Some of us feel like we were presented, by well-intentioned, human beings hawking what they felt was a sure-fire Christian lifestyle system. It was a whole Christian package to guide living and thinking and feeling. One size fits all. And I feel like, despite their good intentions, that this wasn't good for some of us, didn't fit some of us, wasn't healthy, and that it may even have blinded, stunted, splintered and broke some bits of certain kinds of us.
I mean, we know that we're born incomplete, imperfect and messed up, being humans after all, but some of us feel like the religious system/sect we grew up in, in trying to cope with, deal with, or mitigate this human reality, actually had an effect that was in some ways quite harmful. Pretended to fix or better the problem, but didn't. Claimed it had everything we needed, but we were still needy. Claimed it had all the answers and didn't. Claimed to point us toward a genuine knowledge of Jesus and Christian liberty, but left us in Christian bondage and continual preoccupation with what others might think. Didn't successfully purge out or heal the twistedness, the flaws, the weakness and darkness. I guess this just showed that, being a human creation, our system was twisted, flawed, weak and infected with darkness too. Like us. And very likely to pass some of that down with each generation, amplifying some of it. This is unsurprising.
I mean, we know that we're born incomplete, imperfect and messed up, being humans after all, but some of us feel like the religious system/sect we grew up in, in trying to cope with, deal with, or mitigate this human reality, actually had an effect that was in some ways quite harmful. Pretended to fix or better the problem, but didn't. Claimed it had everything we needed, but we were still needy. Claimed it had all the answers and didn't. Claimed to point us toward a genuine knowledge of Jesus and Christian liberty, but left us in Christian bondage and continual preoccupation with what others might think. Didn't successfully purge out or heal the twistedness, the flaws, the weakness and darkness. I guess this just showed that, being a human creation, our system was twisted, flawed, weak and infected with darkness too. Like us. And very likely to pass some of that down with each generation, amplifying some of it. This is unsurprising.
I'm not writing this to complain further. I'm writing this to look ahead and talk about what seems to work, what seems to need to happen in order to improve our lives. Because we can improve our lives. It's not all about "holding on." It's also about stepping out. Two things in particular spring to mind, though there are no doubt many different things to consider which I'm not going to tackle.
Dr. Jill Mytton, who was raised Taylor-Hale Exclusive Brethren, "left" and has made a life's work by researching the psyches of damaged individuals. She told me that two of the main identifiers for people with backgrounds like ours, which background has perhaps left us with some damage, blindness, twistedness or toxins, are a) memory problems and b) an inability to connect to others. I think this is true. The second one is the one I have the most. So I'll do it second. I'll do the one that makes me atypical first....
Memory
I actually find it a bit creepy how many Brethren people seem to have subconsciously edited their memories. When I speak to them, there's almost always a certain problem: this problem is that I seem to remember almost everything. It's how I'm made. And talking to me reminds people of stuff they didn't realize they seem to have kind of buried or locked away. Not always anything terribly horrible, but there are these huge chunks of their past that they "don't dwell on" to the point of it them being kind of erased or hidden from them. Jill Mytton speaks of the extreme cases, which she feels are cases of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I have family like this. The wrong song or memory or person's face, and they seem dragged helplessly back into something miserable that their whole life is designed to put them into a Witless Relocation Program to avoid. It's horrible.
So I'm all in favour of going over that past stuff when one needs to, and sharing memories, good and bad, and filing them under "the past" rather than fleeing. So I like to start conversations with people who need to talk about it. It feels useful and beneficial. But all too often, as soon as anyone mentions something that starts those memories flowing again in an almost natural way, the discussion gets shut down by someone who overhears or "creeps" it online. Immediately. Spitefully. Haughtily. Oddly frantic and nasty people, claiming it's not edifying. Not uplifting. That it's dwelling on the past. Whatsoever things, after all.
Now, not everyone is as unfortunate as some of us, and is simply unable to help but remember almost everything, especially if it was unpleasant or problematic. But I think we might be able to agree that there is a balance possible between a) going on and on about past trouble and never making fun in the present, and b) actually living, thinking, feeling and making life decisions just as if all manner of things from our past didn't actually ever quite happen, after all. Living just as if our past can't touch us here in the present. Just as if memories don't live on in us, and are not carried around inside, but are instead something we can "walk away" from, leaving them behind as we "move on." Like discarded banana peels. I'm troubled by the constant shutting down of "opening up" people, if anything they say or do is a reminder of the things that supposedly are miles and years behind but are actually all tangled up in our hearts. I'm troubled by the 'editing' people away, especially if they move outside the boundaries/barriers of one's own church community, either socially or in lifestyle. I'm tired of Christians who really only care for and deal with people who are more like them than the average guy uptown.
I don't know that everyone needs to do like me and take all that stuff that's remembered, and build it into stories so it's manageable and accessible. I do think that's a pretty good idea for most people, though. Therapists are always wanting people to write down or 'journal' or express (tell, in the form of stories) their memories. And I think until we do a fair bit of that with our past, any bad stuff back there in the back of our heads sneaks around behind us, and bites us on the rear upper leg from time to time. And we don't really know why we seem to have a flinch response, or why we are rattled and evasive about so many things of a certain type, or why we're so tired and despondent all the time.
So I think it's good to go over the past a bit. Make some sense of it. This may involve talking to someone, professional or otherwise. Or at least writing/typing/forming it into stories. Stories are the packages that allow us to put memories, neatly labelled, on the shelves of our selves. So we walk around with them then, but with them packed away tidily and with understanding, rather than stuffed behind things and shoved under the carpet. Not wadded up, blocking the sinks and toilets. Rather, sitting tidily in boxes with neat little tags on each one.
Connections
Making easy connections to other people is something Jill Mytton tells me that people like us struggle with. So this is a recent thing I've started tackling. At work: should I take an obvious, genuine interest in the custodians and lunch ladies, for example, as I walk by, doing my own stuff? Should I speak as little as possible, being only polite but distant and busy, or should I share a bit and inquire a bit? My Dad always spoke with the custodians. I think it was very good.
I have found that, with many people around me, opening up and reaching out to them a tiny bit makes the whole day light up. Putting aside the "I'm busy and late" crap. Connecting with old people and kids. Getting past small talk and seeing if I can ask and tell them stuff that starts real conversations. What about other Christians? Now they're armoured up. Especially if you don't go to their fort/church. But it's good to try anyway. Harder than regular folk, of course.
I have found that, with many people around me, opening up and reaching out to them a tiny bit makes the whole day light up. Putting aside the "I'm busy and late" crap. Connecting with old people and kids. Getting past small talk and seeing if I can ask and tell them stuff that starts real conversations. What about other Christians? Now they're armoured up. Especially if you don't go to their fort/church. But it's good to try anyway. Harder than regular folk, of course.
In my life, generally I have kept to myself, and looked for people who desperately needed to talk about upsetting stuff, and I was seemingly the only one who'd listen and understand. Made me special and helpful. Made me valuable. I'm learning lately that I can also talk to people who don't think their lives are ending. Like, I don't need a reason or a role. I don't need to be "helping." I can reach out, out of pure friendliness and curiosity.
I live in an apartment building. Canadian fashion, I don't really hang out with the other people. Parties go on next door or upstairs. I have people come over once or twice each year, not counting pizza delivery. Some even come inside. We neighbours don't crash each other's stuff, though. We import our friends, and dismiss them when the visit is concluded, and we don't complicate things by knowing what the person next door is up to, generally. We want our privacy, after all.
After work today, my cat was disturbed by an ongoing clatter in the hall outside my door. Now, I know there's a tiny, fluffy white dog upstairs who gets walked. And there's an adorable, hyper little chocolate lab across the hall whom I have petted a few times when my coming in or going out coincides with poop time. So when I heard the clattering of claws on the floor and a tapping of a tail or two hitting my door, it sounded like there were at least three large dogs out in the hall. I looked out the peephole and saw that there were ladies out there on the landing, and a pre-teen girl, and a veritable sea of dogs, it looked like, in that little fish-eye view one gets through the tiny porthole.
Now, my Canadian, "me" nature told me to 'give them their privacy.' Not to burst out of my door. They might think I was angry. Might wonder why I'd come out. But I wanted to pet the dogs. So I pulled on some pants, stepped around the cat, who was standing at the door staring with great concern, and did pop out my door, shutting it behind me to keep the dogs out and the cat in. And it wasn't even time for me to go to work or anything.
The ladies started and were momentarily all aflutter, as ladies get when a male apparition pops out of, apparently, nowhere, then assessing me and finding me looking relatively undangerous, they characteristically apologized for having dogs. I iterated and reiterated that I like to meet dogs, and petted each one thoroughly in turn. (The dogs, I mean.) Had a bit of chit-chat with the ladies, ignored the pre-teen girl entirely because I am a middle-aged man, but mainly petted the dogs and mentioned my cat listening through the door, and this tiny interaction made the day better. Just that. Better.
Inspired by various online blogs about meeting strangers and connecting with them, I have been reaching out to people on Facebook more, and initiating phone conversations, and trying to get kids to open up more, instead of focusing every atom of my being on making them comply, on controlling their childish excesses while trying to pull them toward age-appropriate skills and behaviour. I'm trying to not be closed and guarded and distant to everyone so much. Not so tight and closed. I'm trying to notice people and get them talking. Even if nothing's wrong. I'm trying to smile at people and stuff they say. Get them to say stuff that's smileable. Trying to get people to tell me about stuff they like, even if I don't like it. Not just their bad stuff. Whatever.
And it's fixing my life. Even though I'm not very good at it yet. That doesn't matter.
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