Profound Sensitivity Whilst At "The Beach". (Childhood Past Overlapping With Present Experience.) Unintentionally Exhuming Teenage Trauma.

I requested of my parents that we take a beach vacation when I was a sophomore in high school.  At the time, I was around the age of 16 (I'm an only child).  My parents, concurrently, were in their mid-30s.  The year would have been 1988.  It's important to know that we'd never "beached trip" prior, though we had visited the Mississippi Gulf Coast (which has a less than picturesque beach).

I believe I made this specific "beach trip" request due to what I'd heard from a close friend relative to her family's beach vacations.  My friend's dad was an attorney, and each summer they integrated their beach trip in with the Mississippi BAR convention in Miramar Beach, FL.  My friend was a drinker and as such, very socially adept.  Too, her stunningly beautiful cousin from CA would fly in to join her relative to this annual summer beach vaca.  

It all sounded so COOL (despite the fact that I was anything but cool).  Why not give it a go with my family?

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My older two daughters and I just returned from Miramar Beach, FL this past weekend.  I was there for work (convention), and my daughters tagged along.  This specific convention, I've attended each summer for close to a decade.  It's an exhausting affair, though overall - typically - very productive / enjoyable.  

Miramar Beach is home to a 2,400-acre resort that was spearheaded in the 1980s.  It's at this resort where this annual convention has been held since 2015.

Too, it was at this same resort, back in 1988, that my parents and I vacationed when I was 16.  As such, it was my first time there.

As you might imagine, what I experienced at 16 at Sandestin was far different OVERALL than what's there today.

Except...

The same hotel building my parents and I stayed in back in 1988 is still there (though it's been rebranded as "condos").  

In fact, surprisingly, my girls and I stayed in that exact building last week while we were there.  As a result, I had no idea how profoundly influential our accommodations would turn out to be.

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Immediately upon inhabiting our assigned condo (hotel room), I felt a profound sense of sadness / insecurity that I couldn't shake for the entire four days we were there.  It was like a dark cloud that hung over me each and every day.  It's important to note that adjacent to this repurposed condo building is the original conference center for the resort.  Because our assigned condo (room) was at the end of the building, my girls and I would typically navigate through said pre-function conference space (entering & exiting the building repeatedly throughout the day).  

As a sixteen-year-old, I was notorious for exploring unfamiliar buildings.  Hence, I'm certain I did a fair share of exploring of this mid-'80s conference center.

To be more specific, because I was sharing a hotel room with my parents, I feel certain I was on the hunt for "off the beaten (sorry) path" public restrooms to masturbate within (sitting on the loo within an enclosed stall).  This pre-function conference space had restrooms that would have fit the bill exactly.  For whatever reason, as a teenage boy, doing this was just rebellious enough to satiate that adolescent season.

In fact, I used these restrooms last week (only for what they were designed for, thank you very much) often while we were there (as we entered / exited the building).

I know all this sounds ridiculously over the top bizarre, but...

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Immediately upon my girls and I returning home on Sunday, (7/23) afternoon, I facilitated the "Brain Changers" virtual Samson Society meeting (I just barely made it), and it was literally during our breakout session that everything began to crystallize within my mind (Summer 1988 past overlapping with Summer 2023 present experience).

I cannot underestimate how much I loathed myself as a sixteen-year-old boy.  Whether it was related to my body image, my sexuality (struggles with unwanted / intrusive homosexual desires), or my penchant for escaping via masturbation (often inside bathroom stalls), all of this compounded my disgust.  It was a private disgust that I wrestled with constantly.  

That sixteen-year-old Rob is alive and well inside my head.  Unbeknownst to me, I essentially re-traumatized him last week relative to our 2023 accommodations (being identical to his in 1988).  

How is this possible?

I have no idea.  I'm no brain expert.  But I can tell you this:  my sixteen-year-old self is in there.  And he remembers / is just as sensitive as ever.  Especially when the experience(s) were tough for him.  Plus, he was a budding architect at the time (I embarked into architecture school at 19).  Hence, buildings, in particular, made distinct impressions on his / my budding psyche.  

Having gone through this, I feel yet again humbled.  It truly is unbelievable how profoundly influential childhood experiences are relative to our present-day adult circumstances.  

Oh, Henry...

Of all the Samson guys I've had the privilege to befriend, Henry was the one I learned from the most.  He showed up at a face-to-face Samson meeting I was facilitating (2018?), having been invited by a mutual friend.  Immediately, he asked for me to be his Silas (he'd been smitten by Rob's authentic self, crassness, and propensity to encourage), and from there, we were off and running.

Henry was unlike any Samson guy I'd ever met.  Eventually, I discovered why.  He was depressed...perhaps even clinically depressed and had been throughout much of his life.  In spite of his youthful vitality (he was in his late 20s), it was apparent that something was off relative to this extremely intelligent, ambitious young man.  

Henry was very successful for his age.  He had a beautiful wife, multiple small children and a position at a large international corporation that paid handsomely.  But, like so many people who struggle with depression, Henry was easily agitated and very moody.  Too, he simply had little, if any spark, at all, for living life.  As such, he had few friends / little interests in making friends.  His stock rejection recusal was as follows:  "It's their loss, not mine..."

Because of his seemingly lifelong depressed state, he medicated himself with sex / lust, and this brought on tremendous guilt (Henry was a devout Christian).  Particularly considering that he was a homeschooled pastor's son (who loved his parents fervently) who just happened to be reared within the Deep South.  

The humdinger regret for Henry was his past (years-long) fornication with his sweet wife.  They went about this whilst being in college together (he was a commuter / she was living within the dorm).  The shame / regret therein regarding this carnal disobedience to God's word seemed to have stained Henry's soul permanently.  Yet, the virgin excitement / passion had effectively worked as a distraction to his depression.

As a run up to this, Internet porn / sexual fantasies effectively distracted too as Henry dealt with run-of-the-mill adolescent (high school years) rejection from both the opposite (romantic relationships) and same (platonic) sex.  Once he was gifted a laptop from his parents, (remember he was a saintly homeschooler) he dove right into the online fun - unfettered / unmonitored.

Henry rationalized this behavior via what he described as "anger towards God" (primarily as a result of romantic rejection), but I never bought it.  Instead, I now believe it was solely his depressed state that he was looking to buoy against.

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So, what did I learn from my then friend, Henry?

No amount of anything from me could truly help Henry because Henry refused to acknowledge his depression.  

Too, Henry believed therapists were a waste of time.

I can remember actively attempting to encourage my friend, Henry (as a husband, father, worker bee), yet in spite of our friendship, it was apparent that everything within his field of view was marginalized by his depression.  

Eventually, this young man turned on me via slander as he attempted to setback friendships I'd pre-Henry / concurrently established with mutual Samson guys.  (This was his attempt to absolutely be IN THE RIGHT.)

From there, he stopped communicating with me.  

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Fast forward to today.  

I have two active Samson friends who're taking prescription meds to manage clinical depression.  Both are successful husbands / fathers / businessmen just as Henry was, yet both admitted (years before I had the privilege to befriend them) that there was something else going on - in the background of their minds, so to speak - that was hindering them day to day.

Both of these men talk openly about their meds and how they've found hope via their prescriptions.  They also regularly meet with their psychiatrist regarding these drugs relative to being closely monitored therein.  

How different would Henry's life might have looked had he been properly diagnosed and treated (as a teenager) for his depression?  Specifically, would this homeschooled pastor's son chosen to not repeatedly fornicate (his greatest moral regret) with his girlfriend - within her dorm room, over a two-year period, in advance of their nuptials?  Would he have been less susceptible to brood regarding nascent romantic rejection, thereby reducing the pull towards concretized, rebellious online habits (porn consumption)?

When I first befriended Henry, his marriage was on the rocks, due to him being captivated by a sultry female colleague at work and their "friendship" therein.  This colleague was in no way a good fit for him, but he was so emotionally numb, she (her sultriness / mysteriously "mature" sensuality) was no doubt a fitting distraction to his mental illness.   

And it's that word, distraction, that Henry was always looking for.  In the end, I believe it too was all our friendship amounted to.  For his depression was far greater than anything else within his life.

Oh, Henry.  I pray you've sought out professional help.

Lagniappe

"Restructuring Our Mental Image Of God" - JR Everhart

Try this exercise:  Sit down and write out everything a warm and loving father should be to their children.  This looks a little different from person to person because our needs are different.  Don’t worry, God is big enough to meet them all.  Once you have your list written out, read it as if you’re describing your Heavenly Father to a friend.  In other words, this is just WHO HE IS without question. 

Here’s what mine would look like:

“My father loves me so much he would work three jobs to make sure I’m taken care of.  He would listen to me when I’m hurting and comfort my pain.  He would celebrate my victories and weep with me at my defeats.  He hates that I was abused as a child.  He’s been very patient with me throughout my life considering my many mistakes (attempting to process abuse).  He still smiles when he looks at me, even with full knowledge of all my failure.  He doesn’t just love me… he likes me and sees the intentions of my heart.  He’s strongest when I’m weak and need him, but also challenges me on the deepest levels to be the best version of myself I can be.  He’s never distant when I stop long enough to listen for his voice.  He hears my requests and knows what’s best for me far better than I do.  Even when I get frustrated with him, because life’s not working out the way I think it should, he’s still patient and gentle with me.  He never loses his temper with me because Jesus quenched his anger at Calvary for my cause.  I admit to feeling quite unworthy of such a caring father.  He’s loved me in times that I couldn’t even love myself.  In times when I was lost in the dark carnival of this world.  He never gave up on me.  He’s restored me a million times and never once told me I wasn’t enough nor asked why I kept struggling with the same sin over and over.  He only asks for a meal with me every day.  A time to sit and chat about the day with him.  He’s never ashamed to sit with me, and always considers my table to be the "cool kids' table".  His love is so deep it makes me smile just thinking about it.  I’ll never know why he loves me so much.  I’m just thankful he does.  Hence, I trust him with all my heart, mind, and soul!” 

"Confessions From The Dog Pound" (Bull Butter) - JR Everhart

No man is nicer to a woman than the one that hasn’t slept with her yet.  Pay attention ladies, he’s a completely different person after he’s had your best and is now bored and looking for his next challenge.  

I see this all the time, and if the truth be told, I myself was this guy during my younger years.  That was a season where I was in constant pursuit of excitement, and addicted to the power trip of seeing how easily I could manipulate and control a woman.  I was very good at playing this game.  The second that all the work of a real relationship would start kicking in, I’d get bored and start looking for the next intimate high.  It’s not easy to admit these things, but many years ago, it was the pattern of my life.  So much so that I became stuck in a cycle of failed relationships and didn’t realize why. 

The truth is many men are in this season of their lives.  A season of just looking for a good time and trying to live life to the fullest.  It’s not 100% their fault; they are fed a steady diet of toxic masculinity and sexuality from the earliest ages, and once those teenage hormones kick in, it’s off to the races!  Many of these guys grew up in broken homes without a father to teach them how to treat a woman with love and respect.  Or, even worse, they have a father that’s every bit the dog they've chosen to become.  In the end, when you’re in that self-centered mindset, it’s hard to see outside of your own desires, much less how your actions are impacting others.  Throughout my recovery, I returned to as many of the women as I safely could in order to make amends for my actions.  At this point, I’m standing over the ruins of a reckless romantic life with a clear vision of where I missed it and who I now need to be moving forward. 

But I see young men - all the time - making the same mistakes I made.  Some of these are married with children, living a double life, and some are just bachelor's puppeteering women - allowing them to orbit so these guys never have to be alone.  That was me!  I was frightened to be alone and would lure women into my web of bull butter.  These women, I knew I’d never truly "long-term relationship" date.  Instead, I positioned them just to have someone to make me feel alive and wanted.  Sadly, many of those women were the ones that treated me the absolute best, having the purest feelings for me.  Nonetheless, I used them before throwing them away like yesterday's newspaper.  Those things haunt me now, and if it wasn’t for my faith, I would probably find myself consumed via regret.  It’s been a long, hard battle to claw my way out of that pit of self pity.

 

None of us men have any reason to talk about how crazy women are when we ourselves have treated them like slabs of meat and soulless robots in order to fulfill our carnal desires.  It’s enough to drive anyone crazy when you really stop and think about the truck loads of bull butter they’ve put up with from us.  As such, their constant flinching is no doubt justified.  Imagine being promised connection and commitment in exchange for the most valuably intimate parts of yourself, only to have that thrown away 30mins - 3 months after you’ve surrendered those precious gifts to the person promising you these things.  How would that make you feel?  Used! 

I finally, in a desperate attempt to find peace and harmony in my life, started looking in the mirror at whom I had become.  God was kind enough to show me how I had destroyed my reputation and therefore was now viewed as a dog by most of the women in my life.  This was a hard pill to swallow!  Even the women I held in high regard and respected, started to tell me how lost I was in this constant pursuit of physical satisfaction.  I was stuck and didn’t know what I truly needed or even wanted.  Carnal Desires were not satisfying me anymore, and I had made the horrible mistake of falling in love with a woman that would never be able to love me back.  That was the straw that broke the camel's back.  I was broken on a level that only those that understand true depression can relate to.  I had grown tired of wearing a mask and stuffing my feelings about what I truly needed.  I didn’t recognize the man in the mirror anymore, and I desperately needed to find myself again.  That was over a decade ago. 

 

The man I am now is so polar opposite from that guy.  I’m still broken, and believe me, I have my struggles, but now there’s art inside my brokenness.  It’s the art of who I am.  It’s a gallery that reminds me that I’m worthwhile of more than who I am (or have been) physically, and that I deserve real connection and commitment.  Only God knows the work I’ve had to do to get here.  It’s been very hard, and still has its challenges every day.  But at least I know who I am now and what’s truly important to me.  Emotional maturity is damn hard work.  And who knows if I’ll ever be fortunate enough to connect with someone on this new plane.  As such, it's unhealthy of me to think on my life in those terms.  Though I must admit that, part of me laments the past and part of me desires (a better) the future.  But real satisfaction is living in the here and now.  So, I put aside the shame of yesterday, and the fear of tomorrow, and just breathe in the moment I’m in right now.  Gods' grace is sufficient for all things.  Even a recovering dog like me. 🙌🏻

Recommended Reading

Help! I Want to Make Friends at Church. (thegospelcoalition.org)

Recommended Reading

How to Overcome Envy (thegospelcoalition.org)

Like so many Gospel Coalition posts, this reads more like a sound bite than an actual article.  Hence, I want to add some personal commentary.

The most practical way to combat envy is to avoid social media.  Never read it, post on it, use it under any circumstances.  It is a monumental waste of your time / energy.

Social media's sole purpose is to generate strife, and often times, its camouflaged weapon of choice in doing so is via provoking envy.  It perfectly positions itself as a "private online experience" that's anything but private.  That combined with the facade-worthy nature of the entire experience presents a truly toxic serpent.  A serpent that's on standby to strike one's sense of self-worth at any moment.

And that's where envy takes root.

As I've shared before, our family chooses to not engage in social media, and I've even gone so far as to threaten my daughters that they'll be written out of the Trust if I ever catch them on it.

Each of my girls has thanked me for parenting them in this way.  For they've seen firsthand (peers) the destructiveness of the serpent.

Delete your social media accounts today!

Recommended Reading - Advice On Getting Out of Your Own Head

How to Love an Immortal | Desiring God

A Truly Loyal, Loving Samson Brother Is Adept At Holding His Nose (If Momma's Not Happy, Nobody's Happy)

This past winter, my oldest Samson friend asked Angie and I to "double-date" with he and his wife to a local 2023 summer concert.  The tickets for said concert were about to be made available (February), and since we'd very much enjoyed ourselves over the course of a few evenings with these two (throughout the past 8 years), we agreed to shell out the cash for our two adjacent tickets.  Keep in mind that my Samson friend as well as his wife are concert aficionados (live music lovers), and we most certainly are not.  Too, this particular artist we'd absolutely no interest in hearing in concert.  Nonetheless, we really liked the idea of double-dating with these beloveds, knowing that this couple, based on past experience, were reliably fun to spend time with.

The night before the concert, my Samson friend called to announce that his wife no longer had any interest in attending the concert.  As a result, my Samson brother too decided to abandon us (out of "respect" for her).  Earlier that week (perhaps over the weekend), this friend had shockingly confessed that he and his wife had been separated for close to a month.  In spite of our time together earlier in the year, we weren't privy to their marriage woes, nor would we have ever recognized it.

Angie and I did decide to attend the concert.  We saw a number of familiar faces in the (mostly) inebriated crowd.  The vocalist sang about a pig, and from there, we decided to leave at intermission, having felt as if we had literally set ablaze +/-$300 (the retail price for our two tickets).

I felt duped, but too, very thankful that my Angie has never relationally humiliated me in an attempt to control / punish me.

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A wife who attempts to control her husband, primarily via criticism and posturing, combined with insisting on being his moral nanny, is one of my greatest revulsions.

But some Samson guys are literally wired for this treatment as husbands, thereby giving these ladies the utmost respect and servitude.

I have seen it time and time again.

The easiest way to spot these husbands is via their speech.  

If you were to take a week's worth of their verbiage and examine its content, a decided portion (high percentage) would center around the wife.  As if she's primarily what he thinks about and thereby he can't stop talking about (approval?).

At the tail end of last year (off season), our family was vacationing within the same Gulf Coast resort area as a (fairly new) Samson brother (he too was there with his fam).  I excitedly recommended we merge our clans for a shared meal (restaurant / one of our condos) in hopes of having the opportunity to mingle with his fam.  He relayed to me that was not an option due to the fact that his wife refused to "dirty herself & her children" with her husband's perverted Samson Society friends (me & my girls).  Hence, he and I agreed to a meet up early one morning (coffee) before either of our respective vacations expired.  He spent the majority of our time together talking (& weeping) incessantly about, can you guess?

His wife.

I pitied this man.  For it was obvious that he was moreso in bondage to her than any sort of compulsive sexual sin.  Yet, he dutifully seemed to feed off of said bondage / attention.

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During my time working as an architect (during the late '90s), I had a colleague who no doubt had codependent tendencies (I had no formal understanding of this word at the time), and it was his wife who obviously fulfilled that role.  It was the creepiest marriage relationship I'd ever seen.  I remember becoming nauseous (along with most everyone else) every time I'd see the two of them together (which thankfully wasn't that often).  

Fast forward.

A longstanding Samson brother too fell into that same codependency camp.  His marriage though was decades and decades in length, and shockingly, this couple had only engaged in intercourse three times throughout their entire betrothal (both husband and wife were perfectly healthy, middle-aged white people).  It was during one of those three fucks that his wife became pregnant with their only child.

My friend would lament that his wife would privately berate him incessantly regarding how he had destroyed  / was destroying their marriage due to his compulsive online porn use (among other things).

And he seemingly fed on this criticism / nagging.  For he was hooked onto her criticism like a babe is latched onto his mother's teat.    

Whenever I rub shoulders with this couple today, I have to resist the urge to fall to my knees in order to thank God for my Angie.

But that's just me.  

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All this leads me to a young Samson friend who's agreed to his wife's demands relative to real-time slip-up ("acting out") communication / confession.  

I've told him how stupid this agreement was / is, but he refuses to stop doing it.  And, of course, his wife uses it to control him, knowing full well that she's receiving privileged information that's giving her the emotionally-strategic upper hand.  

I could go on and on.  There are Samson guys who take regularly scheduled lie-detector tests for their wives or provide their wives with pocket computer apps that allow them to read their husband's text messages - in real time.  

I've seen Samson guys who share an email address with their wives, encouraging them to read them in kind.  

I've even befriended a Samson guy who allowed his wife to install a camera in their bedroom in order for her to be able to spy on him - at her discretion - whilst away from the house (via her pocket computer).

Weird shit, indeed.

All of this, ultimately, puts the wife in the marriage's (emotional) driver's seat, and these husbands are absolutely thrilled to be relinquishing that responsibility.

Thanks be to God for my sweet wife, Angie, who has no interest in behaving this way within our marriage, but again, this is how I'd prefer it.

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In closing, what should you do if you befriend a married Samson brother as I've described here?  

Hold your nose, and never, under any circumstance assume that he's not parroting every word / detail you speak to him back to his "mommy" (I've made this mistake!).

Lagniappe

More lagniappe

Recommended Reading - I Love This Timely Message

Go Ahead, Raise Your Hands in Church (thegospelcoalition.org)

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Imagine Lust: A Lost Weapon in the Fight for Purity | Desiring God

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Why 'Ambitious Friendships' Could Be The Key To Banishing Loneliness (glam.com)

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Lane Moore Explains How Attachment Styles Affect Our Friendships (elle.com)