My bag is full

Lately, I have been trying so hard to keep "it" together. I have to be the strong one. The problem is I am also experiencing one of the most needy periods of my life. The metaphor coming to mind is a bag or purse full of stuff. The stuff consists of all the needs, hurts, wants, desires, etc. I experience. My bag is meant to be shared with others (those God has provided, something I learned from my friend Dave who learned it from Henri Nouwen). Most of the time I think nobody would be interested in seeing what is inside my bag. So I keep it zipped up. The problem is the more I keep my bag zipped up, the bigger the stuff in my bag becomes. Yesterday, the zipper burst open and I let myself be needy. There was deep pain in holding on. One of my statements was "I am trying to hold everything together and feel like if someone just tugged on a strings I would fall apart." I did fall apart but, it was so beautiful. I am a broken, needy person. For the first time in a long while I rejoice in my brokenness. By showing my friends what was inside my bag I made myself nakedly vulnerable. And their response was "Mitch, we like you so much more when you show us your vulnerability...it makes you seem strong to us." Talk about validation as a human.

P.S. My wife is a mindreader. She sensed yesterday from a look I gave her that I was totally confused...actually her words were "You looked at me with a I don't know what to do face." She is so supportive and loving!

The Transformation of Mitch

How are you today? (It will make sense later why I ask this question.)

This last weekend I was really upset about how I thought one of my professors was treating me. I was perceiving her as this unresponsive and unavailable person who activates my dismissive attachment tendencies. Wow, that previous statement is wordy, what I really meant to say is I experienced my professor as my father. I experienced her as not giving me what I needed which set off the protester deep within my unconscious. I started to mumble and complain, better know as bitching and moaning. After ruminating on my experience for a couple of days, I opened up to one of my really close colleagues, I prefer to call him my friend.

His words helped lead me to a realization of the heart (not of the mind). He said that in the mix of things my professor is a 60 watt light bulb, who provides a soft white light. But those who love and care for me (attachment figures) are the 600 watt light bulbs who are so bright, they fill my being with energy from the inside out. After hearing that story on Tuesday my whole week changed dramatically. I started connecting and going deeper with my clients (by the way I am a counseling intern right now) more than I ever thought I could. After seeing clients, I went home and was energized and excited to be in the presence of my wife. The next day was another home run in a family session. In the middle of all this, I had an interaction with the professor I sensed as being aloof. It was also amazing because she gave me some affirmation. Even better, after the affirmation from her, I was trying to say I experience her as intimidating, but what came out of my mouth was "you used to intimidate me." No Freudian slip there, thats my experience. I feel, this week, I transformed from the inside out and am not the same Mitch that walked into a couples counseling class on Friday night ready to dismiss everything I did not agree with because my professor was not giving me what I wanted.

So what the punch of the question at the beginning of this blog posting? I have been trying to figure out how to answer that question for a long time. I have been very reluctant to answer the with the ever so dreaded "I feel ...something other than good" for fear of being dismissed, rejected, or shamed. My experience now feels like this: "How are you today Mitch?", "Well I am sad, mad, irritated, anxious, or any other emotion, but you know what, even though I am experiencing these emotions, I know deep down in the depths of my heart there are people who love me! How freeing it has been and still is to say those words the past few days.

Old Friend

I had a conversation with a friend today about the role of a father in a child's life. As she was telling about a story with her daughter, I found myself wanting to cry. It was my old, shitty friend abandonment surfacing within. First, he starts by my by taking me back to little league games. Then we travel to basketball season my junior year of high-school and graduation from high-school. Finally, we reach what I call hell, otherwise known as major depressive disorder coupled generalized anxiety disorder. The common denominator happens to be the lack of emotional, spiritual, and physical involvment of my father in my life. I truly wanted to ignore the feelings of abandonment I experienced today, mostly because I am going to start seeing clients next week. My inner thought process tells me I need to have it together for my clients. Reflecting back on how I got to where I am, I determined that repression is no longer an adaptive tool for my tool belt. As I was laying down reading The Return of the Prodigal Son by Henri Nouwen, I closed the book, and allowed myself to feel the feelings of emotional hurt and sadness. Now, I will be on extra close watchout for Mr. Abandonment when he tries to invade during a counseling session.

There is a really well thought out metaphor by John Eldridge:
It basically states that a person such as a son's father is standing in the front of the line to carryout his fatherly roles such as providing emotional, physical, and spiritual support. If the father steps out of the line for some reason (abandonment, abuse, neglect, or poor choices like not putting his children first) his spot in the line remains empty. Empty in the sense that it can only be filled by that one person. Some would say others can fill the role, but from my own experience the longing is for the person who is or should be in the front of the line. My friend and I both agreed after the conversation was over that most of our baggage from life can be linked to our attachments to our parents or lack there of. So I guess I have some emotional work to do this weekend.

Thank you Mitch

Over the past year and a half I have taking a fancy to reading. The one book that has rocked my experience the most has been The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis. The book is an allegory of "Heaven" and "Hell" which I think is pretty correct with my beliefs of what each would look like according to my subjective understanding. Why do I enjoy reading this book so much? Because I believe my life is described by one of the characters in the book. There is a dirty, greasy, and oily ghostly-character who lives with a lizard attached to his shoulder. This lizard whispers thoughts into the character's mind which closely resemble the "stinkin' thinkin" described in 12-step circles. Basically the lizard tells the character he cannot live without him. Through an ambivalence filled conversation the character finally decides he can live without the lizard, at which point the angel kills the lizard. The story does not end here though. After the lizard is killed it is transformed into a amazingly beautiful stallion. The character is also transformed into everything he was suppose to be.
My life intersected with the character's on July 1, 2005 (a Friday to be exact at 10 am). I stood at a crossroads: addiction or relationships. I had created a huge mess of my life and relationships. I truly felt like the character with the lizard on his back, oily, greasy, and dirty...not to mention found out. I was so scared! The only thing I could think of was I need to talk to my friend Roger. I met with Roger and we talked. This talk is really why I believe in God. During my conversation with Roger he told me he was going camping that day with some other men who also struggled with addiction. Within 30 minutes of meeting those guys at the campground, I felt truly accepted, severely challenged, and confronted. For the rest of the summer I met with those guys every Tuesday. With open ears and warm hearts those guys listened as I poured out the enormous amount of pain I felt inside. I cried tears of sorrow and learned it was healthy to cry in front of other men. Most importantly, I allowed myself to rip open the hurt in my life. This turned out to be the most horribly beautiful experience of my life. Laying my suffering out, exposing myself as vulnerable, I was finally ready to let Christ burn me clean. And damn did it burn! Now looking back at the person I used to be I would like to thank him for making such a painful choice. He allowed me to begin a journey of healing which I believe never ends. Even better, I get to pay it forward. Starting next Monday I start my practicum in counseling. I am super-nervous and at the same time confident I can give my clients a little piece of hope from my experiences.

Here is a little something I want to leave at the end of this posting. During the conversation where the character in Lewis's story comes to terms with letting the angel kill the lizard ,the character decides maybe another time would be best for him. He says "let me run back [to hell] and get an opinion from my own doctor. I'll come again the first moment I can." The angel responds to the character "this moment contains all moments"