage was no exception. How do I understand that vision as the skeptic I am? Did it really happen to Isaiah? Or is it metaphorical? It ultimately doesn't matter because that verse resonates for me and its illustrative purpose is clear.
So I'm not immune to scripture, I simply have to avoid old error: academic study yields little when it bypasses personal need. And I have a lot of need. Wish I didn't. Wish I were super together and happy, the cover boy for Christianity
Today, but I've been crawling out of chaos, really, for fifteen years, and I'm still crawling.
I will say, that for all my issues, anyone who looks at my life from the outside is in awe: they'll see a beautiful, loyal and loving wife, a home in the Sierra, a one-in-a-million son, a job where I go to work two days a week and take summers off, a guy with intellectual and even physical gifts. But oh boy. That's not how I feel. I'm working ahead, what else can I do? I'm trusting Christ to affect change and to help me accept what I can't change.
But this is long enough. Feel free to skim, O readers. And as I'm editing this post a few days later, I do feel better. That's how it works. Thanks for quick prayers.
t
I hardly have time to blog, and yet I need to. I'm actually typing while my son is next to me taking his scuba final.
Hardly two weeks ago I didn't even have a blog, and then I thought blogging would be fun as I babbled about fitness and whatever else for my readership of one: scooter, my old friend who was also blogging. Now I'm linked at Colors of Long Beach. Wow. I'm very flattered, but so many feelings have come pouring up, like burning water. You see Dave works at the church where, as I used to say, 'I was married and divorced' and where I spent nearly a decade of my life (not including the junior high, which I also attended). Perhaps what I have to say is an overlong comment to his posts, but since it really is about me here goes:
I read (June 7 2004) how he went with his wife to the beach and played her new songs he wrote and they talked about spiritual goals for the year and tears filled my eyes. I don't know remember where Jonah was going when he was ditching Nineva, but let me tell you it's a long way back.
That's not really fair to me, though, I recant. The fact is I exchanged a surface faith for a genuine one, and though I spent much more effort on that process than would seem necessary, I found closure. A bit sadly, my faith still relies more on intellectual delivery (what a term) than experiential faith derived from actual moments of Grace. But I know that, and that's something. As I said at the outset, the intellectual whirlwinds I undergo as part of my faith are a gift and curse, a strength and a weakness. And I have barely begun to share them.
But what I would like to say now is that my marriage at this moment is hard, or that marriage is hard for me. Intimacy is hard. Accepting my spouse with all her human flaws is very hard. It's not always like this, but it is this week, maybe this month. Parenting is a constant challenge, though it's easier than having a spouse because my son (thank God, my wife, and myself) was raised in a drastically different environment than mine. But I want to feel close to my wife again. The bottom line is I had a very, very critical, shaming and raging-rigid mother (with some very strange religious ideas as well) and an absent, passive/aggressive, depressed father. And then my parents split, when I stayed with my dad and he really went to pieces. Those early experiences with my mother have colored me in radical ways: multiple phobias, perfectionism to an extraordinary degree, near constant anxiety/tension (what disaster is about to fall?) and a sense of never being good enough, never. I know that's some deep shit, but grab a shovel and dig with me.
And my wife, naturally, has issues as well from her upbringing (which included some strange religion also). We clash (usually silently) over stupid things: cleaning the bathroom, cooking dinner, whatever. Sometimes bigger things. We both need to be nurtured more than either of us can nurture, and I strive to be superman on the outside while I victim-style on the inside. As I said earlier, I am rarely relaxed. And my critical apparatus, though almost always silent and kept to myself, is withering. And my anger. I'm not nearly as angry as I used to be, but I tend to hold it in and ruminate and obsess. I can even feel anger behind the language in some of these posts (a constructive release I'd say). Finally, I can hardly take any criticism of any kind because it activates my mother's relentless voice. Yeah, things are a bit challenging right now. Oh, I need a single-malt. Just kidding.
I didn't plan to write so transparently. There are people in my past I don't want to read this; this is after all the Web (one of the reasons I don't use a last name here; google has eyes like Apollo) and also my wife wants to read my blog to feel closer to me. Hi honey; you are the most welcome guest here. But I, we, don't have the support up here we had in Long Beach either, and sharing on the blog helps. And it seems like an honest complement to other things I've said; again, anyone looking to read a together Christian needs to look elsewhere; I yam what I yam.
Digressive recollection: I remember when I was in Campus Crusade. We had the Four Spiritual Laws and the Spirit-Filled Life tracts (what my campus director called San Berdu Gold and San Berdu Blue; hey, it was 1985). And in the Four Laws book there was this little circle which showed self on the throne and Christ ouside the box and all the little dots which represented areas of one's life were skewed; then (after conversion) Jesus was on the throne and all the little dots were balanced. Of course, the Spirit Filled Life book had the circles too, and it showed how most Christians had self on the throne and the little dots were still all bejeezed. Even then I thought it was ironic: just how does one get all the little dots aligned? Well, I am convinved mine never will be. Maybe I should call my blog 'asymmetrical dots.' But Crusade has done too much good to take even a side shot like that.
I want to read some poems for my wife and talk to her about spiritual goals, too. That is the center of this entire post, the thesis. I can't even imagine that kind of maturity; well now I can. We did start a small group bible study at a friend's using the African method: it works nicely, is very egalitarian, and we get to pray for the person next to us. A few kind and sincere words can move either of us to tears. But our relationship has changed so much in eight years; the party-days honeymoon is way over, and I'm having a hard time making the shift.
Unfortunately there's more: yes, I'm in therapy; truth is I've spent years there with several therapists wth good and very bad outcomes. I have a history of depression, which is largely in remission (I would probably hardly slide out of the 'normal' range on that one anymore; should have seen me ten years ago), but I still have OCD, Obessive Compulsive Disorder, and it is an uber-bitch (sorry for the gender-slanted term, it just fits). I've had it since grade school but of course had no idea. Within the past year I had bad reactions to several of the new meds for OCD after long resisting trying them; and I'm now doing ERP, or exposure response prevention, which really can work just as well though it takes time and lots of work. The cause of my OCD is no mystery to me, though the medical community flails over this and there is no definitive answer. I am fairly confident in my case: la madre (though evidence is strong that once OCD is entrenched a biological component appears, and a biological component may be present at birth; yet this component can be minimized or perhaps even changed). Whatever the cause, my disease puts strain on my relationship of a special kind: most men with OCD never marry. At our core I think neither my wife nor I is a quitter; we love each other despite all our anger and fear, and the ERP is clearly helping, still...meet the thorn in my side, OCD.
And now for a final, and seemingly unrelated, topic (the gut is non-rational). In one sense I envy Evangelicals: I cannot accept the Bible as inerrant for important reasons (again, I could be wrong) but how simple life appears when one reveres the book. Oh, here's a verse: issue solved. This book is God's complete plan, the vox dei. It's like parents choosing the spouse. Though perhaps it is true God works through the Bible with evangelicals the same way he does me when I read it; I just take what jives with Christ's character and leave the rest. Of course I have to read it.
I was asked to lector (read scripture) in church Sunday though I don't think it was my day, and I read that passage in Isaiah where he enters the throne room and sees the seraphim and has his lips burned with a coal. And when God asks him who to send, he says, 'Here am I, send me.' I've often felt a special presence when I read in church, and this passage was no exception. How do I understand that vision as the skeptic I am? Did it really happen to Isaiah? Or is it metaphorical? It ultimately doesn't matter because that verse resonates for me and its illustrative purpose is clear.
So I'm not immune to scripture, I simply have to avoid old error: academic study yields little when it bypasses personal need. And I have a lot of need. Wish I didn't. Wish I were super together and happy, the cover boy for Christianity
Today, but I've been crawling out of chaos, really, for fifteen years, and I'm still crawling.
I will say, that for all my issues, anyone who looks at my life from the outside is in awe: they'll see a beautiful, loyal and loving wife, a home in the Sierra, a one-in-a-million son, a job where I go to work two days a week and take summers off, a guy with intellectual and even physical gifts. But oh boy. That's not how I feel. I'm working ahead, what else can I do? I'm trusting Christ to affect change and to help me accept what I can't change.
But this is long enough. Feel free to skim, O readers. And as I'm editing this post a few days later, I do feel better. That's how it works. Thanks for quick prayers.
t
Comments
Thanks for the post. I've got a shovel too, if that helps. I can understand from my own perspective some of things you are writing about. You are not in this alone. Be assured I'm praying for you and myself. Peace.
Mike Marano
I know you stated that your intent was never to be quite so transparent, but that very transparency is what draws me to pore over your every post. I'll bring along my wide-bladed snow shovel and a pickaxe, too.
scooter