Those Wounds Are No More

Earlier this year, I was appointed to serve on a volunteer board for a local nonprofit.  All of our active board members (6 individuals) had to take part in some overarching (annual) training yesterday, (4/29), and that training grouped us together with a number of other "affiliate (localized - statewide) boards" that duly represent this national org throughout the Magnolia State.

The training was most of the day, starting around 8 AM at a local community college's workforce training center, and overall, there were around 50 volunteers present, representing most regions of Mississippi.

Within the first minute or two of finding my seat, I realized the former Human Resources Director from Delta State University (the institution I was terminated from in September of 2013 for breaking their IT policy) had also sat down.  Her table was at a 90-degree angle to my own, therefore I was literally within her direct line of sight.  No doubt she was there representing the Cleveland, MS affiliate as a volunteer board member herself.

I hadn't seen this woman but for just a few short minutes since my termination, and that was in 2015, therefore A LOT of water had passed under the bridge since then.

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This past Thursday, (4/28) during my weekly "Make Thursdays Great Again" virtual Samson Society meeting, an old friend (I met him at Lakeside Pres in '09) also attended.  Having never had anyone else from Mississippi join this virtual group, it was so cool having him there.  Especially considering his abode is only +/-3 miles from my own here in Rankin County (where he too was Zooming in).

Mr. Justin Schwind, "Make Thursdays Great Again" facilitator, made my invited friend feel welcome, and as usual, it was a great Samson Society meeting (+/-25 attendees) with the word being "false self".

What's really special about this is me, taking into account how long I've sang the praises of Samson Society to this friend, is now seeing both his schedule (allowing him to participate) and desire coalescence.

Too, this man was the first parishioner at Lakeside Presbyterian Church that I told my story to.  And as a result, he didn't shun me.  In fact, the opposite actually occurred which was very unexpected at the time.

As such, for many years, he and I would make a point to supplement our time together at church with a lunch or two, on occasion, but after the Turners' return from Cleveland, MS (immediately following my termination in 2013), I found that his life circumstances had ratcheted up considerably.  That combined with my shame over what had gone down in the immediate past, made for an easy series of excuses to leave him be.

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I immediately rose from my seat and made my way over to my former Delta State University colleague.  Today, this woman is in her mid to late 60s, and as I was doing so, I remembered sending her an apology letter (not long after my termination and subsequent return to the Jackson Metro) where I revealed how intimidating she was to Rob.

Yesterday morning, she wasn't intimidating in the least.  In fact, she actually looked really tired.  Almost to the point of concern.  

It took her a few seconds to recognize me (my stick-on name tag helped) before she cracked her stock wry smile.  We spoke our pleasantries, and then I returned to my seat, nary a blip in increased blood pressure.  

Surprisingly, I didn't think one additional thought about her from that point forward.  

Throughout the all-day training class, with her sitting just a few feet from me, it was as if we'd almost never worked together during that very challenging year of my life.

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After the "Make Thursdays Great Again" virtual Samson Society meeting concluded (around 8 PM CST), I sent my old Mississippi friend a few follow-up text messages before signing off for the evening.

And just a quick sidenote:  Earlier this week, I was really missing some of the face-to-face Samson guy interactions I've had conveniently available to me in the past.  As such, I felt God speak into my life regarding this, reminding me to trust him with it completely.

Of course, I have to wonder where all of this is leading with my newly reconnected Mississippi friend.  Will he take to Samson Society as I did - long-term?  Is the timing truly right for him to in this regard?  What about our friendship?  Will it blossom further, for such a time as this?  

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Having had the powerfully humbling experience I had Friday with my former colleague from DSU, I wouldn't be able to doubt God with my decried needs (nor my aforementioned questions) even if I tried.

It is remarkable how closely our God knows our true self, mediates for us, heals us.

My faith continues to grow as he demonstrates his hands-on care for Rob.  His love for me is more real than it's ever been, and I can only have expectant hope for more to come.

Do You Feel Threatened?

If someone is willing to arouse in you feelings of fear of rejection (by them), whether that someone is relationally connected to you on a familial or platonic level, there's no doubt something you've done (or position you've taken) that makes that individual very uncomfortable.  And based on my experience, the more undiluted that conviction (fueling that something), the greater - proportionally - their threats to modify the parameters of their relationship with you.  

When their feelings of uncomfortableness are clearly justified (righteously via conviction), all the more reason for you to stand your ground.  Do not back down.  No matter how intensely you might fear their rejection.  No matter how much is "on the line". 

Remember that it's more important for those within your sphere of influence to repent than it is for them to like or even accept you.  Their eternal story overshadows everything else.  Always.

You may be the best conduit for funneling the voice of the Holy Spirit due to your longstanding relational connection (as a son, daughter, parent, uncle, aunt, grandmother, grandfather, best friend, and so forth).  Use it humbly to their advantage, praying constantly for God's guidance.

And always, always rise above their threats.  

"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.

How Best To Disrespect That Important Man In Your Life

At the outset of the church service on Easter Sunday morning, a concerned mom reflexively approached me about her adult son.  In doing so, she asked me to reach out to him in spite of the fact that I'd already done so prior (this guy's about my age & visited our church - a few times - with his fiancé last spring).  Per his mother, the son had remarried (wife #2) last summer, and as a result, his ex-wife was not / had not (quite understandably) responded well (as the mother of his only child).  Therefore, her son was in an emotional pickle for such a time as this and had been for some time.

Combined with that, her son recently applied for Social Security Disability as he's no longer able to work due to a chronic medical condition. 

I did my darndest to be sympathetic to this mother's pain, but I made it clear that I had no intentions of pursuing her son at her bequest - no matter how much she pressed me to do so. 

Why?

It would be disrespectful to him.  And friendship certainly cannot grow forth from disrespect.  

What I did do is give her my card, urging her to pass it along to him whilst reminding her that I'd given the same - directly to him - last spring.  I continued on by reminding her that by doing so, I did look straight at him, extending a(n) (still unmoved) hand of friendship.

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I'm serving as a Silas to a GA man (he's my age and of the same race as I) that I met at the February '22 regional Samson Society retreat.  He's married to wife #2 (white woman), and she has refused to decouple herself from two very close black male friendships that existed well in advance (by ten years) of her meeting my Silee.  My Silee feels marginalized as such and rightly so.   

These two friends engage with my Silee's wife most days, mainly via text message, and his wife justifies fostering these ongoing relations due to their pre-existence to her relations with him (4-year marriage).

Men want one primary thing from women:  R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

My Silee's wife is disrespecting him by engaging with these other men on a platonic level.  The three of them should have brought their friendship to a decided close on the eve of her wedding to my Silee four years ago.  Instead, they continued forward, and as such, my Silee (& their marriage) has suffered.

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What is respect?

How do you give respect to a man?  (Especially if you're a woman.)

Men, by definition, are capable providers.  Mostly, that provision is in the form of security.  Physical security firstly with emotional security being a close second (often as a result of the physical security).

This provisional man modus operandi that I'm speaking of is internally realized before it can manifest itself outwardly.  Once it's established / recognized therein, women who love these men should celebrate it via their respect towards them.

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One last story:

A fellow MSU architecture student (that also graduated in '95) bumped into me yesterday at a local restaurant.  This guy is a few years older than I, gregarious and - as can be expected of an architect - a bit eccentric.

The last time he and I chatted was back in 2006 when we were colleagues at the same architecture firm here in Jackson.  

Today, this architect is a well-adjusted state government employee on the East Coast.  (This put a smile on my face.)

Before we parted ways, I asked him to introduce me to his wife (who was seated on the opposite side of the restaurant's dining room).  I vaguely remembered him getting married prior to our last juncture, but I didn't remember ever formally meeting his new bride (though I vaguely remembered what she looked like).  

Now, there's something you need to know about this architect.  He's keenly interested in keeping current on everyone's social standing / rank - where they're working, who they're in relations with, and so forth.  And reciprocally, he's more than willing to divulge as much of his same story in kind - so long as someone's willing to listen...to all the sordid details.

Hence, he's one of those guys that typically comes across as being slightly socially awkward, yet he typically makes up for it with his generous smile and honest assessment of his own shortcomings.  And I admire this.   

When he lead me over to the booth his wife was seated at, I immediately extended a hand with a big smile on my face.  

Now, before I go any farther, it's hopefully apparent that this guy isn't (nor has ever been) one to meet a stranger.  Therefore, I've no doubt that his sweet wife has been introduced to countless former colleagues (like myself) within similar settings.

Her reaction amounted to her appearing to be infringed upon as she chomped on her lunch.  Now, perhaps she was having a rough day, or maybe she'd just started an intermittent fasting program, and this was her first solid meal in quite some time.

Anything's possible.

I can tell you that my sweet wife, Angie, becomes seriously disgruntled when I choose to not introduce her to my friends / peers (within public settings like this).  She says it makes her feel invisible, and she absolutely loathes that feeling.  

Regarding this, I feared that my old friend might have come away as such, and that worried me.  For invisibility certainly doesn't equate with respect.

There's No Greater Relational Poison Than Prolonged, Unjustifiable, Perpetual Anger (Towards Others Or Towards God)

My father and mother both caught COVID-19 in mid-December '20 as a result of my father choosing to take advantage of the opening of white tail deer (gun) season here in the Magnolia State.  And what I mean by that specifically is he chose to gather around his comrades in arms in rural Yazoo County within their annual competitive swarm.  Therein, one of the most prominent of these hunters exposed my father and the rest of the men to the virus and that was that.

This really frightened me because I care for my parents' well-being.  Plus, they're typically at our office every day (as am I).  Up to that point in time, they'd been reliably quarantining (for the most part).  No doubt, my dad simply refused to forgo his annual beginning-of-winter deer camp experience.  In the end, I was blessed to not also become ill.  All and all, it was a stupid (stupid is a verb) decision on my father's part that put my family at great risk.

Around this same time (the week of Xmas 2020), my dad's oldest brother died unexpectedly whilst dining alone one evening in a franchise steakhouse in Madison.  No one in the family cared much for this man, therefore his funeral felt more obligatory than anything else, coming and going without much, if any, emotional percolation from anyone (except is only son).

In the middle of all of this - my parents' COVID-19 infections / Joe's unexpected death, my dad's youngest brother became very ill with COVID-19, and subsequently was diagnosed with leukemia whilst being treated.  This really impacted my father especially.  For he's always cherished his younger brother, who in many ways was more like his son than younger brother.

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During of all this, my dad's anger issues simply stayed dormant.  Therefore, for years now, he's been an entirely different man in many ways.  No longer seeing me (or my mother) as a threat, and no longer constantly posturing.

As such, it's been a wonderful few years in this regard.

But now that's come to an end.

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Anger is a powerful motivator within certain individuals.  For it's like an engine buried deep beneath the surface that's constantly idling, always ready to roar to life.  

This is the case with my dad.  

Hyper competitiveness and envy can grow out of anger.  To the point that individuals become paranoid and emotionally isolated.  

Throw into the mix low intelligence, and angry people can buy into some crazy shit.  Hook, line & sinker.  

Angry people have no clue how to be motivated to live life sans anger because it's all they know.  It is their effective means to an end. 

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Yesterday, my dad and I freshwater fished on a beautiful lake at - ironically - his Yazoo County deer camp.  I'd been thinking about fishing with him a few weeks prior, and thankfully, he inquired if I'd like to come along earlier this week.  

Yet, even at the outset of this venture (whilst deciding on a time to meet at his abode to depart), I could tell that I was walking into a bad situation.

As a result of this day fishing trip, I've decided that this is the end.  No more freshwater fishing trips with Robert, Senior.  Ever. 

Years ago (pre-pandemic), I'd decided the same relative to saltwater fishing.  

A few weeks back, I also had returned to having lunch with my dad once a week, and that too, I've decided will be coming to an end.

I give up.

My life is too short to be putting myself within his crosshairs.  Robert, Junior = easy target. 

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Years ago, I served as a Silas to a young man who confessed to spending years of his life entrenched in Internet porn out of anger towards God.  And this Southern sinner was a preacher's kid who'd been homeschooled K-12.  As you can imagine, this motivational confession was quite shocking.  Especially coming from someone of such high emotional / religious intelligence.

His anger towards God was rooted in him not finding / being denied romantic love - on his terms.  

This young man absolutely adored / worshipped at the alter of beautiful, intelligent, sexy women and longed to have (a select few of) them captivated by he himself in turn.  Just a handful, in particular, had rejected him, and from there, his self-centered anger took (deep) root. 

For he believed, wholeheartedly, that he was THE BEST CHOICE for these lovely babes long after they'd moved on.  Hence, he found plenty of readily available videos / photos of lovely babes, of every ilk, online to fantasize over as he pleasured himself out of spite.

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I had a wholesaler meeting (at our office) earlier this week that came about unexpectedly.  The man was from Nashville, and had made an appointment weeks prior with my dad.  Robert, Sr. had forgotten about this scheduled juncture, therefore I did my darndest to assist him in saving face (by meeting with the wholesaler in turn).

The wholesaler was interested in knowing how it was that I might possibly work with my father, citing his own familial challenges.  Along with that, he wanted to know if I missed practicing architecture.

Pretty bold questions for a wholesaler, but too, certainly not inquiries that are unfamiliar to Rob.

In response, I provided my stock answers, which is all this stranger deserved.

Ultimately (here's the real answer), I pity my dad.  For I know how in bondage he is to something far greater than he can see or understand.  Also, I'm supremely patient when it comes to men, and he's no exception to that.  In fact, I've practiced my patienceness throughout my life on him.

Thanks be to God that anger isn't an issue that Rob wrestles with (though I have my fair share of others that are equally as destructive).  

Prayer for me and my father would be appreciated.

I already miss my dad as he presented himself during the pandemic.  It is super disappointing to see him revert back to his old ways.

"What If...?" (Mirror Universe)

My first pastor friend was our Assistant Pastor at Lakeside Presbyterian Church.  He'd initially served as our church's Youth Pastor, but by the time Angie & I began visiting (with our then two little sinners) Lakeside Pres (around 2009), he'd been promoted.  Brandon was / is 3-5 years older than I am, and overall is one of the most handsome Presbyterian pastors I've had the privilege to meet.  Were he not a member of the clergy, he'd likely be highly successful either in the public or private sector.

It was just a few months into visiting the church that I emailed this meek man and asked him to share lunch with me.  We met at Primos restaurant in Flowood, and it was then that I clumsily, though directly, relayed my story.  I also let him know that I needed a friend, and surprisingly, he obliged relative to having that same need.  From there, we embarked, and it was quite a supportive relationship for such a time as that (over a span of a few years).

One day, on a whim, I decided to email Pastor Brandon with an imagined scenario to respond to.  It involved him encountering a beautiful, seductive woman during a normal pastoral workday (whilst out and about within the community) and her making a subtle pass at him.  From there, I waited to see how he might react.  (Keep in mind that he was married with two children.)

To my surprise (& a slight tinge of horror), my friend replied to my email within the hour, and his reply was lengthy (5-6 paragraphs) and to the point(ed).  So much so that I came away feeling as if he'd been deeply offended by my inquiry.  Overall, his reaction was unexpected in its intensity / pervasiveness / tone.  After the fact, he and I never discussed this email exchange for I was way too embarrassed to revisit.  

In the end, on one hand I regretted having to endure the brunt of his - seemingly out of character - reaction, but on the other, I appreciated learning that much more about him - as my friend - and as a pastor relative to not only what he responded with but how quickly / assertively he chose to respond.  My respect for him grew that much more as a result.  

There are times when you simply cannot see certain sides of individuals until you back them up against (either a real or hypothetical) a wall, and this was one of those times.

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We've lived in our 'hood for twenty years.  Our cul-de-sac contains eleven patio homes, each scrunched up against each other as if they're vying to stay warm(er) than the Mississippi heat & humidity can muster.

One of our newest neighbors is a woman who's a few years older than I.  Residing within her abode too is her sweet elderly mom.  They've been a delight to get to know, and we're so fortunate to have them.  With a number of our other neighbors, they've been over for dinner on multiple occasions in order to share a meal / numerous laughs.  

This homeowner has a large dog that mostly stays within her lot's sizable backyard, but on occasion, she lets it out to roam freely.  Inevitably, the dog sprints away with the homeowner yelling all the while for the canine to return.  I can't say that I blame the pooch for doing this as I'm sure it's instinctual for it to explore the geographical possibilities that lie beyond.  Nonetheless, it usually doesn't go too far beyond our cul-de-sac.  

My youngest daughter has gleefully watched this homeowner carefully officiate her bitch's recent litter right inside her home.  And based on what my daughter has shared, the homeowner even sleeps with the pups inside the "pup tent" within her small living room.  The puppies are beautiful and growing fast (I've seen them once), with many already accounted for relative to new homes throughout the state.  

Last Friday, (4/8), I was taking the trash cans to the curb when I felt a tinge of panic.  Immediately I was faced with the aforementioned neighbor's dog barking at me ferociously (within 10-15 feet of where I was standing).  

It's important to know that years ago, I was out running and was bit by a similarly scaled, barking dog whilst making my way through a nearby 'hood.  That experience left a marked impression (as well as bite marks).

In response to the dog's tirade, I tried hard to ignore the animal, hoping it would leave my property on its own.  All the while, my neighbor is screaming the dog's name from her stoop, two houses down, whilst holding one of the pups.  

But then, surprisingly, the dog lunged at me as if she was going to take a bite either out of my arm or side.  I reflexively jumped to the side in terror before becoming unhinged emotionally.  And when I say unhinged, I mean Mr. Hyde-like unhinged.

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I know now why Brandon responded as he did to my imagined scenario.  He was doing it to protect my future, knowing full well how much influence he had over it.

Ultimately, it was him drawing a line in the sand that clearly differentiated - for me - right versus wrong.  God's will versus man's will.  Righteous versus unrighteous.  Playing with fire versus respecting fire (by leaving it in the firebox)

And, he was willing to do this - risking all the while (had I taken offense) - our friendship's continuity.  

This is true friendship because it's ultimately hinged on the gospel.  Hence, its occupants answer therein to Christ firstly prior to answering to each other.  Think of it as a triangle with Christ at the peak.

In closing, had my neighbor's dog berated another neighbor besides myself (a number of which are elderly retirees) last Friday afternoon, someone may very well could have been hurt.  The dog is BIG with a LOUD obnoxious bark.  This alone is enough to frighten.

Whilst looking back, I'm glad it came my way, and I'm pleased with how I ultimately reacted (& the dog responded).  Even if it permanently damages our good neighborly relations, I feel certain our run-ins with her pooch are behind us.  

That being said, I'm still attempting to process the unusual intensity of the situation, and how shocking I must have come across to my neighbor!  I'm willing to bet a dollar that Brandon, all those years ago, went through the same.  (I bet he re-read his email reply to me fifty times, if he read it once, during the days & weeks following.)

Devilishly Alone Amongst The Throngs

"YOU DO NOT FIT IN HERE!"  

My one and only BPO (Business & Professional Outreach) International deer camp retreat experience happened back in February of 2014, and unfortunately, I did not come away feeling known or at all having had an intimate experience with the +/-30 men who accompanied me to rural Holmes County, MS.  And that outcome had nothing to do with anyone but me for such a time as that.  

For the timing was wrong.  Just as the timing was wrong for me to attend the "Sportsman's Night Out" at First Baptist Church Jackson last Friday, (4/1/22) night, but I did it because I wanted to please my dad.  And he did come away pleased that I made the effort on his behalf (which put a smile on my face).  

The problem therein is I've no idea when the timing is best for me to take part in these type of events.  Yet, when the timing is right, they're awesome to experience for I then know myself better (& believe that knowledge as truth).

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When I worked as the Campus Architect at Delta State University back in 2012 / 2013, the timing could not have been worse because at that time, I was not at all well-equipped to see / appreciate my place within that group (of men).  Yet, I never would have come to know this had I not stepped into that position on faith, leaving my comfort zone behind (& the same applies to my aforementioned deer camp retreat experience).

What it comes down to is knowing yourself, and for Rob, there have been some distinct seasons (life stages?) where I was completely ignorant therein.  Considering that statement though, I must say that I'm thankfully experiencing shorter and shorter blind spots as I settle into middle-age.

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Another sizable factor in all of this is how perpetually focused I can become on the men around me during these (gathered) events / within these settings.  And this isn't an enviable focusing on my part (like it was within my youth).  It's not that at all.  Today, it's more of a silent shakedown, fueled by an energized curiosity, more than anything else.

After leaving this past February's Samson Society regional retreat, I agreed to provide a ride to a new Samson friend (who is very close to my age) from our venue in Gulf Shores to the Mobile airport (for him to catch a flight out later on that day).  It wasn't long into our trek that he confidently affirmed my spiritual gifting, having had the opportunity to observe me closely throughout the weekend.  I wasn't sure how to feel about this except a bit exposed and sad.  

When you're given the gift of seeing inside other men (which I am supremely honored to be gifted with), and your sexuality is schewed towards homosexual desires (versus heterosexual), a distinct outward bias can take root.

That statement represents a big part of my life in a nutshell.  And it's why I have so little ability to resist readily available gay porn (moth to a flame).  And, at times, it does make me sad.  Today is one of those days.

Thanks.  I'm Rob.  

Turn The Other Cheek; Take The High Road; Be Polite (Pour Burning Coals On Their Heads)

One (two) of the best observational lessons I took away from my second architecting job here in Jackson stood in stark contrast to another that was in (moral) opposition to it.  Each of these yin / yang lessons played out during separate seasons via two distinct, much older than Rob, individuals, one of which was my boss and the other a colleague whom I greatly respected.  As a side note, I was probably around 30 years of age whilst experiencing what I'm about to describe.

The first observational lesson played out over the course of +/-15-30 minutes, and it involved a very memorable exchange between my boss and a client (with Rob stationed naively off to the side).  In a nutshell, the client used the tail end of a scheduled meeting (which I believe he'd calendared) to railroad my boss, and this individual (it quickly became apparent) was quite adept at railroading.  

His gripe(s) was likely legit (I don't remember what it exactly was), but instead of professionally relaying his grievances, he chose to railroad.  And this resulted in the client obviously feeling quite empowered, but in the end, it definitively exposed his true bully colors.

The lesson I observed herein was to listen, stay calm, and answer any and all questions courteously, enduring the vitriol 'till it's completely exhausted.  And this is exactly what my boss did.  

But this is super hard to do, especially when you're perhaps not rested or really inexperienced relative to dealing with a railroader.  Nonetheless, I observed closely how he handled this event with aplomb, and as a result, I came away feeling pity for what he'd had to endure, but at the same time safely positioned beneath his guise.  I don't recall recognizing how influential his low-key reaction had been to me for such a time as that, but I do remember the quiet resolve I sensed over the course of the somber ride back to the office (from McComb).

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On the opposing end of that observational lesson is one I learnt via my aforementioned well respected, older colleague.

This guy was Type A, machismo, full-steam-ahead 24/7/365.  And I thought that was cool though quite intimidating as well.  In fact, I'd never engaged with anyone (up to this point in time) who did life with quite this much intensity.  And just to give you an idea as to how intense this middle-aged guy was, he'd no qualms relative to opening up his slacks - off the cuff - (after swiftly unbuckling his belt) in order to re-tuck in his ENTIRE shirttail.  I witnessed him do this countless times both in my office as well as our boss' office.  He was just that kind of no-holds-barred dude who never gave a shit about formalities.

This intensely engaging fellow was also a seasoned deacon at a prominent Baptist church here in the Jackson Metro.  Yet, when he discovered that he'd been intentionally unincluded from the church's building committee (they were gearing up to plan a new church campus), he protested by walking away from the church.

Now, you need to know that this man's job title was "Construction Administrator" at the architecture firm we were both employed at, therefore he certainly had the vocational credentials / experience to contribute therein.  Nonetheless, the decisionmakers had decided against including him on this particular committee (conflict of interest), and as a result, it no doubt pissed him off to no end.  From there, he picked up his toys and "moved his letter" to another Baptist church across town in disgust.

What was so stunning about his protest though was how many relationships he forfeited / left high & dry whilst doing so.  Imagine with me how much history he and his family were immediately severed from!  Over a stupid church committee sleight.  It was readily apparent that this was a ridiculously juvenile reaction on his part.

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Involving oneself within the Samson Society, over time, is going to result in some complex relational dynamics.  Samson Society is populated with loners.  We're men who have proven our mettle relative to surviving within extreme isolation.  Nonetheless, because of this, there can be, at times, not a whole lot of regard for "keeping the peace" / "playing nice" due to our survival instincts (pre-Samson Society existence) being our default.

To be frank, you're going to rub shoulders with men that you don't like one bit within this community of men.  You're also going to find yourself, at times, not at all liked.  If you're like me, you must recognize that being involved within Samson Society, no matter the tension, is ultimately for your personal gain / maturation.  Therefore, ushering oneself into other men's (dis)comfort zones (as well as your own) is a vibe you're simply going to have to become accustomed to at times.

A big part of doing this with ease is taking the high road, thereby doing your part to keep the peace.  Otherwise, Satan may very well succeed in derailing God's good work therein.  

In closing, only as a very last result should you jump ship in search of another group to continue forward relative to fulfilling your needs.  And this is due to the fact that it symbolizes a semblance of defeat, and don't nobody need no more of that within our ranks.

"Pity The Fool" As You Yourself Were Once Pitied. You Just Might Usher Them Into Samson Society As A Result.

As an architect, I'm qualified to design buildings and to review proposed designs in an effort to provide guidance / adherence to a plan's feasibility (both aesthetically & functionally).  In summary, my training puts me in a position of authority regarding building design.  Pure & simple.

Currently, my income doesn't come from architecting, though I am still using my training on a voluntary basis.  Within our Reservoir 'hood, I serve the homeowners' association board as "Architectural Review" committee chairman.  This affords me the privilege of adjudicating R & R and new planned construction (which is rare) within prior to it commencing.

Last year, one such adjudication request came my way.  Hence, my fellow committee members and I paid a visit to the homeowner in order to review, on site, some color samples relative to an ongoing home rebuild (that had sustained fire / smoke damage +/-3 months prior).  After politely scheduling a date / time, it was apparent that the mid-30s man obviously lived alone, having no doubt recently divorced, and as such, was overseeing the reconstruction remotely during the tail end of the pandemic.  He was very cooperative with the review procedures, and thankful even for our time / input (versus seeing it as a burdensome nuisance).

Post adjudication, we turned to leave, and from there, he insisted we circle back once the restoration / renovation was complete in order to have a grand tour of the finished product.

And I made a mental note to do so.

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Yesterday afternoon, (3/27), I knocked on my neighbor's door whilst admiring the gleaming newness of his home's recently renovated exterior.  He answered with a slightly surprised countenance (it had been 6-9 months since our previous juncture).  I told him I'd stopped by a few times before, only to find no one home.  And there was some truth to that.  For I had walked down to his cul-de-sac once, only to see his full-size pickup absent from his driveway.

As I stepped inside, I was not surprised to find that his renovated home was over-the-top Chip and Joanna Gaines' farmhouse chic (as it seems everything within the Southeast is these days).  Hence, it was current to the nth degree, looking perfectly ready for its Magnolia photo shoot.

At the same time though, there was a sadness there.  For he'd made an overabundance of "to hell with it" design moves that were no doubt rebelliously enacted (to the chagrin of Joanna).  Those consisted of both the "Deer head wall mount wall" and the full-size billiards table (where the dining room table should have been).  Not to mention the gargantuan flat screen TV mounted on the rear of the freshly painted garage (it was his extra one!?!).  

I didn't want to linger as he showed me around (I even got to see the massive luxury shower within the master bath).  Overstaying my welcome is one hiccup I work hard to avoid.   

We shook hands, and I headed out for my weekend run, ready to take advantage of the glorious Spring weather.  

As a coda though, I did send him a text message later on that evening, feeling obliged to apologize for not remembering his name during our time together earlier that day.  We both laughed about getting older, etc. before I thanked him again via the magic of my pocket computer.

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As I lay in bed last night, I kept remembering the underlying sadness that I'd surprisingly encountered during my afternoon walkthrough.  That dark emotion that simply hadn't been renovated out of that structure.  

It was a sadness that was rooted in loss and shame.  Regret and defeat.  For this guy was / is military.  Built like a tank.  With the shaved head and everything.  He's exponentially masculine.  Hence, the sadness was no doubt well-hidden underneath his gladiator-ness facade, yet it was definitely there. 

So what do I do in response to my concern?  How might I overcome the intimidation factor long enough to get to know him better (in hopes of becoming / gaining a friend)?  

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During the February regional Samson Society retreat, every man shared prepared-in-advance stories of both harm and blessing.  The latter for me was centered on a cherished experience I had in high school.  Afterwards, my old friend & former Silas, made a statement that is still resonating with Rob.  And that statement was centered on how he truly saw me versus how I saw myself (the void).  As a result, I felt like I'd been hit by a bolt of lightning in spite of the insulating factors brought on by the group setting (+/-15 men in the room).  

Essentially, he directly affirmed my masculinity via his understanding of who I am / have always been within his eyes.

Even as I write this, I can easily circuit into that emotional surge, still lingering within my psyche.  

What a blessing via the influence of old, old friendships!

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Here's to my attempts to circle back successfully - one more time - in order to minister to a neighbor that I'm assuming is in need of friendship.

Man, I hope my pool-playing skills quickly resurface.  For as you all know, deer hunting is most definitely not my thing.

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.

Integrated

I feel wholly integrated into Samson Society.  It's taken almost eight years, but I've officially arrived.  And this is no fault of anyone.  Instead, it's testimony to how broken I was when I first stepped foot into the original Jackson, Mississippi meeting back in August of 2014.  

I've always been weighed down by my spiritual gifts.  That - combined with how impossible it is to see myself with any real clarity - positioned me perfectly for a serious emotional rape back in September of 2013 (institutional job termination).  And the shell of a man - contemplating suicide - is what walked into Samson Society all those many years ago.

I thought I'd summarize my journey here in order to clearly spell out that feeling integrated into this community can take a whole lot of time / patience / commitment.

August 2014 - Attend first Jackson, MS Samson Society meeting - First Baptist Church Jackson

October 2014 - Formally agree to firstly become another man's Silas

June 2015 - Attend a Jackson, MS Samson Society retreat (South MS)

December 2015 - Ask another man to be my Silas

April 2016 - Attend second Jackson, MS Samson Society retreat (Highlands, NC)

2017 - Begin attending first Jackson, MS Samson Society spinoff group (Grace Crossing Church -Gluckstadt)

April 2017 - Attend third Jackson, MS Samson Society retreat (Highlands, NC)

Summer 2017 - Begin facilitating the Lakeside Presbyterian Church Samson Society group

November 2017 - Attend first National Samson Society retreat (Middle TN)

February 2018 - Organize first (and only) local (by Rob invitation only) Samson Society retreat (Yazoo county, MS)

November 2018 - Attend second National Samson Society retreat (Middle TN)

January 2019 - Ask another man to be my Silas (#2)

November 2019 - Attend third National Samson Society retreat (Middle TN)

November 2020 - Attend fourth National Samson Society retreat (Middle TN)

July 2021 - Attend Samson Society "Telling Your Story" regional retreat (North GA)

October 2021 - Retire from Samson Society facilitator role at Lakeside Presbyterian Church

November 2021 - Attend fifth National Samson Society retreat (Middle TN)

December 2021 - Ask another man to be my Silas (#3)

December 2021 - Begin attending "Make Thursdays Great Again" virtual Samson Society meeting

February 2022 - Attend second Samson Society "Telling Your Story" regional retreat (Gulf Shores, AL)

That's a whole lotta Samson Society over the past eight years.  All in all, I've attended +/-400 meetings, been served by three Silases, served countless Samson guys as their Silas, attended four dedicated Mississippi Samson Society retreats, five National Samson Society retreats, and two regional Samson Society retreats.

And it's taken all of that to usher me into where I'm at today.  Fully integrated.

In closing, I'm still on fire for this men's ministry.  Just as much as I was at the outset.  I see God's spirit moving / working still in mighty ways.  Plus, to feel fully integrated therein is exceedingly special.  

Samson Society is the coolest venue I've experienced where talking openly about one's sin actively interrupts Satan's wiles.  As such, it's during those sweet episodes where there's great risk.  Risk that God can and certainly does use to grow us forward as his children. 

 

Samson Guys, As They Navigate Their Friendships Within The Community, Must Prioritize The Affirming

The title of this post is my personal opinion.  And it's important to note that it's been my modus operandi relative to the Samson Society throughout my (7 year) participation therein.  I realize it sounds self-centered (selfish), but my point of view - as it's written about here - is always on my personal recovery.  Therefore, everyone likely won't agree with me after reading this post.  But do realize, that this approach has absolutely worked for Rob.

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What I mean by the affirming is receiving affirmation from other Samson guys.  Specific affirmation as it pertains to how you yourself may be wired (by God's design).  For me, I receive affirmation from guys when I'm actively listened to.

Now, let me qualify that statement:  actively listened to.

I'm not referring to another Samson guy having his ears open and hearing Rob.  I'm referring to Samson guys who are attracted / interested enough to / in me to intentionally probe (query) - out of compassion / concern.  

This is active listening.

In regards to this, one of the most burdensome red flags is when I sense my friend's probing is compulsory, or worse, it's being done out of malice (envy, slander, fatalism) or really worse, mistrust.  And this happens at times.  We're human beings.  Though once I suspect it, I have a choice to make - continue forward politely or make a discreet exit.  I usually, to some degree, do the former.  And this is because I know that every situation / circumstance doesn't stand on its own, and that my sensitivity to this may not at all reflect reality.  In other words, I provide them with the benefit of the doubt and play the long game.

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Human beings want to be listened to, noticed.  This is what drives social media.  And it's made for a society of constant talkers with not very many active listeners.

But they are out there.  You just have to be patient and ask God for his grace to bring them your way (again, if that's how you receive affirmation).

Over time there's a high probability that your actively listening friends' interest in you will wane (as will your interest in them).  Hence, if you're like me, you'll carry on 'till your polite mask falls (or disintegrates) off.  

What's unfortunate about this is the derision that can result.  For sometimes Samson guys (many of which have a whole lot to say!) who're altogether presented (sometimes maybe even jolted) with your specific affirmation priority - that being needing / wanting to be heard - may dramatically deflect / reject the overflow / pushback that they're now finding themselves cornered into listening to.  Essentially, they come away feeling like they've been cheated or lied to relative to your tendency to yield them the floor / navigate the waters - by default.

And I honestly don't know how to balance this relational degradation issue with one's own needs, particularly as a Christian.

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Active listening takes skill combined with intelligence (including emotional).  I've found myself to be quite fortunate to have ascertained this skillset.  It is no doubt my most cherished skill, though overall it's in no way qualitatively superior than any other friend tool.  There're plenty of others that I genuinely suck at.  Genuinely.

How might you receive affirmation?  Once you recognize it, do yourself a favor and use it to filter your Samson Society friendships accordingly.  Your recovery will thank you.  Customized affirmation from Samson friends equates to love lived out.  Men in recovery depend on that love.  It's a primary means of God's healing hand within your broken self.

Self-Deprecating Deja Vu

I was offended today whilst listening to an old Samson friend (around my age) dialogue with a new friend (not at all around my age) for how indirectly re-traumatic his approach to this conversation irritated, angered, short-circuited my peaceful, mundane drive into work.

So much so that I sent an email that I'm now not quite sure what to think of (especially as it relates to the reply I received).

For through that listening session, I felt a myriad of negative emotions related to my confusion over expectations.  Expectations as they pertain to middle-aged, tenured, veteran Samson guys like me.  

The best thing that's come out of this (so far) was that email that I penned.  For I sent it to my hero.  And had I not had that emotional response earlier in the day, the email would have never been drafted / sent detailing my mid-October trauma (which has been hidden away up to this point in time).  

God works in mysterious ways.  Using some of the most unexpected tools to unearth past pain.  Thanks be to God.

How Will I Get Noticed If I'm Not On Social Media In 2022? / Respond! Respond! Respond!

We Americans celebrate, relish, elevate, & award ourselves relative to our penchant for creating and consuming entertainment.  It is a mainstay of who we are as a people.  And almost all of it is exported around the globe to other western (& even some eastern) cultures.  Hence, it is a massive component of our economy and therefore our identity as Americans.

With the advent of the Internet, social media eventually came on the scene, and it was there that our obsession with entertainment truly went into overdrive.

Interestingly, social media eschewed the stigma associated with other forms of interactive electronic media (video games).  Instead, it vaulted into the mainstream as the next must-have gee whiz experience, and of course what helped in that regard was its "pro bono" availability.  Therefore, per my research, there are billions of people engaging therein (mostly via their pocket computers).

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Do yourself a favor this year.  Delete your social media accounts and remove their apps from your pocket computers.  

If you'll do this, I promise you your quality of life will improve, and this will primarily occur within the category of your walk with God.

Three fantastic benefits of dumping social media in 2022:

-  You'll no longer be influenced by the endless barrage of stupidity that's thrown at you via these networks.

-  If you're a parent, you can set a great example for your children of how best to use their time online (& offline).

-  You'll no longer be hooked on the notion that others actually care about your posts (via their responses).

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Let's break these down further:

1.  Everything you watch, read, listen to is making an impact - Christ affirming or not - on your brain.  If you're a Christian, and as such, consider the Bible of utmost importance, it's clear in this regard.  Therefore, being extremely cautious as to what you allow yourself to be exposed to is a no-brainer for God's people.

Social media is designed to keep you engaged.  Similar to broadcast television, viewership is of primo importance because the more viewers, the more the corporations behind these entertainment venues can charge for advertisements.  It's important to understand this, I believe, in order to best remain focused on their true intent.

2.  Entertainment's hierarchical place within we westerners is typically seeded when we're children.  And it's our parents / guardians who demonstrate / educate us in this regard.  

I would argue that if you truly care about your children, you'll swallow hard / make your priorities what you want their priorities to be (as grown ass adults).

3.  Gloating is what social media is built on.  Whether you're gloating about yourself, your family, your work, your hobbies, your pets, your vacations, and on and on.  But the hook is in the response(s).  You know, those little thumbs up symbols or some flippant comment someone makes about your posts.

If you're into gloating, you likely have a penchant for envy.  Envy is sin.  Social media is a wide-open playing field for envy.  24/7/365.  Envy is such the toxin that it catalogs.  Monitoring / tracking others' lives over time.  It's a horribly pagan activity that's inexcusable amongst God's people. 

Human beings care exclusively about one thing:  themselves.  We may pretend that we give a damn about others, but in comparison to our self-centeredness, it's a miniscule amount.  Hence, the notion that we engage in social media in order to "keep in touch with our out-of-state family / friends" is bullshit.  What our wretched hearts long for is attention, comfort, exclusivity, and entitlement.  Social media feeds into that wretchedness.  It was invented for it.  And that's ultimately why it should be avoided by Christians.

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2022 is going to be a great year.  Think of how God will honor / bless your decision to decouple from social media.  For good.  

Lagniappe  

Unpack It & Grieve (If Appropriate)

Compartmentalization is the process of capturing and subsequently locking away pain.  That container is constructed of a series of emotionally reinforced mental partitions, often hastily and no doubt in reaction to the intensity of the (oft unexpected) situation.  

For experience (life) is like a river that carries you along.  Especially during childhood.  But when you find yourself unexpectedly dejected (or otherwise) like I wrote about a few posts back (Wednesday, 1/5), the most viable reaction at the time may very well be compartmentalization.  For emotional overload is just that.  Overload. 

Please consider this post as a "Part 2".  I'm going to detail how I successfully unpacked my aforementioned childhood swimming pool physical assault experience - over the course of our end-of-2021 vacation week - prior to discussing what I've determined to be the next step (within an inevitable "Part 3" post).

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Unpacking takes strength and visibility of oneself (whilst in relation to what was compartmentalized) relative to both the why and what is compartmentalized.  The strength is what powers the workload, and the visibility of oneself acknowledges your ownership ("You did this.") of what actually got packed away.

What's lovely about the strength component is, as I've found personally, there are opportunities where within certain circumstances, other men can indirectly assist.

And this is where I'm going to descend (go deeper personally).  I'll do my best not to confuse you.

My defectiveness (see "Part 1" post) is centered on me having such a weak, if not completely absent sense of masculinity, therefore whilst relating to certain other guys, I do find myself, at times, leaning into theirs.  But only if I sense that they're respectfully relating to Rob.  

And when I say respectfully, I'm not referring to mannerisms.  That's not it at all.  I'm referring to the root word:  respect. 

Respect:  a feeling of deep admiration for someone or something elicited by their abilities, qualities, or achievements.

Too often, this respect is hinged on their seeing me as a mentor-type friend, but I digress.  It's the respect portion of the relationship that's critical for me to slip past my shame long enough to do some covertly coupled (to them & the situation) internal work.  

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We all have our childhood selves living inside.  In spite of our physical age, they're there.  I believe they can be especially present (during adulthood) as it pertains to a traumatizing childhood event(s).  For Rob, that subconscious boy is who's appeased / entertained when I choose to look at gay porn.  It's his eyes who're satiated with imagery that harken back to teenage lust-filled fantasies.  

Realizing this truth, I have found that one of the best questions to ask of that inner child is "What do you really want?"  

Mine inevitably answers "I want to be pursued by my masculine archetype in order to receive the affirmation that was held back from / escaped me when you (adult Rob) were my age."

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Whilst vacationing last week in Sandestin, I spent a good bit of time in the resort Fitness Center either alone or with the girls.  On the third day of me going about my routine there, there was an older white male patron who was being quite the prick.  His MO (hopefully only during that particular day) was to obnoxiously chide others over his insistence that equipment be thoroughly wiped down (after usage).  He'd stationed himself right in the center of the space, moving back and forth between two benches, all the while eyeing everyone with eagerness as he anticipated antagonistically barking their way.

I remember taking note of a few of the younger clientele simply aborting their workouts in response to his noisy outbursts, though most chose to ignore him (as I did).

This man was well into his 70s or perhaps 80s, and he was going at it like quite the stallion there on the floor.  The decidedly heavy dumbbell free weights, incline barbell machine, and one end of the cable weight rack were his mainstays.  

I stationed myself directly in front of him on an adjustable bench well before even sardonically considering leaning in.  As such, I was simply determined to outlast this geezer, but my cockiness eventually segued to respect.  From there, I found myself pumping iron for far longer than I'd normally commit to.

And yes, after I finally concluded my ad Hoc routine there under his cantankerous eye, I took a moist towelette and did the right thing.  That was my way of subtlety thanking him for garnering my inner boy's respect.

After the fact, I could not remember a time when I'd worked out for as long and with as much fortitude.  In spite of this, I felt renewed and energized.

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The photograph of the two boys wrestling at the bottom of "Part 1" of that post isn't an arbitrary image.  The boy facing the camera is the Minnesotan (older of the two brothers).

From what my inner boy Rob recalls, this athletically built teen looks very similar to and has the same masculine swagger of the teen who physically assaulted him / me as a child.  Yet, other than that, the similarities drop off.  

As you might imagine, it took a number of evenings last week to finally coax my inner boy to come around, but once he did, he leaned into this kindhearted jock no holds barred.  And you should know that I believe wholeheartedly that the nighttime swimming pool setting was God breathed for this opportunity to present itself.  

And oh my goodness, it was such a healing experience for boy Rob / me.  

So what do I mean exactly by leaning in?  Respectfully acknowledging (cross pollination) the attention / respect.  That's the first step.  From there, it's observing very closely who the individual is / how they're engaging - WITH ADULT (IN RECOVERY) ROB EYES.  And that's super important.  Because the last thing I want to happen is to fall back into juvenile lust.

As I'm sure you've figured out, this respectful observational process is where the unpacking occurs.  For as I'm annotating / updating my childhood experiences with these new experiences, I can't help but see my boyhood self gleefully taking part whilst using my adult Rob strength to pull it off.  And no, this doesn't change or blot out my childhood trauma, but I can now at least sit with it out of the box.

  

Throughout all the years that I've had the privilege of being involved in Samson Society, there's been no better lesson learned than how to do this.  For if you could quantify the amount of compartmentalizing I've accomplished, it would amount to the contents of an entire set of 1980s Encyclopedia Britannica's.  Hence, there's a boatload to unpack.  Thanks be to God for the men who've come in and out of my life, who've allowed me to lean in for such a time as that.  I'm no doubt a better, more settled man for it.  

Bad / Poor Mouthing

Bad / poor mouthing is the practice of tearing others down behind their backs.  It's usually executed amongst a triangulated peer group - friends, family, co-workers, and it's done because we all feel - at times - entitled to do so.  

Entitled means "believing oneself to be inherently deserving of privileges or special treatment."

Arrogance is what fuels feeling entitled.  Arrogance means "the quality of being arrogant."

Arrogant means "having or revealing an exaggerated sense of one's own importance or abilities."

Exaggerate means "represent (something) as being larger, better, or worse than it really is."

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Individuals who poor mouth should be wary of not experiencing one distinct side effect:  guilt.  Usually it's immediate for it doesn't take but a split second to hear one's own callousness.

If you're one of the fortunate ones subjected to these reactionary pangs, be thankful (whilst heeding them).  For that's your conscience doing its good work on your behalf.  

From there, drop to your knees and thank God that you still have a conscience that's properly calibrated and functional.

If you're one of those whose innards stay silent immediately following bad / poor mouthing, please make a point to read (& commit to memory) James 3 as soon as possible.

And just so you know, James was the brother of Jesus.  That makes his words that much more relevant.

Lagniappe