Some notes on stoicism
I have to admit, stoicism has an allure for me. Too often, I've been overwhelmed, paralyzed, pummeled, and defeated by my emotions. But, just as often, I've told myself I don't care or that I shouldn't care. This pendulum swing is something I've struggled with most of my life. I've endured so much heartache, and acting like I didn't care only let the heartache continue. I was strong through so much pain. In the end, the pain overcame all the walls I built to keep it out.
I don't consider myself an emotional person. Yes, I have emotions. As I've gotten older, the repressed stuff has gotten more vocal, so I've allowed myself to show my feelings more. I see it as a volcano letting off steam. Better to have a constant release of pressure than all at once. I can't repress my feelings forever, after all. Traditionally, though, that wasn't the case. As with many men, I was reared to be mostly emotionless. And I think that's wrong. Acceptable emotions for a man are anger, pride, and lust, and that's about it. That's like going through life in black and white and like having a car with one wheel. You're going to miss out on a lot. And you won't get far.
My perspective now is that of a Christian man with a legacy of abuse and trauma but who has also experienced many of God's blessings. One of those blessings is freedom from repressed emotions. I've seen great healing come from allowing myself to feel things again, and with that healing comes power, which is the opposite of what I was told would happen if I allowed my feelings to show. As boys, we were taught that showing our feelings would lead to weakness — being a wimp, a pussy (i.e. a girl), or a wussy (those two words put together). I've found that allowing myself to feel things has only made me stronger and more complete, and certainly not less of a man. Yes, there are times when my emotions overwhelm me. In those cases, and if those emotions are negative or some kind of dead-end, I also allow myself to tell them no. No more. Leave me alone. You aren't welcome here. That gives me control, which I believe is healthy. Some processes I won't be a party to. Clearly, as this blog surely reveals, there are some emotions, good and bad, I need to let go. This year is the year I get healthy. It's time.
Let's talk about stoicism. A couple of years ago, I posted something on facebook about stoicism, and there were a few likes, but one person said she ended up using it in her daily life somehow. She was going through a divorce at the time, so maybe it helped her with some of the emotions she couldn't deal with. But I have repented putting that out there. I've since been convicted of the wrongness of stoicism. Recently, I even heard a preacher talk about the wrongness of stoicism, which I now see as a belief system that handicaps people and robs them of a very necessary process when they need it the most, such as when they're going through something traumatic. I think of stoicism as kind of like those guys who overmedicate sports injuries, which only makes the injuries worse, as the injured person cannot feel they're tearing up their body. Pain is a necessary danger signal. It tells us damage is being done to us. It's not meant to be ignored. God gave us feelings for a reason. I'm not off base in linking the two concepts of physical and emotional pain. Scientists have shown that emotional pain is very much like physical pain, as it triggers the same parts of the brain, and the two can often cross into each other. Emotional pain can even cause physical pain.
One thing I know about emotions is if they are repressed too long, they grow stronger than our ability to control them. Sometimes we believe, in error, they are under our control, but the truth is, they must be felt. Ignore them too long, and they will shout instead of whisper, rage instead of stomp about, and wail instead of weep.
Grief, they say, never ends; it just changes shape. But I call bullshit. Everything ends. Everything dies, even things we beg to stay alive. And the things we work against die faster. The problem is we hold on to things like grief because they are the last connection to what we had, whatever it was we lost. We don't see the process through to the end. The end is we are free of it. But that journey can only be taken if we truly feel our emotions, not when we smother or hide or subvert or lie about them. Honesty is key. Anything less than complete honesty and the job won't be complete.
Last year I took a religion class, which was a survey course, so I didn't spend a whole lot of time on any particular religion. But I was surprised by how many religions choose to subvert things that are God-given, like emotions. They seek to destroy what makes us human. Take Buddhism, for example. Buddhism states that the root of suffering is desire. To free ourselves from suffering, we must free ourselves from desire. Desire is a natural part of being human. It's innate. We have needs and desires and dreams. So, too, does Hinduism seek to fracture our humanity. Yoga, for instance, which is widely accepted in Western culture as a workout regimen (and even pops up in physical therapy), seeks something deeply disturbing, in my mind. Yoga is not a Christian exercise protocol, yet many Christians use it. It is intrinsic to Hinduism, and for a specific purpose, and that is to separate our souls from our bodies (and that's exactly what my textbook stated), which causes us to let go of earthly desires. Separating our souls from our bodies is not a goal of Christianity, though following Jesus Christ is. When you follow Christ, you endure the cross, which is definitely a sort of death (death to self), but your soul (mind, will, and emotions) remains intact. It may look like the same thing, but it's not. (John 14:6) I personally don't care if someone wants to do the yoga poses, but they should at least know the stated purpose of them. I always knew there was something not right about yoga, and when I read that, I understood. That's bound to rile some people up. Take it or leave it. It's just my opinion.
God wants us to go through life with our faculties intact. (I Peter 5:8) He does not want us to dissociate (as I have many times). He wants us to feel things and take our burdens to Him. (I Peter 5:7) The first part is to feel, to experience, to understand we are in trouble. If we don't feel that, we have nothing to bring to God. He wants our burdens. They were never intended to be carried by us. This is perhaps my primary struggle, and certainly one of my longest struggles in life. How many times have I turned away from God in those moments when I needed Him most and chose some ungodly method to soothe my hurt?
This has been an extremely hard lesson for me. I am a defeated perfectionist and a loner. I don't often reach out to others for emotional support. I was always the support of others. I was the rock. What happens when the rock fails? What happens when the rock is ground down to nothing and blows away? That's where I found myself. I got to the end of myself, the end of my rope (tie a knot and hold on, right?), the end of my world, the end of everything.
Should I mention the many times in the Bible when Jesus Christ displayed emotions? If God himself expressed emotions in public, then no follower of Christ (thumbs to chest) should shy away from public displays of emotion if those emotions are necessary. There is John 11:33 when He groaned within himself, and a short time later, Jesus wept (John 11:35). What about His anger with the moneychangers in the temple (John 2:13-16) or when He cursed the fig tree (Mark 11:12)? And Hebrews 1:9 says He was anointed with the oil of gladness above all His fellows. And Jesus loved. His whole ministry was about love. As an example, there is the story of the rich young man whom Jesus loved (Mark 10:17-22). But Jesus loved the whole world, and more than anyone has ever loved. There are, of course, many more moments like these in Jesus' life, and many that were not recorded (John 21:25). But who else can we look at?
How about David, a man after God's own heart? Approximately 70 of the Psalms are considered written by King David. The Psalms are drenched in emotion, in crying out to God. But were these private moments? Many of these emotions were public, in fact. He even danced naked in joyful praise to the Lord after winning a battle, without any feeling of shame. It was a pure and holy dance of jubilation and praise. In our society, if a man did something like that, he wouldn't have a career or respect or a family anymore. He would be exiled. Men are meant to feel shame for displaying their emotions in such a visceral way, and I think that's wrong. David clearly thought that too because when one of his wives told him it was a grotesque display of emotion, he cursed her and said she would be barren, and she was. The Psalms detail much of David's conversations with God. There are may tears and many praises and many things in between. The other Psalmists wrote in much the same vein. When I am in trouble emotionally, I always go the Psalms (my bookmark has not left it, in fact, for many years) because there I frequently find my heart's cry and God's answers. What a blessing that book has been to me. But it wouldn't exist if those writers had bottled up their feelings.
Recently, I started reading a nonfiction book a woman wrote about her coming to terms with childhood sexual abuse. The book talks about how important grief is and how some refer to it as "soul work," which should not be stifled, though it can be incrementally broken down and digested at one's own pace. You can, effectively, hit the pause button when it becomes too much to deal with, and then come back to it later. With childhood sexual abuse, or any sort of abuse, chances are that soul work will be lifelong. Allowing myself to take the long view has, in itself, been a huge breakthrough. I have no choice but to be patient with myself and my healing, as it is being directed by God. The author mentioned reflective journaling was a conduit to change and healing, and then I thought of this blog. It is part-time reflective journaling. I have mixed feelings about this blog. But it's clear it has helped me, so I have no choice but to continue blogging.
Consider the carnage of my life in recent years. There was my divorce from the woman I spent more than 20 years with. There was losing the girl I loved as well as any illusions I had of being friends someday with her family and especially her children (I still have something I intended to send to them, something I've had for at least 2.5 years). There was the perceived blame (which was outright victim-blaming) from my family and others for my divorce. There was watching my son trying to navigate two households. Losing nearly everything I had. You name it, I probably went through it. Imagine if I had held my emotions in during all that. What would have happened to me? It would not have been pretty. What else could I have done?
God wants us to go through life with our faculties intact. (I Peter 5:8) He does not want us to dissociate (as I have many times). He wants us to feel things and take our burdens to Him. (I Peter 5:7) The first part is to feel, to experience, to understand we are in trouble. If we don't feel that, we have nothing to bring to God. He wants our burdens. They were never intended to be carried by us. This is perhaps my primary struggle, and certainly one of my longest struggles in life. How many times have I turned away from God in those moments when I needed Him most and chose some ungodly method to soothe my hurt?
This has been an extremely hard lesson for me. I am a defeated perfectionist and a loner. I don't often reach out to others for emotional support. I was always the support of others. I was the rock. What happens when the rock fails? What happens when the rock is ground down to nothing and blows away? That's where I found myself. I got to the end of myself, the end of my rope (tie a knot and hold on, right?), the end of my world, the end of everything.
Should I mention the many times in the Bible when Jesus Christ displayed emotions? If God himself expressed emotions in public, then no follower of Christ (thumbs to chest) should shy away from public displays of emotion if those emotions are necessary. There is John 11:33 when He groaned within himself, and a short time later, Jesus wept (John 11:35). What about His anger with the moneychangers in the temple (John 2:13-16) or when He cursed the fig tree (Mark 11:12)? And Hebrews 1:9 says He was anointed with the oil of gladness above all His fellows. And Jesus loved. His whole ministry was about love. As an example, there is the story of the rich young man whom Jesus loved (Mark 10:17-22). But Jesus loved the whole world, and more than anyone has ever loved. There are, of course, many more moments like these in Jesus' life, and many that were not recorded (John 21:25). But who else can we look at?
How about David, a man after God's own heart? Approximately 70 of the Psalms are considered written by King David. The Psalms are drenched in emotion, in crying out to God. But were these private moments? Many of these emotions were public, in fact. He even danced naked in joyful praise to the Lord after winning a battle, without any feeling of shame. It was a pure and holy dance of jubilation and praise. In our society, if a man did something like that, he wouldn't have a career or respect or a family anymore. He would be exiled. Men are meant to feel shame for displaying their emotions in such a visceral way, and I think that's wrong. David clearly thought that too because when one of his wives told him it was a grotesque display of emotion, he cursed her and said she would be barren, and she was. The Psalms detail much of David's conversations with God. There are may tears and many praises and many things in between. The other Psalmists wrote in much the same vein. When I am in trouble emotionally, I always go the Psalms (my bookmark has not left it, in fact, for many years) because there I frequently find my heart's cry and God's answers. What a blessing that book has been to me. But it wouldn't exist if those writers had bottled up their feelings.
Recently, I started reading a nonfiction book a woman wrote about her coming to terms with childhood sexual abuse. The book talks about how important grief is and how some refer to it as "soul work," which should not be stifled, though it can be incrementally broken down and digested at one's own pace. You can, effectively, hit the pause button when it becomes too much to deal with, and then come back to it later. With childhood sexual abuse, or any sort of abuse, chances are that soul work will be lifelong. Allowing myself to take the long view has, in itself, been a huge breakthrough. I have no choice but to be patient with myself and my healing, as it is being directed by God. The author mentioned reflective journaling was a conduit to change and healing, and then I thought of this blog. It is part-time reflective journaling. I have mixed feelings about this blog. But it's clear it has helped me, so I have no choice but to continue blogging.
Consider the carnage of my life in recent years. There was my divorce from the woman I spent more than 20 years with. There was losing the girl I loved as well as any illusions I had of being friends someday with her family and especially her children (I still have something I intended to send to them, something I've had for at least 2.5 years). There was the perceived blame (which was outright victim-blaming) from my family and others for my divorce. There was watching my son trying to navigate two households. Losing nearly everything I had. You name it, I probably went through it. Imagine if I had held my emotions in during all that. What would have happened to me? It would not have been pretty. What else could I have done?
I could have done what I always did, or what I did for many years, which is drink. It gave me a false sense of numbness, just as any other drug would. I could have turned to sex, which was also like a drug. When I went through my divorce, I didn't do those things. I didn't numb myself. I didn't shut myself off. I felt every ounce of hurt. It was an honest way to grieve, though, admittedly, it almost destroyed me. For a while, I wondered if I would ever feel anything other than pain. For a while, I wondered if I was going to live the rest of my life depressed and hurting. Would I forever wake up each morning with the same hell in my heart as when I went to bed? What I went through, I cannot imagine going through much worse. I think of the loss of my son as the only thing that could possibly be worse. And, for a time, I did lose him. What would have happened to me if I hadn't been so honest and dealt with what I was feeling? As ugly as what I felt was, I can't imagine how much uglier it would have been had I shut myself off from all that pain. The pain rocketed me to a safer, more peaceful place. I fought it, cut it down, and got to a much better place. How all those things happened, I don't know. They are unseen, only felt.
I'm not where I was not long ago. I'm not where I need to be, either. There are still thoughts and feelings that haunt me. Someday, perhaps soon, I'll be beyond where those things can find me. I'll be so far away from here, all of this will feel like a dream. If those things come after me, I will be a ghost — untouchable, forever severed from their abuse and torment. I have the grand luck of changing my surroundings. They say when you leave somewhere, you take your biggest enemy with you. That's true. But you also leave a lot of ghosts behind. If I could leave myself behind, I would. Maybe I'll just leave the way I feel about myself behind.
What I've seen in myself the last few years is a man who is ultimately very flawed, but also very willing to change. As long as I retain the latter, I can deal with the former. Allowing myself to feel things has freed me from a whole lot of bad emotions. Yes, I have felt a lot of bad stuff, but I've also avoided even more bad stuff, and all because I have not protested when I felt something that needed to be felt. I don't know many people who are as willing as I am to fess up and say they screwed up. I don't know many people who are willing to sign up for so many hard things. Maybe the next few years will offer assignments that are more fun and less soul-rending. If not, I've proven I can handle the hard stuff (and it hasn't made me a hard person).
These are my lessons. I cannot apply what I have learned to anyone else. I do not judge anyone. If anything, I am more inclined to give other human beings a pass now that I've been through 1,000 iterations of hell on earth. I've learned that everyone processes things differently. This is just what helped me. The next time I go through something hard (and it's bound to happen again, but hopefully not soon), I trust God will pull me through. It's that honest communication with Him that has made all of this bearable. But first I had to be honest with myself.
I want to add this little bit about my last post, the post about arguing with God. There was also the instance of God dealing with Hezekiah. When Hezekiah was told he was going to die, he petitioned God to heal him, and He did. And He added 15 years to his life. Things like that tell me we serve a merciful God. So many people see God has a harsh judge or critic of our lives, and sometimes God is like that, but more than anything else, I believe, He is merciful. But He needs us to ask for that mercy. That's something to think about.
Thanks for reading.
I'm not where I was not long ago. I'm not where I need to be, either. There are still thoughts and feelings that haunt me. Someday, perhaps soon, I'll be beyond where those things can find me. I'll be so far away from here, all of this will feel like a dream. If those things come after me, I will be a ghost — untouchable, forever severed from their abuse and torment. I have the grand luck of changing my surroundings. They say when you leave somewhere, you take your biggest enemy with you. That's true. But you also leave a lot of ghosts behind. If I could leave myself behind, I would. Maybe I'll just leave the way I feel about myself behind.
What I've seen in myself the last few years is a man who is ultimately very flawed, but also very willing to change. As long as I retain the latter, I can deal with the former. Allowing myself to feel things has freed me from a whole lot of bad emotions. Yes, I have felt a lot of bad stuff, but I've also avoided even more bad stuff, and all because I have not protested when I felt something that needed to be felt. I don't know many people who are as willing as I am to fess up and say they screwed up. I don't know many people who are willing to sign up for so many hard things. Maybe the next few years will offer assignments that are more fun and less soul-rending. If not, I've proven I can handle the hard stuff (and it hasn't made me a hard person).
These are my lessons. I cannot apply what I have learned to anyone else. I do not judge anyone. If anything, I am more inclined to give other human beings a pass now that I've been through 1,000 iterations of hell on earth. I've learned that everyone processes things differently. This is just what helped me. The next time I go through something hard (and it's bound to happen again, but hopefully not soon), I trust God will pull me through. It's that honest communication with Him that has made all of this bearable. But first I had to be honest with myself.
I want to add this little bit about my last post, the post about arguing with God. There was also the instance of God dealing with Hezekiah. When Hezekiah was told he was going to die, he petitioned God to heal him, and He did. And He added 15 years to his life. Things like that tell me we serve a merciful God. So many people see God has a harsh judge or critic of our lives, and sometimes God is like that, but more than anything else, I believe, He is merciful. But He needs us to ask for that mercy. That's something to think about.
Thanks for reading.
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