Insidious Adaptation

I'm supposed to write something here. Something that is to help either me or others. This, not an expectation for myself, however, an obligation, for otherwise why exist? Why would a person exist, of only to experience life for himself, gain, for himself, hold all knowledge, for himself? What is that good for?  The thoughts consume me after I disappointed myself. After an evening where I was interacting with my daughter, trying to brush teeth at bed time, only to have her subtle defiance get to me for the last time. As she sat just at the right angle, refusing to lift her mouth up and open for me to brush, and my 3rd or 4th prompt was getting shorter, she became frustrated, she threw a book to the side, it hit me in the face, and I became angry. I slid the book with force across the floor, yelled close to her face, stood up, picked her up, and put her on her bed and told her, "You made me angry!" "No, you wanted to be defiant and now I am angry!" This as my...

There I was, giving a presentation to a group of hyper-masculine males, more macho than I. By "hyper-masculine" I actually mean, fragile, but fronting. Not yet strong enough or knowledgeable enough to get in touch with their emotions nor safe enough to express them. Putting up walls is what keeps men safe, alive, protected, for if we all just, "let it all hang out," what would be left to hide from? After all, if all people knew all things about me, then they might.... wait. There isn't a thing you could tell me that I don't already know about myself. I know my glimpse of thoughts, my obsession, my sickest fantasies. I know the thoughts that can slip into a mind listening to another talk and allowing the grazing on "better" pastures, disconnecting from conversation. I know that when it comes to poor behaviors often demonized by society are ones that I find myself regularly thinking. When a person in authority gets "caught" for somethin...

Context, it's all about context my friends. In the right context, you can say anything, literally. Yea, I said it, owning the words once they've been dropped. I just liked how I looked.  "Honestly, I think that you are too feeble a person to tell the truth." If said with empathy, with an understanding within the relationship that the intent is to show compassion, care that the person gets better, then love is all it is. "Yea, you're right." As the initial sting of reality penetrated the core self, leaving a naked version, exposed, for at least someone saw the truth, someone saw what they tried to hide. Someone also cared enough to say it, putting the words out there, bringing them into the light, for shame manifests in the darkest shadows of our own selves. Why don't we say these things more? Like, why else does communication exist, if not to convey truth? Do we not get upset when we find out the media has fed us propaganda that lacks truth...

Seeing and feeling the hurt in one's eyes is a gift some say, an empath is what I have read, the ability to connect and feel what another person feels at a heightened level. This, something I have done since childhood, without awareness that other people don't naturally do this, or understand other people in that way. I can look back over the foundation of my own perspective in life and see that I was always adapting to what I perceived other people felt or wanted and therefore led me to being "liked" in many ways. The problem was and still is, is that people only like what is presented without actually liking me. The hardest thing one can do is to understand that other people think and perceive differently than they do. I was always influenced by why certain people did things, why they were able just to be, "cool," and it wasn't something I could just mimic. In high school, I had a friend named Eric, he was popular, and good at sports, and well, ju...

Is it not respectable to just “be” anymore? Must we continue to, “put ourselves out there,” or is that my competitive perspective of the environment kicking in again? Am I enough without the likes and reposts of another? Maybe not. Maybe I am being held down by the digital code I place all my value in, as though it means love, when it is barely recognition. Maybe I could be like an eagle, soaring high, a spirituality untouched, advanced by deeper understanding unexplainable in word form. Maybe I am supposed to be greater than the social media likes and the internet memes I cling too for attention. Maybe, just maybe, this is the devil’s way of reinforcing shame inside of me, and his way of keeping me worldly. After all, spending time on social media is considered worldly, even if you are just looking at Christian posts, you might not be able to skip past all the “booty” pictures, “cleavage shots” and other sexual innuendos that I too become guilty of repeating, laughing, or secretly ...

The eyes tell the truth our conscious unable to cover. The insides, the souls these bodies contain, the abstract concepts defined in undefinable terms. The eyes however, they offer a glimpse, simply described as beautiful, even with the most broken. We are all made of good which lingers inside us all, no matter how altered, how saturated in  manipulation  experience forced it into. The love inside, the goodness we originated from, lingers in the eyes for there is no makeup, no clothing options, no actions, that can override what we all know exists.   Some of us define ourselves by actions, I am a writer, a former of words, a counselor by profession, yet, who I truly am is behind these eyes. What I do isn’t anything of significance and only displays what I want you to see, for my eyes will show you I am too scared to be honest. The actions are filtered, where the eyes are unable to be, even through presentation and admission of guilt, the eyes tell the real and only t...

"The popularity resides in the clothes," a thought that drove my summer vacation. A fear that I would be seen for the inadequate self I truly identified as. The kids seeing me as this once-popular student, now nothing more than another, “poor” kid. I knew the truth, I knew that the clothes I wore were expensive, and yet, I HAD to have them. I was consumed by the inevitable situations I would land in, depictions of Tommy Hilfiger commercials running in my head as my cargo handle was grabbed by some girl in a midriff top, interested, giving me that which I could not establish within myself.  This is all in retrospect for in the moment, as I worked all summer long, babysitting and mowing lawns, to get the coveted check from my father to then go and budget appropriately, along with the minuscule amounts donated from mom, I could afford the clothes to match the persona of a “cool” kid. I missed the part where I was supposed to live and experience life, and instead I isolated...

Isolation manifests shame, validation increases safety.  How bad can it be, after all, I live in America, I am a white male with a degree and a job, technically, I am richer than most of the world. So then, what could I possibly have to complain about? Unfortunately, like a passive-aggressive remark from a parent reinforcing a competitive environment, some of the most subtle, excused things in life cause some of the biggest problems. No, not problems like lacking clean water, inadequate amounts of food, or having parents that don’t love, or abused me, but in their own way, the forming of the mind around problems too minimized to take note of can be invalidating. Invalidation seems to be the root cause of many life’s a folly. When you see a couple arguing, usually when you cut through the yelling, the little comments, you see that the invalidation, or discounting of each other’s feelings lies at the surface. This can extend to children who's parents didn’t acknowledge them o...

Shame seeping into the brain, like a molasses being poured over a rotten apple, slowly the tainted fruit engulfed in a brown, sticky substance no longer seen, for now it is a mere blob of that which consumed it. The treachery of the feeling, enough to fuel poor decisions in life to try and escape, avoid, compensate even. The feeling was there upon waking up, like it existed before my conscious mind did, like it knew of the world and it was here to show me how hard it was going to make this place.  Since the dawn of fallen man, shame has existed to remind us of our overall wicked ways. In Genesis 3:7, Adam and Eve cover themselves with fig leaves to indicate a shame from the Lord for going against what he asked. Shame is supposed to be a benefit in some way, for all emotions are. If we are living with inefficient emotions, then is this not like the digestive system deciding not to do its job, only to have the food sit, rot, producing life-threatening situations? Our bodies are t...