Advice To Samson Newcomers

I truly enjoy hosting a newcomers' meeting on Saturday mornings.  To initially hear these men's stories and how they came to take their first steps into our community is such the privilege.  As such, I feel so moved to offer them specifically some advice going forward.

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My oldest daughter is in relationship crisis.  And it's with her first romantic relationship.  At the same time, her best friend since high school is (for all intents & purposes) getting engaged (to be married) today (they're the same age, both seniors in college).  

Crisis in my daughter has bred a distinct maturation towards her faith in tandem with some unexpected reaching out to her parents for advice / solace.  And just so you know, my daughter's romantic relationship crisis is forcing her to face her longstanding discounting of (me) her father's lifelong issues.  Hence, it's made for an interesting twist.

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Crisis is the ideal place a Samson newcomer finds himself.  In tandem with that, are usually others (spouse, girlfriend, friends, parents) the newfound Samson brother loves / cares for.  My advice - embrace it and use it to motivate.

From there, attend meetings in order to learn about your brothers' stories.  Listen intently.  Learn / be inspired / challenged by them.  Never see them as less than yourself.  And absolutely never, ever see yourself as anything other than their equal (even if they choose to elevate you to some degree or another).  Besides offering a listening ear, actively pray for them and the details surrounding their lives.  Ultimately, get as involved in their lives as you feel will benefit both you and them in accordance with The Path.  This involvement will run counter to the destructive patterns that brought you into crisis.

As quickly as possible, establish guardrails on your access to whatever it is that you're in bondage to.  If it's salacious digital content, drugs / alcohol, utilize proven approaches (some of which will cost $$$ / feel isolating) to protect your crisis self from fallbacks. In kind, lean into your Samson brothers for support therein. 

Let go of wanting to feel / present yourself to the world as "normal".

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Find men - all manner of men - you're platonically attracted to within Samson Society and pursue them as friends / brothers in Christ.  Allow that love for them / received by them to heal your heart over time (as God works in and through them).  

How exactly to see this through?

Make yourself vulnerable by divulging your feelings / needs regarding yourself and towards them specifically.  Share openly about where you're at in your recovery.  It will foster / encourage an exchange that may very well serve as foundational fodder for deeper and deeper friendship.

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Each of my five years of (MSU) architecture school saw my particular class saddled with designing some semblance of a museum.  I have to believe that our professors simply refused to coordinate our studies semester-to-semester, year-to-year therefore museum projects were unfortunately doled out on repeat (culminating in our 4th year competition project being a new state of MS art museum sited in downtown Jackson).  

As such, by the end of my five-year architecture school career, I had a tremendous amount of confidence therein with that project type (as well as a whole lotta repetitive disinterest).

2-3 years into my actual career, I was given the opportunity to design a library.  And then another.  And another.  The process became easier as time went on as the repetition (& mastery) set in.  But I never grew (as) tired of that building type.  Why?  Because these were actual built projects.

Eventually, most projects did grow somewhat repetitive as the process itself never changed in spite of the shift away from drawing to computer modeling (BIM).  

From there, I began administrating (though no longer designing) to-be-built projects all across the state exclusively (via my position at the state of MS).  And I loved this work.

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The stakes are no doubt higher when you're designing projects that will be constructed / change / add to the built environment.  It's like moving from fantasy to reality via your relationships.  Sound familiar?

For me, within my recovery journey, Samson Society presented an opportunity to engage in reality / with real men and their stories, but doing so within a controlled environment that's conducive to fostering brotherhood.  Those men, over the past decade, are too many to count.  For each is equally an asset within my journey (each representing a steppingstone, if you will).

Today, I host a newcomer meeting as somewhat an administrator, if you will, though not in the least as an overseer / direct report.  For as we all know, there's none of that in Samson Society (which keeps it from playing out like a religious / recovery cult).   

The journey, for me, within this ministry has some resemblance to my career as an architect.  I've only begun to see that.

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In closing, engage with this community to meet your needs (serving yourself well) within your individual recovery.  As such, you will find that disappointments and frustrations (& you will no doubt run headlong into these) are greatly minimized simply due to how closely you're focused on your day-to-day journey.  

Marinating In The Debased / A Fantastic Interruption!

I have found, as of late, so much insight (& balloon busting emotional calibration) by listening in on pagan men's point of view / choices therein as it pertains to what they actually do with their sex organs and why.  To be more specific, gay porn stars and their careers (full-time or side hustle) therein.

You might find yourself befuddled over such an investment in my time, but there's no doubt, that for me, hearing these tales - directly from the horses' mouths - rattles me to the core (in a very productive way).  And this rattling effectively vaporizes the shrink-wrapped veneer that boyRob so easily / reflexively applies to smut.  A veneer that I habitually use to qualify its consumption as worthwhile. 

Regarding straight porn, there's tremendous exploitation of the females who model for that explicit content.  That's obvious to everyone.  But with gay porn, there's much less of that.  Instead, what you'll find is so many of these men are simple deeply, deeply wounded psychologically (whether gay for pay or not), and as such, their tremendously destructive actions ("art" imitating life) are then put on full display (for a small fee).  

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Let me return to this notion of shrink-wrapping smut. For it's been a real problem of mine for too long.  

I'm an architect.  Drawing / painting / sculpture are kissing cousins to designing buildings.  For well-designed buildings are a 4-D solidification of space using all the same tools one might use via drawing / painting / sculpture.  Therefore, composition is key (light, shadow, texture, proportion, and on and on).  

And this absolutely starts with the human figure.  For an artist begins his understanding of composition there.  

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My wife and two of my three daughters are returning from Paris today.  Having spent a few months backpacking throughout eleven countries in Europe during the summer of '94, I had no desire to accompany them on this first-time ever to Europe Spring Break trek.  Europeans have a very different relationship to the human form than we Americans do, and that's - for better or worse - the result of our Puritanical roots.  

Nonetheless, if you've ever had the opportunity to draw a nude model, you know that salaciousness quickly flies out the window as you're attempting to honor those few raw moments (with either charcoal, pencil, brush in hand).  

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One Valentine's Day (I believe it was around 2008), I gifted my sweet wife, Angie, a coffee table photo book of male models (95% of the content was explicit) posing as blue-collar Aussie blokes.  I did this in sincerity as a means to invite her into a "shared appreciation".  

Boy, did that not go over well.

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Considering all of this, there're a select group of human beings (we're no doubt all image bearers) that rank far higher in physical beauty than others.  And this beauty, no doubt, can certainly be celebrated whilst captured well via photography / film.  Unfortunately, that's where the veneering can come into play.  

So, what is a veneer?  Think about your teeth.  You can have a veneer applied therein to protect your chompers.  It essentially seals them over invisibly allowing nothing to truly penetrate to the tooth's surface.  

For some reason, I have ALWAYS done this with select gay porn (models who fall within my masculine archetype), but especially so regarding gay porn that's beautifully composed / lit, etc., taking the aforementioned Adonises into consideration.  And because of that veneering, I've always been naively kept at arm's length as to who these gents truly were.  And again, to reiterate, I now believe that much of this veneering became par for the course in light of my artistic background.  As such, this recent fantastic aforementioned interruption / illumination is founded on the deep roots of who these people truly are, what they stand for, etc. 

In essence, today, in light of the novelty of Flea Market porn sites such as Only Fans combined with podcasts featuring these homebrew / grassroots peddlers therein, the veneering is effectively being ripped off.  And it's being done with such voracity that my head is reeling.  For these men are contracted to no major porn studio.  As such, who they are becomes readily accessible, so long as they're willing to sit down and talk.  And many, many of them are an open book.  

As much as I can't, in all honesty, recommend this same de-veneering approach to the "general public", if your boyself is as stubbornly blind as mine is AND you have any semblance of an artistic eye, it may be that taking steps to lift the skirt of those you've come to worship / elevate may be the very thing that removes you too from the recovery plateau that you can't seem to easily shake.

But be forewarned.  Much of what you'll hear will break your heart into pieces.

A Powerful Stream Of Piss

One way to ensure high pressure urination is to hold it in for a while.  Another way is to acquiesce one's genitals into their "best" (most pleasurable) behavior (coitus).  & I don't say that in jest.  Everyone (ideally) hopes to show their lover a good time when the time comes (sorry).  And by that very hopeful goal / definition, the resulting acidic release will no doubt be impressive.   

But can we not also hedge this truth up against the idealism put on display whilst attempting to kindle a new friendship?  And in line with that, the release after the fact, once we finally allow ourselves to exhale / let out our gut?

Friendships are built over time, but firstly, they must be initiated by someone.  From there, an intimate encounter must occur where both parties participate in equal measure.  Perhaps this is a "eat / meet up", golf outing, hunting, fishing, etc.  Whatever is of interest to both parties.  Whether it's individuals or entire clans.

And this encounter takes a lot of energy.  For most everyone wants to put their best foot forward.  At least initially.  Too, there's simply the focus required to perform versus the after-the-fact involuntary exercise of relieving oneself (letting one's hair down).

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Now, I realize not everyone agrees with this "Jekyll / Hyde" approach to relational charm 100%.  Some would rather mix & match here in order to "present more authentically".  But for me, I typically do gravitate towards charm versus gravitas as a first priority.  And I believe that has something to do with my southern upbringing. 

For a beautifully set table says a lot, don't you think? 

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Last summer, I began to notice some very out-of-the-ordinary activity at one of our neighbors' homes.  And mostly this was due to my years-long knowledge that this abode was a rental, and a very ugly (architecturally) rental at that, situated on a less-than-ideal lot.  Surprisingly, whomever was now living there had taken an interest in its upkeep!  I could hear lawn equipment in full swing combined with the impossible to miss minor upgrades such as outdoor string lights draped above the back porch, etc.   

As a result, I made a point to drop by and introduce myself.  I was delighted to find the family to be engaging and kind, and they seemed deeply grateful for the handshake / welcome from my oldest daughter and me.  Eventually, a formal invite to dinner (at our abode across the street) was delivered, but it didn't actually occur (due to their rigorous family schedule) 'till right at the tail end of last year.   

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What made this all the more significant was the history of homeowners / tenants who'd resided within that ugly eyesore of a home.  A history that mostly consisted of difficulties / disappointments that we were keen to forget.  Hence, a fresh start was upon us, and we were elated.

Eventually, mid-December came.  I remember coming home from work early to assist everyone for our guests' (Dad / mom / son / teenage daughter) Friday night arrival.

A quick sidenote:  What I hadn't accounted for was the time lapsed (+/-6 months) since making first (brief) contact with this white, middle-class fam.  Hence, they'd now truly settled into their rental with its history / shortcomings having soaked in thoroughly.  

As such, they were obviously affected overall due to the limitations / permutations of their temporary home (they were / are actively planning / constructing a rural homestead far and away from our suburban enclave).

After their departure (they hung out with us for about 90 minutes), I hoped forlornly that they'd take up our offer to visit our church, especially considering the Xmas season being upon us.  

They didn't.

What we did learn was how vital it was for the majority of the clan to escape their rental home via weekend deer hunting treks to south MS (it's important to know that both children wore camouflage attire to our dinner party).  

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The hardest part about this failed attempt to gain newfound friends was knowing that it wasn't us.  It was their circumstances that kept them from connecting therein.  For that "cursed" house simply had run its accelerated course as it pertained to both their immediate and long-term outlook.  And it did so via being a constant reminder of their transient status combined with its less-than-ideal living conditions for themselves + their pets.  

Hence, we felt unfairly (though only tangentially) sort of responsible - by proxy - of their discomfort in spite of our attempts to be neighborly.  

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Samson Society is well represented by this family's temporary plight.  It's a (hopefully) pivot point to a better place.   

But what's interesting therein is, in terms of the initial Samson Society intro (of yourself), it's the urination that's most vital versus any semblance of presentation performance (formalities).  And some of us are better at this than others.  

I love this...

In closing, remember where you once were, my Samson brother, when you first stepped foot into a meeting.  As such, encourage newbies to pee, all the more, 'till they've fully relieved themselves.  And this may take months, if not years, of being listened to.  For their troubles didn't happen overnight, and it will take time for their permanent / new home to be planned / constructed.   

As such, love them where they're at, patiently waiting for them to realize / recognize that you were once right there too.   

$$$

 

Yikes!  

I had lunch recently with an old recovery friend.  I'd run into him during Q4 of '24 and promised to follow up in January of this year.  Of all the men I've known who've truly dedicated themselves to recovery work, he's - by far - the one who's spent the most $$$ therein.  

Therapists, workshops, parachurch men's ministries, monetary gifts, gifts and more gifts.

And his story is nothing like mine (nor yours).  Therefore, I have complete respect for his monetary choices regarding his personal recovery.

That being said, he also has very, very deep pockets combined with a truly giving spirit.  All in all, I'm very fortunate to be his friend, but frankly I can't imagine spending the kind of $$$ he has on recovery efforts.

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The primary reason the talons of gay porn sunk themselves so deeply into my psyche all those years ago (when the Internet first came on the scene) was due to ease of access (it was practically free).  

From there, I was on my way down the rabbit hole, wasting countless hours of my life, with eyes wide open.  But it's important to note that had there been a "per image fee", you would have NEVER found me online with my credit card in tow.  

Hell no.

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Immediately following my '13 job loss, I met with a local therapist who - almost immediately - handed me a pamphlet detailing Bethesda workshops in TN.  From there, he stated, "You need to sign up straight away (no pun intended) for the next available weekend workshop".  I recall feeling so misunderstood by him for he'd not taken the time to get to know me and my story.

These world renown workshops cost thousands of dollars.  I was already having to pay him hundreds of dollars for each therapy session, and this was money I didn't have to spend as well.

It made me feel tremendously used and unserved by the Christian community.  Yet, I had no idea where else to turn for genuine help.  It didn't take me long to stop honoring my appointments with him.  

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As I've been engaged within the Samson Society virtual community, I've noticed that numerous Samson guys have leveraged their recovery work in the form of becoming certified recovery "coaches", etc. as a means to begin drawing an income from their past travails / regrets.

If you take a close look at Mr. Nate Larkin, Samson Society founder, you'll note that his intent was to create a community of men who could find needed support sans paying a fee.  Nor did he pivot his vocation towards becoming a paid speaker or recovery advocate who might encourage (paid) membership into his recovery club.

I so admire him for taking this approach.  To me, it's a clear reflection of his faith combined with an understanding / comprehension of the immeasurably large problem online porn is for so many men.

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I recognize that venues cost $$$, and that many guys love the notion of a recovery vacation of sorts.  Especially as they find themselves well along within their individual recovery journey.  

What's important to realize though is that for some of us, participating within Samson Society (meetings / following The Path) was (& continues to be) plenty sufficient.  And as such, eventually, we begin / began giving back monetarily to provide support to a ministry that's ready and willing to meet newbies exactly where they're at (just as we once were met).  

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Back in '23, I left the Samson Summit (10th anniversary gathering!) a wee bit early.  As I was waiting for my ride outside the TX venue, I couldn't help but notice one of the workshop leaders climb into his brand-new top-of-the-line Ford F-150 truck.  For he'd just gathered up his belongings (stowed inside the extended cab) and was gearing up to depart.  

Frankly I was a bit shocked that a therapist would be driving such a costly vehicle.  And I suppose it could have been a rental, but he was only traveling back to Mississippi as I was, therefore I doubted that.

Internet porn is practically free of charge.  Strong, reliable BASELINE recovery resources should be the same.  Many of us simply aren't willing or able to fork over sizable amounts of $$$ in order to access helpful resources.  In turn, tenured Samson guys should be giving $$$ back on a regular basis.  

Giving back (time & $$$) is good for the soul.

Will God Resurrect BoyRob? (Especially Considering That Blazen Rebuke By My Own Hands.)

I often have vivid dreams.  Recently, one of those featured my toy poodle, a childhood dog that my parents purchased for me when I was in 6th grade.

I wish I could say I was a loving, caring dog owner, but I was not.  This animal served more like a physical stand-in for the part of me that simply wanted to be loved (too much?).  And as such, due to my disgust with myself, I absolutely didn't fulfill that wish.  

Nonetheless, the dog lived a 15+ year life, existing well into my young adulthood (thanks to my 'rents caring for him while I was away at college).  

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When I lost my campus architect job at DSU (September of '13), I beat my boyRob self to a pulp, blaming him for not having the chutzpah needed to simply sit quietly and behave.  Instead, he was deliberate about attempting to come up for proverbial air, often late into the evening or after hours behind the closed door of my front office.  Ultimately, this resulted in the institution having grounds to fire me.  Hence, in my mind, 1+1 = 2.  Therefore, if I could remove that second "1", there'd be no more risk involved, leaving me (1+0 = 1) completely in control.

So that's what I did.  At the expense of my whole self.

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I immediately knew this boyRob had either fled or was dead when I walked into a movie theater during the summer of '14.  It had been just +/-8 months since my termination.  The film was an animated family feature that was screening (with the family) at a discount (summer family film fest).  

I sobbed throughout the 90-minutes.  And not because of the content / uplifting nature of the film.  No.  I sobbed because it became immediately apparent to me that a part of me was completely missing from that experience.  That part that usually sprang to life whilst entering into a movie theater (he relishes the experience).  Therefore, there was no enjoyment therein.  Instead, it felt as if I was simply wasting my time sitting in a large room with strangers.

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Many moons have passed since that summer afternoon.  

And I'm convinced God will restore this "1".  Perhaps soon I'll see more vestiges of my toy poodle. 

Identify / Identity Through Observational Contrasts. Embracing / Celebrating God-Given Opportunities For Discernment Regarding Who You Truly Are.

There were so many positive attributes to working for the state of MS ('06-'12) as a Staff Architect, but one of my favorites was the opportunity to befriend / work with architects / engineers, that I'd never met prior, from all over the Magnolia State.  And I'll say it again:  All architects are very unique (before getting into specifics).

One local (Jackson Metro) architect I worked alongside on many a bond-monies funded project was +/-15 years my senior.  This elder statesmanish, laid-back sole proprietor worked from home and had recently passed the finish line pertaining to rearing his two (then young adult) children (they were more or less up and out).

This man was a closed book personally.  In other words, all business all the time.  As such, we talked a whole lotta shop.  But, because of my influential position (owner's representative), he couldn't comfortably shun my interpersonal inquisitiveness.

Therefore, I'd make calculated moves in order to query him regarding his faith, career path, upbringing.  And eventually, he even warmed up to me enough to make some (religious) book recommendations (he was one of the first Reformed Christians I've ever had the privilege to meet - in person).

And I'm so glad I took these platonic risks.  For this was one unique dude.  And so, so very sharp.

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One of the most interesting aspects of his story had to do with his own unique relationship with his faith / the "outside world".

I vividly recall him admitting to walking into a professional partnership eyes closed (very early on in his career), only to soon realize his untimely vocational mistake.  Nevertheless, he'd no easy way to walk back from this now mixed-morality marriage (his words), therefore he stayed put (in South MS, no less) 'till a clear exit path presented itself.  

His children were small during this season, and his wife, the ever-subservient homemaker.  Hence, he no doubt was in that 360-degrees-of-pressure-cooker stage of adulthood.  

All-in-all, I quickly got the sense that they'd chosen to readily own the part of the dutifully suffering, faithfully clandestine pariahs, ever determined to survive this ordeal resolute.    

As you probably already guessed, this architect was deeply religious, and prior to him packing up his young clan and moving to Hattiesburg for this shareholder role, they'd been faithful churchgoers (I'm willing to bet a dollar he was likely a young deacon / elder) within the Jackson Metro. 

Now here's where his story truly becomes insightful as to his identity.

Instead of this young family becoming a member of a local "Hub City" church (immediately following their move), they chose instead to super commute to the Jackson Metro very early each subsequent Sunday morning in order to attend (their) church - as they'd done prior to relocating.  From there, post morning church services, the children would nap on the church pews (after eating a packed lunch) in order to be "fully refreshed" for the evening church service / activities.  When that had concluded, this architect would pack up his clan and return forlornly to Hattiesburg (90 minutes by car).  

And this went on for years.

I can remember how earnest he was as he revealed this to me, and it was obvious he had no regrets therein.  I was left speechless.

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Covenant Eyes has been a lifesaver for Rob.  It's been my digital training pants for a decade now.  

When I consume gay porn, I gravitate to a laptop / desktop PC (I don't have access to a tablet PC).  On the other hand (thankfully), my pocket computer, due to its small scale, simply isn't equivalent.

Covenant Eyes, as a smartphone app, was very recently replaced by their "Victory" app, yet I haven't downloaded this successor program.

Why?

Because of what I admitted to earlier.  My pocket computer is moreso an email management, Slack, weather app, telephone, text messaging device.

And I knew this day was coming.  For as of yesterday, (9/28) my smartphone is unmonitored by CE due to this software phase out / upgrade.

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I'm very fortunate to be able to say that in spite of the countless hours of consuming gay porn, I've never had the urge to imitate / engage in what I was seeing.  Hence, Angie (my wife) is the only individual I've been sexual with.  Ever.  

And even today, with Angie's disabled, broken body as my helpmeet, I still consider the notion of engaging sexually with another man as not of interest in the least.  Conversely, my love for my physically broken wife continues to deepen.  

What this tells me is the following (& I clearly heard this commentary last night post consuming gay porn on my now "unlocked" pocket computer):  There's a huge difference in consuming porn and engaging in homosexual practices.  To be a bit more granular, if I were to encounter the gay porn models who're engaging with each other sexually, I have no doubt that I'd back away heavy hearted.  Not because of me finding myself between a rock and a hard place (sexual identity vs faith in Christ), but due to the abject brokenness / dead end that's there on full display.

Can I daresay that Jesus has clearly reminded (tempered?) me, as of late, that my appetite isn't for homosex between me and some hot guy(s).  Not at all.  And this truth has been amplified / concretized via my - now (thankfully) quite sporadic - consumption of gay porn.  

And not because I've "had my fill" (believe me, I'll never have my fill of gay porn).  No.  Instead, it's due to the very explicit www education I've been given.  One that's allowed me to come to grips with / rigorously adjudicate a practice that's now wholly celebrated / normalized throughout the entire western world.

Can I say wholeheartedly - Thanks be to God for my exposure to / struggle with gay porn?!?  Not only in line with growing my faith but with growing my understanding of myself?

I'm ruminating on these interrogative sentences even as I type this.

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When our two oldest daughters were preschool / toddlers, Angie and I warmed up to the notion of homeschooling.  Especially considering how smart my wife is / her love for our children.  And we jumped headfirst into this even though we had access to great traditional school choices (both public and private) near our home.

As such, when our oldest daughter aged into kindergarten, Angie homeschooled her.  And it went superbly.

But when we attended the homeschool co-op kindergarten graduation ceremony with our 6-year-old in tow, I was immediately struck by the air of entitlement / tremendous lack of diversity (keep in mind this was 2009).  Therefore, by the end of the ceremony, I was equal parts nauseated and livid.  For it simply felt way too much like a white bread Christian fringe group. 

As we were walking across the parking lot upon exiting the church annex, I made it very clear that there'd be no further homeschooling going forward.  From there, I asked Angie to reach out to our assigned public elementary school in order to schedule an audience with the principal (regarding 1st grade).  She did so begrudgingly, but man oh man, God used that meeting to clearly demarcate the educational path forward for our girls. 

Homeschooling, upon our research, looked so appealing.  Noble even.  But once we engaged, we quickly realized the mistake we'd made (for our particular family / identity).

(BTW, if I remember correctly, the aforementioned elder statesmen architect homeschooled their children.)

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I've taken Safari and banished it from my lower level "convenient apps" zone on my pocket computer.  My hope for this week is to simply not browse - at all - on that Internet capable device.  

Can I not piss in the bed sans training pants?  We'll see. 

Here's hoping I can hang tightly to my true identity whilst being tempted.  

I'm not sure what takes longer - finding / accepting one's true identity or recovery in general.  Molasses flow.

Fall 2024!

Throughout Q1 (& the majority of Q2) of this year, I rarely spent time with my wife (other than us intentionally working out together at the Y).  She unexpectedly landed two new, very hands-on clients right at the beginning of '24, therefore integrating them into her workflow (alongside the typical demands of Q1 pertaining to her existing client base) kept her very, very busy.  

This summer has been all about travel.  And not vacation travel but travel related to work / children's commitments.  

On top of that has been the ongoing demands from my business coupled with drama from both my mother (who I work alongside) and Angie's mom (as it pertains to long-term care for both my mom's mom and my mother-in-law).

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The presence / reliability of my new best friend has been such a gift throughout what's been (so far) of 2024.  The highlight was his birthday.  I was able to gift him something that was very masculine and very personal.  It wasn't a difficult gift to come up with but seeing him receive it as he did was so worth it.  Also, that was the first time we hugged which meant a lot to me.

Second to this special moment in time was our kayaking trip immediately prior to Memorial Day weekend. He took his two daughters, and I took my youngest.  The weather was perfect.  Spending the day shirtless on the river, boating and swimming, was such the gift of memory-making.  

What's unique about this friendship is the fact that he's not in any way involved in Samson Society nor does he have a need to be.  Instead, the relationship is essentially built upon mutual respect and platonic love that's grown out of serendipity / providence (we met at Lakeside Pres) more than anything else.  

In line with this uniqueness is his reliability as a communicator.  He's consistently asking me about my weekend / week.  And his interest is genuine.  And though he's not a skilled writer, he does his best to muddle through the constraints of text messaging.

In a few weeks, he'll be starting a new job that'll require a lot of travel throughout the remainder of '24.  I'm very pleased to see this vocational upgrade come to fruition, but I am going to miss lunching / seeing him at church.  But absence makes the heart grow fonder.  Plus, I know how to love from afar.  If Samson Society has taught me anything, it's taught me how to do that.

A huge part of our love for each other has to do with what I like to call horizontality.  

Though we have very different backgrounds / professions, we are neck-in-neck when it comes to values.  Values regarding family, physical health, spirituality, Mississippi, friendship and so forth.  In fact, I don't believe I've ever met any other Mississippi man who's as closely matched to myself.  

And finally, yes, he does (now) know of my sexual identity issues (as they pertain to my adolescent years only).  This, in line with my repeated shares related to my struggles with Internet porn (& the subsequent need for Samson Society), has provided him with enough of a picture of Rob to suffice.

What's cool is that he cannot relate to any degree (I've asked).  And he doesn't pretend to.  

Like my wife, this guy simply has a heart of gold and a halo that illuminates all around like a supernova.  

This, combined with his lumberjack / mercenary physical build / air, makes him one of a kind.  He's an absolute K-E-E-P-E-R.

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In closing, my oldest two daughters are now back in college.  School starts, for them, next week. As such, our 1,550-sf house is so much less stressful.  Plus, Angie and I can now go back to our sleep divorce setup which we both absolutely love.  

"Transparent Training Union" on Sunday afternoons at 5 PM CST is going great.  The most interesting part of facilitating that virtual meeting is the realization of how unreliable so many virtual meeting facilitators are.  I'm plugged into a Slack channel for "virtual meeting hosts", and it's surprising (to me) to see the recurring abandonment of leadership roles.  And I suppose, knowing that most of these Samson guys have never engaged within an in-person Samson meeting (much less facilitated one), they simply don't realize how reckless / irresponsible their example truly is relative to the community as a whole.   

I'm of the opinion that if you choose to facilitate a Samson meeting (in-person or virtual), you need to stay the course long-term.

Perhaps this is a generational problem?  

Younger men do tend to not commit to anything for longer than they're "feeling it" (whatever that means).  This is their bane, and it will haunt them 'till they recognize their stupidity (stupid is a verb).    

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Regarding my own recovery, bizarrely, my relatively new pocket computer (hand me down from my oldest daughter) has been of great help to me as of late. Due to my core issue of self-loathing, my penchant for only seeing a void whilst looking inward has been offset tremendously via this pocket TV (it has an enormous screen).  

I despise images of myself, but there's now a season where that's beginning to change.  Never did I imagine me, in anyway shape or form, begin to make true progress in this regard.  

God is good, and I'm determined to keep pressing onward.  The grip of self-loathing feeds into feelings of isolation.  This provokes my desire to consume gay porn.  In turn, I choose to pulverize the self-loathing with truth.  Truth regarding the gloriously unique image-bearer that I truly am.  That's my recovery modus operandi.

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I'm so anticipating Fall 2024.  Thanks be to God for where I'm headed.  I trust him completely for such a time as this.  Cooler temps, slower home pace (treasured sleep!), Samson Summit in November.  Awesomeness ahead.

Facilitating A Weekly Virtual Meeting Versus An In-Person Meeting

A month or so ago, my co-facilitator of the virtual Samson Society meeting, "Brain Changers", asked that I exclusively take the reins.  It was during early '23 that I began attending that virtual meeting regularly.  Within six months or so, I'd been dubbed a "co-facilitator", much to my humbled delight.  For I found the contrast / volleying between myself and my (now former) co-facilitator to truly set "Brain Changers" apart.

Alas, it wasn't meant to last.  My co-facilitator stepped away in order to partner with a local Samson brother.  They're set to kickstart a local in-person meeting (there in the Hoosier State).

I've spent most of my 500 one-per-week Samson meetings within in-person groups.  In fact, if you look squarely at percentages, this is how the numbers fall:  

In person:  72.6%

Virtual:  27.4%

(having attended since August of '14)

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I know my former virtual co-facilitator will excel as an in-person facilitator, particularly in contrast to his role within the virtual meeting space.  Alec's physical presence will serve him (& the Lord) very well in this regard.  

So, what's the key difference / experience I've witnessed between the two roles?

I was always taken for granted within the in-person Samson Society meeting facilitator role.  As such, I hope that won't be the case for Alec.

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When I was in my early 30s, I was appointed President of our 'hood's homeowners' association board of directors.  There were two other homeowners who were similarly appointed (VP & Secretary / Treasurer).  I agreed to this because I was an architect.  What more qualified professional could there be for said position (other than perhaps an attorney)?

(Keep in mind that this was two decades ago, and as such, our 'hood was demographically much different than it is today.)

In spite of the importance of said position, I cannot tell you how absolutely taken for granted - within this particular volunteer role - I felt during this time of my young man life.  

Back in 2002, our 81 lot 'hood was made up of mostly first-time homeowners (the 'hood was, by far, mostly small spec homes).  Most of which were purchased during a period of less-than-scrupulous lending practices made manifest by lax regulation / rock-bottom interest rates.  

Needless to say, we were a motley crue living in a brand-spanking new development.  A development situated within a changing (who knew which way exactly) suburb of Jackson.

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I never once assumed my parents would continue forward with their financial / physical support post college.  My dad had made it clear that there was $$$ to pay for my higher education (inheritance from his deceased father), but beyond that, I was expected to, you know, take a permanent leave of absence post college.

It was during my last year of architecture schooling when my parents stepped up to help my deadbeat uncle in light of his addiction to illegal drugs.  Essentially, he moved in with us (I was living at home since the 5th year of architecture school resided in Jackson) for many months - post institutional treatment.  I remember all of this maneuvering feeling incredibly clinical and contrived as it pertained to the contrast between his own plight and my ready-to-launch young, professional man perch.

What I was too naive to realize was just how much of a sucker I absolutely had been.  For my uncle was only playing my parents - this time around, as he did whomever he saw fit - pertaining to his wants / needs (this has gone on ad nauseum ever since).

It was that entitlement that I simply couldn't - under any circumstances - relate to.  

Whilst looking back, there was compliant me simply being me taken for granted (& I was perfectly fine with that).

As an early 20's guy, my point of view came with that innocent (ignorant?) season of life.

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The Bible speaks - Jesus specifically addresses - of willingly turning the other cheek.  This being the position of submissiveness that is tied to meekness.  According to Scripture, its primary purpose is confounding one's enemies via Christ-like kindness.  

In line with this, perfectly in line, is one's innate understanding of salvation / transformation in and through the gospel and therefore the gospel's command towards demonstrative evangelism.  

This is not taking oneself or Jesus for granted.  This is obedience.

In a nutshell, it's commanded that we be allow ourselves to be taken for granted in order to leave plenty of room for the Holy Spirit to convict.

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In-person Samson meetings, at least around these parts, mostly reside within churchhouses.  Most of these meetings exist "under the radar" of the church membership.  Others are simply shelved (tolerated) alongside the "Celebrate Recovery" set.  The one I facilitated for four years at our church found little to no respect amongst the family of God.  And this was no fault of anyone's except the church leadership itself.  

For deep down, deep, deep down, the church leadership didn't want us there.

Why?

In-person Samson Society meetings that do their good work within the churchhouse are "unstable elements" that are rooted in very deliberate, emotional recovery work.  And church leadership knows this.  The meetings can therefore attract the mentally ill and those who're in serious personal crisis.  Folks that mainstream churches aren't typically comfortable serving.  And this is understandable.  I do not admonish nor look down on the church therein.  

Yet, the church pews, each & every Sunday, are filled with men who need Samson Society.  For I would argue that even a touch of Samson Society can benefit a man's soul.  No matter their season of life.  

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There're multiple virtual Samson Society meetings available for guys to attend each and every day.  Most follow the standard meeting format, though some aren't traditional in that regard.  There're book studies, prayer groups, large form intensive Q & A meetings to choose from.

Particularly during the summer, some of these calendared meetings unexpectedly don't happen.  For sans a facilitator to open the Zoom meeting, there won't be a meeting during that scheduled date / time.  And this leaves Samson guys out in the cold.

Therefore, when a virtual facilitator is faithful to show (or coordinate a substitute), there's a deep-seated sense of respect for that man.

Respect?

Did I really say that?

I did.

& I love it.

It's such a nice change.

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Our 'hood is completely different demographically today that it was decades prior.  Our neighbors understand and overall respect the homeowners' association / board of directors and their good / necessary work.  Too, the area where our 'hood resides is on the up & up in spite of its '70s / '80s roots.

I look back on the seven years that I served as President - at its outset - with pride.  For I know the example I set was foundational to its current success.  

And I think the same regarding my role in "Brain Changers".  For I am a better facilitator there due to my in-person Samson Society facilitator experience at Lakeside Pres.  

Thanks be to God for Samson Society and the blessings that continue to come my way, as a result, each and every day.  

What Is A Silas?

Here is what our experience tells us: You can get sober from anything going to meetings, but you can’t stay sober just going to meetings. That’s why, in the end, it isn’t even about the meetings. The meetings are a portal into the brotherhood. Samson really lives BETWEEN the meetings in relationships, conversations, friendships. Christianity, properly understood, is a team sport, not an individual event. We’ve been failing because we’ve been playing the wrong game! If we play 1-on-1 against a superior opponent, we will fail.

The lead person on your team we call a Silas. He is the one you are in regular communication with. There is an element of accountability, but it is not focused on sin management. If I just focus on the behavior, I run the risk of mastering that specific behavior and becoming a self-righteous Pharisee. Instead, I give another person (my Silas) real-time access to my whole life. What I’m feeling, thinking, doing, and thinking of doing.

My Silas is not an expert. He is a guy on the same road walking the same direction. But when it comes to my life, he has an advantage over me – he’s not in it! That gives him a perspective on my life that I don’t have. There are whole parts of my life that I can’t see because I’m inside it. Like trying to read the label from inside the bottle.

 Here are some of the things my Silas does:

- He gets to know my story.

- He remembers the things I tend to forget.

- He asks the questions I tend to avoid.

- He notices patterns I don’t see.

- He reminds me who I really am.

You are not imposing on him. He gets as much out of the relationship as you do. He needs you to call him. Everyone needs a few moments each day to get out of their own head and focus on another person.

Resources For Couples In Recovery

 Here're two resources ("check-in" / communication protocols) for couples who're in recovery together.  The SAFER Check-In is a better starting point for couples who are just starting out in recovery.  From there, FANOSS can be matured into.

“Recovery is a marathon, not a sprint.” - Sunday, April 21, 7:00AM CDT to 7:00PM CDT

Announcing the Samson Society Recovery Marathon!  The traditional 12 Steps in 12 Hours - with 12 outstanding presenters.  This will be a healthy way to connect to the old recovery saying, “Recovery is a marathon, not a sprint.”  The event is virtual and the exercise component can be anything from an actual marathon to walking around the block.

Sunday, April 21, 7:00AM CDT to 7:00PM CDT.

Check out the speakers and register at https://na01.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.recoverymarathon.com%2F&data=05%7C02%7C%7C91859a1d1a504495544408dc5440d585%7C84df9e7fe9f640afb435aaaaaaaaaaaa%7C1%7C0%7C638477884639566407%7CUnknown%7CTWFpbGZsb3d8eyJWIjoiMC4wLjAwMDAiLCJQIjoiV2luMzIiLCJBTiI6Ik1haWwiLCJXVCI6Mn0%3D%7C0%7C%7C%7C&sdata=bXbdsycjvZGw7FGv7IM55j2HuwTl2%2F25MCOeFudsYGQ%3D&reserved=0

The Samson Society Multiverse

When I first stepped into a Samson Society meeting in August 2014, there was only one meeting (in-person) for me to attend, and that was the Wednesday at 6 PM CST meeting at First Baptist Church Jackson (Summit Counseling suite).  That in-person meeting is still going strong.  It introduced me to a men's ministry that's changed my life for the better.  

But I didn't stay within that group.  Eventually, I migrated to the Grace Crossing Samson Society group (Gluckstadt), attending there for +/-1 year.  

The initial FBC Jackson group had a particular flavor that was quite therapeutic while the second group I attended was more relational.  Neither group was better than the other, though the contrast opened my eyes to just how different Samson groups can trend.  

From there, I started my own group (Lakeside Pres).  And, of course, mine became somewhat eclectic.  A combination of what I'd witnessed within the previous two, inaugural Jackson Metro Samson groups. 

That Lakeside Pres Samson group continued on for almost four years (2017-2021).  We met on Saturday mornings at 7 AM.  

Two in-person groups spun-off from the one I facilitated.  One in Brandon (39042) and then Pearl.  

I then dived into the virtual Samson Society groups in December of 2021.  "Make Thursdays Great Again" was unlike anything I could have imagined.  It was the Price Is Right version of a Samson Society meeting, all thanks to the electrifying facilitator, Mr. Justin Schwind.  It literally became one of the highlights of my week (Thursdays at 7 PM CST).  And it's still going strong.

After royally pissing off a newbie Samson brother who too was a regular "MTGA" attendee, I made a discreet exit (I did not want - in any way - to hinder his recovery via my continued presence).  I pivoted into "Brain Changers" which meets on Sundays at 5 PM CST.  "Brain Changers" was a familiar return to what the Lakeside Pres Samson meeting (that I facilitated) felt like, all those years earlier.  

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I hear more and more of Samson guys committing to multiple Samson meetings over the course of one week.  Many of these men attest to attending a meeting every single day.  

If you're familiar with the virtual Samson Society meetings, this commitment is doable (there are multiple meetings on the schedule for each day of the week as well as multiple types of meetings - some that allow cross talk, book studies, etc.).  

Why do this?  Why commit to attending a Samson meeting every single day?

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I believe the best answer to this question is as follows:

To directly combat compulsive sexual sin.

What does that mean exactly - compulsive sexual sin?

Compulsory:  Required, mandatory, obligatory

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When you're in bondage to compulsive sexual sin, you need solid grounding / commitment to recovery, therefore a once-a-week Samson Society meeting likely isn't going to suffice.

Let me repeat that:

When you're in bondage to compulsive sexual sin, you need solid grounding / commitment to recovery, therefore a once-a-week Samson Society meeting likely isn't going to suffice.

What's the true benefit of this approach to recovery?

It's twofold.

Firstly, during every 24 hours, you're spending one of those within a Samson Society meeting.  It serves as a recovery datum / opportunity to reset that's difficult to ignore.

Secondly, it forces you out of your own head.  Exposing you to fresh faces each day.  Faces that bring a specific color to the meeting.  Countless, unexpected hues drive away boredom, feelings of repetitiveness.  Think of it as the Samson Society multiverse.

This rigorous approach is highly effective for those who are just "too far gone".  

Think of attending a meeting a day in the same light as prioritizing an hour of exercise each day relative to being in tremendously poor physical health (& therefore on your death bed).  

It's exactly the same tenacious, turbocharged approach.  

For those of you who're in bondage to compulsive sexual sin, be encouraged to intentionally counteract this frame of mind by exploiting the availability of Samson Society meetings - to your recovery's advantage.  You will not regret the time invested / commitment therein.

BREAKTHROUGH!

 I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I DON'T TRUST WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.  I DON'T TRUST YOU.  I'M ONLY HEARING YOU.

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I choose to trust you.  I'm not only hearing you but I'm allowing myself to feel your love for me as well.

"Rob, I'm Concerned About Our Mutual Friend. It's Obvious That He's Setting Himself Up For Failure."

I've received two telephone calls regarding this.  And YES, my old friend's recent statements / position (via hearsay) do sound concerning, but I'm not going to spend any energy researching it for myself.  

Why?

Because I've seen this pattern with him numerous times before (we've known each other for over 15 years).  

And that's the differentiator.  Had there not been a precedent(s), I would immediately speak up.  

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When I was a boy, I distinctly remember my aunt regularly calling our house late into the evening to ask my father to go retrieve her husband (my dad's oldest brother / my uncle) from the local watering hole.  These calls would often come around 11 PM or after, and the next day, I would sometimes ask my mom about it.  Eventually though, I stopped asking due to the fact that they became so routine.

This happened for a number of years until my uncle became unemployed due to health issues.  From there, he'd drink at home during the day.  I distinctly recall stopping by his duplex back in 1993 in order to drop off a paperback copy of The Firm.  For the film by the same name had just been released, and I thought he might enjoy reading it.  When he came to the door, I could smell the alcohol on him.  Within just a few minutes, he passed out there in his small living room, falling to the carpeted floor like a sack of concrete mix.  Afterwards, I made a discreet exit after leaving the paperback on the coffee table.

I never returned to his abode until I was asked to assist in relocating he and his wife out and into an apartment not far from this location (decades into the future).  

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Past personal struggles with chronic sexual sin, particularly regarding pastors, can result in men like Mr. Nate Larkin.  Men who write tomes which serve foundationally as the cornerstones of recovery ministries.  

Sometimes therapists are borne out of this.  Take Mr. Jeff Schulte of Tin Man Ministries (Jeff served as a keynote speaker at the 2019 National Samson Society Retreat).

But these are exceptions.  Mostly, men with this story should simply move into personal recovery exclusively versus attempting to pivot their pastoral "calling" towards a public-facing attempt (either for or nonprofit) to assist others with their sexual sin.  

Why?

IT TAKES A MASSIVE AMOUNT OF HUMILITY, AND I WOULD ARGUE, MOST PASTORS DON'T HAVE A TRULY HUMBLE BONE IN THEIR BODIES.  

 Hence, they simply resort to pulling a Jim Bakker.  And that's so pathetically sad.     

Let's Not Forget To Consider The Unlevel Playing Field

Adam Young was our keynote speaker during the 2023 National Samson Society Retreat.  I did not attend either of his sessions (I continued to man the registration table during Friday evening's session), but I did slip in at the tail end of the second one (Saturday morning).  During those few minutes, a Q & A session was underway within the packed auditorium, and Adam was navigating those queries with answers that landed beautifully each and every time.  Also, he was really humorous with many of his answers as he sveltely circled back to accentuate previous bullet points that were no doubt key to his talk.

During those final minutes, I felt he was summarizing much of what he'd shared earlier on.  For he was emphasizing the importance of approaching loved ones who'd done the traumatizing with the request to bequeath them (opportunistically) with how they'd actually been hurtful.  For example, if a parent had said something traumatizing in the past, Adam urged audience members to timely return to that parent before asking respectfully if they might "revisit" the lingual trauma (what they'd actually said / tone, etc.) in detail (with the ultimate hopeful outcome being to receive healing via enlightening the ignorant traumatizer and thereby granting a sincere, sympathetic acknowledgement / apology).

And then Adam brilliantly stated this (paraphrase):  "You're going to get either one of two reactions (from the traumatizer) when you attempt this.  And via those, you'll know immediately if you're dealing with an outright wicked individual or a garden-variety Christian".

What he was implying there was that wicked people react harshly / survivor's instinctively by deflecting their responsibility whilst garden-variety Christian's react (even to the smallest degree) sympathetically / towards reconciliation once they've clued into what's being asked of them and their supposed part in it.  

And that made a lot of sense except Adam missed an obvious third traumatizer category outright. And this surprised me.  But, Adam probably has never been to Mississippi.

That third category is the low intelligence traumatizer.

Therefore, let's review.

1.  Wicked traumatizer (self-centered / self-absorbed asshole)

2.  Garden-variety Christian traumatizer (genuinely caring, sympathetic / biased towards reconciliation)

3.  Low intelligence traumatizer (emotional / intellectual retard)

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A level playing field between communicators can only exist when intelligence between those involved is closely matched.  Intelligence (more or less than) drives an individual's ability to utilize / interpret all manner of language (& arguably emotion) to express themselves with accuracy (whether they're being truthful or not).  

Arguably, it's not fair to expect a low intelligence traumatizer to be able to either react firstly (to the offer from you to bequeath) nor hear secondly (that which you've said, felt, experienced) with any degree of accuracy.  And that's where the problem lies.  For if you don't take the traumatizer's intelligence into account, you're likely going to unfairly categorize them (wicked?).  When, in actuality, they're simply a dumbass. 

And, oh my goodness, there're so many dumbasses in this world of woe. 

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This unlevel (intelligence) playing field can surely manifest itself as a dumpster fire within familial relationships if individuals aren't careful.  For there's a baked-in expectation / hope that SURELY THIS WOULD NEVER BE amongst kinfolk.  But it does occur at times.  And as such, there's one of two ways to manage it.

1.  Prioritize humility relative to the asymmetry.*

2.  Begrudge your situation in order to consistently maintain / be reminded of your superiority.

*whilst giving yourself full permission to see / acknowledge the humor within the sad situation.

The first option takes an almost superChristian outlook.  An outlook, I would argue, that's only achievable via hard, hard personal work that's centered on the harsh reality of the situation.  And this work likely could take a lifetime to wrestle through, coinciding with various stages of maturation between the two parties involved (parent / child, etc.).

For no one truly wants to face up to the reality that their loved one is an imbecile.  It's just so fatalistic to consider.  It's a tough, tough reality for those who're living it.  For most who've endured close-knit relational trauma would gladly take a wicked perpetrator over a dunce.  For there's simply so little hope for reconciliation / proper acknowledgement via the latter.