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Big New Way for Companies to Get Rich: Target Bored Young American Men (businessinsider.com)

The Night He Got Jumped By His Former Youth Pastor / It Took Two To Tango / Was This An Isolated Incident? - Stories That Resonate

It is not getting any easier admitting to my neediness.  Over the past quarter (& then some), my wife has been working 12-hour days (home office), and because she's a night owl, most of her workday has been well past 5 PM.  As such, a typical evening (throughout the workday and weekend) consisted of tiptoeing in order to not disturb her grind.  And it was my privilege to step up in this regard.  

Since she became physically disabled due to her May 2020 stroke, a lot of additional housework naturally fell on my shoulders.  Thanks be to God we live in a manageably scaled home (with a small yard)!  Too, only having one additional kidlet (of three total) at home (who's the epitome of obedience and cooperation) to feed / tend to, helps tremendously.

My wife is quite ambitious and very, very capable as a sole proprietor.  Her clients almost immediately recognize this, and therefore lean into her professional services (she's a CPA).  

But where does that leave our marriage - during ramp up / intensely busy seasons?

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Twice last week, I delved back into gay porn.  And of note is how I hit repeat regarding one video I stumbled across in particular (this is very rare for me to do).  The models within this particular vignette were having some passionately dramatic sex, and I mean passionate with a capital P.  In fact, there was more emphasis therein than on your typical hyper close-up genitalia shots.  It felt more like a Hallmark version of Colt Studio than anything else.

But what was truly relevant was the following.  It felt like a porn video made exactly for me for such a time as that / this.

Thursday, (4/11) I began to reckon with just how emotionally needy I truly am at this time, having endured this last quarter.  

My wife and I went out to eat Saturday night at a fairly new restaurant close to our abode.  It was fantastic to steal away as such!  But man, we have a long way to go pertaining to regaining our regularly scheduled marital footing, and it was apparent that neither of us wanted to admit to this.

Nonetheless, both of us realize that marriage is seasonal, and that there'll always be emotional connection pauses that occur, circumstances being whatever they may be.  

They are so not fun though, and arguably leave us both vulnerable to outside forces / temptations.

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Years ago, I attended a Samson Society story retreat over a weekend.  This was my second story retreat, and I was happy to once again support my old friend, Mr. Chris Inman, therein.  A fellow attendee shared a "story of shame" that Saturday afternoon involving his former youth pastor jumping him late one night.

Apparently, this story retreat attendee had (post high school) further befriended, as an adult, his youth pastor.  As such, the youth pastor had divulged his struggle with same-sex attraction (he was single) to this now married with multiple small children (with another on the way) man. 

That friendship naturally matured and continued to warrant time together, and during this particular then recent juncture, the two men were sleeping over at the youth pastor's place.  And that's where the unexpected sexual advance occurred.  

As a result, the younger man immediately fled the scene.  The understandable reactional stress motivated him then to reach out to his parents for support.  Frustratingly, they (particularly his mother) felt their son was overreacting, taking into account the tenured friendship as well as the youth pastor friend's spotless platonic / parochial record.  

At the conclusion of this tale, all I clearly remember is this dude was tremendously angry.  Tremendously angry.  At both his former youth pastor friend / mentor as well as his parents (combined with the world at large).  

I've thought about that story for years and years.  I attempted to follow up with the guy not long after the retreat was over in order to hopefully understand / flesh out more details, but to no avail.  He was absolutely not interested in talking to same-sex attracted Rob (can you blame him?).

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Last summer, a new potential friend (completely unaffiliated with Samson Society) literally fell out of the sky into my sphere of influence.  My aforementioned younger daughter and I had volunteered for a Saturday mission trip (with our church) to Greenwood.  This new friend volunteered too in spite of his family not being a member of our congregation.  If you've read previous blog posts, hearing of this guy is old news.

What makes this new friend so special to Rob is twofold:

1.  His physical presence is intimidating.  This coupled with his reserved persona only add to his exceedingly foreboding posture.  It's important to know that my masculine archetype is very much in line with physical attributes that telegraph the notion of "mysterious threat".  I have no idea why that is.  I've just learned to roll with it.

2.  I'm his first true "big city" (urban / suburban) friend outside of his extended family.  Hence, I want to serve him well as such, being mindful of my influence.

He and I are geared up for around-the-bend warmer days.  Days where we can take our girls swimming, kayaking, exploring the Mississippi out-of-doors.  These are anticipated future memories that engender me with sizable opportunities to BE SEEN whilst seeing him vulnerably.  

I cannot emphasize enough how restorative these experiences will be to my soul.  Our friendship was so embryonic last summer that what few we had like these felt almost surreal - for both of us - in and of themselves.  Mostly due to how unexpectedly initial common ground we found both of ourselves enjoying.  As such, summer 2024 awaits...

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The questions before I close.

-  Will I ever truly come to understand how effectively educated I've become via Samson Society in terms of healthy (modeled & otherwise) male-to-male relationships?

-  By receiving the raw emotion (positive or negative) from another Samson guy, in light of his experience with the unexpected, does this exposure qualify as truly vicarious or is it simply me being a novel spectator?  Furthermore, what constitutes either side of that experiential equation?  

-  Knowing that my new local friend isn't a Samson guy, will that insure, to some degree, the longevity of our friendship (less competition / him not being a pervert as I am)?  

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Samson Society emphasizes recovery, and it most certainly should.  But, an indirect benefit, is the opportunity to become immensely respectful of brotherly love male friendship - both inside & outside of this community.  Regardless, those couplings truly are supernatural - especially here at middle-age.  And, of course, they're absolutely just as, if not moreso, supportive therein within their own unique way.

Thanks be to God for men, image-bearers of the living God.  

     

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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.

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Being Broke for Years Prepared Me to Budget Well When I Earned More (businessinsider.com)

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Either Remove Yourself From The "Handful" Or HOLD ON 'Till Opportunity Presents Itself To

 

This thought-provoking illustration could easily be a reference piece of an imaginative Hollywood screenwriter.  Perhaps he / she's dreaming up yet another misunderstood villain (antihero?) for us his purported audience to love / hate.  

Think of the Beth Dutton, JR Ewing, Brenda Walshes specifically, and you'll understand where I'm coming from.

They're a lot more interesting to watch than Fred Rogers, aren't they?

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Television characters must exist on a disproportioned spectrum of reality.  This is an outgrowth of theater where everything must be larger-than-life to truly be entertaining / keep the audience's attention.

But what gives when you find yourself living alongside one (or more) of these?  Where do you go from there?

You know the answer to that one.  Get the hell out of dodge.

Let's discuss the harder part of this equation.  Preparing yourself to face these folks.  Identification is key.

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My closest female friend in high school, Shannon, was one year my senior.  She was very mature for her age and quite the contrarian when it came to both her style and interests.  Shannon came from an upper-class family whereas I was very much middle-class.  Her (Golden State) mother had remarried her attorney (Magnolia State) father after losing her first husband (Navy sailor) in a tragic submarine vanish.  Both Shannon and her younger brother came from that second betrothal.  This now blended family (her mother had birthed two daughters from her first husband) was one I always found intriguing to hang with as a teen for they were SO VERY unlike any other family I was close to.  

And that unlikeness was spearheaded by Shannon's mom.  A typical Mississippi suburban mom of the 1980s she was most definitely not.  It was always a bit intimidating engaging with Jolene, even in passing (& I was by no means a shy teen).  She was so intelligent, opinionated and articulate.  The complete opposite of the familiar folksy, sweet and cornpone.

But I digress...

Shannon had an admirer who was two (or maybe three) years her junior at our small private academy.  This younger girl was also in the marching band with Shannon (& I) even though she was only in middle school at the time.  

It became immediately apparent to everyone that this young admirer was not at all well as it pertained to her admiration (obsession) of Shannon.  For her behavior towards herself, Shannon and everyone else became unusually out of character for a middle-school girl.  

How Shannon coolly handled this younger girl was absolutely empowering to witness.  It was as if my friend literally had been born to navigate the relational dangers / complexities she'd found herself now saddled with.  

I still look back on that with intrigue (as well as heartache).  In the end, the younger girl was removed from school and institutionalized.  Post release, she thankfully didn't return ot our small school.  Nevertheless, I admired Shannon that much more for what she'd endured and modeled with such civility / compassion towards this junior (high) admirer.  

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Shannon immediately identified her relationship with this younger girl as problematic.  Especially so considering her somewhat "forced proximity" to her (fellow schoolmate / marching band member).  From there, she did everything she could to shield herself from the girl.  Much of her strategy consisted of fencing herself in via healthy, supportive friends.  

But firstly, the miracle herein was her deep-seated sense of self protection versus what you might typically see from a female teen (manipulation, harassment, pandering, entitlement) who was the subject of said emotional (& eventually physical) stalking.  

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Your well-being matters firstly.  Even when you're tempted to compromise that in return for some prospective future reward / promotion / solidification / gratification.  It's important to remember that.  No matter the "rank" / position of family / friends / employers / leaders within your sphere of influence (or theirs), the most important consideration is your health firstly.  For you cannot walk back stupid.  For stupid is a past tense verb. 

In closing, if it's not feasible to physically fence yourself in with healthier relations in light of the unhealthy influence, take the time to do so with God's spirit BEFORE engaging with the "handful".  You most certainly can figuratively get the hell out of dodge via the Lord blanketing you throughout.  Bank on that, don't lose hope.       

Recommended Reading - "There’s Something Lovely About Feeling That Everyone Around You Could Potentially, Someday, Be A Friend.”

How Talking To Strangers Can Improve Your Well-Being | HuffPost Life

A Hard Funeral(s) To Sit Through

Out of respect for my father, I attended a funeral (unrelated to family) today.  This wasn't the first time I'd done this.  When I was in high school, I attended a funeral with him.  I remember it clearly, for the deceased had killed himself via suicide, leaving behind a boy who was only one or two years older than I (the boy went to my high school and the divorced dad had attended church with us).  

That was my first hard funeral due to the tragedy tied to the cause of death.

This one today was tough, but mostly it had to do with the tragic, longstanding narrative tied to the deceased's family life.  

The pastor who officiated (who was a family friend of the deceased) beat the drum of his dead mentor "loving Jesus" to the maximum.  We mourners heard this over and over again.  All the while, everyone there knew the dead man, nor his family members had not darkened the door of the church in decades.  And the setting clearly spoke to this dichotomy.  For the wake and funeral was held in a tee-ninny suburban funeral home parlor where the overflow crowd of mourners were all squeezed in like sardines within the repurposed pews.

At the outset of the service, the officiating pastor cited the book of Samuel, quoting scripture which captured David eulogizing Saul (post his suicidal death).  That was fitting, but I don't believe many mourners picked up on the subtleties therein (is there no more anticlimactic Biblical figure than Saul?).    

Not long after that opening salvo, the pastor used the word chaos to describe the deceased man's family, doing so right there in front of his widow, two daughters and all the grandchildren / great-grandchildren (they were all packed in too).  He even went so far as to specifically cite the bastardization of the man's first grandchild (borne from his youngest daughter) as if it was yesterday's news.

Most of those in attendance likely knew the family when that particular shit hit the fan.  The year was 1989.  Understandably, his daughter's future (& their family's trajectory) was forever changed as a result, but what had to have made the greatest specific impact was the unshakable stigma they were now saddled with.  Particularly considering their place as a well-established, upper-class Jacksonian family.

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What I'm going to say next is going to sound like a cop out, but I'm going to say it anyway because I believe it (& lived through it).

The 1980s weren't good to any of us white folks, and this family was (like so many) right within its crosshairs.  I'm not blaming this decade of excess for their specific missteps, but you must realize that families were hit from two (if not more) sides during this decade.

1.  Enormous economic success that was unparalleled.  Especially for those who were put together and Dale Carnegie extroverted (as the deceased had been during that era).  Most professionals were making money hand over fist (both earned & unearned) which precipitated enormous buying power for these.  Constraint / "quiet living" along with temperance were ideas from the past that were outright mocked during this era.  Everything, and I do mean everything was hinged on excess and immediate gratification, no matter the risk.

2.  Massive shift in societal norms as it pertained to the prioritization of class / cliques / relational circles of influence.  Autonomy was so very out.  Country club status quo was everything and everywhere in the '80s.  There was more chrome and hairspray, Porsche and Winnebago than had ever been seen prior here in America.  For all of these veneers / brands screamed, "LOOK AT ME!"  Arguably, all of the upper / middle-class family's identity was classed directly to these pleasurable platitudes, leaving it particularly vulnerable to headship neglect / distraction. 

Considering both of these, time and energy to play within this particular arena massively downplayed what once was the bastion of familial importance:  

The husband / father's role as protector.  And not just via shielding but via exposure / knowledge / insight that's used to educate / shrew the family of cultural / societal deception risk(s).

The familial chaos cited by today's funeral pastor, I'm convinced, found both its origin and virility during this powerfully influential decade.

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Two distinct funerals.  Considering both this one today and the one from my teenage years, both were tremendously hard to sit through but for different versions of tragic.  

My dad thanked me at the conclusion of each for taking the time to attend.  Because I was there to stand with him, I'm glad I did.   

Chipping Away At Your Ever-Present "Lust Noise"

These presently uber-popular prescription diabetes / weight loss pharmaceuticals (weekly injectables) claim to diminish the volume (think sound) of patient's "food noise" as they go about their day-to-day activities.  Patients describe "food noise" as the Siren Song of eating.  Hence, by reducing that noise, resisting compulsive food intake is made substantially easier.

Scientists don't understand exactly how this pharmaceutical works internally to accomplish this.

But I have a theory.

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You'll hear the notion of neuroplasticity A LOT within (virtual groups) Samson Society.  This is the notion / theory that our brain can "rewire" itself, therein forming "new neuro-pathways" over time.

If you give credit to the meaning of the word plastic, it implies being shaped / formed ONCE into a new shape / form.  It's a violent process that takes its fair share of energy to pull off.  

There are certainly certain engineered forms of material plastics whose potential is designed-in to be easily recycled / reformed / repurposed, but mostly, the term plastic implies one significant "shaping" only.  One and done.  Use the newly shaped object and discard it.

Hence, scientific research now seems to point towards the fact that the brain isn't at all neuroplastic.  Nonetheless, it can move towards new information / understanding, and as such, abandon routes used prior - once new ones are established.  But this takes not only time but the will for the brain to move towards "blue ocean" (new territory).  And as stated prior (whilst staying with my materials plastic analogy), this is a violent, energy-intense process for the brain to accomplish.  All the while warranting no guarantee of true recovery return in the end.

Regarding the brain's willingness to do this, I'm convinced there must be motivation / motivators (positive or negative or some combination) therein.  Otherwise, there's no true gain or win in doing so, and sans motivation / motivators (positive / negative), the mind won't be convinced.

And, based on personal experience / observation, that motivator needs to come (to some degree or another) in the form of seemingly uninterruptable / uninterrupted pain.

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A few weeks back, I hit the pause button on my role as a Silas to one particular young man.  He and I had been walking closely together for +/-6 months.

Why did I do this?

There was no will for his brain to move towards blue ocean.  

His upper-class life was absolutely defined by safety net after safety net after safety net.  Whether it was his church, his parents, his wife, his role as a student (professional college), all around him were safety nets.  There was no need for him to fear any real consequences related to choosing to indulge in compulsive sexual sin.  For he was convinced that none of the safety nets would ever be removed as a result.  

This young man was quite transparent with everyone within his sphere of influence (all mentioned above) regarding his illicit behavior, but as such, he knew he could continue to get away with it Scot-free.  

No motivation to move towards blue ocean = zero chance of recovery.

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Committing / experiencing Samson Society, for Rob, has been rooted in blue ocean.  My motivation came from the stifling, consistently debilitating emotional pain via my job loss back in September of 2013 (I'd broken my employer's IT policy).  Via that emotional trauma, I developed PTSD which was hellacious.  This 18-month brain torture positioned me - no holds barred - towards blue ocean.  Not once did I look to anything familiar related to therapeutic healing.  Instead, it was boots-on-the-ground, facing west (not once turning to the right or the left) and marching forward into the unknown.  

I absolutely had to get help / healing for my tormented / traumatized brain.

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After the devastation of Hurricane Katrina (2005) in New Orleans, LA, Houston, TX stepped up and agreed to "receive" a massive number of impoverished (now homeless) New Orleanians who'd lost everything due to the storm.  If I remember correctly, they were bussed to Houston, caravaning west in one accord.  

The situation in NOLA immediately following the hurricane was bleak.  Levees had failed which had precipitated massive flooding, utilities were down (water / electricity), and looting / crime were rampant.  Keep in mind too that this was late August of that year.  Temps were close to 100 at 100% humidity.

The housing within the Lower Ninth Ward of NOLA was literally wiped away by the storm, and no one truly realized just how apocalyptic the situation would become - literally overnight.  

NOLA has been known for rampant crime for decades, and back then, things were no different.  Much of this is fueled culturally via substance abuse.  NOLA has always been a destination city (drunken tourism) that leaves little incentive to actually put down roots therein.   

Houston, TX is about as culturally opposite to NOLA as one might imagine.  And yet, here these poor homeless blacks were.  There amongst, literally surrounded by, all those generous, cowboy-hat wearing Texans. 

Most of them never left Houston.  Even after being given an opportunity to return to a "rebuilt NOLA".  For their lives were better thanks to the blue ocean experience they'd embarked upon.

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Compulsive sin is tied to memory.  

That's what it comes down to.  Memory and calculated risk.

You recall what you experienced prior (& how pleasurably rewarding it was), and from there, you make a decision to undergo a calculated risk to move, once again, in that direction.  Your brain does this on repeat.

Memory is integral to the brain's motivation to never charting a new course (blue ocean).

I'm convinced these uber-popular "food noise" reducing drugs are targeting specific food memories within those who're prescribed these medications.  And based on what I've read, many of these patients are also seeing a reduction in libido.  This leads me to believe, even more, that pleasurable memory is what's being targeted, and that it's creeping over into other areas of patient's brains.

Once patients stop taking these drugs (injecting themselves weekly), the "food noise" returns instantly with exponential volume.  This results in patients gaining even more weight (than they were prior to taking the meds) as they make up for lost glutton time.  So, in many ways, it's like a medically-assisted fast, and once it's over with, it's time to celebrate at Golden Corral restaurant!

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Speaking personally (over the past almost ten years), I've experienced 5% recovery each year of being involved in Samson Society.  I never missed a weekly meeting, whether I was attending or hosting.  I have attended Samson Society intensive weekends, Samson Society story weekends, National Retreats year after year after year.  Plus, I've connected with too many Samson guys to count, listening to story after story whilst praying earnestly with them at every given opportunity.  

And I'm still doing this.  Each and every week.  Headed west.  Not looking to either my left or my right.  

I've grown to love the journey.  It's so not mundane.  Plus, I no longer feel enslaved to my brain's previous repetitive pursuits for those memories literally are essentially CLOSED ROADS..  And, I am so proud of myself for what I've done.  Especially considering the high stakes involved in never truly seeing any return on my emotional / time investment.    

Thanks be to God for Samson Society.  It is BY NO MEANS a quick fix, but The Path led Rob in a holistically better direction.  My brain is so much better off now than it was in August 2014 (when I first stepped foot into an in-person Samson Society meeting here in the Jackson Metro).

Lagniappe

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.

Recommended Reading - Samson Men On Vaca

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