Framing with words - why division isn't as valid as we may think it is

I used to see words and identifiers as flat surfaces with a clearly identified meaning painted in bold outlines, which all must accept. With every word there was an acceptable meaning ... or two ... or three ... all easily distinguished from other words and labels.

"Christian" meant only this and excluded that. There were creeds and statements, verses and interpretations that defined who is with us ... and who is lost. It took a long time to realize we all meant something different by it, even when we thought we agreed.

Now, words, labels, identifiers appear to me like window-frames looking out on a landscape, vast or abbreviated depending on one's position. The larger the frame, the more often I will find someone means something entirely different than I do. They may stand over in the corner with their face pressed against the wall, looking at some hill or tree that I can't see standing back from the center.

I could fight over it, but why bother? If I know I can't see everything, then why would I attempt to challenge or blind those who see what I do not?

I trust and follow Christ, but I am not merely "Christian." Those who claim that word like a painting on a wall would feel betrayed by the constant changes in my perspective. I am the same ... and I am different. The more "the same" I seem, the more they feel betrayed by my differences. I don't need to claim the word to be who I am.

I am shy ... except when I am energetically involved in a group or talking with a stranger. Someone laughed at me for claiming that word recently, and I realized ... in a way I am, but I'm also not at all. It all depends on one's perspective at the time.

I am layered with labels, but I overflow their borders. Social limits and words do not define me unless they are in constant motion. Every day I move. I am a story among stories, and even I don't recognize all the layers that shape my path.  Labels are like an overlay ... letting me notice a contrast that might not always be evident ... but it is merely a contrast.

Poets and other creative sorts often take the frames off the wall and walk out the door with them. They overlap and entangle the borders of those simple boundaries; pushing limits; altering perspective; causing those who see meaning as an unchangeable painting of reality to falter in confusion or anger.

Some run from it. Others are freed by it. Both are valid responses. Maybe everyone doesn't have to be the same?

I'm giving up on clinging to stable identifiers and dictionary definitions. For every possible claim I could make about myself or others, sooner or later I find an exception. I'll still use the words ... after all, it's helpful to know when something is, generally speaking, blue instead of yellow.

Communication takes empathy for this reason--it is only by interaction that we can understand each other.

It seems I'm walking out of the house of set limitations, where frames are painted upon the walls so everyone would see the same view. And the house was a frame all its own, an idea of the possible places to stand. Even the Bible is a frame looking upon the larger existence that is making, mystery, love, and meaning.

I look at the universe from every step and see that the mountains are a frame; the horizon is a frame; the flower-face frames its own mysterious and tiny world; a cell is a frame; even the sky is a frame for the stars and galaxies I cannot yet explore.

I breathe deep ... exhale ... and take the next step into a new perspective.

Your "faith" triggers my fear, so please don't attack me with it.

Doctrines and religious tradition are often proclaimed as sources of spiritual rest, like a pillow* for the soul.

I'd like to point out that these nice-looking coverings of faith quite easily conceal sharp knives, nails, trash, rocks, and glass mixed into the feathers-of-peace in various proportions. Some cases don't have many feathers; and I know for a fact that some people hide fully-developed weapons in there.

Remember this when you jump in for a pillow fight, especially with someone who has been hurt.

They know things can get ugly fast, so they might run away or pull out weapons of mass destruction in defense. And ... they have every reason to believe it is necessary.  You might not have been that severely damaged yet, but that doesn't mean others aren't deeply wounded ... and it may very well have been your pillow that damaged them.

For example:

• If I see an identity marker on your car, your t-shirt is plastered with propaganda, or you toss faith references into conversation like a secret code ... I'll watch to see how you act before I trust you. 
• If you blend proclamations of God-endorsement into your cultural opinion and expect me to accept it as truth "because God says" ... you might never figure out who I am because I'll be very tempted to wear a mask to keep you calm. 
• If you attack people who believe or live differently just because you're afraid of their differences ... then I'm on the side of the helpless or wounded, because adding to oppression isn't loving, no matter what "holy" motives you claim. 

Ignoring the fact that millions of people are stumbling out of faith in a bloody pulp doesn't help verify the protest that ... faith and love are meant to comfort and protect.... So it's safe to hit anyone with something "wrapped" in those terms?

I grew up fully believing that flinging my faith at people saves them. Now I can no longer trust even the most charming individual who wishes to swing anything wrapped in faith at my head anymore, no matter how comforting and restful they consider their faith to be. I know how it feels to be pounded with a case of judge-mental-love, sharper than your average sword, and wielded with all the skill and finesse of an infant copying comic-knights on TV.

These experiences do teach some powerful lessons, though maybe not as intended.

I have a very rich and full measure of experiential faith, and it gives me the confidence to face life.... Still, these days I frequently take everything out of my case and look it over to make sure there are no weapons or trash hidden inside. I strongly believe my faith is not meant to be used as a weapon or even set up as an ideal for others.... It's simply where I rest. I keep a lot of questions in there to remind me to stay gentle and loving.

I'll enjoy showing the contents to you ... if you're not threatening me with your own case of faith. These experiences are important to me, after all, and I'm interested to see what you have learned, too.

But first, let's put the pillows down, so nobody gets hurt.

----------------

*Heh ... this illustration is strained to the breaking point ... I like the effect though.

Love cannot wear the shield of fear

I hope to speak the soul out loud, though words don't always shape themselves around these concepts. It's been a while since I posted. Three half-written posts fade into data-diffusion, abandoned in the shadows. They weren't what I was trying to say.

I'm learning to live. It's becoming more and more clear that there are two of me.

1. The self-mask of fear and doubt
   - I wear masks, fearful of what the *other* will think.
   - I tremble behind a veil of diversion, attack before you attack me.
   - What you think of me matters. I count numbers and likes.
   - I must know and be certain, so I can move ahead.
   - I long to be admired, accepted, respected.
   - Love me. Like me. Choose me! I need more.
   - I'm hurt. I'm afraid. I'm upset.
   -  Am I who you think I am? Who am I?
                             ...
2. A living patterned in love
   - There is nothing to fear, for love is our unity and protection.
   - Let us lift our veils of fear and reflect each other's light.
   - To be real is more important than unclear reflections and followers.
   - Rather than knowing, I am here to discover and experience.
   - No reputation can trump who I am, ragged or smooth.
   - Love flows from its source. Let me love you.
   - No pain, sorrow, grief, or shame is greater than the growth offered in exchange.
   - I am ... from the beginning designed to realize ... this life in every moment.

I can live out of one space or the other, but not both. 

When I attempt "love through fear" I wear a wall and poke small holes of condescension or concern, then slip my offering with gloved fingers to be caught by the *other* or to fall into the dust. 

After all the effort, I am offended when my contribution isn't recognized. "I tried so hard! You wasted it!" 

Or if they accept, the gift comes wrapped with the inevitable pain of encountering my fear.  

Love is simply present and unassuming. Love is vulnerable and secure. 

Love looks past the fear that twists the vision of those who cause harm, and recognizes the trapped soul hidden beneath that shell as one-who-is-like-me. And so love forgives the soul within the shell for being lost, alone, confused, over-confident, and afraid ... because I am so often there, too.

So when my false self steps forward to act out the traditional plays. When my feelings rise up to scream that I am threatened. When I'm angry, bitter, lonely, or completely right ... 

I'm learning to step back and say, "Ah, she thinks that she is me, again. What lie is she reacting to this time?" 

And the answer to that lie is always ... to love and be loved.

I wonder what it will look like to live real?

Loving the wounded ... bearing witness with courage

It is a raging kind of agony to encounter the wounds others have left in a life I consider precious. I don't know what to do or say ... perhaps there is nothing I can do or say.

And when the response to my offer of connection is a firm request to stay away (even though I am treasured) and leave their pain alone; saying that it is enough to value me at a distance loving others and they desire nothing more than to be left behind their walls?

I feel like a traitor to accept that limitation. And yet, given the wounds so easily seen, to ignore this request would only be another act of disrespect in a long line of betrayal.

I want to storm into the past and find the weapons that drove my friend into the darkness. I want to fling the words and actions aside before they strike and tell the blind fools who couldn't see the treasure to open up their eyes.

It is all I can do to honor the suffering of others by seeing it clearly, especially when there is nothing I can do to change the story. It is a constant, ragged scream of agony that leaves me feeling torn, weak, and useless. It would be easier to ignore destruction and pretend not to see. Not only in beloved friends, but the myriad of others in similar circumstances....

Easier ... but then I would be part of the darkness as well.

When I have the chance, I will reach out.... Though I cannot heal the world on my own, I can at least be different than those who unthinkingly or consciously destroy. And if I find a way ... I will live a healing life!

I will!

Oh, I hope I can find the strength ...

Inside my own heart I contain the capacity to wound others.
By my own actions I could cause such injury that it lasts a lifetime.

When I see the consequences of such disregard in others, I am driven to turn upon my own tendency toward fear, separation, and judgement and raise a guard against such tragedy with love, connection, and acceptance. Can I protect even the few I am capable of reaching? I don't know.

I will at least do this much.

I will choose to allow the light to rule my life, though I risk suffering under the grinding attack of darkness to do so.

Beneath that vast footprint, I will find the discarded treasures.

If there is only a single drop of beauty left in this world, then that is what I will cherish.

I will search and find hope in the darkest places.

If this is all I can do, then I will invest the best of my ability in loving well.

I hope, someday, if I am ever invited into my friend's injured heart ... that I will not cause further harm.

a SHOCKING discovery! I actually LIKE who I am?

I hate myself! I shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't like this. I shouldn't want this. I can't pursue this. I'm not worthy of this. I can't be like him/her/them. I don't look right. I don't think right. I don't act right. I'm not disciplined enough to be different. I hate myself! How could anyone like me? 

I've lived most of my life carrying this inner refrain, echoing through the empty spaces, whenever I gave myself room to think. The other day Nick and I were talking about identity and insecurity.

Nick:  I'm not sure I like myself.
Me:  But I like you very much!
Nick:  I know.
(A brief pause occurs as I suddenly realize I can't say what I had been about to say: "I struggle with liking myself, too.")
Me:  in an awed voice You know what? I just realized I like myself!
Nick: What?

Now, let me re-interpret that inner voice from the past, based on the rest of our conversation and my continued thoughts on this discovery. I have been told by many that who I am is unacceptable.

Others think I shouldn't be like this, and attack me for it. Others think I shouldn't like this and laugh at me. Others think I shouldn't want this and judge me. Others don't want me to pursue this and maybe they're right. Others suggest I'm not worthy and they ought to know. Others act differently than I do, maybe it's because they're better than me. Others accept people who look different from me, probably because those looks are better. Others think differently from me and expect me to think the same as them. Others act differently from me and I don't know how to imitate them. Others hate who I am, and so I should hate myself, too.  

Realization: Others find it easy to be different from me ... because they actually are different people. I like people who are themselves, but I don't always want to be them. And I definitely don't want them to be me, because then they wouldn't be who they are!

Did I ever hate ME?... Did I ever really hate who I am?

Or did I just hate the obvious gap between who I was and what others seemed to expect of me?

I don't think I even looked directly at myself during all those years. Not clearly. Not without obstruction.

I could only see who I wasn't. And of course that's a hateful perspective. It's completely negative and also blocks any glimpse of the positives.

I set myself up to lose by only seeing negative contrasts ... and so I lost myself.

From the very beginning, however, my favorite moments in life were the moments where I was secretly me. The ones where nobody knew to judge me, because they didn't see me being me. And sometimes, rare and beautiful, the moments where someone appreciated me being myself. I collected them like treasures.

Sitting tucked beneath the library window, reading in the midst of shimmering dust motes, thinking my own thoughts where nobody could see. Escapes hidden in the branches of a tree, dreaming of the sky. Reaching out and becoming the unexpected gift of presence to a friend who hadn't known that I could be there for them in that way. Times I spoke from the depths of my existence, and my voice was heard with surprised appreciation.

These were the times when I let myself out of the box of my inability to be someone else. Moments like deep gasps of air that kept me alive until I learned to choose to be me out of all the smothering possibilities I couldn't absorb.

Now that I think about it, the person I hated ... the part I hated the most ... was the part who tried to be anyone else but myself. That "person who would never succeed at not being me" hurt me deeply by not being me. Believing the lies about who I should be damaged me.

I couldn't see that it was okay to be myself because I was surrounded by people who would hurt me for that, too. Even when others valued me, it took years to realize I could believe them.

These days I'm experimenting to learn how to be myself. It's sometimes hard to know what is really me, because I spent so much of my time trying to stop that reality. One thing I'm discovering, though ...

I really like who I am! It's amazing.

Those moments that shine?... I have them all the time, now.

And, looking back,... being accepted as myself marks the times I've always valued. Being accepted as someone else always felt fake, which was part of why it was so painful to not be me. That I secretly liked who I am is probably why I could never really eliminate myself entirely.

I'm so thankful to the maker of meaning for my intrinsic design.
I'm glad I exist, because I have value and love to offer those who need me.
I'm amazed at and grateful for who I am becoming.

I like myself!

Wow ... who would have guessed I could ever say this? I can't even type those words without tears filling my eyes.

Yesterday I realized WHY I need to admit my depression and ask friends for help ...

Over the years, deep channels of belief in my lack of worth grew in my mind. Long-standing patterns of thought that ruled without much challenge, because I really was treated like I was worthless for many years.  

I don't always know when I'm being swept away by that pattern of self-hatred, because the thoughts are so familiar that they don't feel like lies to me. 

1. I often project that old pattern of self-hate on someone else, even friends, and believe they are the ones who think this way of me.

2. I believe I deserve to be disliked, and feel the need to apologize to my friends for giving them reasons to want to pull away. Even though I'm usually the only one who thinks this in the first place.

3. I respond with fear and over-react to normal changes in interaction, since my friends are sometimes busy and have social lives. Even though these friendships and activities are things I 100% support and encourage, because I love seeing my friends succeed and find happiness.

At some point over the past years, I realized it helps to contact my friends when I get into this state, instead of assuming it will burden them, though I hadn't clearly defined why ... other than noticing they do cheer me up somehow. 

Now ***CONTACT FRIENDS!!!*** is the first thing on my to-do list .... when I admit I'm actually depressed and not "merely having a bad day." And that contact has to specifically admit that I'm slipping into depression. 

If I hide it, I don't find the help I need. 

-also-

If I don't trust/believe them, I won't benefit, either.

I need both honesty and trust to gain anything from connecting to my friends. I used to sabotage their help by saying, "You don't know!" or thinking "You must be saying this just to be nice!" ... I treated them like liars and fools instead of the trustworthy and kind people I knew they were. Incredibly, they stuck it out till I learned to believe them.

Today I'm writing out the realization I came to yesterday, sorted out in a series of conversations, starting while I was still completely blind to the fact that I was lying to myself. There's a reason why I need to contact others ... and a reason why it helps if they're good friends or at least positive and kind people. 

I still don't know what set me off this time. 

Emotionally, I'm always unstable at this time of month, but I usually don't end up in a blind depression anymore. (Now that I think about it, that's a huge success! There was a time when I couldn't expect even one good day in a month, and now I'm concerned when I slip into the darkness for a few hours.)

It took me nearly all day to admit I couldn't handle it by myself, though. 

I kept telling myself it was only natural to feel so disappointed over a series of unexpected events, starting with missing a long-wished-for, real-life meeting with my internet friend (Slim) because my car wouldn't start.... Nick was busy this past week, so our communications were less transparent.... I've had more interaction than usual with X and even though it was positive or neutral in tone, I'm always on the edge of a breakdown when we have to connect. 

-

The first revelation arrived during an incredible phone conversation with Seung Chan Lim (Slim) while he waited for his plane. He presents a beautiful and easily understandable perspective on building an honest connection with others in his book, Realizing Empathy. At one point he said, "At the end of my presentations, I always end up saying, 'I hope this was helpful,' and then I wonder if that's a bad thing. Do I really need to ask them? Shouldn't I just feel confident?"

Even as I told him that I think it's a mark of strength to know you need affirmation and encouragement, and to have the courage to ask for it, I realized that this is one of the reasons I need to talk to friends when I'm depressed. I would never have learned to see myself differently without them handing me a different view in a direct challenge to the negative thoughts I communicated to them. 

There might come a day when Slim no longer feels the need to ask, after building a strong foundation of positive responses. And it is wise to choose to build that foundation. He might never reach a level of confidence that frees him to be even bolder with his message without gathering evidence that proves it has value to others, also. And what he has to say is something people need, desperately, to hear. Every bit of courage he gathers will enable him to share that gift with others even more. 

We are social creatures and it is obvious that everything we do affects others. Since we can't read minds, it's good to ask and learn instead of assuming we can project an accurate assessment of their thoughts. We do not know unless we ask and receive honest feedback. And seeing the truth in others takes empathy. 

-

Next in my process of revelation, take a look at what happened when I guessed at what Nick was thinking during yesterday's depression. I'm not the only one. Society trains us to think negatively first, I think. Nearly everyone I've ever interacted with has a tendency to do this to some extent, especially artists and people who see differently than the social norm. 

Here are a few sections from the email I wrote Mica when I finally realized it was time to ask for help. Then I'll explain the contrast in perspective that soon followed.

I'm so lonely right now. Nick is difficult to connect with, and I think he's overwhelmed because I feel it so much when he's busy and can't talk. I'm on my period, which makes the feeling so much stronger. I hate this. Why can't I be okay with being so far away from him? 

I went on like this for several paragraphs, then:

I'm afraid. I'm afraid. I don't like being alone, and I wonder if I will be. If I'm too intense for Nick, then who could handle it? 

Note how I say, "I think he's overwhelmed," and "I'm too intense for Nick." <-- THAT, right there, is projecting my thoughts onto Nick.

Nick isn't like that. My relationship with X, however, was very much like this. Since I was caught up in my emotional residue from the past, I couldn't see that I wasn't thinking about Nick's thoughts at all. This feeling overwhelmed me in spite of the fact that we had really good conversations earlier in the day and over the past few days.

In other words, I was in the middle of an emotional landmine. Nick wasn't the cause of my feelings. And I had no clue ... at all ... that I wasn't seeing clearly. I really believed Nick must be secretly thinking these thoughts even though:

1. Nick doesn't think I'm too intense at all, and really appreciates how I think and explain things to the point where he always thanks me for it.

2. If he's overwhelmed or feeling pressured by anything I say or do, then he talks it through with me and doesn't ever keep his feelings a secret or just start avoiding me without explanation.

Finally, late last night, after posting that I was slipping into depression to a small group of good friends, and writing the email detailing my feelings to Mica ... I realized I should talk to Nick, too, and give him a chance to tell me what he really thinks.

This is the message I wrote for Mica after that phone conversation.

so you don't worry ... Nick called as soon as he left the party and we talked. He took my fears and proved they weren't worth worrying about, just like that. (By being himself.) Accepted me as I am, and made me feel safe again. He said, "We're not just best friends. It's something more, but there isn't a definition for it." He also told me that wild horses couldn't drag him away ... LOL so amazing, dear. How can I so easily forget how deeply he accepts and loves me? 

Feeling lonely was real. But the fear that came out of the loneliness was just the past blinding me, and not Nick at all. I just needed to see it, and it was there all the time. Thankfully he doesn't mind reminding me.

I still think there's something wrong with me, not to see through the lies I tell myself when I'm depressed. I wonder why I can't get out of it by myself. And yet, it's amazing to realize that a huge reason I need my friends is because they see differently than I do.

When I need an alternate perspective ... especially when I'm caught up in an emotional landmine ... my friends can snap me out of it just like that. Just because they see from a different perspective. Because they actually know what they are thinking and are capable of correcting my false impressions like Nick did in our call last night.

-

Also .... because they can take my negative perspective on an actual disappointment:

"Slim and I couldn't visit, after all, just because of my stupid car. All he had time for was to drive up to my door, give me a hug, and drive back to the airport. Ugh ... I missed out!"

And change it to a positive realization:

"Wow! It's so cool that he thought it was important enough to meet you that he took the time to drive over and actually stop by for a minute, even though he was worried he'd be late for his flight!"

You know ... I'm not disappointed anymore, because when you look at it that way, I was given an incredible gift yesterday. And Slim and I got to have a insightful, empathetic, and honest conversation on the phone. I hope it's the first of many.

-

I'm so grateful for the people who see things differently than I do.

I'm thankful for my friends, who have taught me to trust them.

It's such a relief to know that when I'm lying to myself, my friends can tell me the truth.

And when I'm blind to the good things in life, they can help remove the distortions so I can see beauty again.

It's really amazingly simple, isn't it? And it works every single time, even though I STILL think it couldn't possibly help ... every single time. Heh!

In which he dreams about being engaged, and I realize I'm not being entirely honest with myself yet.

Recently I've been dreaming of Nick a lot. I don't have romantic dreams ... thankfully ... I'm not sure how I'd cope with that just now. Usually we're helping our friends on some epic quest, or I wake up convinced he's sleeping beside me, with a sense of support and comfort. I forget most of them ... keeping only the emotional memory of a dream with Nick, usually a residual feeling of confidence. 

Last night he dreamed of me. Since he's losing his voice right now, he typed it out in hangouts, and I have to admit I'm impatient for him to get his voice back for more than health, now. I want to hear his voice to get a real sense of  his internal process, because writing isn't his thing. 

The crazy part is that he dreamed a specific scenario that has been on my mind as I face the lingering romantic attraction I feel toward him. I never told him about it, because ... I'm in denial. 

He typed, "I had a dream that we got into a decade long engagement before getting married. Like 9 or 10 years!! The biggest irony is that after it all the dream ends with us setting a date and I get nervous cold feet about it. The marriage part is what woke me up." 

I've been thinking how difficult it is to even consider a romantic relationship right now, and not only because I panic every time I become interested in anyone. I can't easily move for the next 5-6 years while the kids are still legally attached to their father. Also, for the next ten years the kids will still be in school or college and that will affect my choices, too. Then, I'd need to find someone who can handle the fact that I fully intend to live in assorted countries for at least a few years, and possibly be somewhat nomadic for the rest of my life. 

I thought, even before I met Nick, that I should just see who ends up walking beside me over these coming years, and see whether we want to keep going on through life together once I'm finally out of the home-parenting stage. I'm not convinced there is anyone out there who could handle my specific set of circumstances "in a relationship" right now. 

So, yeah, long engagements without confidence for marriage, even after all that time.... 

I swear he read my mind with his dream. 

My reaction was a jumble of laughter, because the dream seemed so out of character for Nick (Does he ever think about getting engaged to anyone?... a question I want to ask now.) and a sudden rush of fear and introspection, which I unsuccessfully tried to communicate with him. It didn't help that he kept typing questions marks, leading me to explain further ... and dig myself in deeper without having a real sense of his response. 

So, yeah, ... chat isn't the place for depth with Nick. 

If I'd realized what I was going to do to myself, I would have saved it for voice once he recovers, because that's our communication-norm. I might not have gotten overwhelmed if I could have heard his tone in response to my craziness,... although I didn't realize I'd destabilize in the first place. Hindsight and all that. 

Humor quickly spun into panic. 

I feel both a very strong desire to be with Nick in a platonic, best-friends-forever way, and a desperate fear of my inclination to wonder about more. I know how crazy it makes me feel to even think about how our romantic-relationship needs for freedom and security could so easily clash and hurt us both, so I consciously put up a defensive wall around that idea and refuse to think about it. 

His dream knocked a hole through my self-protection, exposing strong ideas and feelings on the other side. 

I don't do well when I feel misunderstood, especially about relationship factors. While I trust him to accept me and work through stuff ... I also hate, hate, hate it when anything comes between us even for a few minutes. I told him I was feeling emotionally unsteady and he firmly reassured me that he didn't think my reaction was a big deal. Thankfully, I'm not losing my mind here. 

That's a huge thing for me. I trusted his word, and my emotions stabilized. A few years ago I'd have gone into at least a week of depression over that awkward conversation, convinced he was lying about it being okay, and reviewing it over and over in remembrance of how truly terrible I had been. Today, I'm not worried. I'd have to look up the conversation  to remember what we said. 

All the same, now I know something lurks ... or so it seems. *sigh*

I wonder if my wall will grow back before he regains his voice? If so, we might not talk about it again. I'm okay with not facing that particular emotional landmine just yet. Maybe never. I don't mind plateauing for a time. Sometimes I wish growing could wait while I just feel okay for a while.