Our family took a short vacation over the past few days up to Yazoo county. My wife's deceased uncle left his 4 children a spectacular farmhouse there that we're privileged to gain access to on occasion. It sits on 60 pastoral acres, and the terrain there is quite un-Mississippi like (hilly). To sum it up, the hardwood trees are spectacular and the 3 ponds bucolic. We absolutely love spending time there, stealing away (pro bono) from the city.
Not long after Angie and I were married 23 years ago, this same uncle hosted Thanksgiving at his home in Yazoo City (the county seat of Yazoo county). I remember driving up with my wife's family and her brother to spend Thanksgiving lunch with everyone there. Their home (now sold off) sat on the country club golf course and the layout was very much unlike what I expected to see ('70s modern). This was the only time I recall Thanksgiving being hosted at this venue.
After a couple of three hours of familial investing around the dinner table, we departed for Jackson. Our time there had been delightful. My wife's family was so welcoming and engaging. I was thrilled to have had the opportunity to take part, therefore even today, as I'm coming off of our mini-vacation, I'm nostalgic relative to that day decades prior.
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One of the first attributes of my in-laws that I was made aware of as their son-in-law was their refined palettes. It was obvious from the getgo that meals for them were especially savored, whether they were served at their home or eaten out. This was not what I'd ever witnessed prior within my own home. The Turners didn't take the time to savor food. There were too many other things to move on to after breakfast / lunch / dinner, if you know what I mean. And honestly, I believe my in-laws sensed that, and thought less of me for it (which whilst looking back, I can understand).
As we were backing out of the driveway from the aforementioned Thanksgiving meal in Yazoo City, I remember distinctly that the food critiquing was kicked off by my brother in-law. From there, I was in awe as I listened to everyone precisely adjudicate the meal we'd just partaken of as one would critique a film / play at the local movie house / theater. I had no idea just how outmatched / out of my league I truly was, therefore I just sat there with a big grin on my face.
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My mother is what I'm going to dub here as an amateur interior decorator / gardener, and her feng shui is hyper-focused on popular trends. In fact, the trendier, the better. One of her favorite pastimes is touring other people's homes / gardens in order to critique and steal ideas for her own home / garden. As an only child (boy), I was always interested in hanging out with friends in order to counteract the inherent singular boredom. My mom, on occasion, would strongly hint that hanging out at other kids' abodes would be doing her a favor in light of the work that entailed having to tidy up her masterpiece after us "hoodlums". I share that here as an example of just how invested she was / is in her home. It is and always has been truly spectacular.
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There is great wisdom in looking closely at one's surroundings in order to understand to the best of your biased ability who you are in context to those around you, but to also do this with other people's feelings / spiritual value in mind is truly an extraordinary feat.
In order to do so, one must have humility overlayed with care and concern. And those traits are not of man's flesh. Not at all. Hence, the mandate of the transformational gospel must come into play.
One thing, I have found, that helps though is being cognizant of your own brokenness (sin nature) and exactly how crippling it truly is / has been. Being able to name it, explain it, quantify it - so to speak - puts your outlook at an advantage here and hopefully will guardrail you from ALSO dragging others under as well (when you do choose to give into your rebellious nature).
But, I have to admit, it's finding that balance that's such a challenge for me. I can be so critical whilst tapping into my observational / critiquing skills, never once taking into consideration how my adjudication might be received. And the opposite too can occur. Years ago, I took it upon myself to compliment another Samson man's courageous approach to an outdoor endeavor we both chose to take part in one Summer afternoon, and from there, due exclusively to my approach, I put our friendship over the edge.
It is very hard for me to know exactly how to execute the wisdom of this verse day to day. Nevertheless, I do believe the best approach is a cautionary one mated to that age-old reminder (for me and everyone else) that I'm truly the most fucked up of all. May God grant me the wisdom to live out Philippians 2:4 to his glory within 2020!
Sunday, January 5, 2020
Tuesday, December 31, 2019
Emotional Achilles' Heel
I believe every man is wise to work to identify his emotional Achilles' Heel.
Not an emotion itself, but circumstantially (in general terms), what might very well bring about emotional trauma.
I realize we cannot forecast how vulnerable our hearts are situation to situation. It's impossible to know exactly what emotional fallout (if any) will occur 'till we experience it, but we can, again in general terms, look to our needs to identify our potential weaknesses.
For me, it all points back to what I discussed within a former blog post which focused on mentoring.
Not an emotion itself, but circumstantially (in general terms), what might very well bring about emotional trauma.
I realize we cannot forecast how vulnerable our hearts are situation to situation. It's impossible to know exactly what emotional fallout (if any) will occur 'till we experience it, but we can, again in general terms, look to our needs to identify our potential weaknesses.
For me, it all points back to what I discussed within a former blog post which focused on mentoring.
Libido
The Bible addresses an awful lot of practical items, and libido is one of those (just barely).
The apostle Paul mentions it in his writings as a qualifier for marrying versus staying single. Of course we all know that marriage's primary identifier is a consensual, monogamous sex life which takes the work and the risk out of managing one's libido.
So what exactly is libido?
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One of the smartest men I know shared with me that despite the fact that he was homeschooled (by his pastor parents) prior to pursuing his engineering degree from a very reputable public university, masturbation was never looped into the curriculum. Therefore, not unlike the majority of us, he was also just as much left in the dark as we were (within adolescence) as to what to make of our sexual desires.
I mean, if you can't talk openly about libido at your home school...you know there's a problem / disconnect in discussing sexuality period.
I can remember so vividly hearing Dr. James Dobson address adolescent libido to his audience of conservative Christian (mostly women) by regurgitating the mantra he divulged to his son, Ryan. And that was, "...try not to masturbate too much, son."
Wow. Really, Dr. Dobson? That's it?
The apostle Paul mentions it in his writings as a qualifier for marrying versus staying single. Of course we all know that marriage's primary identifier is a consensual, monogamous sex life which takes the work and the risk out of managing one's libido.
So what exactly is libido?
-------------------------
One of the smartest men I know shared with me that despite the fact that he was homeschooled (by his pastor parents) prior to pursuing his engineering degree from a very reputable public university, masturbation was never looped into the curriculum. Therefore, not unlike the majority of us, he was also just as much left in the dark as we were (within adolescence) as to what to make of our sexual desires.
I mean, if you can't talk openly about libido at your home school...you know there's a problem / disconnect in discussing sexuality period.
I can remember so vividly hearing Dr. James Dobson address adolescent libido to his audience of conservative Christian (mostly women) by regurgitating the mantra he divulged to his son, Ryan. And that was, "...try not to masturbate too much, son."
Wow. Really, Dr. Dobson? That's it?
Monday, December 30, 2019
A 16 Year Old's Endorsement Is a Noteworthy Endorsement (posted with her permission)
Caroline Turner
Mrs. Christian
English 1113/A1
12 December 2019
One of my family’s special Christmas traditions is reading The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. Every year my dad gathers us around the fire and begins reading us the classic story. The story follows the six Herdman children as they accidentally get mixed up in a church Christmas pageant. They were known as the meanest kids the town had ever seen. After a change of heart, the Herdmans learn the true meaning of Christmas and pull off a successful pageant. The story means a lot to me because it made the Christmas story make sense. It emphasizes how real and sacred Jesus’ birth really was. The true meaning of Christmas is not the presents or the tree but the Saviour that was born in Bethlehem.
Since I was a little girl, I have probably heard the Christmas story a thousand times. They teach the kids about it in Sunday school the same way every year. The story had always gone in one ear and out the other for me. I cared more about the presents and the pretty decorations. I knew the Christmas story was true, but I did not believe it fully in my heart. It was not until my dad introduced me to The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.
“It’s finally here!”, I screamed. My sister and I jumped around the house excitedly. It was Christmas Eve and we knew we would be opening up our presents after a short night's sleep. I sat below the tree and stared up into the twinkling lights and shiny ornaments. I could not wait any longer. “Caroline? Anna? Come sit down in the living room.” my dad called. I jumped up and ran to take my seat. I knew that we would finish The Best Christmas Pageant Ever tonight. The last chapter was always read on Christmas Eve. There are only seven chapters in the book, so my dad would space them out evenly throughout the month of December. Once silence fell over the room, my dad began reading.
I stared intensely at my dad as he read. I tried to follow his eyes on the pages of the book. The book is full of funny jokes and humor. My family and I would break out in laughter at every joke. As we approached the end of the chapter, my dad’s reading began to slow down. The last chapter of the book took him on an emotional rollercoaster. As he read, his eyes began to get watery and his lips started to quiver. He began to choke but finally spit out the last line, “Hey! Unto you a child is born!” That is when it hit me. My whole life I had been missing what Christmas is all about. Jesus’ birth was not all smiley and rainbows like most people think. Jesus was born on a cold winter’s night in a stable. They did not have warm blankets or even a bed for Jesus to sleep in. Jesus is what Christmas is all about. The gifts, food, and decorations are important, but cannot compare to the birth of my Saviour.
After my dad finished reading, he asked, “What was your favorite part of the book Caroline?” I took a few seconds to think and then replied, “When the Herdmans finally realize that Christmas is not what they had thought. That it is much more than it seems.” My family and I sat around the living room in awe of the story. “The story hits a little harder every year.”, my mom said. I agreed, “I never knew how surreal the birth of Jesus was. Now I see it from a different point of view.”
I went to bed that night wide awake. I stared into my dark room while my head spun. I could not stop thinking about the Herdman’s story. Everything I knew about the Christmas story was wrong. Seeing it from a different perspective opened up my eyes. “It must have been awful. Jesus and his family had nothing. I mean his bed was literally a feeding trough!” I could not believe it. I almost felt sorry for them. I laid in bed with a hundred thoughts running through my head. I felt inspired and thankful for what Jesus has done for me. The Christmas story had hit me straight in the heart. I would forever be changed.
Mrs. Christian
English 1113/A1
12 December 2019
The Best Christmas Pageant Ever
One of my family’s special Christmas traditions is reading The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. Every year my dad gathers us around the fire and begins reading us the classic story. The story follows the six Herdman children as they accidentally get mixed up in a church Christmas pageant. They were known as the meanest kids the town had ever seen. After a change of heart, the Herdmans learn the true meaning of Christmas and pull off a successful pageant. The story means a lot to me because it made the Christmas story make sense. It emphasizes how real and sacred Jesus’ birth really was. The true meaning of Christmas is not the presents or the tree but the Saviour that was born in Bethlehem.
Since I was a little girl, I have probably heard the Christmas story a thousand times. They teach the kids about it in Sunday school the same way every year. The story had always gone in one ear and out the other for me. I cared more about the presents and the pretty decorations. I knew the Christmas story was true, but I did not believe it fully in my heart. It was not until my dad introduced me to The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.
“It’s finally here!”, I screamed. My sister and I jumped around the house excitedly. It was Christmas Eve and we knew we would be opening up our presents after a short night's sleep. I sat below the tree and stared up into the twinkling lights and shiny ornaments. I could not wait any longer. “Caroline? Anna? Come sit down in the living room.” my dad called. I jumped up and ran to take my seat. I knew that we would finish The Best Christmas Pageant Ever tonight. The last chapter was always read on Christmas Eve. There are only seven chapters in the book, so my dad would space them out evenly throughout the month of December. Once silence fell over the room, my dad began reading.
I stared intensely at my dad as he read. I tried to follow his eyes on the pages of the book. The book is full of funny jokes and humor. My family and I would break out in laughter at every joke. As we approached the end of the chapter, my dad’s reading began to slow down. The last chapter of the book took him on an emotional rollercoaster. As he read, his eyes began to get watery and his lips started to quiver. He began to choke but finally spit out the last line, “Hey! Unto you a child is born!” That is when it hit me. My whole life I had been missing what Christmas is all about. Jesus’ birth was not all smiley and rainbows like most people think. Jesus was born on a cold winter’s night in a stable. They did not have warm blankets or even a bed for Jesus to sleep in. Jesus is what Christmas is all about. The gifts, food, and decorations are important, but cannot compare to the birth of my Saviour.
After my dad finished reading, he asked, “What was your favorite part of the book Caroline?” I took a few seconds to think and then replied, “When the Herdmans finally realize that Christmas is not what they had thought. That it is much more than it seems.” My family and I sat around the living room in awe of the story. “The story hits a little harder every year.”, my mom said. I agreed, “I never knew how surreal the birth of Jesus was. Now I see it from a different point of view.”
I went to bed that night wide awake. I stared into my dark room while my head spun. I could not stop thinking about the Herdman’s story. Everything I knew about the Christmas story was wrong. Seeing it from a different perspective opened up my eyes. “It must have been awful. Jesus and his family had nothing. I mean his bed was literally a feeding trough!” I could not believe it. I almost felt sorry for them. I laid in bed with a hundred thoughts running through my head. I felt inspired and thankful for what Jesus has done for me. The Christmas story had hit me straight in the heart. I would forever be changed.
Sunday, December 29, 2019
Godly inconvenience
- My car needs new brake pads and rotors. They're so degraded that I can no longer safely drive the vehicle, therefore it's parked 'till I can have the maintenance work accomplished at some point in January.
- Our van had major HVAC repair work executed a few months ago, and now it's broken once more. The system is behaving just as erratically as it did prior.
- Due to us now only having two (drivable) automobiles to transport our family of 5 around in, we chose to only take one this AM to church. Upon our return, we discovered that dad (me) had only brought the car key itself versus the entire key chain. Hence, there was no way to unlock the door under the garage and get back into the house. From there, we had to telephone my 'rents and coordinate rendezvousing with them to obtain a spare key. My father thought we were idiots for getting ourselves into this situation.
- Last night, I dreamt about an architect that I worked for right out of college. For almost a decade, he was the most respected (by me) professional within my life despite his hands off approach, passivity, and general professional aloofness (towards me and every other man who worked for him). Weirdly, in my dream, he was the complete opposite of the man I remember. Upbeat, genuinely compassionate / supportive and harboring a very positive outlook. I actually felt encouraged once I awoke until I realized just how potentially life changing my professional life would have been had this man been more like the dream architect I experienced.
- A week prior to today, we'd invited friends over to dine with us tonight, having not seen them in some time. As of yesterday, this afternoon's weather was forecasted to be severe, therefore I called our friends, and we rescheduled. Considering the more recent forecast for today (right now), it's diminished in severity considerably, but the rescheduling has already occurred.
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Convenience is a systematic word. It refers to chronology which has its root in logic. Logic is how we as human beings rationalize our worlds.
God is sovereign over our lives as Christians. As adopted sons, he's interested in only one thing: our faithfulness to him exclusively. God measures our faith by peering into our hearts.
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I like being physically strong. The last few years of my architecture schooling at Mississippi State afforded me the opportunity to be colleagues with a brute of a young man who exemplified the term "musclehead" to me (& most everyone else) back there in 1995. This Floridian wasn't arrogant about his build, but nonetheless, you can bet no one gave him any shit either.
Our final fall semester juries were in Starkville at the Architecture building, therefore since our 5th year studio was in Jackson, we had to haul our work back to campus (+/-2 hours away). The design group I was in had focused its attention on working with sheetmetal and concrete, and I'd decided to construct a sizable (4'-0" x 4'-0") cross section of my work. Needless to say, this specimen was very heavy. Unrealistically heavy, now that I think more on it. And had it not been for the strength of my fellow student, it never would have made it back into the architecture school mothership (loaded and unloaded into the back of a UHaul truck). Thanks again Judd!
In order to develop physical strength, one must inconvenience your muscles with resistance. By forcing them to work despite the resistance you apply to them, the muscle tissue develops tiny tears via exertion. These tears, over time, heal, and when they do, the muscle tissue increases in strength (& scale) for future use. Now this sounds all well and good, but it really, really hurts. Plus, if you don't know how to execute proper form, you can injure yourself due to the movements you're making whilst under physical duress.
-------------------------
If you truly consider the glory of being an adopted son of God, taking into account the transformative work that goes on therein; doing this whilst superimposing your covenant circumstances on both this culture of ours as well as the microculture that you yourself / me were / was reared within, there's good reason to rejoice in God's faithfulness to each of his own.
But...
In a world of unfathomable convenience and customization, we're spoiled. Deceived really, into believing God, just like everything else, should follow our logic. Especially regarding pain (all of which seems unnecessary).
-------------------------
There's no amount of momentum or reflex needed to ever rekindle or retrofit my faith in God relative to where he's healed me from 6 years ago. And yes, after my firing, it did feel as if I'd been lured into a trap. A trap that crushed my heart and sent me spinning traumatically out of control. Oh, how many times did I ask, "Why is this happening to me?"
I believe I'll always see it as my life's greatest inconvenience that ultimately landed me in a prison of pain. A prison that I wasn't completely released from 'till 18 months into the future.
Therefore, despite my pleas with God during my emotional incarceration for my own children to never suffer (in their futures) as I was then, today I would welcome seeing them experience said rescue as I did (obviously necessitating their own pain prison).
In closing, this is why I attempt to model - as the father - a good attitude despite Murphy's Law within our family. But in all truthfulness, attitude can only hold so much water for me personally. It's ruminating on where I once was that bolsters my faith. What I was feeling - to what extent - and why. That's my jumping off point for measuring the domination of God and his continual restoration of me.
- Our van had major HVAC repair work executed a few months ago, and now it's broken once more. The system is behaving just as erratically as it did prior.
- Due to us now only having two (drivable) automobiles to transport our family of 5 around in, we chose to only take one this AM to church. Upon our return, we discovered that dad (me) had only brought the car key itself versus the entire key chain. Hence, there was no way to unlock the door under the garage and get back into the house. From there, we had to telephone my 'rents and coordinate rendezvousing with them to obtain a spare key. My father thought we were idiots for getting ourselves into this situation.
- Last night, I dreamt about an architect that I worked for right out of college. For almost a decade, he was the most respected (by me) professional within my life despite his hands off approach, passivity, and general professional aloofness (towards me and every other man who worked for him). Weirdly, in my dream, he was the complete opposite of the man I remember. Upbeat, genuinely compassionate / supportive and harboring a very positive outlook. I actually felt encouraged once I awoke until I realized just how potentially life changing my professional life would have been had this man been more like the dream architect I experienced.
- A week prior to today, we'd invited friends over to dine with us tonight, having not seen them in some time. As of yesterday, this afternoon's weather was forecasted to be severe, therefore I called our friends, and we rescheduled. Considering the more recent forecast for today (right now), it's diminished in severity considerably, but the rescheduling has already occurred.
-------------------------
Convenience is a systematic word. It refers to chronology which has its root in logic. Logic is how we as human beings rationalize our worlds.
God is sovereign over our lives as Christians. As adopted sons, he's interested in only one thing: our faithfulness to him exclusively. God measures our faith by peering into our hearts.
-------------------------
I like being physically strong. The last few years of my architecture schooling at Mississippi State afforded me the opportunity to be colleagues with a brute of a young man who exemplified the term "musclehead" to me (& most everyone else) back there in 1995. This Floridian wasn't arrogant about his build, but nonetheless, you can bet no one gave him any shit either.
Our final fall semester juries were in Starkville at the Architecture building, therefore since our 5th year studio was in Jackson, we had to haul our work back to campus (+/-2 hours away). The design group I was in had focused its attention on working with sheetmetal and concrete, and I'd decided to construct a sizable (4'-0" x 4'-0") cross section of my work. Needless to say, this specimen was very heavy. Unrealistically heavy, now that I think more on it. And had it not been for the strength of my fellow student, it never would have made it back into the architecture school mothership (loaded and unloaded into the back of a UHaul truck). Thanks again Judd!
In order to develop physical strength, one must inconvenience your muscles with resistance. By forcing them to work despite the resistance you apply to them, the muscle tissue develops tiny tears via exertion. These tears, over time, heal, and when they do, the muscle tissue increases in strength (& scale) for future use. Now this sounds all well and good, but it really, really hurts. Plus, if you don't know how to execute proper form, you can injure yourself due to the movements you're making whilst under physical duress.
-------------------------
If you truly consider the glory of being an adopted son of God, taking into account the transformative work that goes on therein; doing this whilst superimposing your covenant circumstances on both this culture of ours as well as the microculture that you yourself / me were / was reared within, there's good reason to rejoice in God's faithfulness to each of his own.
But...
In a world of unfathomable convenience and customization, we're spoiled. Deceived really, into believing God, just like everything else, should follow our logic. Especially regarding pain (all of which seems unnecessary).
-------------------------
There's no amount of momentum or reflex needed to ever rekindle or retrofit my faith in God relative to where he's healed me from 6 years ago. And yes, after my firing, it did feel as if I'd been lured into a trap. A trap that crushed my heart and sent me spinning traumatically out of control. Oh, how many times did I ask, "Why is this happening to me?"
I believe I'll always see it as my life's greatest inconvenience that ultimately landed me in a prison of pain. A prison that I wasn't completely released from 'till 18 months into the future.
Therefore, despite my pleas with God during my emotional incarceration for my own children to never suffer (in their futures) as I was then, today I would welcome seeing them experience said rescue as I did (obviously necessitating their own pain prison).
In closing, this is why I attempt to model - as the father - a good attitude despite Murphy's Law within our family. But in all truthfulness, attitude can only hold so much water for me personally. It's ruminating on where I once was that bolsters my faith. What I was feeling - to what extent - and why. That's my jumping off point for measuring the domination of God and his continual restoration of me.
Thursday, December 26, 2019
The Holidays Can Be All About Pornography Consumption, Anonymous Sexual Encounters, Or Telephone Sex
We live in the strange age of the ubiquitous Internet, and for me, this strangeness reared its head initially with a decided impression back in the late '90s. Angie and I had only been married for a few years. We'd endured her terrible bouts with the mental illness of anxiety disorder and the subsequent panic attacks throughout our newlywedding. Therefore, at this time (we were married in the mid-90s), things were beginning to settle down some as we learned to live life reasonably well as DINKS (double-income no kids).
And then this thing called the Internet showed up, thanks to a laptop she'd been issued by her employer. It didn't take long at all for me to "take my turn" at the laptop [*wink, wink*] and get my first look at what it meant to be online, and from there, I found pornography as I'd never imagined.
Keep in mind that growing up here in Mississippi offered few, if any, opportunities to look at smut. Know too that Angie was privy, prior to our marriage, to my obsession with porn. She and I had traveled to NOLA on a few occasions and it was there in The Big Easy that I fessed up (at the time NOLA was one of the only reasonably close cities to Jackson where print porn was available at the magazine stands).
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When you grow up never seeing professionally shot photos of beautiful naked people posing and sexing other beautiful naked people, your life is certainly not waning in that particular "culturally necessitated" experience, but when these images are thrust upon you, particularly considering a certain season of life, its impact is not unlike the detonation of an emotional atomic bomb. At least that's how it was for me.
Having come off of this rough initial marital season (as I described above) combined with being a massively visual individual (architect intern), I found myself helpless to combat the allure of Internet porn. This neverending resource for smut of every ilk. So much so, in fact, that I went to my wife (eventually) and asked specifically for help in the form of quarantine by saying, "Keep me away from your work laptop. If you don't, the Internet will likely kill me". And whilst looking back, there was some truth to that statement.
But that smart confession move didn't occur until I'd partook in a major binge session on the eve of Thanksgiving, and for this, I was given a regret that I'm sadly not likely to ever forget.
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Thanksgiving Eve, Angie hadn't been sleeping well and made a comment to me that she'd likely need a Tylenol PM in order to assist her that evening. I took it upon myself to coerce her into taking two. And I did this in order to ensure that once asleep, she'd stay that way throughout the night.
From there, I crawled out of our bed and jumped online via her laptop (which I'd discreetly left turned on) on the opposite end of our apartment. I then binged on online images as the hours waned 'till eventually I realized dawn would soon be approaching. And, my goodness, what a moment that was realizing I'd spent the entire night using Internet pornography, and that I'd have to face my very well rested wife (as well as her family) throughout the rest of the Thanksgiving Day.
I climbed in bed for an hour or two of sleep before being woken up by Angie at my side. She'd slept well. I cannot begin to describe how regrettably I attempted to go about getting prepared to Thanksgiving with all of her family. But, I did, and life marched on.
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What came out of this binge session was threefold:
1. I got away with it but with a sizable amount of what I've now dubbed "newlywed regret".
2. I realized just how infinite the abyss of the Internet truly was / is.
3. There aren't that many exceptionally beautiful people on planet Earth. Great looking people, yes. Exceptionally beautiful, no. But, there are plenty of people on the planet who're willing to pose sans clothing for a salacious photo in order to make a buck.
Let's break these down in an effort to close this out.
1. The first three to five years of marriage is a critical time relative to seeding / fertilizing the element of trust between husband / wife, and those seeds start with the individual being able to trust themselves firstly. One of the biggest issues my wife was confronted with as she dealt with her aforementioned mental illness "outbreak" was not being able to trust herself as my wife. Hence, she experienced intense seasons of mental anguish as she wrestled with what I'll call "wife self-doubt". It was as if the very fabric of whom she'd set out to be as Angie Turner was coming unraveled right at the start. I microcosmically experienced the same whilst hiding out Thanksgiving Eve in our apartment's TV room with my underwear down around my ankles. Other new husbands might have had similar self-doubts relative to engaging in an anonymous sex encounter or paying for telephone sex, but for me, it was this deep Internet porn dive I took, behind my wife's back, that brought on these intense negative feelings.
As most new husbands (Christian or otherwise) set out to be, I wanted to be faithful through and through to my wife, and I had been, up to that point, in spite of her ongoing struggles with her mental unhealth. But those pornographic images also opened a Pandora's Box of doubt within my own mind, and unfortunately, I became convinced that more and more exceptional was out there to be found / used. Therefore, this pursuit in turn was far more gratifying than a newfound DINKS lifestyle situated in suburban Jackson, Mississippi. Not to mention the unexpected season of anxiety I'd just endured with Angie.
Let me reiterate a point I mentioned earlier. When young husbands use online porn, they're arguably doing exponentially more damage to themselves firstly, and typically they're not even realizing it. The damage runs counter to his need to believe in himself and his ability to lead himself and his new bride as head of household. Too, if he's honest with his spouse relative to his smut consumption, that will undoubtedly sow seeds of doubt as well from his helpmeet. It's a very poisoning experience, yet the elixir tastes so sweet and refined.
I'm convinced a marriage lead by a husband who doubts himself internally is prone to being vulnerable to Satanic attack, and those attacks will focus on promulgating mistrust between both (& inside of) parties.
2. When I'd used print porn, the quantity of smut was finite. Typically, I'd hold onto the material for a few days prior to tossing it into the trash. Of course, this is not so with Internet porn, and too, there's so many sites online where like-minded sickos put their digital smut on display in the form of blogs, etc. Therefore, given enough time, one can connect with these, and therefore participate within a community of sinners, bound together by salicious material. This is arguably the most destructive usage of the Internet. Who would argue against the notion that mankind's sin nature seems to be amplified online. The supposed anonymity ramps up this illusion, and it's terribly wicked to take part in. No amount of warnings can proportionally make up for what's out there to "sow one's oats" within. It is unfathomable to behold until you've seen it firsthand.
3. My qualitative threshold for erotica is up there within the 99th percentile. Most of this exceptionally "high-quality" material is behind a paywall, therefore that wasn't where I was interested in going (using one of our credit cards would have certainly served to expose me). But, I absolutely LOVED THE THRILL OF THE HUNT (for "free" exceptionally high-quality porn)! And this cannot be emphasized enough. For years and years, I returned to the www for the sole purpose of scratching that curiosity itch. What could I possibly find today? This was the question that lingered and lingered within the back of my mind.
And then this thing called the Internet showed up, thanks to a laptop she'd been issued by her employer. It didn't take long at all for me to "take my turn" at the laptop [*wink, wink*] and get my first look at what it meant to be online, and from there, I found pornography as I'd never imagined.
Keep in mind that growing up here in Mississippi offered few, if any, opportunities to look at smut. Know too that Angie was privy, prior to our marriage, to my obsession with porn. She and I had traveled to NOLA on a few occasions and it was there in The Big Easy that I fessed up (at the time NOLA was one of the only reasonably close cities to Jackson where print porn was available at the magazine stands).
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When you grow up never seeing professionally shot photos of beautiful naked people posing and sexing other beautiful naked people, your life is certainly not waning in that particular "culturally necessitated" experience, but when these images are thrust upon you, particularly considering a certain season of life, its impact is not unlike the detonation of an emotional atomic bomb. At least that's how it was for me.
Having come off of this rough initial marital season (as I described above) combined with being a massively visual individual (architect intern), I found myself helpless to combat the allure of Internet porn. This neverending resource for smut of every ilk. So much so, in fact, that I went to my wife (eventually) and asked specifically for help in the form of quarantine by saying, "Keep me away from your work laptop. If you don't, the Internet will likely kill me". And whilst looking back, there was some truth to that statement.
But that smart confession move didn't occur until I'd partook in a major binge session on the eve of Thanksgiving, and for this, I was given a regret that I'm sadly not likely to ever forget.
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Thanksgiving Eve, Angie hadn't been sleeping well and made a comment to me that she'd likely need a Tylenol PM in order to assist her that evening. I took it upon myself to coerce her into taking two. And I did this in order to ensure that once asleep, she'd stay that way throughout the night.
From there, I crawled out of our bed and jumped online via her laptop (which I'd discreetly left turned on) on the opposite end of our apartment. I then binged on online images as the hours waned 'till eventually I realized dawn would soon be approaching. And, my goodness, what a moment that was realizing I'd spent the entire night using Internet pornography, and that I'd have to face my very well rested wife (as well as her family) throughout the rest of the Thanksgiving Day.
I climbed in bed for an hour or two of sleep before being woken up by Angie at my side. She'd slept well. I cannot begin to describe how regrettably I attempted to go about getting prepared to Thanksgiving with all of her family. But, I did, and life marched on.
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What came out of this binge session was threefold:
1. I got away with it but with a sizable amount of what I've now dubbed "newlywed regret".
2. I realized just how infinite the abyss of the Internet truly was / is.
3. There aren't that many exceptionally beautiful people on planet Earth. Great looking people, yes. Exceptionally beautiful, no. But, there are plenty of people on the planet who're willing to pose sans clothing for a salacious photo in order to make a buck.
Let's break these down in an effort to close this out.
1. The first three to five years of marriage is a critical time relative to seeding / fertilizing the element of trust between husband / wife, and those seeds start with the individual being able to trust themselves firstly. One of the biggest issues my wife was confronted with as she dealt with her aforementioned mental illness "outbreak" was not being able to trust herself as my wife. Hence, she experienced intense seasons of mental anguish as she wrestled with what I'll call "wife self-doubt". It was as if the very fabric of whom she'd set out to be as Angie Turner was coming unraveled right at the start. I microcosmically experienced the same whilst hiding out Thanksgiving Eve in our apartment's TV room with my underwear down around my ankles. Other new husbands might have had similar self-doubts relative to engaging in an anonymous sex encounter or paying for telephone sex, but for me, it was this deep Internet porn dive I took, behind my wife's back, that brought on these intense negative feelings.
As most new husbands (Christian or otherwise) set out to be, I wanted to be faithful through and through to my wife, and I had been, up to that point, in spite of her ongoing struggles with her mental unhealth. But those pornographic images also opened a Pandora's Box of doubt within my own mind, and unfortunately, I became convinced that more and more exceptional was out there to be found / used. Therefore, this pursuit in turn was far more gratifying than a newfound DINKS lifestyle situated in suburban Jackson, Mississippi. Not to mention the unexpected season of anxiety I'd just endured with Angie.
Let me reiterate a point I mentioned earlier. When young husbands use online porn, they're arguably doing exponentially more damage to themselves firstly, and typically they're not even realizing it. The damage runs counter to his need to believe in himself and his ability to lead himself and his new bride as head of household. Too, if he's honest with his spouse relative to his smut consumption, that will undoubtedly sow seeds of doubt as well from his helpmeet. It's a very poisoning experience, yet the elixir tastes so sweet and refined.
I'm convinced a marriage lead by a husband who doubts himself internally is prone to being vulnerable to Satanic attack, and those attacks will focus on promulgating mistrust between both (& inside of) parties.
2. When I'd used print porn, the quantity of smut was finite. Typically, I'd hold onto the material for a few days prior to tossing it into the trash. Of course, this is not so with Internet porn, and too, there's so many sites online where like-minded sickos put their digital smut on display in the form of blogs, etc. Therefore, given enough time, one can connect with these, and therefore participate within a community of sinners, bound together by salicious material. This is arguably the most destructive usage of the Internet. Who would argue against the notion that mankind's sin nature seems to be amplified online. The supposed anonymity ramps up this illusion, and it's terribly wicked to take part in. No amount of warnings can proportionally make up for what's out there to "sow one's oats" within. It is unfathomable to behold until you've seen it firsthand.
3. My qualitative threshold for erotica is up there within the 99th percentile. Most of this exceptionally "high-quality" material is behind a paywall, therefore that wasn't where I was interested in going (using one of our credit cards would have certainly served to expose me). But, I absolutely LOVED THE THRILL OF THE HUNT (for "free" exceptionally high-quality porn)! And this cannot be emphasized enough. For years and years, I returned to the www for the sole purpose of scratching that curiosity itch. What could I possibly find today? This was the question that lingered and lingered within the back of my mind.
Monday, December 23, 2019
You Have What I Want, & I'm Willing To Admit To That
Encouragement / affirmation from a man you respect that's specific relative to an attribute you've worked to obtain is such a gift.
And I would argue, you'll never see yourself the same way again, or at least I won't. Nor will you see that other man as you did before, or at least I won't. The specific encouragement / admiration affirms, and therefore seals the two men close due to the humility it took to administer, and in turn the commitment to hold onto said encouragement in order to keep it privately held between both parties.
A boatload of good comes from friendship between men. It's a healthy / helpful brotherhood.
And I would argue, you'll never see yourself the same way again, or at least I won't. Nor will you see that other man as you did before, or at least I won't. The specific encouragement / admiration affirms, and therefore seals the two men close due to the humility it took to administer, and in turn the commitment to hold onto said encouragement in order to keep it privately held between both parties.
A boatload of good comes from friendship between men. It's a healthy / helpful brotherhood.
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