102 Ways To Make Friends as an Adult - Parade: Entertainment, Recipes, Health, Life, Holidays
Tuesday, March 7, 2023
Sucking Babies Into Sinks = Slicing Into Rob's Last Nerve
The first time I heard an involved in Christian men's ministry guy admit (to an audience) having impregnated a girlfriend, only then to have her abort his child, became for Rob - numero uno - revolting reveal.
And I believe it has much to do with me being a bastard child myself (who thankfully wasn't aborted).
But these fornication / mother aborting reveals aren't few and far between (within Christian men's ministry). Abortion happens. Often. And deep-seated regret ensues. As such, I tend to just get more and more disgusted / outraged with it. For I consider the practice of abortion to be shockingly barbaric.
Hence, I've come to realize this is one thing I absolutely DO NOT agree should be shared outside of a professional counseling session (where secrecy is "guaranteed"). I just don't want to be exposed to that level of darkness.
And I realize, for some of you, befriending repentant pedophiles is in and of itself the ultimate revulsion. I get / respect that. Nonetheless, from my point of view, murdering children from inside a mother's womb in no way equates.
All that being said, I can't control what Samson guys (or any guy) choose to reveal about themselves or their stories. Hence, I at times find myself between a rock and a hard place with a knee jerk reaction that proportionally offends (Rob the asshole).
Abortion is pervasive yet polarizing. I just don't know exactly what I'm supposed to do with that portion of a guy's story whilst buckling under the emotional weight of said reveal.
In closing, I feel singled out by this. And this also disturbs me that much further. I wonder if there're others out there who feel this topic should only be shared with pastors / counselors / therapists.
Let me be clear: I'm abhorrent to the notion of divulging abortions to anyone but someone who's specifically trained to receive it, therefore if this is either directly or indirectly tied to your story, please don't share it with Rob. I'm not your man. We can dialogue about anything else that you feel so moved to share. Just not that.
"Toxic Desires" - JR Everhart
I can remember thinking to myself, not long after coming out of my first divorce in my early 30’s, that if I could just find a woman that would fulfill all my lustful desires, I’d be happy and never struggle with porn again. My advice in hindsight: Be careful what you internally rationalize. In the end, I wasn't successful in finding just one woman like that, I found dozens of women in that regard - all throughout my 30’s!
Let me explain.
I was playing in a very successful rock band during those years (enough said), and as a result, had no issue finding women that would do anything I asked them to do, anywhere I ask them to do it. It was a sexual dream come true! As a result, whilst looking back, I ask of my younger self: How could I not be 110% satisfied and free of any desire to be unfaithful or look at porn? I’m not going to lie. There was a ton of fun in it all for a season. But when the dust settled, and I had climbed every sexual mountain top I could imagine, I was left empty and alone. Complete satisfaction still seemed just one step away, but every time I’d take that additional step, I'd still feel as if didn’t no-holds-barred scratch the itch of desire for such a time as that.
Out of this grew my self-loathing in tandem with the dark carnival of chaos that was / is sexual addiction.
In the end, nothing COMPLETELY satisfied!
Outside of my sex life, I was becoming bitter and poisoning to be around. When you treat yourself like a soulless animal that's only driven by your carnal nature, it turns you into a soulless animal. You become instinctual and as a result, subconsciously drag everyone around you into the same pit of unhappiness that has now become your life. I will never forget having my eyes opened to all this and how it took me even deeper into despair.
Lust is never satisfied. It’s a simple fact. For it burns inside of a man’s heart at a thermal nuclear level. The only thing that's ever quenched those flames within in my life has been the cool waters of God's Grace and mercy. I realize now that no matter how much sex I have in my life, I will never be satisfied. Based on my experience, once you come to terms with this, you can start unraveling the personal chaos and insanity that you find yourself within. I had to learn to live - in the face of my flesh - constantly crying out for satisfaction whilst refusing to be triggered. I’m still sorting through all that within my life but I’m miles ahead of where I was ten years ago when I started this uncomfortable journey. It’s about progress, not perfection. And I do have much measurable progress to rest within. And I’m thankful for that even in the face of my failures.
In closing, Jesus still invites me to sit and converse with him, and I’ve become settled to the fact that this wrestling against toxic desire is only temporary. As such, thanks be to God, it is a suffering that's as close to hell as I will ever experience. And for that I’m eternally thankful. To God be all glory, honor, and praise!
Monday, March 6, 2023
Me Being At Peace As A Mississippian & My Pity For Our Misfits / Outcasts
I've been dubbed "Mississippi Rob" since I chose to join "Make Thursdays Great Again" back in December of '21. I like the moniker, but mainly due to how it's grounded me instantly within this hopelessness-saturated corner of the USA.
Silas 2.0 had small town Mississippi deeply entrenched in his persona. The best takeaway I received from him was in regard to sort of a vernacular kinship. A kinship which definitely declared that I too was just as deeply rooted, and there was nothing to be ashamed of therein.
I've been ruminating a lot recently on one of my high school friends and her family, all of which have long since vacated the Magnolia State for more hope-filled pastures. Beatrice and her clan had settled here from the west coast back in the late '70s / early '80s. Her father was an attorney who'd began his career in the Navy. With his brother (Beatrice's uncle) well established within the Jackson Metro, therein lay the motivation to plant themselves here (in order for him to practice law).
I befriended Beatrice and her best friend, Hoppy, out of need but also (unbeknownst to me at the time) pity. For neither of them had a chance in hell of thriving in Mississippi (& this extended too to Beatrice's entire family).
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Years ago, I urged our neighborhood homeowners' association board to contract with a local property management company. Upon doing so, the management company's assigned rep (to our 'hood) became fast friends with Rob. I vividly recall her telling me how she one day witnessed (unexpectedly) her next door neighbor packing up a moving truck in their driveway. After inquiring as to what was going on, they gleefully announced to her that "they'd had enough of Mississippi" and that "she could keep it!"
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On a similar note, once or twice a year we run into my oldest daughter's college roommate's folks whilst on campus (where she and their daughter are students). The last time this occurred, the dad (who's close to my age), slyly let me know that he was "counting down the months" relative to his retirement. A retirement that he "will gladly be taking outside of the state lines of Mississippi". From there, he concluded by telling me that I "can keep - all I want of - Mississippi".
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Circling back to my high school friend, Beatrice, and her clan, the tip off for me (as a teen) that they weren't "from here" came in the form of flooring material (of all things). The house they lived in was sprawling (for the '80s), and both the kitchen and breakfast room were tiled in a most stunningly beautiful material (Mexican tile) that was unlike anything I'd seen prior.
Another tip off relative to their "pariah-ness" had to do with her dad's choice of vehicle (which he'd handed down to Beatrice as her daily driver). I'd never seen too many one these in 1988.
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Beatrice had a funny way about her that Hoppy (again, her best friend) enjoyed attempting to guilt her about. Frankly, her aloofness served to mask this peculiarity pretty effectively. Hence, I likely wouldn't have taken note of it had it not been for Hoppy (who spent far more time with her than I did). And that was her refusal to acknowledge (the existence of) black people.
In other words, she lived here in Mississippi as a teen, but pretended like black people weren't here with her. And I suppose she picked this up from her parents / siblings. It was a peculiarity that made her seem exceedingly ditzy (almost to the point of ignorant fool). Now, for those of you who've no clue as to what the racial makeup of Mississippi is, know this: there're a boatload of black people here.
Beatrice lived this illusion out as follows: she maintained strict (private) protocols regarding where she traveled and whom she chose to interact with. Too, she refused to be entertained by black artists, no matter their popularity.
And now that I'm thinking through this, she too executed this approach regarding rednecks (country folk) as well.
By my observation, it was an insular experience that allowed her to maintain some semblance of comfort over her world (as she chose to see it). And I'm assuming it all was rooted in her inability / unwillingness to engage / process / confront the abject hopelessness that's so in-your-face relative to the majority of blacks / rednecks here within The Magnolia State. Hopelessness that's grounded in ignorance relative to so many rudimentary facets of the human existence.
Now, it's important that you do know that Beatrice's closest female friend during our high school days was Hispanic. But this Hispanic girl wasn't a Mississippian. Instead, she was an (lovely) exchange student who Beatrice met at our respective high school.
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In closing, having been reared here in Mississippi, I have a certain degree of emotional resilience towards the setting. And that resilience has not had the opportunity to diminish via me dropping anchor elsewhere - for even the shortest stint(s).
And it is emotional resilience / endurance that I'm describing. Not racism or feeling entitled. Instead, it's this integral understanding of pain that's pervasive enough to eventually make peace with (or else). Pain that you know isn't going away / slated to someday be (re)solved, therefore you choose instead to give it the respect it deserves in order to face it head on. Day after day after day.
My high school friends left Mississippi for a number of reasons, but I'm convinced their unspoken motive was one of unwillingness / inability to reckon with hopelessness. For to make a home here, you must face that giant, or choose instead to live an illusory existence that's nothing more than one massive emotional safety net.
It's overwhelmingly sad / a shock to your system to witness the hopelessness that's birthed out of ignorance (financial illiteracy / radical misunderstanding surrounding sexual reproduction, etc.). But if you yourself have "grown out of / sprung forth from" it besides (to one degree or another), there's a certain comfort level there that neuters it a bit. And this contrast can certainly humble those of us who can no doubt look left or right and see where we once were (with solid hope that future generations will do the same - no matter their race).
God bless Mississippi and "Mississippi Rob" (as funny as it is, beholden to this unique place).
Sunday, March 5, 2023
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