The VERY CHRISTIAN Family Upbringing & Its Potential Child Curse

Ultra-Christian families, based on my experience, are typically those who homeschool their children.  At least this seems to be the case in the Deep South.  I realize there're homeschooling families in other parts of the country (& certainly even in the Deep South) who're not necessarily wanting to quarantine their children from heretical influence.  Instead, they're simply interested in a "superior educational experience" (their words).  But all-in-all, this doesn't seem to be the case here. 

I'd never spent any time with homeschooling families 'till Angie and I reproduced (almost two decades ago).  And it was only through my wife that I came to first rub shoulders with these folks.  Angie had started a "playtime" club for new moms, and it was this club that broadened our horizons therein.

During my wife's first pregnancy, she began reading books on homeschooling, and I was fully supportive of this.  Being a contrarian, I saw no harm in it.  But then, once our oldest was close to school-age, we began engaging directly with the homeschooling community (here in the Jackson Metro) via their formal, hyper-Christianized activities.  Immediately, there was a strident sense to bolt from the premises, and it all came down to feeling ultra-Christian (which I am most definitely NOT).

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Angie and I were both educated within private schools.  I attended Madison-Ridgeland Academy K-12, and she attended both a private Presbyterian elementary school in Hattiesburg + Jackson Academy for middle / high school.  Our parents chose this route in order to segregate us from black children.  Plain & simple.  But too, Angie folks wanted her rubbing shoulders with offspring of rich folks as well (Jackson Academy).    

My experience therein was terrible.  Not only was my overall education paltry at MRA, but the lack of diversity (there were only 45 in my class) within the school was stifling.  Angie's experience was far better, and this was mainly because Jackson Academy's approach to educating white children was far more serious (many of the parents of her classmates were prominent attorneys / doctors with high expectations for their children).

We've chosen suburban public schools to educate our three little sinners, and we've no regrets.  Primarily, we did so because

 -  public schools are free of charge

 -  we believe strongly in integration (diverse community within our community)

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My heart hurts for children who're reared within ultra-Christian households who then set off into the world worse-off for it.  And obviously, this isn't an across-the-board occurrence, but it does happen.  Often.

A lot of off-the-cuff criticism of homeschooling has to do with children being starved of the socialization construct.  I've not witnessed that to be the case.  Instead, what I've seen is a deep-seated identity crisis within these guys because too much emphasis was placed on they themselves whilst growing up.

In other words, it's as if homeschooled children are cursed to live out the life of only children (no siblings) even if they're members of sizable families.  

And I can speak to that because I am an only child.

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To summarize and speaking solely from my experience as an only child, the curse of being an only is anchored in the word assumption.  Assumption based on observation / familiarity.  

Parents typically do not want to "cover their children's bases" (assume the worst) because this is the hard part of being a parent.  Instead, and especially if the child is a well-oiled component of the cooperative (only or homeschooled child), they'd rather assume (erring on the "for the best").  But as we all know, assumptions - particularly those made about those we love - are often just "manifestations of affirmative thinking" versus reality.

Too, parents of only children, I'm convinced, are essentially cursed.  Cursed to never accurately remember their own stupidity (stupid is a verb) in childhood.  It's as if that part of their existence becomes a massive blind spot unless / until they reproduce (at least) once more.

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Last weekend during the 2022 National Samson Society retreat, I met a lot of Samson guys who I've grown to admire within the virtual Samson Society group "Make Thursdays Great Again".  One of these had shared - in writing - his story with me this past Spring.  After reading that precious work, he and I chatted once (dialoguing specifically about his story) and from there, continued on within our communal (virtual / long-distance) friendship.  But after meeting him face-to-face last weekend (& subsequently re-reading his story yesterday), my mind was blown relative to how much I actually missed during my first-time through.

This was eye-opening due to how integral it was that I actually meet this Samson guy in order to see him more fully.  Especially considering his taking the time to share his written story with me months prior to last weekend.  

And this metaphorically points back to the curse.  

It was my assuming based in well-oiled componentry (virtual meetings) that successfully diluted my attention to character detail.  For I simply could not see this Samson guy 'till I met him face-to-face.  

So, I suppose another analogy to my homeschooled scenario is sort-of a Brady Bunch (Zoom) family in lieu of a real one.     

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Samson Society is by no means queued up for ultra-Christian men, and I'm so grateful for that.  And this is because in order to be part of the community, you are expected to lead with weakness.  Weakness that's more often than not anchored in sexual brokenness.  

Has there ever been an ultra-Christian homeschool where that topic was front & center?  If so, Mr. Nate Larkin would be a fantastic guest lecturer.    

Partnership

Over the past few days, I've worked tirelessly (& I'm not exaggerating) to assist my wife (of 26 years) in preparing her mother's northeast Jackson home to be listed with a realtor.  That entailed handyman and housework from morning 'till night within a mazelike 3,000 sf abode.  An abode which more or less is just as it was whilst initially occupied by her family in the early '80s.  

And when I say that, I'm also referring to all of the unresolved emotional trauma my wife, her younger brother and father endured therein (at the hand of Angie's mother).  Childhood trauma that is easily stirred even today, all these years later, by her elderly mother's (who's been catered to throughout this months' long process) tongue.  Not to mention her having to spend hours upon hours (+/-50 total days since last fall) sorting through her parents' belongings whilst inside the setting of said abuse.

On Monday, (8/15) evening, after we'd returned home and I'd had a chance to shower, Angie and I sat in the living room of our very-intentionally small abode and chatted about our quite exhausting day together.  What was obvious, in spite of our said exhaustion, is we simply relished the sense of partnership.  Now, it's important that you know that she's the one who's primarily poured herself into this 6+ month project on behalf of her mother.  As such, it was only this week that my aforementioned "services" were warranted.  Hence, we (as partners) really hadn't the necessity to attack the giant collectively.  

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Within walking distance from Angie's childhood home, I vividly remember us as dating love birds, sitting quietly - after dark - snuggled close on a park bench on a cool fall evening.  She and I often talked and talked during our courtship, and this night was no different.  Thankfully, our chattiness served many purposes, one of which was staving off the physicality (fornication) between us.  

But this night ended differently than any other we'd experienced up to that point.  On this night, as we strolled back to her parents' home in the dark, she sobbed tears of shame and fear as she anxiously begged me to never leave her behind due to her parents' personal (mental health, neglect, wickedness) issues.

I remember nonchalantly blowing all that off.  I felt as if she was being overly fearful, never realizing - in those moments - that this was her childhood trauma revealing itself.  I reminded her that I'd known her family (formally) since I was a teen, growing up (too) at First Baptist Church Jackson.  

Nonetheless, whilst looking back today, I can tell you that I've had enough of my fill of in-law rancor to easily justify walking away from our marriage.  All due to the seeds of discord consistently sown and cultivated by her reflexively condescending parents.  

All in all, the best words I can use to describe our experience regarding her family is:  unrelentingly difficult.  

Imagine driving from one side of the country to the other (East to West coast) but having to do so in reverse.  Hence, you're disqualified from using the interstate system (or any other divided highway).  Instead, you're handicapped to using all kinds of back roads.  In reverse.  As a result, the fatigue is constant (massively impeding your progress) since you're always looking over your shoulder in order to make any headway on your journey.  Whilst looking back, this ridiculous analogy fits.  Yet, Angie never for one moment wasn't worth constantly working - as partners - relative to outwitting the manipulativeness and deceit that were Bob and Edie Sigrest.

As an aside, you must know that the best year of our marriage (most of 2013) was when we lived in Cleveland, MS (2.5 hours - by car - from Jackson, MS) of all places.  And this was because we were far removed from my in-laws.  Angie smiled every day, and she was so sad when I was fired from my job (resulting in us having to return to Jackson, MS).

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My wife and I are slated to pick back up with our hands-on partnership this forthcoming weekend (437 Northpointe Parkway).  I'm looking forward to again - physically - standing with her for such a time as this.  Demons be damned.  It feels as if we're finally close to sealing up this Pandora's Box once and for all.

Lagniappe

For Tenured Samson Guys, Church Can Seem Awfully Saccharine

Being reared in a megachurch (First Baptist Church Jackson) with the pedigree of a Huckleberry Finn, I simply stood back in awe of the spectacle, masses and outstanding preaching.  As a teen, I was there during the late '80s when Dr. Frank Pollard (Senior Pastor) was in his prime (during his second appointment there).  We attended both Sunday mornings and evenings, giving nary a second thought to driving all the way from humble (back then) Madison to downtown Jackson twice (+/25 minute car ride) on The Lord's Day.

Church provided teen Rob (only child) with so many good opportunities to be cared for by adults who weren't Bob and Darlene.  Therein, I was lassoed in by the gospel at the tender age of 13.  In many ways it was religiously idyllic.  Especially considering the setting being Mississippi.

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Today, Samson Society provides the caring adults who support Rob, done so at a level (appropriately so) that's far more nuanced and intentional.  

So where does that leave church?

Church, to me, is like going to the Y for a workout or down the Reservoir multi-purpose trail for a run.  It's time well spent, but mostly, it's routine more than anything else.  

Now, we tithe our 10% every month, and I sing in the Chancel Choir for both the Christmas and Easter cantatas, and I will keep doing that.  

But, I don't work hard to make close Presbyterian friends, participate in either the domestic or overseas mission projects or aspire to become a deacon / elder at Lakeside Presbyterian Church.  

Hence, some Sundays can be monotonous and thereby fatiguing.  

But, there is one regularly scheduled church programming event (Fall / Spring) exception to this.

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One of the things I really like about our little community church is Wednesday nights.  And not just due to the food line ("Family Night Supper").  

When I was in late elementary school, Bob & Darlene would bring me to megachurch (First Baptist Church Jackson) for Wednesday evening service, and though the food was great, everything else about it sucked.  

Primarily this had to do with the facilities, which were vast, but on Wednesday evenings, the attendance numbers were miniscule compared to Sunday mornings.  Hence, the megachurch building felt daunting and frozen due to its emptiness.  

As such, their formality was amplified that much more.  

After that singular year (1985?), we discontinued attending Wednesday megachurch services because none of us liked it one bit. 

Fast forward to today, and there's no doubt that Lakeside Pres' facilities are on the opposite end of the spectrum.  They're not even, by definition, modest.  Haphazard is the best descriptor I can think of.  Yet, in so many ways, it's a perfect reflection of the community it serves, and this is due to the fact that the Reservoir area is such the Hodge Podge free-for-all / redneck resort paradise of the Jackson Metro.  

Today, Wednesday nights at Lakeside Pres are typically jammed packed with middle to upper middle-class Presbyterians, easily stretching the seams of the '70ish facilities.  It's borderline raucous.  And I like that about it because it doesn't - in the slightest - reek of church.  Plus, there are even a few occasions where Bible studies are enacted, following dinner, that are well worth the weekday evening invested. 

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My wife, Angie, isn't involved in The Sarah Society (a women's equivalent to Samson Society), therefore her relationships at Lakeside Pres are (aspiringly) tantamount to the ones I enjoy via Samson.  Therefore, on Sunday mornings, she lingers far longer than I do - after the service - to chat meaningfully with her friends.  Angie's also far more likely to interject prayer requests during Sunday School, and she frequently attends a ladies' breakfast gathering amongst her middle-aged (& a few older) peers.

Angie loves Lakeside Pres.  In fact, were she forced to choose between it and her husband, I'm pretty sure she'd choose Lakeside Pres.  

And that makes me really happy because I believe church today is mostly geared towards women and meeting their spiritual needs.  In conclusion, finding one where my wife feels communal makes me one quite content Samson guy.     

Small Man's Sexual Prowess / Coitus Resume Levels The Playing Field

I had the most eye-opening conversation yesterday.  It put so much needed perspective on the affirming power of intercourse for small men.  Plus, it deeply impressed upon me how differently I would view intercourse if:

1.  I had ever viewed myself as a small man.

2.  I'd had frequent, intensely pleasurable intercourse as a boy.

Now, full disclosure.  When Rob looks internally, Rob sees a void.  Invisible.  Most men aren't like Rob.  Instead, most men see themselves in comparison to other men, and that has a lot to do with how other men treat them in kind.

For those men who see themselves as physically diminutive, I'm convinced that their sexual prowess can, in their eyes, level the playing field.  And I suppose this originates from coitus itself, taken from the standpoint of being allowed / granted the opportunity to participate.  And that participation "entrance exam" consisting of an unspoken belief in the small man's credentials therein.  In other words, if he's chosen, it's not instinctual (in heat).  No, if he's chosen - HE - it's because she CHOOSES all of him to rock her world.

In essence, because "small man's" in fact small (there's no denying that), perhaps there's the belief that his sexual prowess overcompensates / makes up for his stature (in his mind), or to take that a step further, he may even see it as his very own superpower / McGuffin.

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Are strip clubs frequented moreso by small men?  And if so, is it because strip clubs denature or strip away the patrons' figurative (everyday) qualities and only leave behind their sexual prowess?  What about massage parlors?  Both of these places are filled with beautiful, sexy women who're identifying / adjudicating the male patrons discriminately through (one of a handful) the lens of their sexual prowess.  

If a stripper feels drawn to small men, that's perfectly okay with him because there's the assumption that her attraction negates / marginalizes his stature and only considers his sexual prowess (holistically). 

Where can a small man certainly NOT BE OVERLOOKED within the world of men he inhabits - day in and day out?  Certainly not (from his perspective) at church or work or on the golf course / at the gym.  Where then?

A world where his unique toolset of sexual prowess equalizes.  Especially if his lasered-into-his-brain sex resume points all the way back to his childhood (when he first had intercourse a dozen or so times with his girlfriend on her parents' couch).  For he was only sixteen years-old then with a height of 5'-7" and weight of 110 lbs.  Hence, he was no doubt small, but seduced into pumping that beautiful thing full of semen over and over and over again.  And this girl knew exactly what she wanted from her small boyfriend.  AND HE ADORED EVERY MINUTE OF IT.

And this is where coitus short-circuited his boy brain, giving his sexuality, as a young man, an elevated, domineering platform (wickedly unhealthy bias) from which to peer down from. 

And even now, as a middle-aged man, his sexuality is still on that platform, elevated above everything else.  It is the primary identifier of value, worth, and it's directly / primarily linked to small man's relationship with women (by far the most important gender).  ALBEIT EVERY SINGLE ATTRACTIVE (TO HIM) WOMAN ON PLANET EARTH.  Whether it's his wife, girlfriend, co-worker.  Any woman that he's either had intercourse with or senses would be interested - even in the slightest - of having a sexual relationship with small man.  For she holds the key to legitimizing him emotionally via her willingness to take part in a sexual exchange.

In the end, this is what draws him again and again back to the strip club / whorehouse / massage parlor / phone sex numbers / emotional affairs.  There's a justification there that perfectly synchronizes with his need for feeling loved / accepted in a manner he can interpret.

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Years ago, I met my first small man (by his own definition).  And to me, he wouldn't necessarily qualify as such, but he had been a lean, wiry boy and that self-loathing sorta stuck therein.  This man was brilliant, hard-working, articulate, but none of those attributes could overwrite / compete introspectively with his "smallness".  Every fiber of his being was consistently wrestling with this notion of not measuring up physically.  And oh my goodness, did it ever fuel the commiserate hyper-competitive, hyper-critical cynic that he was.  He was literally in bondage to himself.

By my standards, his height was certainly normal (well above average), but overall, he definitely was built lean.  Not surprisingly, this young man loved John Mayer's music, and of course, had John Mayer been a muscled-up "douchebag" (his words), his opinion of his music would have been decidedly different.

I have to wonder how old Mr. John Mayer was when he was first seduced into pumping that beautiful thing full of semen over and over and over again.  Maybe sixteen?

I'm going to be thinking about this all weekend.

I'm so fortunate to have had that dialogue with my small man friend.  

All of this is testimony to the confidence inspiring, wretchedly distorting power of coitus.

And btw, this is what our present-day culture presents as the standard for men (he even gives off electrical sparks he's so hot):

Check out the picture-perfect lighting on those waxed pecs / abs / arms.  This is what you call depression through entertainment.  

& btw, I have a hard time imagining Thor frequenting strip clubs (unless he himself is performing).  

Lagniappe

A Gesture Towards Putting Off Boyish Things

The Bible speaks of putting off "boyhood / childish things".  Why?

Because if you don't, those things will run counter to your own spiritual maturity as a Christian.  And that's the keyword here:  maturity.  Arguably, mostly via time wasting.

Most individuals who experience same-sex attraction (& be forewarned; I'm making a stereotypical statement here) are avid entertainment aficionados.  Whether it's television or film, social media or video games, music or theater.  Most know every entertainer, every lyric, every cover, re-make and spin-off because they marinate in it 24/7/365.  If you've ever wondered why corporate America duly embraces homosexuality, it all points back to the Almighty Dollar.  In other words, it can only help their bottom line to tow the cultural party line.    

Speaking of same-sex attracted men, here's a few fun facts:

A number of authors argue that same-sex attracted men are perpetually "stuck" within their youth relative to truly legitimizing their God-breathed sexuality.  

Fathers who struggle with SSA sometimes claim that rearing their sons allows them opportunities to resolve this emotional immaturity vicariously.

Again, the Bible speaks too "throwing / putting off" boyish things.

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Our pastor sometimes cites "the filth" that he and his wife screen on their television.  Too, he'll actually call out (on rare occasion) the congregation (in so many words) relative to his innocuous (heavy) social media involvement.  Out of the other side of his mouth, he'll preach an expository sermon each Sunday.  

And this juxtaposition isn't uncommon amongst Christians, though hopefully it's anomalous amongst pastors (ours) for it runs counter to scripture's commands. 

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Comic books were my upper elementary / middle school hobby.  Starting out with "Richie Rich" as an elementary student, I eventually moved to "The New Teen Titans".  From there, I read "Wonder Woman" and "Crisis on Infinite Earths" 'till eventually I was shopping at the local comic bookstore (in Ridgeland), spending way too much money than I should have been on all manner of "independently published" mags ("Dreadstar").

I kept these treasured newsprint gems in individual plastic baggies that looked like Ziplocs with no zipper before eventually amassing them all together within an empty Chick-A-Fil waffle fry box.  

My best friend, at the time, who also adored these little cartoon newsstand leaflets, soon took his hobby into overdrive.  He did this by establishing an "account" at the aforementioned comic bookstore.  Therein, they - in real time - physically accrued his favorite titles on his behalf (like a prepubescent P.O. Box).

Once I witnessed this over-the-top consumptive behavior, I chose to put the brakes on my overzealous comic book hobby.

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I remember, like it was yesterday, identifying the young man whom I'd be gifting my comic book stash.  Immediately prior to the handoff, I neatly organized each title, putting them in chronological order and separating them via neatly labeled cardstock dividers.  

I didn't actually make the drop face-to-face.  Instead, I simply put the waffle fry box in his disheveled bedroom and walked away (I was a friend of his father).  Walker (the recipient) was around 16 at the time.  I suppose I shouldn't have expected a thank-you note.  Nonetheless, it never did arrive.   

In the end, I have thought about those comic books an awful lot.  Wondering what it would be like to leaf through their many pages once again, or perhaps gift them to my children / grandchildren.  

And I believe that's to be expected.  Nonetheless, I've never regretted gifting them to my young Brookhaven friend.  For when I looked at him (at the time), I saw where I was departing / maturing (away) from.  Hence, he now bore a significant reminder of my youth inside that french fry box.    

Is there a boyish pastime (or relics therein) you'd benefit from jettisoning?  Something perhaps, that represents well, who you once were as a child?  If so, it should be something that you truly wish to hang on to throughout your adult life (as a means to look back and remember).  

Locate a young man to gift that to today, and from there, follow through.  No matter how much it pangs you to do so.

Processes like these are sure signs of maturation.

"I'm Fed Up With This Church / Pastor / Congregation!"

Here in Mississippi, there's a Protestant church on almost every corner, and this is especially true in the metro suburbs / small towns.  

Why is this the case?

Churches are a dime a dozen here for numerous reasons, but one (typically unspoken) reason that can't be ignored is the infamous church-split.

Churches splitting or splintering can be quite the acrimonious affair.  An affair that's often rooted in either theological, pastoral or stylistic dissonance amongst the parishioners.

Many church offshoots (as a result of a split) die within just a few years (if not months), but others find their feet and grow notwithstanding their Zero Hour.  Hence, splitting or splintering off happens every so often as parishioners feel so moved to take - what they believe is - necessary risks to get what they want.

All in all, if you're a parishioner who's "Fed Up!" with some aspect of your church home, you're by far not an original trope.  And I think it's important to realize this.  For there's often a sense of vigilance (versus humility) that's the true source of "fed-upness".  As such, the ramifications therein need to be taken holistically into account.   

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Going a little deeper relative to this topic, before you decide to walk away from a healthy church body, forgoing your / your family's membership there, consider how your doing so will long-term impact your family.

If you're a father to children between the ages of 8 to 21 (assuming you have parental rights intact), your aforementioned decision MUST TAKE THEIR SPIRITUAL WELL-BEING INTO ACCOUNT if your desire is to see your children / grandchildren grow in stature via Christendom.  

That being said, I do realize there are fathers who completely decouple themselves from this "spiritual responsibility" towards their children, but I believe it's important to realize that their approach isn't at all biblical.  

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My family's (Bob, Darlene & I) involvement in First Baptist Church Jackson, being pastored then by Dr. Frank Pollard (throughout the '80s), was pivotal.  This church taught / nourished both my parents and myself (throughout my "growing up" years), meeting each of us where we were as individuals.  No doubt, it was / has been a foundational life-changing experience for each of us.

Bob & Darlene (my parents) were completely spiritually hands-off as parents, and this was because they simply didn't feel comfortable mentoring their only child in that regard.  Mostly, that discomfort was rooted in neither of them having the necessary spiritual / biblical foundation to execute, taking into account their youth (both of them were teenagers when I was born).

And this is where our church (First Baptist Church Jackson) mightily stood in the gap, on their behalf.

Whether it was Sunday School, youth ministry, college ministry, worship services, youth choir involvement, youth ministry trips*, youth ensemble involvement / experiences - all of these week after week after week - MADE A DECIDED IMPACT ON ROB.

*I was lassoed in by the gospel during the summer before my 7th grade year in Mount Lebanon, TX.

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Lastly, I know too there are parents out there who encourage their teenagers to be involved within a church's youth ministry (of their choosing) sans their parents.  But I would argue that this isn't the same setup as what I experienced.

Most teenagers who attend church regularly are doing so alongside their parents / grandparents / guardians.  This is the norm, and teenagers benefit from this normalcy.

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In closing, if you're "Fed Up!", I'd argue that it may be best to swallow hard before you jump ship.  The spiritual future of your children / grandchildren / great-grandchildren will no doubt be greatly impacted by your reaction to your feelings about your church.

And let's all remember this truth:  Feelings rarely can be trusted (especially when we're in bondage to chronic sin patterns).

Let's Talk Samson - "Hyper-Independence"

Note from Stephen: Over the next few weeks, I will be sharing some short posts titled "Let's Talk Samson..." The following post below originated from the Samson Society Facebook page. Specific permission was obtained from the Samson Society in order for the Jackson Mississippi Samson Society blog to re-post and share the contents. The ideas and thoughts presented here originated via the Samson Society's Facebook Page, and permission has been granted to share both ideas and images via this blog. At the end, I will add my own personal commentary and reflection; these will be presented in bold, italic lettering to designate my personal views as they pertain to the original posting. ~ Stephen

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Children who experience emotional or physical neglect learn to replace the deep craving for connection with "not needing anyone."

It's an instinct to self-protect and is an effective coping tool to survive an unsafe and/or painful environment.

Hyper-independence numbs the deep craving for love and connection. It takes the pain of rejection, abandonment, sadness, and grief, and transforms it into a perceived self-confidence:

▪ "I don't need anyone."

▪ "I can do this on my own."

▪ "Why let you in? Everyone eventually leaves."

When we’re used, betrayed, or disrespected, it’s easy for us to create the belief that we can’t rely on anybody else. We don’t want to feel that pain ever again, so we protect ourselves by believing we can walk on this world without the help of others.

This mindset leads to:

▪ taking on too much

▪ saying no to help

▪ having trouble with delegating tasks

We may think being on our own is much better than letting people in, but what we’re really doing is closing ourself off to life.

This is why community, such as the brotherhood of Samson, is vital to our journey of recovery, healing, and just "doing life."

 

Stephen's Commentary:

I am not a fan of social media and partake of it sparingly. I am a very private person, and I thank the good Lord every day that I grew up in a day and age when social media wasn't even a word that existed in the vernacular of Americans. Still, social media does have its moments and it also has certain areas in which it demonstrates usefulness. One particular way that I have found social media to be useful is via the Samson Facebook page. A few weeks ago, I came across a post that stopped me dead in my tracks. Quite literally, it stopped me dead in my tracks and caused me to have to sit down and pause for a few moments. Very few things that I have ever read online have pulled a sucker punch on me like this post did. Many thoughts raced through my mind at once: "This is me...this is who I am...Whoever wrote this looked right through my hardened veneer into the depths of my soul...They get it...they understand...maybe there are others out there like me..."

I have always been a "hyper-independent" person. Until I read this Facebook post, I didn't realize that there was even such a term to describe someone such as myself. Through the work I've done over the past 6 years via Samson, I have been able to re-trace the steps back through my life to see exactly when and where I started down the path of becoming "hyper-independent." Prior to Samson, I didn't know how to begin this process, nor would I have even cared to! Being a "hyper-independent" introverted person is very painful at times. Even though I can be an extroverted-introvert (ambivert) at times, the "hyper-independence" within me still reigns strong. "Hyper-independent" is perhaps the strongest over-arching character trait that is present in my life.

Being "hyper-independent" is DANGEROUS. Being such a person usually means keeping everyone at arm's length. As a husband and father, "hyper-independence" still, at times, causes me to be withdrawn and emotionally unavailable to those who need me the most...my family.

Being "hyper-independent" is EXHAUSTING. Being a chameleon in order to demonstrate a wonderful "outward" appearance while often struggling internally is both mentally and emotionally exhausting. 

Being "hyper-independent" is extremely LONELY. A few weeks ago, my son was very sick, and was hospitalized for a week in the local children's hospital. My wife never left his side and spent the week in the hospital with him. My days consisted of working half days and running back and forth to the hospital during the remaining time to take care of my family. At night, I was at home caring for my three dogs. Aside from a few people we told, I did not reach out to anyone. Even though I was mentally exhausted and emotionally drained by the end of the day, my "hyper-independence" caused me to not reach out to anyone and struggle alone with my fears and my thoughts. It was a rough week.

Being "hyper-independent" is not who I want to be. Above, I have included a screenshot of the original post. The words I have highlighted in yellow describe me. That is Stephen. And I need help moving past that. But my "hyper-independence" assures me that I do not. I need people who will continue to convince me of the need to abandon my desire for "hyper-independence." ~Stephen

 

"Betrayal Trauma" By Mr. Max Morton

 I remember a Sunday night in church when I was six or seven years old. I was in a small class with some other kids and the teacher was quizzing us about the Disciples of Christ. She was asking us questions like, “Which disciple was a tax collector before he followed Jesus?” “Which disciple had a twin?” “Who was the disciple Jesus loved?”

Being a church kid (back when kids went to church on Sunday night, and Wednesday night) my competitive adrenaline was flowing and I wanted to show the teacher and the other kids I was the smartest Bible kid in the room. But I kept being tripped up on two questions the teacher asked. “Which disciple denied Jesus?” and “Which disciple betrayed Jesus?”

The teacher would ask me, “Which disciple betrayed Jesus?” I would answer “Peter” and she would say, “No, Peter denied Jesus.” It would come back around to my turn and she would ask “Which disciple denied Jesus?” and I would say “Judas.” I realize now that the reason I kept missing the questions was not because I didn’t know who Peter and Judas were, but because I didn’t know the meaning of the words betrayal and denial.

Unfortunately, now I am painfully aware of the meaning of both words. I know, first hand like Peter, what it means to pretend you don’t know Jesus when it suits the purpose of saving your skin, or your reputation. I know, like Judas, what it means to be driven by my own agenda, to deceive, to pretend to love and follow, when in reality I am scheming, manipulative and willing to sell someone out with a kiss.

I have done both.

Therapists have a thing they call “betrayal trauma.” Trauma is an emotional response to a terrible event like an accident, rape, or natural disaster. Immediately after the event, shock and denial are typical. Longer term reactions include unpredictable emotions, flashbacks, strained relationships, and even physical symptoms like headaches or nausea. When a person is betrayed, the reaction varies from person to person but involves responses such as these. Betrayal causes trauma. 

When my wife discovered my porn addiction it caused her “betrayal trauma” to add to the long list of trauma she had previously had to navigate in her life. I didn’t realize at the time what I had dumped on her. I wish I had known then what I know now. I wish we had been able to have conversations about how my betrayal traumatized her. Sadly, part of the response to this trauma was a strained relationship which ultimately ended in divorce. Our marriage has been over for more than three years now. I haven’t seen, spoken to her or had any contact with her for over two years. But I dreamt about her last night. Maybe I have some trauma still to be healed from the fall out of our relationship? Could I be in denial about my betrayal? I’m no different from Judas and Peter.

But when I think about that Sunday night in that classroom of kids learning about the people that followed Jesus, I desire to be more like Peter than Judas. Judas ended his own life because he couldn’t handle dealing with life because of what he did. He couldn’t get past the condemnation of his past.

By contrast, even though Peter denied even knowing Jesus (with cursing) three separate times went on to live in freedom from his sin. What was the difference between Peter and Judas? I believe Judas was a pawn of Satan, used in his evil plan to get rid of Jesus. John records at the last supper when Judas left to put the plan in motion, “the devil entered him.” Peter was restored to fellowship with Christ. In John 21 the resurrected Jesus appeared to his disciple again on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. There he had a conversation with Peter reversing his denial. Three times Peter denied Jesus, three times Jesus asked Peter if he loved him. When Peter answered in the affirmative each time Jesus followed with “feed my sheep.” A three-fold denial, a three-fold recovery and commissioning. This was why Peter in Acts 2 was able to interpret the actions of the Spirit and boldly declare the word of God resulting in over 3000 souls converted and added to the number of those following Jesus.

In my mind’s eye I go back to that classroom where six year old Max didn’t know the difference between Peter and Judas. Now I know the difference. Now I choose to follow Jesus like Peter, a restored son of the sovereign Lord.

Spring In Mississippi. It's Glorious.

 

Pay Heed To The Reactionary Brain But (Whilst Appropriate) Refuse To Yield To It.

Fight or flight.  You've heard that term.  It represents how the reactionary brain responds to situations that pose a threat to it.  

Typically, the reactionary portion of our brain lies dormant 'till we're in need of some immediate reaction, but there are times when it kicks in unbeknownst to us as a result of unintentional (or intentional) re-traumatization of some sort.

Keyword here is re-traumatization.  Repeat.  Rerun.  Redo.  

Let's say you were reared by a belligerent, intimidating, control-freak father who abandoned you at birth, agreeing instead for you to be reared by his in-laws (your grandparents) within the same small town where he resides.  You do see him & his new honey on occasion (every other weekend), but you're no doubt on his watch (schedule) throughout.  Therefore, even clothes shopping with him (as a teenage boy) is stressful, seeing how he monitors the clock constantly, rushing you through a process that's not meant to be rushed.  Hence, please allow this short descriptor to serve as a glimpse into the circumstances which resulted in the emotional trauma.

Now, fast forward +/-20 years and you're a strapping young man with a beautiful wife and two lovely daughters, but you don't realize just how susceptible / vulnerable you are to re-traumatization in this regard because you don't recognize it as such.  Instead, all you see is "how things always were with my dad".  And you take this approach because ultimately, you don't want to do the work needed to analyze your asshole father relationally / circumstantially.  We all know that thorough analysis takes time.  But, in your mind, that's time better spent doing other things.  Things that don't seem so superfluous.  Yet, in the end, it's your laziness that destroys both opportunity and friendships as re-traumatization occurs.  And, at times, in the most clandestine of situations when you least expect it to.

The takeaway here is to do the work.  Especially as you're seeing more and more collateral damage result.  The relational corpses are pleading with you here.