Mother To Child: "You're Responsible For My Feelings. You're to Blame / To Be Celebrated For Me Feeling __________."

I referenced within an earlier post how important it can be that I keep a lid on my emotions here at the homestead (around my wife / daughters), and how that approach has, in the past (pre-Samson Society involvement), been detrimental to me successfully steering clear of lustful fantasies (supplemented by porn consumption or not) from the standpoint of using said fantasies as an emotional enema.   

But I'd like to expound on this a bit from the standpoint of what exactly my wife is forced to emotionally manage day in and day out.

And I want to do this because you may be able to relate either as a husband or wife relative to the dynamics of our situation.

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Firstly though, it's important that you know that my wife's mother is a widow whom lives just 7-8 miles from our abode.  She "stays" (as black people put it) within the same home Angie (who's now 50) and her brother (who's now 46) were reared in (in Jackson) throughout the majority of their school years (as students of Jackson Academy).  

This home was mortgaged by her parents, all those years ago, due to her father moving his brood back here from Hattiesburg - in response to an unexpected job loss - out of necessity to take another job.

This job loss and subsequent move no doubt (as it's been described to me) represented a major demotion for Angie's dad, and as such, her mother went off the deep end as a result.  And when I say went off the deep end, I mean she went batshit crazy over his job loss / demotion.

It's important to know that when I unexpectedly lost my job back in 2013, Angie was very intentional about staying emotionally / physically supportive of our family in spite of the obvious embarrassment / shame that manifested itself as a result.  And I must say, had she not been such a steely, consistently hopeful presence within our family's life during that dark season, I would surely not have endured the situation.  Angie reacted as such the contrarian - for her family - in response to what she'd witnessed from her own mother as a child (within a somewhat similar scenario).

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Emotional "flare ups", as I call them, do occur within our household, and more often than not, they're due to the inevitable internal dynamics between my wife and any number of our daughters.  There's a boatload of estrogen there, therefore...

I try hard to take them in stride, but there are times when I too, need to exhaust some emotions out of frustration / fatigue.

But when I do, and it's within earshot of my wife, this represents a problem for her.

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Angie's middle / high school years were filled with emotional torment.  Torment that put her (& her brother) squarely within the sights of her mother's penchant for refusing to take responsibility for her own feelings.  Therefore, Angie's default, even today as a 50-year-old wife / mother, is to blame herself for everyone else's feelings / state of mind.  Even if said feelings in no way involve her.  

It is the weirdest phenomena to experience, yet we're all so used to it, that it's become the norm.

So, here's the interesting part to all of this.

Angie's mother is a fiercely independent woman, yet she's now reached a point, due to advanced age, that she can no longer manage her affairs.  And this means, someone needs to step up.  Someone she should be able to trust (like her deeply scarred children).

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As Christians, we're called to serve.  Go the extra mile.  Turn the other cheek.  And Angie, for sure, learnt that growing up at First Baptist Church Jackson (alongside me). 

Jesus modeled all of these (as chronicled within the gospels) and FBC Jackson's senior pastor throughout the '80s (when she & I were children) both lived it out and preached it eloquently.

Yet, no amount of obedience to the commands of Jesus can come sans the supernatural.  Especially when that call to obedience happens to involve those whose hands have doled out their fair share of trauma.

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Dr. Laura Schlessinger often makes good sense whilst giving advice to her radio show listeners, but it's important to note that she is not a Christian.  As such, were she in my wife's shoes today, her mother's former emotional abuse would result in payback that consisted of a reciprocal neglect later in life.  I know this because it's one of my hang ups regarding her approach to advising her callers.  (Plus, she also lived this out with her own mother.)

Dr. Schlessinger often justifies this kind of response as one which stems from "mom tearing up her mother card".  In other words, mother's disqualifying themselves due to their neglect, therefore deserving to be forever punished by their children as a result.

It's a hardline, militant approach that completely ignores the prospect / joy of potential reconciliation, and one of the best slang terms that I've found for this is delightfully "burning bridges".

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One of my oldest friends just recently returned to the Jackson Metro after being terminated from a fantastic job opportunity within another state.  His former out-of-state employer is also a friend of mine / ours, therefore as you might imagine, this put me in quite the emotional quagmire.  And to make matters much worse (for everyone involved), my friend, who just recently moved back to Jackson, chose to burn the bridge between himself and our mutual friend (his former out-of-state employer) out of disgust regarding the situation that transpired.

And this man has served as a deacon in a number of local churches.

His rationale for behaving this way was rooted in one thing:  his feelings.  Feelings which consisted of outrage, disillusionment, mistrust, and so forth.  And I get that.  Those feelings are legitimate and deserve to be accounted for.

Yet, I disagree with his decision to blame others for those feelings, and in turn, punish them therein.  Especially when those others have such a longstanding track record of support and love.

As Christians, our overarching focus should be, each and every day, on eternity.  Eternity obtained via our inevitable death.  Eternity where Jesus is within our presence always.  

Why?

As our king (today and on into eternity), emulating his humility and care properly befits us as representatives of his grace.  Even within the most accusatory, unfair, debilitating circumstances that embroil us with heady, visceral emotions.

We are not our own.  We are now serving within his ranks.  Heaven will be ours to enjoy because of what he chose to emulate for us.  Christians are not to behave / react / enact like everyone else.

Lagniappe

Recommended Viewing

Have You Too Been Hoodwinked Into Idolizing The Human Body?

One of the first lessons you learn within the Philosophy Of Architecture class is the most jarring, and that is that beauty IS NOT within the eye of the beholder.  As an architecture student at Mississippi State University from '90-'95, Philosophy Of Architecture was a required course as a sophomore.  Therefore, all of us second year students endured this enlightening experience there during our fall semester.

So obviously, this begs the question:  Who then does decide what's beautiful and what is not?  The critics do.  And these individuals have earned the right to do so.  For a great critic is far more experienced in doing so than non-critics.  They're experienced and educated.  And no, this doesn't always make them right, but it does up the ante relative to their adjudication batting average.  

Therefore, if you're ever wondering why a certain fashion trend is hot, paint color, or kitchen motif, you have only to look to the critics to thank (or loathe) for this.

To sum this up, I'll work to make a present day statement that should resonate with many of you.  Chip and Joanna Gaines built their fortune / influence on their roles as critics.  Though it may seem that their popularity is anchored in their million-watt smiles, it is not.  Instead, both of them are incredibly gifted critics, and this means that their ability to adjudicate beauty - within single-family homes, home furnishings / decor - is off the charts.  And to be as equally weighted as they are, in this regard, as a couple, is rare indeed.  

The Gaines have harnessed this talent by packaging it within a super approachable Texan folksiness that's made them a fortune.  Thanks be to God that their show wasn't dubbed Fix-a-fucker, otherwise, there'd be that many more westerners (& otherwise) - then there already are - saddled with chronic porn consumption issues.

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99% of architecture students (back when I was a student) weren't athletic and very few were involved in Greek life.  But, there was one student who was a couple of years behind me that did serve as a male cheerleader, and as such, donned the mascot ("Bully") costume for a handful of seasons.

As such, this young man was most definitely athletically built, and this made him stand out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of us.  But, it didn't help matters that this physically anomalous student was completely at peace with "exposing" his body.  Therefore, during the spring semester, as the temps were beginning to climb, it wouldn't be unusual to see him out sunning himself within the architecture building amphitheater.  I can remember specifically feeling torn between what he obviously saw as naturally pleasurable versus my own powerful - almost instinctual - urge to idolize his flesh.

Fitness magazines, published for men, which were readily available on magazine stands during the mid-'80s, offered me the opportunity as a middle schooler to idolize those images therein.  And, of course, the publisher didn't care who purchased the periodical or whether someone was idolizing their photos.  All they were interested in was sales.  

I can vividly recall the shame I felt in having to explain to my mother (she couldn't help but notice the grape purple bag) that I'd purchased an "Exercise For Men Only" mag from our local K&B drugstore.  

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Paul Freeman is an Australian photographer whose repertoire is nude or semi-nude men.  And more often than not, the men he photographs aren't within a studio space but within much more naturalistic environments.  If you look at his work, it's apparent that he's a superb critic of the male body, yet the images that he publishes aren't - at least to me - titillating in the least.  

So what separates his work from what I was exposed to as a young boy within the aforementioned fitness mags?

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Pornography's sole purpose is to illicit a titillating response.  Early exposure to porn versus non-pornographic imagery that respectfully celebrates the human body can short circuit a boy's embracing / understanding / appreciation for the beauty that lies within both his own and others' flesh, particularly if he's unsure of his own "fleshly worth".

More often than not, this exposure occurs during adolescence, and as I alluded to earlier, this can be a decidedly unbecoming development within the life of a teenager.  For he knows he's being taken advantage of, yet his hormones (& perhaps his home life, etc.) are seemingly working in favor of this private curse.  It's a bad, bad scenario that's especially prone to screw up a kid's head if it happens to be within a vacuum.

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As a side note, all forms of body augmentation from anabolic steroid use to breast implants to tattoos, I would argue, stem from man's idolization of the body versus appreciation.  And this is because, these augmentations are "permanently" enhancing the body to be more in line with someone else's ideal (either real or photographed).  

For example, an athletically built man who sees an anabolic steroid using athlete is likely going to immediately notice the size differences between his own drug-free body and that of the juiced dude.  Similarly, a woman with regular sized breasts, encountering her artificially endowed sister, can't help but notice her silicone implanted chest.  And finally, an ink-free individual, rubbing shoulders with someone he admires - who happens to be expertly tattooed - may very well soon obtain his own first tattoo.

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So what's the recipe for success in recircuiting our brains to see pornography for what it is (cheap, intrusive, disrespectful, debilitating, harmful, poisonous, toxic, explosive, robbing)?

I would argue the first step is recognizing where you were (& how exactly) initially hoodwinked by Satan to elevate / idolize the human body as you did.  And from there, invest a boatload of time in unpacking that deceit (perhaps alongside a trained professional) prior to working hard to forgive yourself for so much shame and guilt that you really weren't solely responsible for experiencing.

In closing, remember that God created man in his own image (including his sex organs).  We are image-bearers.  God too, created sexuality, from the reproductive process itself to arousal and everything in between.  We are not meant to be ashamed of our sexual desires, nor are we meant to not see each other through a sexual lens.  

Lagniappe

Recommended Reading

 Thousands of bodies go unclaimed in the United States every year - The Washington Post

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What Might Serve To (Figuratively) Prompt A Wife To Consider Divorcing Her Husband? Loss Of Her Personal Datum

An architect friend, whose first husband died a number of years ago, willingly endured the instability he brought to their marriage 'till his untimely death.  Her husband was the opposite of a fixed point in her life.  Instead, he was reliably unstable in most everything he did / committed himself to.  And it wasn't that she was expecting perfection, material success, etc.  Not this lady.  Her love for him ran far more deep than that.  

I vividly remember traveling with both of them (decades ago) early on within my career as an architect.  I'd been invited to attend an architectural lighting expo on the west coast, and therein provided the opportunity to get to know them as a couple (for she'd been also invited).  These type events were always exciting (in part because us designers were the guests of honor), yet this particular trek quickly opened my eyes to some bizarre marital dynamics between my two new friends (her and her husband).  I came away feeling sad for this beautiful and intelligent woman who'd been saddled with such a loser.

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Earlier this year, I was delighted to be contacted by a female business owner client of mine out of the blue.  She was interested in learning more about her options relative to Defined Contribution Plans for her quite successful / quickly growing business.  Specifically, she wanted an "upgrade" from her company's existing plan for 2022, and she'd chosen me to obtain the facts well in advance.  

This particular business owner client is both highly intelligent and tough as nails.  Her persona is progressively masculine overlaid with a temperament that's aloof to the nth degree.  Therefore, were it not for my middle-agedness, she'd simply be too intimidating for Rob to work with.

As such, I love working with her.  It's such a cool privilege.  I always attempt to get at least 8-hours of sleep the night before any meeting I have with her in order to improve my chances of being as sharp as I possibly can be.

Therefore, by mid-May (soon after her contacting me for assistance) we were off and running, and to my delight, we met repeatedly with my "A Team" of experts via Zoom / teleconference in order to answer her and her partner's many questions.  

Interestingly enough though, sometime in July, whilst beginning to conclude our ongoing "educational sessions", she relayed to me her desire to loop in her personal financial advisor (who she's been close friends with since high school) relative to some of what my "A Team" was proposing.  Initially, I found this request to be a little strange, but I took it in stride.  

But then her personal financial advisor left me a voicemail message, from which I returned his call the following afternoon.

And this is when I came to realize that I was not nearly the professional fixed point I had assumed I was to her.  

In the end, losing that business opportunity resulted in me solidifying a deep respect for something that's often so very difficult to describe.

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I've written in previous posts about wives needing security from their husbands.  But, if I were to expound on that here, I'd add the following:  wives need an anchor / fixed point moreso than anything else - from their husbands - within their marriage.

Back when I was in architecture school, I used to hear our professors use the word datum quite often.  This is a great word.  A datum is a reliable known point in space that you can utilize to site / build all manner of things from.  Datums do not change nor do they move.  They are fixed.  Immovable.  Solid.  Think of a rusted iron rod (pin) that's referenced on a survey.  One that's utilized as a starting point to identify boundary lines.  That is a datum.  It's an object that's been anchored deep within the Earth in decades pasts that everything around it is referenced from.

I suppose our culture woos us with the notion that wives long for romance or material wealth, and I'm sure there are a sizable number of wives who enjoy anticipating / imagining (& perhaps receiving) those perks, but most, if not all, insist on reliability and fortitude which promulgates deep seated trust between her and her man.  Otherwise, many will hit the road.

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In closing, I work hard to be as consistent as possible for my wife / daughters and even my parents (who employ me).  Therefore, as such, I keep an awful lot of my feelings close to my vest day after day after day.  Why?  It gives all of them plenty of safe space to emote between themselves and also to me.  And I like this setup.  It makes me feel correct as a husband.  Plus, it gives me opportunity to yield to their needs in this regard.

There is an individual though who's privy to Rob's feelings.  My Silas.  Especially if I'm really struggling with some heady negative feelings (for whatever reason).  

Whether it's via text message or a phone call (or both), he's going to know what's in my heart.  Otherwise, I'll eventually turn back to false community via Internet porn consumption.  

For me, he's my datum.  Reliable.  Fixed.  Solid.  And I love him for those attributes.  

Lagniappe

 

Recommended Reading - Desiring God

 The Power of Your Personal Testimony | Desiring God

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 Ten Words That Changed Everything About My Suffering | Desiring God

"There So Few Christians There"

My oldest daughter is slated to return to her college dorm later on this afternoon, now having accomplished her initial 3-weeks as a freshman (& being home for this long holiday weekend).  I had breakfast with her on Sunday morning, and she let me know how surprised she was to experience a community of students & faculty - at her chosen university - that was so very (relatively) pagan.

Her response instantaneously returned me to my freshman experience back in the fall of 1990, and back then, I was also "being educated" at a public institution here in Mississippi. 

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Arguably, the college experience's biggest liability is the spiritual vacuum students are so often faced with.  And I'm not referring to curriculum or campus life.  I'm referring to the true influence - peers, professors, etc.

This is, of course, unless the student respectfully recognizes and subsequently maps out her situation, knowing full well whom she belongs to all the while.

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For Rob, it was the architecture school professors, whom I respectfully yielded to, that surprised me the most.  Their outlook was always so clinical and devoid of any sort of eternal perspective.  As such, I would especially appreciate those who'd make a point to smile and crack jokes in order to lighten the ever ominous (who's going to change majors / "double D" next?) mood.

I remember - particularly as a freshman - feeling like I'd been caught up in an entirely different world.  A world of ever present academia, amongst leadership that was far more knowledgeable than anything I'd ever witnessed.  

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But then there was marching band.  What a godsend it was.  I played clarinet and marched with hundreds of other students - every late weekday afternoon for practice and at most weekend football games.  The band directors were down to Earth and no doubt Christian.  Polar opposites of the majority of my professors.

It was there that I could simply exhale (literally) each and every day, no longer having to take notes, worry over project deadlines or professors' expectations.  Instead, it was simply a maximized (massively scaled up) experience of high school band which is where I'd felt most comfortable simply being myself during the previous five years of my life.  

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Samson Society is a similar reprieve for me today.  Tuesday evening (tomorrow night), I'm anticipating attending (for the first time) the Pruitt Baptist Church meeting.  Especially from the standpoint of me not having the honors of facilitating the meeting.  

It's nice having that reprieve.  That opportunity to exhale.  Especially when you're subject to - as we all are - the real world.  A world where there're so few Christians.  I am so thankful God ushered me into this community of men.   

Lagniappe

More lagniappe 

Theology Of The Turners' Bodies (With Particular Attention Paid to My Own)

I described Rob's body politics within my last post as such:   complete unrecognition / avoidness / blindness.  To sum that up, I like to use the word void.  This is absolutely the best word I've come up with to describe what happens when I attempt to see my physical self.

Therefore, it begs the question:  How can you love something you simply cannot see nor have ever seen?

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When I was a teen, and please know that what I'm about to say simply didn't grow out of teenage angst, I did not feel as if my dad was truly my biological father.  Now, as a result of this, I also didn't believe my mother had become impregnated with little me via another suitor, therefore overall, I sort of made the assumption that I couldn't possibly be a "natural born citizen" within our fam.  Now, I'm not going to go into all of the why behind my feeling this way, as it pertained to Robert, Sr.  But trust me, in many ways, he reciprocally felt the same about me.  It made for a childhood where I would find myself enviously looking at my friends' relationships with their dad's (& more than likely the same was occurring with my father enviously looking at his peers - & especially his brothers' - sons).

Therefore, with no siblings to parade around with (or seek counsel from) whilst growing up, I was left to wonder why I felt like such the oddball - particularly as a teenager.  

And to expound further regarding this, I also naturally looked hard at my uncles (my dad's three brothers) / cousins (each & every one of them male children) and was unsuccessful in locating a reprieve.  Though I loved these men / boys and enjoyed spending time with them (& of course, still do) as my known family, I just didn't BELIEVE that I fit into the group.  At all.  BUT IT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH HOW THEY TREATED ME.  They truly were (& still are) really wonderful family members to have.

(I feel obligated to interject THAT.)

My hunch today, whilst looking back, is that the similarities / pedigree were / was absolutely there; its just that I couldn't see them in me myself.  And I still today don't know why that was / is.

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It is so pagan-feeling going to Wal-Mart on a Sunday morning.  I know that firsthand, having shopped there this AM.  

We've been having Sunday morning church at our abode - over the past month or so - due to the uptick in COVID-19 cases throughout our state, therefore this lends itself to even (at times) executing our family church service on Saturday evenings - if need be (which we did last night).

As I was hurriedly shopping at Wal-Mart (surgically masked), I walked past an unmasked guy whose eyes locked with my own.  A few seconds later, I wondered aloud if I actually knew that guy.  By this point, I was much closer to my big box store destination zone (hardware), yet I couldn't help but continue to ruminate on his face / build, trying to put my recollective thinking into gear.

"Where do I know that guy from?"

After placing my needed items into my shopping basket, I eventually made my way to the self checkout section, and fortunately, I spotted him again.  

Then I remembered where he and I used to interact!

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Throughout my life, I've had a love-hate relationship with my imagination.  For on the one hand, it's what - in may ways - consistently springboarded me from my adolescent identity vacuum, but on the other hand, wrought so much regret and anger relative to fueling my propensity to willfully sin.

At the center of that chronic routine was what I've dubbed my archetype.  An amalgamation of masculine physical attributes - that embodied for me - a sexualized ideal of what it meant to be a man.  This archetype was, more often than not, (within my sexual fantasies) an imagined big brother, uncle, next door neighbor, teacher, coach, and on and on.  Any of which would eventually work towards seducing me into engaging in homosexual relations.

It was through the "pursuit and subsequent validation" of this archetype that I attempted to endure the void.  For he (singular) was as affirming as any group of ideal athletic teammates might very well be whilst all the while being more comfortable with me (& accessible to me) than I was with my own self.

The aforementioned fellow Wal-Mart patron (whom I eventually recalled was a former friend from over a decade prior) happened to - past & presently - embody my archetype both physically and emotionally.  He was / is the ideal, and this is a significant truth.

And as a side note, the fact that this former friend continues to be so (at our close-to ages), is rare indeed.  For most middle-aged Mississippi guys aren't anywhere near the physical parameters of my archetypical, masculine male (which is a godsent reality for me).

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In the past, encountering my archetype as I did this AM at my local big box retailer would have elicited quite the elicit response.  Particularly taking into account a long since forgotten friendship with the individual.

And as such, days and days, if not weeks and weeks would likely have gone by where me being privately consumed with that encounter were the absolute norm.  

And as a side note to that, when I began consuming gay porn online (back in late '90s), the impetus for that was me realizing how expeditiously / efficiently I could locate (search engines) and therefore harness those salacious facsimiles similarly (sexual fantasy).  All in reaction to the void / vacuum / blindness or whatever you want to call it.

To be clear, it wasn't that I wanted to be these archetypical men.  All I was looking for (through sexual fantasy) was a means to manage the pain of acknowledging the reality of the void itself.  But it was those specific archetypical men who were the key.  And I'm not sure why that was either.

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In closing, it is incredibly difficult to face the truths that I've written about here.  Not only emotionally but intellectually (particularly from the standpoint of there being so many unanswered questions).  As such, I don't believe I even began to truly wrestle with my own body politics 'till I was well into my 30s.    

I do remember, as a much younger man, wishing I had a body that I felt at peace with (self-affirmation), but even as I took action to change my build (age 36+), it had no impact on clarifying my visibility. 

So here's that question again:  How can you love something you simply cannot see nor have ever seen?

The only thing that has even a remote impact today is holding fast to what I believe of God's take on me (as well as all of his children).  His promises.  His narrative.  His approach.  

Otherwise, I'd simply be blind all around.

Sometimes only having a peripheral view of yourself does in fact prescribe an outlook that drives more truth / more faith and less comfortableness with a holy God.