I hesitate to put thought to paper
everything seems more real that way
and words feel so permanent
as if I’m committing to an emotion
I didn’t give my consent to feel.
Truth is, nothing feels right anymore
and I wonder how I ever knew
with such assurance
what right really was to begin with.
I once was found but now am lost
had sight but now can’t see.
I found this amongst some old writings of mine, it was written sometime in May 2011. Cyclical living, perhaps.
If there has ever truly been a time when there was a tug of war between my self-control and my desire to be completely obliterated it is now. I cannot remember another point when my emotions and my desire to drink were so completely connected before, and I was so aware of it. I can understand now why people actually do fail. Thank God my life isn’t always like this.
My boss is being pressured by the executive committee to fire me. The rent is due, my car needs brakes and winter tires, my propane tank is closer to empty than not, and my boss might have to fire me. I’ve finally managed to turn my credit around, to establish a sense of stability and grounding and my boss might fire me. After a year and a half off the wagon, I just hopped back on two months ago and I might get fired.
Oh yeah, I want a drink. A bottle of red wine to be precise. Two.
My sister announced the other day that she “might want to, but doesn’t have to”. She’s right, I’m drinking water. Her statement was followed with “I’m free!” I’m undecided.
Through an unusual set of circumstances, my boss was told that I have a warrant for my arrest in the city of Dallas for a DUI that happened in 2006, and that I would be resolving the situation in February. The executive committee said to fire me.
In all fairness, it’s not that I love my job. Most days, in fact, it’s quite the opposite. It’s not where I want to be and it’s not what I want to be doing. Still, I like the pay and I love the health insurance. I like bringing my dog to work and walking around in my socks. I like feeling stable.
I don’t like feeling that even when I’m doing everything “right”, I still can’t outlive my past and the person I used to be. I don’t like having that feeling I used to have right before everything fell to the ground again. I have to wonder when I will be through with the mistakes I made in Dallas, and if I’m just going to keep making mistakes?
The internal optimist cheerily asserts that this might be a blessing in disguise, with a bit of free time and focus I can find a job doing something I’m more suited to, that I’ll be happier at. I remind her that there are very few jobs available in this economically depressed area, and even fewer good jobs that don’t require degrees and that I don’t have a savings account.. She’s certain things will work out and points out good-naturedly that at least I have a job at the mini-mart. I remind her that I hate that job. She, growing tired of my arguments, insists that things are going to be fine, that they always are, and that I should really just cheer up. I roll my eyes and tell her, in no uncertain terms, that the American dream is a myth, that if my life is going to fall to pieces anyway, I might as well be high and that, at least then, I knew why my life was falling to pieces. She sighs, and we drink another glass of water.
I’m undecided. So is my boss apparently. He told the executive committee that he had to “process this”.
In the meantime, I’ve got to go spend some of this Saturday at the office to beat a few deadlines. After that I’ve got a shift at the Sunoco. She wants me to point out that the fire is warm and I’ve got enough wood for the winter. I don’t feel like that’s relevant.
She wins every time.
I’ve been wondering lately why we give advice to people? When asking ‘why’, I mean to say, what is the motivation for one person to offer a word of advice to another person? Call me a cynic, but I think that most people are, most of the time, pretty focused on themselves and their own agenda.
I don’t say this as a bad thing. I think that it only makes sense, if I concede to the idea that only I am responsible for my happiness and that only I can make for myself the future that I want, to allow for the subsequent idea which says that I must, then, be focused on whether I am happy and work to be certain that I am doing the work of moving my present towards my desired future.
Which brings me back to my original question – why do we give each other advice and, more importantly, why do we accept advice from each other?
Following the idea that only I can make me happy, and the subsequent idea that I must shape my future to insure my happiness, wouldn’t it make sense that I would offer advice to those around me (those other influences that may somehow leave their own mark on my future) that would lead them to behave in a way that positively affects my own future?
Is advice, then, an accepted practice of allowing me to manipulate your actions to benefit my future?
I started thinking about this a few days ago when offering advice to a friend conflicted over the possibility of a new relationship in her life. From what she’d shared with me, I was all for her giving things a go, and every time we talked about it I was sure to tell her so and offer some advice on how to best go about getting the guy. At one point my friend relayed to me the advice she had gotten from another friend. This friend apparently had a different opinion than mine and offered completely different advice.
While I didn’t share this with my friend, of course, I was a bit irritated by this other friend and different advice. “He’s going to ruin everything for her,” I thought. “What’s his agenda anyway?!”
My inner spirit heard my own thoughts and was surprised. Well. What was my agenda? Why was I feeling threatened by advice different than my own? Was I really offering my friend advice that was in her best interest, or was I somehow looking out for my own interests, too?
I didn’t like my new line of thinking and so I offered to her the best objective piece of advice I could think of.
“Stop asking other people’s advice, or accepting it, and use your intuition.”
Safe now from giving advice, even accidentally, not in my friend’s best interest, I could think a bit more, which is what has brought me here.
I don’t know that I was offering this friend advice out of some agenda, hidden, possibly, even from myself. I don’t know that her other friend was somehow trying to steer her decision making in his favor. Were we both speaking out of our individual life experience, each knowing separate facets of her, offering two different perspectives on what was genuine interest and concern for her future happiness? Or did our separate relationships with her actually mean we had different requirements of her, thus changing the nature of our advice to her?
If I am shaping my future, am I not, somehow, in some small way, even accidentally, also shaping yours? If I accept and implement your advice to me, is it possible I am allowing myself to be shaped for your future?
Is it really all about me? About you?
What if I don’t concede to the idea that makes all of this possible? What if I am not solely responsible for my happiness and designer of my future?
What then becomes truth?
I have left my first love
and though it was I who fled
it is I who am forlorn.
Where is my hope?
What, now, is my promise?
What first step led to this chasm so deep and seemingly complete?
My eyes turn to find him
though the distance is great
and the path dark.
Maybe it is possible
to run out of opportunities
for another great return.
Maybe even God can only bear so much.
Where is my hope?
What, now, is my promise?
Is there a reason for tears when no one who will see will understand?
Hope and promise for a fleeting pleasure, barely more than a bowl of stew to the hungry.
I am undone.
I feel like my life reads back to me like an extra chapter of the Screwtape Letters sometimes.
It all starts with me feeling grateful for being called to walk the “hard line”, for basking in revelations of grace over legalism and love over fear. I am strong and sure in my identity, in my love for my Savior and my hope for the future.
Then, secret thoughts (disguised as truth) begin to grow, unbeknownst to me, planted there by a foreign enemy too clever to overlook. And, suddenly, I am not so sure anymore; the lines that used to be starkly drawn begin to blur, but I’m not yet aware of its happening.
With just enough truth, any line of thought can begin to confuse, until, eventually, I become aware that there’s a war in my mind and begin to participate. Except, what now is truth and what is born of revelation, and what has been planted and growing without my permission? Which line of thought is it, then, that I am arguing?
I cannot think.
If I loved Him, I would obey Him. He has given us a spirit of self-discipline, powered by His own Spirit. I cannot love Him without Him giving me the power to do so. I should try harder. It shouldn’t be such work. I cannot sacrifice without desire. I can’t have desire unless He gives it to me. I’m not doing enough. I cannot handle anymore. I can’t be who He wants to me to be, I don’t want to be anyone but.
I cannot focus.
Condemnation has been my lifelong companion, shame it’s bosom friend. I am harder on myself than anyone could be on me. I create disappointment in faces where it never existed. In such a fertile ground for harsh personal judgment, who is to know the difference between conviction and condemnation? Guilt is guilt, it’s not prettier in one shade over another.
I cannot tolerate this.
I am not angry, I am exhausted. I am not faithless, I am afraid. I am not turning my back, I am losing grip. Where will I fall to? Maybe falling is the whole point?
