When I was young and in the throes of the new blogging world (back in 2002 or so when I thought I was more interesting than I do now) I had a “100 Factoids About Me” link in my sidebar. They were just pithy little sentences that didn’t really tell that much about me (as I was even less willing then to really share than I am now) and I think I probably chose them to illustrate my idea of cool quirkiness. A lot of them are just simple facts about my life, which has obviously been quirky, and not always in a good way. But as I look back, at least a few of them seem to be me deceiving myself. Like Keith Green sang, “No one believes a thing you say, not even you“. I wonder how honest these new ones will seem in ten years?
1) I couldn’t stand Ann Voskamp’s immensely popular book One Thousand Gifts. I have also
disliked 99.75% of the blog posts I have read on her immensely popular blog, A Holy Experience (full disclosure, I haven’t read all that many). I have a hard time with her writing style, I don’t find it inspiring or moving and it doesn’t make me fall to me knees in gratitude or want to buy her spinoff books. It confuses and annoys me on a good day and weighs me down with guilt on the bad days. I honestly have an easier time reading Calvin’s Institutes with its somewhat archaic theological language. I do, however, really like her daily habit sheet.
2) One of my longest-running (but still somewhat sporadic) external manifestations of sin is sometimes being a high functioning stoner. I have self-medicated with pot off and on since I was about 16. I went a full 8 years without smoking at all, from 2004-2013, but have once again had bouts of smoking since that time. I don’t think smoking is any more inherently wrong than drinking margaritas, but of course, it’s illegal and I use it in unhealthy ways. And like any drug or substance, it gives diminishing returns and also deceives you into thinking that it’s helping you when it really isn’t. It relieves stress for a time, jumpstarts creativity for a time – but after a while it increases stress and it’s horrible in terms of creative follow-through. I recently read a book called Grace in Addiction, and while I don’t know if pot is addictive in the same sense that street drugs or alcohol are (it isn’t all that physically challenging to give it up and it certainly hasn’t caused me to destroy lives, steal, cheat, etc. to get some) I definitely feel mentally powerless against it’s allure when it is available (see the first step of AA). Thankfully, accepting that coincided with being very burned out on the stuff and got me back on the proverbial wagon, where I will hopefully remain.
3) Motherhood has killed off way more of my brain cells than smoking pot ever did. I can hardly focus to read any more after all these years of constant interruptions to my thought process. I think it may be God’s way of humbling me for being somewhat prideful in my past intelligence (which was never really all that impressive, and in fact I have never been more than a pseudo-intellectual).
4) I’ve gone to a Presbyterian church since we first started going to church about 14 years ago, and while I am committed to the doctrines of grace, I don’t know if I am full-on Reformed. In general, I have struggles going to church and often get stressed about it on Saturday evening. That might be because I have had little children for so long that just the process of getting everyone up and fed is a struggle, not to mention being there with all the wandering attention spans, desires for drinks and (insert thing kids do at church that basically makes the whole thing just another period of unfocused multi-tasking, not much different than every other day). I feel guilty about it, but Sunday has never been a day of rest and prayerful re-creation for me. I also struggle with the whole “fellowship” situation, because by Sunday afternoon, after a long week of non-stop interaction with the many people in my household, my Inner Introvert has pretty much shut down. I literally get to church harried and parched and crave to simply hear the benediction that God grants me grace and peace, and then I want to go home.
5) One thing that really pisses me off is when people tell someone they are taking something too seriously or that they should “lighten up”. People take seriously what is a serious issue for them, and not everyone’s serious issues will be the same. Just because you think something is lighthearted or a joke or not a big deal doesn’t mean that another person won’t see it in a more serious light. I’m considered a pretty funny person who laughs a lot, but I have been told this more times than I can count.
6) I have male friends who are not also friends of my husband. One of them died a few years ago. He was my first love when I was about 15 and I saw him off and on since those days of youth, the last time being in 2010. We talked on Facebook every so often, and after he died in 2013 I printed out our entire chat history and put it with the many other papers I have which chronicle my life. I’m very glad I didn’t marry him, not like that was ever an option. I also keep in some contact with a man I worked with back in my young adult years before children. One of my Alter-Egos would probably have been a good fit for him, but not my real self. My third and final male friend is someone half my age whom I have known since he was about 10. We have coffee together occasionally and sometimes I feel like we are very much alike and other times I feel like he is unknowable and my exact opposite. While my relationships with them are (or were, in the case of my dead friend) platonic, I feel different about them than I do my female friends. There is just this Other quality. My husband knows about these friendships and has never asked me to cease and desist. I don’t know how I would feel if he had women friends, but he really doesn’t have any male friends he hangs out with either, so if suddenly there was a woman friend it would be glaringly strange.
7) Despite being able to write long rambling blog posts, I have less to say now than I ever have in my life and/or I literally do say much less. In some ways this is a good thing, but I’m also concerned that I am getting further into my introvert shell in a negative, self-protective way. I was walking the other day and listening to Tim Keller’s sermon The Wounded Spirit, and I heard this:
“If you take a look at the third proverb in the list, it’s a very interesting proverb. “Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy.” What in the world does that mean? You say, “Well, I have friends. They can share my joy. I have people who understand me.” Do you know what this is saying? Again, don’t relativize this. Here’s what this is saying. Your insides, the movements and motions of your heart, are so complex, they’re so inward, and they’re so hidden there’s an irreducible, unavoidable solitude about human existence. Nobody will ever completely understand you.”
I impressively demonstrated my coordination as I walked and simultaneously nodded in agreement. Of course, he didn’t end on that depressing existential note and I wasn’t actually feeling all that nihilistic. But my point is that I think I am acquiescing too much to this very real existential aloneness. My husband has never been a chat-er, and I’m not so much either, but more than he is. I used to try to get him to talk to me more (or listen more about what was going on with me) which didn’t work very well because, well, no one likes feeling pressure to do something they don’t want to do. So while in a way that has been good for our marriage (me releasing my expectations that we should talk together more), it has driven me further into myself and I wonder how interested anyone is in anything I think or do, and what purpose trying to communicate really serves. I worry that I may be forgetting how to communicate and share, which is not good for someone who is naturally emotionally repressed anyway.
8) These days, when I honestly say I am “doing my best”, that is not very impressive.
9) I let my kids spend waaaaay more time in front of screens than I am comfortable with, which is a fairly new development. I figure that is better than the alternative of them visiting me twice a week in the loony bin. In the past I would have put together some big plan to change this, but now I think it is just better for me to let it run its course (For my sake, not theirs. They seem to be doing fine and their brains don’t seem any mushier than they ever have.)
…To Be Continued