Archive for the ‘Personal’ Category
I may have been more confusing than clarifying in my Response #4. So I want a re-do (wish I could do that in life!).
I had very little understanding of legitimate relational boundaries for most of my life. If two of us had conflicting needs, I thought I was responsible to deny my own and “consider others as more important than myself.” Anything less was selfishness. I also believed I was given more resources by God than others (after all, I came from McQuilkin stock, a line of highly honored preachers, missionaries, and college presidents), so the greater burden should rest on me. This was the scaffolding for serious self-neglect.
If I starved myself to feed the hungry, I would die quickly, but when I starved myself emotionally, there was no such forced resolution… I kept living, breathing, and relating. No matter how much I gave, I felt I was not giving enough. So I pushed myself further and further until I nearly killed myself in India. Self preservation was not in my DNA. After all, I subscribed to the motto, “deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me.”
If I had the resources, and another had a need, I was obligated to meet that need. I thought the only morally legitimate way to deny helping Bob was to help Bill instead. To use my resources on myself was simply selfish. It was not a true need of mine. Christ was all I needed, and instead of receiving what he wished to give me, I became simply the channel for his giving to others, a teflon heart towards God’s grace. I didn’t realize what harm I did myself and others by working out of a serious personal deficit. I did not understand how healthy relationships worked.
Of course, the more I expected of myself, the more I expected of others… not as much as I would give, but still a fairly high standard. When they did not give what they were “able” to give (in my estimate), I judged them as unspiritual, uncommitted, and selfish, and I resented having to make up for their slack. Denying myself everything for others only worked if they denied things for me.
I was blind to the distinction between healthy and unhealthy giving. That difference might best be illustrated with actual gifts, the kind with wrapping paper and bows. 
There is quite a long list of unwritten, unspoken guidelines that must be followed in our society if we wish to be an acceptable member. The one with more money may spend more; the amount of money or time spent is a reflection of how much the recipient is valued; gratitude must be expressed (whether or not the gift was a true expression of love), often in writing; and the list goes on. We speak of a ‘gift exchange,’ a social arrangement which prescribes rules and follows social norms to avoid anyone giving too much or too little. But the original meaning of “gift” (Charis in Greek) suggests something freely given out of love without thought of return. Otherwise we are really talking about trading, a legitimate financial arrangement, but one that follows law, not love.
As long as everyone follows group expectations in an exchange, this arrangement works swimmingly, but once we try to move towards a gracious approach, one that does not include payback, the old rules do not apply. If I must give everything to everyone without consideration for reciprocation, then I am in serious trouble if others do not do the same. All my resources (whether time, money, emotional reserves, energy, etc.) will sooner or later be exhausted, and then I have nothing for myself or for others. Without receiving adequate “reimbursement,” the system fails. The path of grace seems unworkable unless everyone else is equally “gracious.” Instead of being responsible for my own upkeep, they become responsible for me, and I for them. I am at the mercy of the goodness of others… if they are not good enough, I cannot survive. This sounds to me suspiciously like co-dependence rather than interdependence. Am I not ultimately responsible for myself?
I do the cooking in our house because I enjoy cooking and my wife does not. I usually make huge messes when I cook: countertops flecked with flour and fruit juice and butter, stove top smoking with burned on spills, a sink overflowing onto the large cutting board with stacks of dirty pots and pans.
Last night as I finished cooking supper I commented, “I should have a neat cook come watch me and give tips on how to minimize the mess.” Kimberly replied, “that’s who I am! If you want to improve, you just have to put a much higher value and concentration on cleanliness as you cook. But do you really want to go that route? It might stifle your pleasure in cooking.” She was exactly right. So now I have been set free to blissfully make messes (as long as I clean up afterwards). I have a wise and understanding wife.
Elisabeth speaks for many of us when she worries that making room for someone’s quirks could encourage the attitude, “God made me this way so just accept it even though it is inconveniencing or hurting you.” That is one of the guiding principles that shaped the way I related to others most of my life, and it still pulls strongly on my emotions. This will take two posts to discuss even briefly because I want to start with my own experience and perspective and then offer the comparative view of my wife.
I grew up believing very strongly that I was responsible for others’ responses to me. If someone felt hurt or inconvenienced by my actions, I should change my behavior. Either I had done something wrong and should apologize and change myself to prevent this in the future, or they were mistaken and I should explain to them how they had misunderstood my intentions (or a combination of the two). Their negative feelings indicted me, and I was responsible to relieve them and to then live in such a way that I caused them no more inconvenience or hurt.
I think this entanglement of responsibilities is common among children who respond to parental displeasure by being compliant and who determine their own lovability based on the feedback they receive for their behavior. If my mom or dad is angry, it is my fault, and I must fix it. I think our parents’ generation generally believed this, and those of us raised in religious homes believed this was also a true reflection of God’s attitude towards us. One of the downsides of this perspective is that I hold others responsible for my feelings as well. You take care of my feelings and I take care of yours. You take care of my needs and I take care of yours.
Relational Balancing Act
It sounds very considerate, and I suppose it may be, but in my case, instead of a free and loving choice, it was grounded in fear and relational obligation. I could not survive in forgoing my own needs for the sake of others’ needs if they did not reciprocate, so if there was no parity, I had to pressure others to meet my needs. If I were inconveniencing or hurting someone, I was under moral obligation to change, and if I did not like what they were doing, they had to change.
Of course, the entire system broke down if others did not meet my needs. When I eat out with a friend, the payment shuffle at the end is a bit embarrassing. Supposing my friend will reciprocate the next time, I decide to pick up the tab. But he doesn’t return the favor. I decide to do it again as a good example that shows him clearly how he is falling behind in the balance of hospitality. By the third unreciprocated meal, I start feeling resentment and make mild side comments or light jokes to bring his attention to the situation. If he simply does not work by this system of fair trade, then our relationship is in trouble. I will feel that he is selfish and uncaring.
When I decide what to wear, what to say, where to go, how to behave, I automatically assume others’ needs are preeminent. This does not primarily come from a place of health or freedom or generosity, but from a fear that they will justifiably think badly of me or resent me if I do not care about them. I find it very hard to think well of myself if others think badly of me (in this case because I am being “uncaring”). On the other hand, if others seem to ignore my needs, I feel that my needs don’t really count, I am not worthy of receiving their care. So I am trapped in this world of reciprocation based on fear of losing my worth as a person.
My fear of others “taking advantage of me,” requiring me to do more lifting in the relationship than they do, is not simply that I will run out of energy and resources. It is a much more basic fear—that my very worth as a person is seriously at risk. Of course, I never think it out so clearly and objectively as this, but simply react from deep-seated emotions, often jumping right past the fear (which makes me feel vulnerable) into the reactive and manipulative anger of self-defense, “Don’t you care about me?!”
Some say that compromise is at the root of any good marriage, but what if either or both partners feel an arrangement is unfair, unbalanced. Picture the impact on the relationship if this imbalance is not simply an inconvenience, but a threat to the spouse’s very worth as a person. That is a picture of Kimberly and me as we stepped into a committed relationship.
I agree with Elisabeth that “where I am weak is when I get to see God at work,” though I think it might be good to consider what this may or may not mean. How does God work with or in spite of our weaknesses? He can certainly override or bypass or compensate for our inbuilt weaknesses when he chooses, but I expect, like any other miracle, it is the exception rather than the rule for him to work contrary to the traits with which he uniquely designed each of us (and the circumstances by which he shaped us). Not only the abilities, but the limitations he gives us are integral to our design, a key part of who we are. A car is great for driving, but it is pretty bad at sailing. If we make a car to also sail, those adaptations will hinder its ability to drive well, which is its true design. 
Allow me to get personal. I was raised by a mother who was not time conscious and a father who was very time conscious. This was the source of much contention, especially Sunday morning, and both my mom and dad agreed that the “right” way to be was prompt, which of course meant my mom was inadequate and my dad was adequate. Dad was organized and Mom was disorganized; Dad planned out everything well in advance and Mom flew by the seat of the pants; Dad was very analytical and Mom was not. We were taught by both parents that we should emulate our father in all these things, because this was godliness, and thus avoid the weaknesses of our mom.
Most of my life I fully believed this to be true. My dad even taught a college ethics course that included a section on the moral necessity of being good stewards of our time. The good ol’ American values of productivity and efficiency were apparently a fundamental part of God himself, handed down to us in his word. The verses in the Bible about being punctual are fairly meager, so he used arguments such as the injury we did others by being late (“keeping them waiting”), which was both selfish and unthoughtful. It is more the emphasis than the idea which became a real problem for me. One could argue that good stewardship of the body requires daily bathing with soap for good health and so make showers a moral issue, but I don’t think I would go there with it.
It was decades later that I started to question this thinking. I found that examples of godliness in Scripture seemed to have a very different perspective of time, one that did not include minute hands on sundials. Jesus himself seemed to be much more God conscious and people conscious than time conscious, and he regularly chose to live by the former values at the expense of the last.
I don’t mean to suggest that punctuality is of no worth, but I wonder if it does not fall farther down the scale of true values than most white, middle class Americans would like to think. I wonder if it is a constant source of judgment towards other cultures and people who value it much less. Might our insistence on timeliness do more injury to individuals and relationships than our being more flexible with our schedules? In fact, is too much of a need for promptness a weakness of another kind and is flexibility perhaps a strength? Do we unnecessarily devalue the traits of some folks instead of appreciating their uniqueness and important contribution to perspectives, relationships and plans?
I find myself valuing strengths in others that I do not have. But instead of simply being grateful for and blessed by their contribution to my life, I compare myself to them and challenge myself to be like them… and then judge myself for falling short. I tell myself that I must be as organized, as gentle, as confident, as humble as they are. These are all good things to work on, but things that do not come naturally to me as they do to others, and in fact, they usually have their own downside. People who are temperamentally gentle often have a very hard time confronting others; Those who are typically confident tend to be less open to the perspectives of others.*
If I use a lot of energy trying to “fix” these weaknesses I attribute to myself, I not only make no room for others’ contributions to my life, but I end up undermining my own unique gifts. Others become competitors to me instead of partners, and relationships suffer. The differences between us that were meant to teach us, unite us and make us interdependent become the very things that drive wedges between us because I expect others to be like me and shame myself for not being like them.
Let's Work Together!
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*Of course, we usually think of humility and gentleness as virtues (moral attributes which are acquired) and organization and confidence as character traits (nonmoral attributes which are given). So for the purposes of this discussion, let us leave aside the “virtues” and think simply of “traits.”
Elisabeth offered some insightful questions on Facebook in response to my post “I Am Handicapped” She was responding to my comment “We all have handicaps, and we do well to recognize them. God not only gave us all strengths, but he deliberately created us with weaknesses as well. I think this was his way of making us interdependent, of tying us together in community. Our weaknesses are not “bad” things, they are just part of who we are and who we will always be. I may be able to improve or compensate for my weaknesses, but if I try to quash them or force them into conformity, I am being false to the way God created me.”
Elisabeth wrote, “I have been trying to think what it is that has been niggling at the back of my mind … Anyway, it is a feeling like the “That is just the way I am” statement if received with love and grace seems to be more like “That is out of my comfort zone” “God made me this way so just accept it even though it is inconveniencing or hurting you” … If the other person’s strength meshes with your weakness then that is great… although where I am weak is when I get to see God at work … “That’s just not me” is not off limits to God’s work and purpose. When both people say “That’s not the way I am made” then what happens. A friend told me that when your eyes are “going” (which mine are and I increasingly need reading glasses…smile) that as much as is possible to not use glasses so the eyes will continue to work…If you use the glasses all the time then your eyes just adjust to that. So if someone else “lovingly” steps in and is compensating for my weakness then I adjust to that and don’t trust Jesus to work on it. I am probably not making sense…I am just mulling things through so these are just thoughts on a journey not destination thoughts…”
Wow, she raises so many issues! Thank you, Elisabeth, I want this site to be interactive. It seems to me it would be so much more beneficial to all of us if it is a dialogue. I think this will take several posts to touch on so many things (just to barely touch on them!). I would like to share my personal journey regarding weaknesses, but the story is so long, I will put that on a separate page for those who have more time or patience or interest. Suffice it to say here that most of my life I faced personal weaknesses as obstacles that needed to be “gotten over,” to be overcome and replaced with strengths. I would compare my weaknesses with others’ strengths, setting that as my goal and mentally flagellating myself for falling short. This belief had multiple downsides within myself and my relationships.
A few of my many weaknesses include forgetfulness, accident proneness, disorganization, and procrastination. I do my best to compensate for these. For instance, I am more organized in my work than most folks, but it does not come naturally to me. Instead of being inherent and well-grounded, it is an entirely jerry-rigged contraption, like a fort built with scrap material by a little boy instead of one made from a manufactured kit by a skilled carpenter. I have developed multiple props of lists, systems, calendars and the like, but it goes very much against the grain for me to operate this way, so I have to drive myself to it with shame and fear.
Inevitably, in spite of all my efforts, my disorganization glares through, and I fail to do what I am “supposed” to do. Because my self expectations do not take into consideration my weaknesses, I feel ashamed for not meeting my own standards. In short, I can only be an acceptable, worthy person by changing into someone I was not designed to be. I don’t consider what method of work (and what choice of work) may be most fruitful for someone with my characteristics, but assuming that efficiency and productivity are the ultimate goals, I force myself into the system that will best meet these criteria, like David mistakenly trying to get into Saul’s armor to fight Goliath.
Weaknesses are often the alter-ego of our strengths. In contrast to organization and task orientation, I am more naturally spontaneous, creative, relationally oriented. By putting all my energy into becoming more organized around projects at work, I tend to stifle my strengths (which limit efficiency and organization). Of course, efficiency and organization can be quite important, but if I make these my primary, default objectives, I have to ignore and override my natural tendencies which are valuable in their own right and are my particular gift to offer the world. In contrast, I could use efficiency and organization as supports to my strengths (as needed) instead of a competition with them. Allowing me to be myself in this way will require those who are more organizationally minded to either be patient with the speed, neatness, and method with which things are done or step in to add their gift of organization (not to insist that this be the paramount value, but just another part of the mix). In this way we can learn to respect and value one another’s contributions.
Our Needs and Gifts Are Designed to Fit
July 4th Kimberly and I visited her Aunt Pam on the lake. It had been a nice day, but started to rain an hour before we left. As we drove home on a two lane road, I came around a curve and spotted a car stopped in front of me with a car passing it in the oncoming lane. Because of the rain, I knew I could never brake in time, but there was no shoulder. I swerved onto the sloped wet grass and the tires slid uncontrollably down the embankment into a row of spaced wooden pylons at the bottom. Bump! …Bump! …Bump! …Bump!
Thankfully, the window-high logs were not buried or cemented in the ground, so each one went down successively and did what my brakes could not. We ended up just short of a side street, gently enough that the airbags did not deploy. It was a close call. The plastic front bumper was torn badly and we had a big dent in the fender, but after I strapped up the broken bumper with 3 bungee cords, we managed to drive home okay, though we were both shaken up.
When anything bad happens, especially with a potential repeat, the “if” question starts flashing like a warning light. If I had been more alert, I may have been able to stop in time… if my tire treads were better… if I had been driving slower… if Kimberly had been driving. Identifying the crucial “if” and finding its answer seems to be our voucher to a safe future, especially for us fix-it types.
For those of us who are also shame sponges, our very worth seems to ride on these answers. The “if” must not point to me. I must prove that I could not have foreseen or planned or reacted any better than I did, even when it means, sadly, that I find someone else to blame. When I’m unarguably at fault, then a second defense to my worth is to fix the results, make sure there is no cost to anyone but myself. When this also is beyond my reach, then a weak third defense is to settle on a solution that will prevent this incident ever recurring.
Unfortunately, these three steps of unhealthy self-protection can look very spiritually mature, even to myself. I can pass it off as self-examination, restitution, and repentance. I think I am fleeing from shame into rectitude, but I am actually running from true forgiveness and grace into the apparent safety of legalism. I cannot believe that there is complete forgiveness and reconciliation without some payment from my side… a payment of promises, of sorrow and groveling, or of corrective action. The smaller my failure footprint, the easier it is to forgive me… at least that is what I picked up from interacting with fellow humans.
Once thoroughly trained in this relational dynamic, it is very hard for me to change the way I see God. Unlike us, he never finds it hard to forgive me and isn’t suspicious that my confession is contrived. He never lets the injury I have done him constrict his compassion for me or his desire to relate to me. I should not have said “never lets” as though his forgiveness was an act of his will to override his natural inclinations to retaliate. His love for me is always on full, regardless of what I have done.
I am often amazed at how long it takes me to come to a realization or understanding. If someone offers me an idea that does not fit into my present worldview, I cannot use it, and often do not understand it. When we started dating, Kimberly shared concepts that sounded like Chinese to me. They just made no sense to me at all.
Last night she suggested something that I have heard from others, “If there are tasks that need to be done, and you don’t want to do them, you can push yourself in a way that validates and supports your needs and feelings—do the task for yourself instead of against yourself. Do it for the benefit it will bring you.”
Yes, I have heard this before, I agree, but I have a problem. If it is only me affected by my decision, that is easy enough to do, but if others and their feelings and needs are also involved, I feel obligated to push myself regardless of what I want. That is, I can’t both listen to their needs and my needs when there is competition (and I downgrade most of my ‘needs’ to simply ‘desires,’ so their needs outrank mine).
But just this morning I started to reconsider Kimberly’s words. The problem is not pushing myself to do something I don’t want to do, but the thoughts that support that choice. To motivate myself, I resort to willpower based on obligation. This has always “worked” for me, that is, I complete the task. But I can only do so by disregarding my own feelings. Might there be a way to support my feelings and motivate myself apart from obligation?
It is very hard for me to practice this because my sense of duty trumps every other motivation by sheer weight of ingrained thought patterns. I do onerous things always and only because I “have” to do them. I have no choice. I thought the problem was in the choosing, but perhaps the problem is in the approach to choosing, the why and how of the decision rather than the what.
I realize now that this is the first glimmer of insight in a very long process, years of remaking my outlook, hundreds of attempts at applying it. I used to think that God’s grace should be gotten fully in one go and applied everywhere, like paint to a door. I slowly came to realize that I can only apply the grace of God to those wounds that I first identify. I can’t coat the door with WD40 and expect the unidentified squeak to stop. I have to locate the rusty hinge and spray a concentrated stream.
Of course, grace is at work helping me to identify my issues, but it works on its own schedule, not mine. I would like to know all my misguided beliefs now and focus all my time and energy into “fixing” them as quickly as I can. This would work no better than a first-grader studying night and day so he can graduate from college in two years. God is far more understanding and patient with my shortcomings than I am. I imagine he would like to tell me, “Slow down. Go easy on yourself. Even 50 years is not enough time to make all the positive changes I plan for you.” Oddly enough, for me to be more godly, I need to be more understanding and patient with myself; I need to receive this grace he offers me. Who would have guessed?
Kimberly and I talked last night, trying to sort through my feelings. As I discussed my sense of failure in India, I realized that wasn’t really the major issue. I have focused for ten years to overcome the lie that my worth depends on what I do or don’t do, and I’ve found a large degree of freedom. But if it was not about failure, what was troubling me so deeply?
New thoughts began swirling around in my brain. Like a child trying to work out a puzzle, I kept shuffling the pieces to make sense of these vague notions. At last I told Kimberly that I would have to let it marinate for now.
This morning I started stacking and restacking my blocks of feelings and speculations in conversation with Kimberly, trying to find the pattern that fit. A center of concern began to take shape, an issue I have not focused on, but one that has deep roots from early childhood—the idea that my needs don’t matter. Only one thing matters—doing more for God at whatever cost to myself. And if my needs don’t matter, then I don’t matter.
This priority on service meant that everyone else’s needs were more important than my own, and therefore my needs must always be sacrificed. In essence, self-care was selfishness unless it was clearly required to keep the machine functioning to do its job. Caring for myself physically and spiritually was only legitimate as an intermediate goal, a means to the end of serving others (and emotional needs were merely desires, not true needs).
This became an inescapable trap. When I met my own need, I felt ashamed for my selfishness. When I rejected my own need to help others, I strengthened my belief that my need (and therefore I myself) was of little worth. Either way, shame won. I could not find a way to break free. After India, I kept trying different ministries to see if I could find one in which I found fulfillment and peace, where there was less competition between my own needs and the needs of others. But I crated the real issue around with me from place to place. I now realize I have a lot of work ahead to unravel the emotional knots.
This Catch-22 has played out, not only in my occupation, but in all my relationships. When Kimberly and I moved into our new home, the “master bedroom” was a loft open to the living room below. I promised Kimberly I would build a bedroom there, a foolish start to a marriage! Unfortunately, I have very poor skills in estimating the time a job will take to complete.
As the work dragged on, keeping the house a mess, I began to lose enthusiasm and Kimberly began to lose heart. I didn’t want her to suffer, so I prevailed on myself to keep working hour after hour. Since I was now working out of obligation (the obligation of love, as I saw it) and not a creative pleasure, the job became more and more loathsome, and I had to whip myself harder. I felt shame when I didn’t work on it, but my own needs were rejected when I did work on it, and that sharpened my sense of worthlessness at a deeper level. I have always struggled with this belief that the task, especially the God-given task, is more important than I am.
We tried to talk it through many times. Kimberly suggested that we pay someone to finish it, but I couldn’t bring myself to pay out that kind of money, especially for something I could do myself (another issue of mine). We finally decided how much of the bedroom she needed complete before we could move in, and this gave us a foreseeable end. But the work had long since broken down my sense of worth. I couldn’t bring myself to do any wood work, which I love, for the next two years. And the closet still does not have doors.
This same scenario has played out often in many situations, and I could find no way to resolve the problem—should I push through or not push through? Neither worked. Calcutta was the point when my determined willpower finally crushed my spirit. I kept driving myself throughout four years of deep depression until it started to hurt others, and then I benched myself. I did not resolve the dilemma, I just took myself out of the game. And now it seems I am pulling my uniform back on and the feelings are all too familiar.
More personal reflections to follow.
It does not cost me much to report on my experiences and feelings after the fact. It is more difficult for me to share in the moment, to invite others into my journey when I am still in the quagmire. I am more vulnerable in such times, so I ask those who leave comments to this post to be especially gracious in what they say.
I have been in a great deal of turmoil the last few days over my expected visit to Calcutta. India was my emotional Waterloo, an inescapable, pervasive black hole. I’m pretty sure these current feelings stem from very deep, unresolved issues while I was a missionary that tapped into an ocean of inadequacy. I did not learn Bengali well… I was so ethnocentric, seeing their culture as inadequate… I failed to make any significant impact even though I nearly died trying… I was arrogant… I was stupid… I was closed to input…. “I’m a failure, a failure, a failure” was the heavy drumbeat that struck against my soul throughout each day.
I had no weapon with which to challenge these beliefs, no argument great enough to disprove my self-condemnation. I thought my self accusations were a mark of true and deep repentance. Here is an example from the journal I kept in India, castigating myself for sleeping till 5 a.m. instead of rising at 4 o’clock to pray:
Oh, Lord, break me. Break this wicked pride so steeped in deceit. Break the great evil of my indiscipline – great because it keeps me from knowing you and seeking you and loving you with my whole heart. Lord, how can you possibly use me in this city, or in the lowest ministry, if I am not wholly given over to the infilling, anointing and outpouring of your Spirit? Oh, Lord have mercy on this foolish and hopeless child of yours. I have no strength of my own, Lord. I know I am completely bankrupt. I know how many times over and over I have failed you in the same things. It is a wonder that you still love me Lord. What an amazing love is yours! How much you deserve a better child than I. Make me fit to bear your name in this world or take me out of it, Lord.
When I returned from Asia, I was so broken that my only hope of functioning was to push all thoughts of that time aside, not deal with them, ignore them as best I could. I quarantined that huge section of my heart because I was too soul sick to deal with it in any kind of healthy way. Of course those self-condemning thoughts did not simply disappear, but festered in the dark, chewing like termites on my spirit. The less aware I was of them, the more easily they could undermine my sense of worth.
And as I open that Pandora’s box again, I find my life energy draining away and a settled anguish taking it’s place. I feel I am picking up a burden too great to bear. I thought I was emotionally ready (barely) to visit Calcutta again. I wonder. Perhaps this is God’s divine timing to draw me into facing this great vortex of shame. I would ask for your prayers as I wade into the river Styx
A Continuing Saga…
At Smith Mountain Lake Kimberly and I took a kayak ride, and, like usual, talked some more. One of our cars has over 200k on the odometer, so we have been talking for some time about getting another vehicle. I mentioned to Kimberly my desire to buy a truck, for which I regularly have a need. “We don’t need to discuss it seriously at this point… I just thought I would broach the subject for you to think about,” I said.
She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “I’m afraid that if you get a truck we will be inundated with wood. You know how you have been packing it in everywhere.” It’s true. I’m a scavenger. I find useful things on the street next to garbage cans, in dumpsters at construction sites, and at demolished buildings. With these I have built a bedroom, cedar flower box, a king size bed frame, and numerous other projects.
I responded, “Okay, the shed is full of wood, but I’m the only one who goes in there.”
Kimberly corrected, “You also have wood piled on the downstairs patio and stacked in the laundry room in the basement.”
I replied, “I didn’t know that bothered you. I can take that wood out if you like.”
This kind of interaction has often been a trapdoor to shame. If Kimberly expresses any dissatisfaction with life together, I feel I have been a bad husband. She does not intend to shame me… she is just telling me how she feels. But I was trained as a child that when someone expressed dissatisfaction, they were telling you how you must change to meet their expectations (and by inference, how you are currently inadequate). They were talking about their feelings not as an act of sharing their experience but as a means to pressure you to bend to their wishes, making you responsible for their unhappy feelings.
Kimberly and I have spent many, many hours working through this issue—about construction I am doing, my grocery choices, messes I leave. She has told me hundreds of times that her discomfort is not my fault, that she is not trying to manipulate me by guilt or shame, that she simply wants to share how she feels without burdening me with expectations. She just wants me to understand and empathize with her feelings.
But this is a serious problem for me. When she recounts her negative feelings, my past shouts at me, “She is telling you that you must change, that you are inadequate. There will always be something you disappoint her with. You are a worthless human being!” I could not listen, understand and support her emotions without condemning myself as a failure.
We have come a long way in the right direction. She has understood my struggle and learned to express her feelings in a manner that least provokes my fears. I have learned to trust her so much more and to start supporting her in her feelings without taking responsibility for them and shaming myself.
As we paddled up an inlet, we discussed our growth as a couple, and I reminded her how well she dealt with the issue of dirty dishes. Kimberly is a do-it-now person and I am a do-it-later person. She would like for us to wash each saucer as it gets dirty, even pausing our DVR movie to do this. I find it efficient to wait until I have free time, for instance during the two minutes my coffee is in the microwave. Our initial compromise was that if plates piled up, I would wash them. I was fine with this trade—I chose the timing and did all the dishes. Hey, if I have to wash everything, I’ll do it when I like… so I let them pile up. I preferred leaving them in the sink at night and scrubbing them in the morning, but she found it difficult to get her cup of coffee with a basin full of dishes, and it soured her mood to see a stack of pots covered with dried remains of food. When this had happened for a week in a row, she decided it was time to talk.
Kimberly explained the situation and said, “How about if we wash the dishes together at night?” I felt bad that my method was spoiling her mornings, but since she was careful in how she worded it, I was able not to blame and shame myself. I found that I was then free to respond to her out of love and care rather than out of shame and obligation. The resolution felt good to both of us, validating each of us and our feelings. I still wash all the dishes in the morning, but I do it before she comes downstairs.
The resolution is not a permanent fix for my underlying issues. I still struggle not to be motivated out of fear for what she will think of me, but we are both headed in the right direction. Our commitment to mutual support creates a world of trust, safety, and intimacy.
There is quite a long list of unwritten, unspoken guidelines that must be followed in our society if we wish to be an acceptable member. The one with more money may spend more; the amount of money or time spent is a reflection of how much the recipient is valued; gratitude must be expressed (whether or not the gift was a true expression of love), often in writing; and the list goes on. We speak of a ‘gift exchange,’ a social arrangement which prescribes rules and follows social norms to avoid anyone giving too much or too little. But the original meaning of “gift” (Charis in Greek) suggests something freely given out of love without thought of return. Otherwise we are really talking about trading, a legitimate financial arrangement, but one that follows law, not love.
As long as everyone follows group expectations in an exchange, this arrangement works swimmingly, but once we try to move towards a gracious approach, one that does not include payback, the old rules do not apply. If I must give everything to everyone without consideration for reciprocation, then I am in serious trouble if others do not do the same. All my resources (whether time, money, emotional reserves, energy, etc.) will sooner or later be exhausted, and then I have nothing for myself or for others. Without receiving adequate “reimbursement,” the system fails. The path of grace seems unworkable unless everyone else is equally “gracious.” Instead of being responsible for my own upkeep, they become responsible for me, and I for them. I am at the mercy of the goodness of others… if they are not good enough, I cannot survive. This sounds to me suspiciously like co-dependence rather than interdependence. Am I not ultimately responsible for myself?
Janathan Grace Reflections 