Archive for the The Journey Category

“Courage and cowardice are antithetical. Courage is an inner resolution to go forward in spite of obstacles and frightening situations; cowardice is a submissive surrender to circumstance. Courage breeds creative self-affirmation; cowardice produces destructive self-abnegation. Courage faces fear and thereby masters it; cowardice represses fear and is thereby mastered by it. Courageous men never lose the zest for living even though their life situation is zestless; cowardly men, overwhelmed by the uncertainties of life, lose the will to live.” – Martin Luther King, Jr. Strength to Love.

Monotony suffocates. For those who struggle with depression, the day-in day-out drudgery of performing the same mundane tasks is more than wearisome, it’s unbearable. Those who have not experienced the tentacles of despair are fortunate. They do not know the slow and gasping breaths that accompany hopelessness.

So I had to stop and pause when I read the news of Chris Cornell’s death yesterday. I needed to process not only his sad and untimely passing, but his life. I considered his family and friends, some of whom might be learning of life without him from the cold and unfriendly pages of the internet. The vast unfairness of it took my breath away.

When someone takes their own life, their final choice ripples across the waters of their personal community, but when a person of status or renown commits suicide, we all respond. Depression sympathizers will emerge to philosophize on the kindnesses of ending our unbearable suffering. Doctors will promote the use of newer and better medications to ease said suffering. Laymen will lament and mourn, and maybe even justify the act. They can detachedly grieve an art form, an idea. But the people close to that individual bear the brunt of that pain, the never ending throb for a heart that no longer beats.

I was stuck in traffic on my way home Monday night when it occurred to me how much I detest foolishness. It seemed to me that the careless set themselves behind the steering wheel of vehicles and then propagate their idiocy on hapless victims. The result is the ineffable car accident and the enigmatic traffic jam. As I passed the damaged vehicle and emergency personnel—all of which were in the right hand lane and not obstructing the direct flow of traffic—I wondered why everyone was slowing down to look and to watch. Is foolishness contagious? Couldn’t people see their nosey behavior was slogging up the highway? I wanted to holler out of the window, “Yes, there is a banged up car on the side of the road. Move along! There’s nothing to see here!” Alas, I bit my lip and pushed on the gas pedal.

It happened again on Tuesday night. Same highway. Different accident. Same traffic response. I was seriously considering buying a bullhorn to direct traffic myself, all the while I echoing Charlie Brown, “Good grief!”

So when it happened on Wednesday night too, I was livid. I had just about had it up to here with sitting in a hot car trying not to fall asleep on a drive that was taking exponentially longer than it should have. For the love of all that is holy, what in the world is wrong with people?!

Ahem!

But I do realize human beings are by nature curious. They want to know and understand, but not necessarily because they sincerely care about the injured parties. Their curiosity stems from a deeper desire to better understand themselves because of what they have seen. For those who have experienced car accidents, they begin to process their own pain once again. For example, my mother cannot bear to see an accident on the side of the road because her mother was killed in an accident. I grew up under the stigma of that and have the same reaction to a point. It seems that we are all processing the events around us in correlation to ourselves. And that is why a depressed person pauses when they see that another seemingly depressed person has taken their life. They silently wonder, what would happen if I did that?

Those questions can lead to very dark places but are nevertheless important because we must face our fears in order to find the courage to overcome them.

I have been reading a very good book by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. called Strength to Love. In it he discusses the disciplines required to love our neighbors well. Today at lunch I encountered the chapter titled, “Antidotes for Fear.” And for the first time I came to understand just how afraid I really am of so many things. At various points in my life I have fantasized about committing suicide. How would people respond? For the people I loved I wondered, would they miss me? For the people who hurt me, would they be sorry? But I never actually processed the fact that the reason I had so little regard for my own life is because I was afraid.

The reasons for my fear are deep and wide and I won’t digress this time. But needless to say, Dr. King did give me an antidote to my despair. He showed me that when I am afraid I can be courageous. I can face my fears with love.

He uses a bible verse to backup this statement,

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” I John 4:18

Many people fear religion because of their bad experiences with hypocrites—people who claim to follow Jesus but disobey his commands and treat their fellow humans poorly. Hatred is born out of this fear. But the God of the Bible I read is a God of love. He continually pours out his love to people who repeatedly reject him. If a wife repeatedly cheated on her husband, he would eventually grow tired of her infidelities and divorce her. But God loved us so much he sent an invitation in the form of his son. God then heaped all of our sin on him and punished him instead so we would not have to fear him any longer for rejecting him. We no longer have to be afraid; we can simply accept God’s love by embracing the free gift of His grace—which was purchased at a terribly high price.

This kind of love gives me courage. So when I think about Chris Cornell and the darkness he faced a few nights ago, it is not without tears. I have faced that darkness and it is brutal. The difference between myself and him is that he lost hope. He caved in to his fears. How I wish he could have read the words of the late Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. “Hatred and bitterness can never cure the disease of fear; only love can do that. Hatred paralyses life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illumines it.”

If you are reading this, you still have an opportunity to counteract your fear with courage. You are able to look into the void and know a light can shine there. You can cry out for love, and banish fear and the ensuing hatred that grows out of it. All is not lost. As you pass by the car accident on the side of the road and consider how best to respond, pause and ask yourself the hard questions, “What are you really afraid of?” And then apply the antidote: you are loved!

When I finished high school, I never imagined I’d go back. The few fragile friendships I’d developed disintegrated, real life happened and time passed. The wounds, however, remained. All the petty grievances I’d experienced via insecurity and careless gossip had done their damage. Needless to say, I remember fleeing the school grounds with a kind of euphoria born from the knowledge that I would never, ever have to see those people again.

I stayed in touch with those who were real friends and forged ahead with my life, trying not to think about the hurt feelings and silly sorrows of my childhood. Still, they clung to my heart like a milky film–not readily visible, but nevertheless, present. I even had a recurring nightmare for years in which I was back in class and feeling the pressure to complete schoolwork–knowing I had already graduated and wondering why on earth I had to go back. My addled brain refused to let go of the people who had made such an impression on me in my younger years and the wounds we had inflicted.

When I heard there was to be a 10 year reunion, I balked. Who in their right mind would go to that? Back then High school reunions struck me as a waste of time. I shrugged off any nostalgic pangs and moved forward, even as I quietly wondered who was there and what they were talking about. So when I heard about the 20 year reunion, I was ecstatic. I had this idea that since I had lost the weight, I wanted to go back and revisit some of those relationships. Initially, I wanted to prove I was worthy of being liked and accepted by those who had rejected me back then. Also, many of the people who circles I frequented were planning to attend and I really wanted to re-connect. Long story short, I went, and I had the time of my life.

I learned that many of the perceptions I had of others were actually my feelings projected onto them. I learned that I was liked, not ugly, and singularly valued. Also, quite astonishingly, I made new friends–people I never knew in school the first time around. I left with such a sense of well-being and peace that I was genuinely excited about the next one.

This past weekend I attended my 25th high school reunion. The organizers planned it so beautifully with a mixer at a local sports bar Friday evening, and a family friendly BBQ potluck on Saturday. The reunion concluded with food and drinks at an up-scale restaurant after the outdoor shindig. We were all exhausted and feeling our age but we talked, laughed and surprisingly–did not reminisce. Maybe I am alone in this regard, but I don’t recall really talking about high school at all. It was quite simply, awesome fun.

As I reflect on the conversations with friends, both new and old, I find myself satisfied in my soul. We shared stories, complained about the current administration, and talked about our children. One jolly fellow said what we were all thinking, “some of us looked like we could be on the cover of GQ magazine but others have not aged as well. I had to laugh at that. Does anyone really age well? If I looked half as bad as I feel most of the time, no one could bear the site of me.

The song “Glory Days” by Bruce Springsteen keeps rumbling through my thoughts even though it doesn’t really apply to me. I don’t feel I have any glory days to recall. I really only remember angst, self-conscious primping, and pimples. Oh, and passing biology class(though I had to go to summer school to do that–thanks Sean!). For many years school was something I merely survived, but now I’m starting to realize the significance of those time-tested relationships. The people who were present while we were young have a different perspective of us than we do of ourselves and its important. If we listen well (as I tried to do this weekend) we will learn that we were not exactly who we thought we were. We will learn that we were liked, and maybe even loved. We will learn that we made an impact. We encouraged and inspired. We even helped people achieve their dreams(like John who pursued soccer simply because Liv asked him to participate). I was amazed by the stories and humble accounts of each person I spoke with. We are all on the journey together experiencing this thing called life. We have all lost our innocence in one way or another, and it was very healing(at least for me) to come together and ruminate on what matters most of all; friendship.

I realize now that when I was younger I mostly mis-characterized many of the other people I attended high school with–not only because I was obtuse(though I was), but because I was more worried about what they thought about me. And maybe this is the best part of maturing… I’ve been given the greatest gift of all; a do-over. Those who were brave enough to come and face their insecurities and fears met on common ground and simply got to know each other again. Somehow in the process of sharing stories both sad and glad, we came to see we are–after all–only human. We may not agree or even sympathize in some respects, but we can acknowledge that regardless of our differences, we all have the capacity to love. I for one find that very cathartic.

Until next time, fellow Hawks!

Today was a busy, busy day. And when I am busy, I generally feel stressed. It’s like this, I’m working along, doing what needs to be done and then suddenly, the Stress Badger jumps on my back, clamps onto my neck and growls. I hate the stress Badger. She’s very annoying.

So I take deep breaths. I put some lavender essential oil on my hands and inhale. I make little “oohm” noises under my breath. And the Stress Badger whispers, “Ice cream.” And then I start the cycle of inward chatter, will I or won’t I? Today I did not. But on the way home I stopped by my least favorite store to pick up sugar free chocolate and they didn’t have any. Now, for some folks this might not be a big deal. For me, it was catastrophic. For 30 minutes I walked back and forth down the aisle trying to find where they might have hidden it, all the while biting my nails and shivering. Evidently the store got the bright idea to re-work the candy aisle and, *gasp* removed all of the sugar free candy.

So I went to customer service to inquire. Maybe someone would see the desperation in my face and have mercy on me and go to the back and find me some. I know it’s sitting on a pallet back there, right? But alas, they told me to come back tomorrow. As if I’m normal and I’ll accept that response. Que the time Sam’s Club ran out of my sugar free gum and I stood crying at the desk about how I will DIE without it. And one of the ladies scrambled to the back and found me some. Bless her. But that was not the case today. My least favorite store snubbed me, and I am forever chaffed.

I drove home slowly as the Stress Badger dug her teeth into my shoulder muscles and growled some more. And I remembered that I recently purchased chocolate to make homemade brownies(to replace those I stole from my children while they stayed with Grandma). Suddenly my brain was lit on fire with the longing for soft and chewy brownies. And I began to salivate and sigh. And then I remembered that I am attending my 25 year high school reunion this weekend and there is no possible way I’m going to start gobbling brownies and gain 10 pounds before I see my old buddies.

So here I sit.

Writing a blog entry.

Not eating brownies.

Or sugar free chocolate.

Or ice cream.

With a Stress Badger chewing on my neck.

It’s times like these where I just want to run up to strangers, give them the Three Stooges Eye Doink of Death, and then run away laughing hysterically. The things I would do for entertainment if they were socially acceptable!

But seriously. Sometimes I have to learn how to function without my comfort snacks. It is in these moments that I (shockingly) realize the world will not end if I don’t satisfy my cravings.

I write all of this to illustrate that living a healthy lifestyle is not for the faint of heart. One must make difficult decisions, face emotional hangups, and find a way to deftly remove the iron jaws of the Stress Badger without food. Tonight I will accomplish this by finishing a book, (Laddie by Gene Stratton Porter) and drinking hot tea, and maybe crying. Because sometimes life is hard and there are no easy answers. And maybe I should write something holy and prayerful but I just don’t have it in me today. I’m tired. And the best thing I can do is keep it simple, and just go to bed.