My thoughts have been irrational for the past couple of days. I could swear that I'm alone here, and that all my friends have abandoned me. But where normally it just seems like they don't understand my depressive tendencies and I'm difficult for them to relate to, lately it feels more directed and hostile.
As I look around at the people to whom I once felt so close, I can't help but feel isolated, even when I'm surrounded by friends. I see them interacting and enjoying the company and kinship of one another, I find myself wondering why I can't just be normal and part of the group. I've come to the jarring realization that I simply do not belong here. Where it began with what was just a failed romantic relationship, the end of which, by and large, forced me to believe that I am romantically unlovable, now this problem seems to have spread to my platonic friendships as well.
I know this is imagined. I know they don't mean me any harm, and that they truly just don't understand. I know, deep down, that this struggle is a lie I've internalized somehow, and that my unrelatability is what omits me from conversation and group activity, creating an absence of belonging. And I know, furthermore, who my real enemies are, and they're all internal monsters that have manifested and flourished over the years.
With all the things I know, I wish logic and reason were more effective solutions to emotional problems.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Monday, January 12, 2015
Endless Sacrifice
Among the things I've taken to meditating on is love. Now, with all the things I do wrong, I can say with some confidence that this meditation is not one of them. Contemplation of love is, I think, one of the things any follower of Christ should indulge in frequently because, as I may have mentioned before, the importance of love is paramount in Christian living. That should go without saying.
Actually, I was blessed the other day with an opportunity to share this view with one of my coworkers; someone I'm uncertain has any understanding of what a Christian actually is. A lot of people have misconceptions about that, believing that Christians in general are just legalistic and pretentious, living our lives as the self-appointed judges of the world. Unfortunately, unaware of how we actually come off, this often ends up being the case. But with this coworker, the conversation we had flowed somewhat naturally into the vocalization of the loving way that Christians are called to live, and that a lot of us just subconsciously slip into the lifestyle for which we are often known.
Did my basic, abridged testimony have the intended effect of showing an accurate view of Christ's love? I hope so. But the depth of thought I've had on this subject couldn't be broken down into one short conversation in a professional setting.
A thought I've had spontaneously enter my mind several times over the years is the significance of sacrifice in love. To say plainly what I've said before, "If it ain't selfless, it ain't love." That is just to say, love necessarily involves sacrifice. That doesn't mean you'll never receive love, but it does mean that you must be willing to give it with the possibility of it not being reciprocated. I'd give some verses about when God set that example toward us, but that would pretty much encompass the entire Bible. So we'll just stick with the end of each gospel for examples: Christ allowed Himself to be crucified by us, for our sins. There's nothing more loving. There's nothing more selfless. There's nothing more sacrificial.
So where's the balance? Hypothetically, what if you give and give that love, endlessly, to your fellow man, but never seem to receive it? What if you're so busy caring for others that you don't have time and energy to care for yourself? To me it seems that real love is to necessarily have that willingness, knowing that God is pleased all the more, and that He loves us infinitely more anyway.
Practically, that means doing things you don't want to do, even and especially when you know your loving actions will go unrewarded, unacknowledged, or unnoticed. Why? Because Christ does it, and our calling is to be more Christ-like.
Actually, I was blessed the other day with an opportunity to share this view with one of my coworkers; someone I'm uncertain has any understanding of what a Christian actually is. A lot of people have misconceptions about that, believing that Christians in general are just legalistic and pretentious, living our lives as the self-appointed judges of the world. Unfortunately, unaware of how we actually come off, this often ends up being the case. But with this coworker, the conversation we had flowed somewhat naturally into the vocalization of the loving way that Christians are called to live, and that a lot of us just subconsciously slip into the lifestyle for which we are often known.
Did my basic, abridged testimony have the intended effect of showing an accurate view of Christ's love? I hope so. But the depth of thought I've had on this subject couldn't be broken down into one short conversation in a professional setting.
A thought I've had spontaneously enter my mind several times over the years is the significance of sacrifice in love. To say plainly what I've said before, "If it ain't selfless, it ain't love." That is just to say, love necessarily involves sacrifice. That doesn't mean you'll never receive love, but it does mean that you must be willing to give it with the possibility of it not being reciprocated. I'd give some verses about when God set that example toward us, but that would pretty much encompass the entire Bible. So we'll just stick with the end of each gospel for examples: Christ allowed Himself to be crucified by us, for our sins. There's nothing more loving. There's nothing more selfless. There's nothing more sacrificial.
So where's the balance? Hypothetically, what if you give and give that love, endlessly, to your fellow man, but never seem to receive it? What if you're so busy caring for others that you don't have time and energy to care for yourself? To me it seems that real love is to necessarily have that willingness, knowing that God is pleased all the more, and that He loves us infinitely more anyway.
Practically, that means doing things you don't want to do, even and especially when you know your loving actions will go unrewarded, unacknowledged, or unnoticed. Why? Because Christ does it, and our calling is to be more Christ-like.
Monday, December 29, 2014
Bilateral
I know I've been posting a lot about progression and regression in growth in my life. Sorry that I'm not really sorry. After all, it is kind of an essential subject in the life of pretty much anyone, and as such, it's bound to be a major theme in this deeply introspective account of growing in faith and maturity. Redundancy ought to stress the importance of the matter.
Anyway, one thing I've noticed about my actions has been a vacillation between what I'll simplify as "good" and "bad" behaviors. Most of the time there doesn't seem to be much of a middle ground. I have what seem like bipolar mood swings, so to speak, of whether I'm living a Godly life or a worldly life. I won't go into the questions that are raised in my mind about the implications of the latter instances, regarding my faith, belief, and salvation. That's another post, for another time.
What I will describe is the frustration accompanying these tendencies. It's progress, but it's always so difficult to see, with all these unnerving, seemingly uncontrollable instances of backslide. In fact, it's often the case that, even in the heat of a negative moment, I am aware of the problem, but I'm unable to discern the cause, so I can't find a solution. And simply not behaving a certain way, for some reason, just doesn't work. Losing your temper, for instance, happens just like that. You lose it on accident. It's like spilling something and making a mess. Frustrating for everyone involved, especially the one who caused it.
I guess a better analogy would be wetting the bed. This is something most adults don't have to deal with anymore, because we outgrew it when we were young children. But recall, if you will, the frustration you may have experienced after such an accident. You'd made such great progress, but along came this one incident that broke it all. Then it's back to square one. Not really, but that's what it feels like.
Emotional and spiritual maturity work the same way. You go for a while, you seem to be doing well, and then you stumble. That's discouraging, even amid all the progress. More so though, because not everyone experiences the same trials, so not everyone understands the struggle. To some, it is a simple question not doing something, because they never had to deal with it in the first place. This adds a factor of solitude, which makes any difficult task even more so.
What I have to constantly remind myself is that growing and maturing do take time and effort, and they will always be marked with failure along the way. The real trick is internalizing those reminders in my darker moments.
Anyway, one thing I've noticed about my actions has been a vacillation between what I'll simplify as "good" and "bad" behaviors. Most of the time there doesn't seem to be much of a middle ground. I have what seem like bipolar mood swings, so to speak, of whether I'm living a Godly life or a worldly life. I won't go into the questions that are raised in my mind about the implications of the latter instances, regarding my faith, belief, and salvation. That's another post, for another time.
What I will describe is the frustration accompanying these tendencies. It's progress, but it's always so difficult to see, with all these unnerving, seemingly uncontrollable instances of backslide. In fact, it's often the case that, even in the heat of a negative moment, I am aware of the problem, but I'm unable to discern the cause, so I can't find a solution. And simply not behaving a certain way, for some reason, just doesn't work. Losing your temper, for instance, happens just like that. You lose it on accident. It's like spilling something and making a mess. Frustrating for everyone involved, especially the one who caused it.
I guess a better analogy would be wetting the bed. This is something most adults don't have to deal with anymore, because we outgrew it when we were young children. But recall, if you will, the frustration you may have experienced after such an accident. You'd made such great progress, but along came this one incident that broke it all. Then it's back to square one. Not really, but that's what it feels like.
Emotional and spiritual maturity work the same way. You go for a while, you seem to be doing well, and then you stumble. That's discouraging, even amid all the progress. More so though, because not everyone experiences the same trials, so not everyone understands the struggle. To some, it is a simple question not doing something, because they never had to deal with it in the first place. This adds a factor of solitude, which makes any difficult task even more so.
What I have to constantly remind myself is that growing and maturing do take time and effort, and they will always be marked with failure along the way. The real trick is internalizing those reminders in my darker moments.
Monday, December 22, 2014
Derelict
I've been considering the condition of my life again lately. I know, I know. Introspection is unhealthy for me. But it's kinda hard not to at this point. When things flatline at mediocre most of the time, and the only other landscape seems to be an assortment of valleys, it's hard to not wonder what it is that's causing it.
So at this point, I ask the obligatory question: what gives? Over the past year, I've stretched and strived for things in ways I hadn't in years. My patience and endurance have been tested on multiple instances, and for a range of time spans, many overlapping with one another. I've made mistakes and paid dearly for them, but learned from them as well. And at times I've done everything I could have done right, and still paid dearly for the actions of others.
So once again, it seems like my decisions have little to no impact on any given outcome. My positive, productive actions go unnoticed or are ineffective most of the time, while my lethargic inactions and mistakes stick out like hangnails and tend to have devastating consequences. My opinions are largely either unheard or disregarded, and so I've returned to questioning why I bother giving them voice.
What am I still doing wrong? I have worked so hard at turning my life toward the joyful, the productive, the good, yet it feels like the majority of that effort has been squandered. My circumstances in life go unchanged, despite valiant efforts to alter them. I can still acknowledge that, given where my life has been and the direction it traveled for so long, it will take time and effort to fix it, but when can I hope for that? Shouldn't I have seen some fruits of my labor by now?
And I know, from a Biblical standpoint, I shouldn't be concerned about the success of the wicked, and why I'm not flourishing when they are. But what about for the righteous? Not to compare myself and my situation to those of other people too much, but if other people are thriving and I'm not, to me that says something about my decisions. Specifically, that I'm doing something wrong.
What I need is for someone to look into my life and tell me what I need to change, and perhaps to help me change it. I need guidance from someone who knows what is right, but who also knows me and my circumstances. I need a mentor.
So at this point, I ask the obligatory question: what gives? Over the past year, I've stretched and strived for things in ways I hadn't in years. My patience and endurance have been tested on multiple instances, and for a range of time spans, many overlapping with one another. I've made mistakes and paid dearly for them, but learned from them as well. And at times I've done everything I could have done right, and still paid dearly for the actions of others.
So once again, it seems like my decisions have little to no impact on any given outcome. My positive, productive actions go unnoticed or are ineffective most of the time, while my lethargic inactions and mistakes stick out like hangnails and tend to have devastating consequences. My opinions are largely either unheard or disregarded, and so I've returned to questioning why I bother giving them voice.
What am I still doing wrong? I have worked so hard at turning my life toward the joyful, the productive, the good, yet it feels like the majority of that effort has been squandered. My circumstances in life go unchanged, despite valiant efforts to alter them. I can still acknowledge that, given where my life has been and the direction it traveled for so long, it will take time and effort to fix it, but when can I hope for that? Shouldn't I have seen some fruits of my labor by now?
And I know, from a Biblical standpoint, I shouldn't be concerned about the success of the wicked, and why I'm not flourishing when they are. But what about for the righteous? Not to compare myself and my situation to those of other people too much, but if other people are thriving and I'm not, to me that says something about my decisions. Specifically, that I'm doing something wrong.
What I need is for someone to look into my life and tell me what I need to change, and perhaps to help me change it. I need guidance from someone who knows what is right, but who also knows me and my circumstances. I need a mentor.
Friday, December 12, 2014
Laying the Demon to Rest
Or, "This Pain, in Retrospect".
It bothers me that I still become extremely depressed about what seems fairly innocuous, or about nothing at all. But even I have to acknowledge the fact that the sudden plunge into the darkness a couple of days ago was nowhere near as bad as it has been in the past, and that it also didn't last as long. I also have to remind myself of the principle that, even though changes are being made in my life, changes that will work toward long-term healing, with a history like mine it will be far from an overnight process.
Ultimately, I have to see this condition as a thorn in my flesh, constantly reminding me to trust God first, and to not put so much stock in the mercurial things of this world. I know and believe He will see me though this; I just have to actively trust Him.
As far as my selfishness, pride, and perceived need for recognition are concerned, I could probably write a book. I know this is part of the human condition, and ultimately what separates us from God. Selfishness is the root of all sin, and the true opposite of love. When our pride gets involved, we lose our ability to be truly loving, because our every thought and action becomes egocentric.
I'll discontinue there, because there's too much to be said about human pride.
My prayer, now and always, is that I can be consistently able to trust God, and that He will reveal Himself and humble me.
It bothers me that I still become extremely depressed about what seems fairly innocuous, or about nothing at all. But even I have to acknowledge the fact that the sudden plunge into the darkness a couple of days ago was nowhere near as bad as it has been in the past, and that it also didn't last as long. I also have to remind myself of the principle that, even though changes are being made in my life, changes that will work toward long-term healing, with a history like mine it will be far from an overnight process.
Ultimately, I have to see this condition as a thorn in my flesh, constantly reminding me to trust God first, and to not put so much stock in the mercurial things of this world. I know and believe He will see me though this; I just have to actively trust Him.
As far as my selfishness, pride, and perceived need for recognition are concerned, I could probably write a book. I know this is part of the human condition, and ultimately what separates us from God. Selfishness is the root of all sin, and the true opposite of love. When our pride gets involved, we lose our ability to be truly loving, because our every thought and action becomes egocentric.
I'll discontinue there, because there's too much to be said about human pride.
My prayer, now and always, is that I can be consistently able to trust God, and that He will reveal Himself and humble me.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
This Pain
There has been a good while of legitimate peace and joy in my life lately; genuine contentment with many things, and confidence in the improving conditions of others. When that's my condition, it's easy to quickly forget what suffering feels like.
It's always a shock, coming down from an emotional and spiritual high. Especially when you don't fully understand the reason. Just a sudden pang of hopelessness that takes root in an irrational perceived futility in everything good and encouraging that has happened. It's like I suddenly, as if for the first time, realized that the positive changes I've made in my life are actually meaningless, because my efforts alone are worthless.
It's then that I'm forced to question my reasons behind making the changes in the first place. Did I do these things for God's glory? Or did I only selfishly seek the rewards I believed would follow when the changes were made? Can my selfish heart really ever change, or will my eyes always be blinded by superficialities to what is truly beautiful?
Today I accepted the weight and responsibility of my role. I recognized why this loneliness is always looming. My heart is that of a protector. It's within my nature to take care and shepherd those I consider my own. By the very nature of it, this devotion is a lonely one. It demands that I make sacrifices of my own comfort and kinship, in the interest of making sure that those I love are kept safe and happy. And while this might superficially seem like a nice gesture, I feel like the profundity of the responsibility and sacrifice go largely unnoticed.
So why does that depress me?
The answer is pretty simple: I am selfish. I pridefully want others to notice what I am doing for them and be grateful. I want them to care for me the way I care for them. Yet, no matter what I do, it's never enough. No words, attitudes, mannerisms, or actions on my part can make anyone love me. Hence, feelings of friendship and affection seem completely arbitrary. That means I could do everything right and still lose.
But is God pleased with me? That should be my primary concern, shouldn't it? But why would He be pleased with me if my aims are all for selfish, worldly gain? I blaspheme Him every day through my filthy, white-washed, faux-righteous behaviors. Even the thought of it disgusts me. To the very core of me, I am a monster. So I beg Him for the forgiveness I so don't deserve, and He gives it relentlessly. I should be humbled, but in truth I mostly just feel ashamed.
This post is an incoherent mess, and it probably doesn't make any damn sense. Such is the nature of emotions.
It's always a shock, coming down from an emotional and spiritual high. Especially when you don't fully understand the reason. Just a sudden pang of hopelessness that takes root in an irrational perceived futility in everything good and encouraging that has happened. It's like I suddenly, as if for the first time, realized that the positive changes I've made in my life are actually meaningless, because my efforts alone are worthless.
It's then that I'm forced to question my reasons behind making the changes in the first place. Did I do these things for God's glory? Or did I only selfishly seek the rewards I believed would follow when the changes were made? Can my selfish heart really ever change, or will my eyes always be blinded by superficialities to what is truly beautiful?
Today I accepted the weight and responsibility of my role. I recognized why this loneliness is always looming. My heart is that of a protector. It's within my nature to take care and shepherd those I consider my own. By the very nature of it, this devotion is a lonely one. It demands that I make sacrifices of my own comfort and kinship, in the interest of making sure that those I love are kept safe and happy. And while this might superficially seem like a nice gesture, I feel like the profundity of the responsibility and sacrifice go largely unnoticed.
So why does that depress me?
The answer is pretty simple: I am selfish. I pridefully want others to notice what I am doing for them and be grateful. I want them to care for me the way I care for them. Yet, no matter what I do, it's never enough. No words, attitudes, mannerisms, or actions on my part can make anyone love me. Hence, feelings of friendship and affection seem completely arbitrary. That means I could do everything right and still lose.
But is God pleased with me? That should be my primary concern, shouldn't it? But why would He be pleased with me if my aims are all for selfish, worldly gain? I blaspheme Him every day through my filthy, white-washed, faux-righteous behaviors. Even the thought of it disgusts me. To the very core of me, I am a monster. So I beg Him for the forgiveness I so don't deserve, and He gives it relentlessly. I should be humbled, but in truth I mostly just feel ashamed.
This post is an incoherent mess, and it probably doesn't make any damn sense. Such is the nature of emotions.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Up & Up
When I look at my life, it's well within my nature and tendency to compare it to those of other people. I'll then ask myself questions like, "Why is this person so much better at this thing than I am?" and, "Why don't I fit in like that person?" and most commonly, "Why can't I just be happy, like all these people?" Now, let's just keep off the subject of why I shouldn't be comparing myself to other people. That's a huge problem, in fact one of my biggest, but that's not the point of this post.
As I've established in a previous post, I've allowed my life to become what it is over a long period of time, and it will take some time and effort on my part for it to make a comeback. Apart from not being too hard on myself for when I screw up, I need to be taking baby steps, not trying to fix everything all at once.
For a more Biblical perspective, I like to compare the situation to the Parable of the Talents. Specifically in the verses where it speaks of the rewards for the servants who invested. They were given small amounts to work with, and they put those amounts to work. In the end, they were awarded more to work with in the future.
I think that all things sort of work out that way. When you work with what you're given, you will see a return and then be awarded more. In my case, it seems to directly apply to responsibilities and personal potential. For years I've had responsibilities that I've neglected, or at best scraped by on bare minimum. I've also not used my abilities to their full potential, ergo they have not been stretched. As a result, no additional abilities or responsibilities have been awarded. In fact, like the lazy servant, my unused assets have, in a sense, atrophied. Now I have to work harder to gain back what I lost.
So what's the solution? It's simple: start small. Last post I mused on my lack of motivation and difficulty doing even the most basic of things. But I know that if I simply make a decision to do these mundane tasks, do them repeatedly, make a habit of doing them, my efforts will be rewarded. Those tasks will become easier over time, and I'll find myself more inspired to take on greater things.
As I've established in a previous post, I've allowed my life to become what it is over a long period of time, and it will take some time and effort on my part for it to make a comeback. Apart from not being too hard on myself for when I screw up, I need to be taking baby steps, not trying to fix everything all at once.
For a more Biblical perspective, I like to compare the situation to the Parable of the Talents. Specifically in the verses where it speaks of the rewards for the servants who invested. They were given small amounts to work with, and they put those amounts to work. In the end, they were awarded more to work with in the future.
I think that all things sort of work out that way. When you work with what you're given, you will see a return and then be awarded more. In my case, it seems to directly apply to responsibilities and personal potential. For years I've had responsibilities that I've neglected, or at best scraped by on bare minimum. I've also not used my abilities to their full potential, ergo they have not been stretched. As a result, no additional abilities or responsibilities have been awarded. In fact, like the lazy servant, my unused assets have, in a sense, atrophied. Now I have to work harder to gain back what I lost.
So what's the solution? It's simple: start small. Last post I mused on my lack of motivation and difficulty doing even the most basic of things. But I know that if I simply make a decision to do these mundane tasks, do them repeatedly, make a habit of doing them, my efforts will be rewarded. Those tasks will become easier over time, and I'll find myself more inspired to take on greater things.
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