Pain is not the enemy

I was going through all my old blogs today as I put labels on them (a new feature of blogger). Several times I have made the comment "I would never wish this experience on anyone. But I would never go back to who I was before." This comment is actually a rephrasing of a statement my brother Adam has made continually. He says about his divorce, "I would never wish this experience on anyone, but I wouldn't trade it for the world." The reason I have hesitated to say the second part is that I felt if I could have gotten this learning and growth without having to experience so much pain, I would have preferred that. I knew that such a possibility is not likely or possible, but if it could have happened, I would have preferred that (like taking a pill).

But as I thought about this, and as I was reading through some of my other blogs, I realized that such thinking is still putting pain as the enemy. And one thing I have learned is that pain is not the enemy. There is value in pain. And it's not just the growth that it produces. One purpose of pain (physical or emotional) is to alert us to a problem. It tells us when something is wrong. If we didn't feel pain when a knife cut the skin, we may not stop before the knife cut through tendons, muscle, arteries, etc. It is a way to stop further damage. The pain I experienced in my divorce was indicating a very big problem. If I had listened to it earlier, it may not have gotten so bad. But it was only because I had the realization of how bad and messed up I really was that I was able to grow as much as I have.

The pain has also taught me that I can make it through the tough times. Life will always have pain, both small and great. And now I know that I can make it through. I don't have to panic and try to bail out when things are very difficult and depressing and I can't see the end. I know that I can keep trudging through the muck, and that I will eventually make it. And I have learned the value of that process itself, not just the value of the destination. There are precious gems of learning that I could only learn by walking through the valley, even when I felt waist deep in sludge.

You can tell when someone has gone through deep pain. There is a change in them for the rest of their life. Something that distinguishes them from those who have not experienced deep pain. Sometimes it comes through in their outlook on life, sometimes in their patience, or in any number of other areas. One place I really notice it is in how they respond to and act around those who are currently experiencing deep pain. Those who haven't experienced deep pain will often offer band-aids of platitudes and try and make things look better. They are very uncomfortable around such raw deep pain because they have never experienced it before themselves. And they may not know if the person can make it through. But because I have experienced deep pain, I know that it takes time. I don't have to rush the ending. I don't have to try and make them feel better (which is usually just trying to make us feel better about them). I can patiently walk with them because I know that they will make it through, even if the end can't be seen. And it isn't a contest of who has had deeper pain. That doesn't matter. Each pain is different and painful in its own way, and a comparison is really not possible. But there is a difference with those who have gone through deep pain.

So I really wouldn't trade my divorce for anything. Not just the end result (the growth), but the entire process itself. The gut-wrenching brokenness and pain. The disillusionment, the struggles, the stress, the frustration. I wouldn't trade it. This pain is not an enemy to fight and conquer. It's a part of who I am.

Last night in Orlando

It is 2:48 in the morning, and I don't want to go to bed. Because when I wake up, I have to leave to drive to Michigan. And I don't want this time to end, even though I know it has to, and I need to get a decent nights sleep. It has been a great last day, which is a welcome change from the hellish week I've had. I spent all week trying to sell stuff, with very little success. Friday was a truly horrible day of getting rid of everything, trying to figure stuff out with the larger items, and trying to clean and get out of my apartment. At 10 pm, I said, screw it, I'm done. I had everything cleaned, but couldn't get the bigger stuff out. It was worth paying an extra day of rent. By the time I unloaded the stuff I donated, ate something, and took a shower, it was midnight, and my incredibly foul mood was just starting to improve.

But today was great. We had potluck after church with lots of people, and spent awhile in the pool. I was splashing and fighting with Priscilla and Rachel, which was lots of fun. It reminded me of when I was younger and would fight with my brothers in the pool, except my brothers were much rougher (like trying to dunk me the whole time). Afterwards we went to my apartment to get the rest of the stuff out, which goes much quicker with 4 people than with 1! When we were done with that, we had a special fire in a local park.

This move has made me really sort through and cut back on everything, as I only took what would fit in my car. As I was going through stuff, I found all the old notes and other sentimental stuff I had from Leanna. Initially in the divorce, I decided not to do anything with any of the stuff, because I didn't know what I would want to do with it. But I decided I was now ready to get rid of it. I have moved on from that part of my life. While I won't forget it, I don't need to cling to it or be reminded of all the delusions and lies. So I burned it. The stuff that could not be burned, I wrapped in a bag and smashed the hell out of with the stick I had used to stoke the fire. When the stick broke for the second or third time, I just started stomping on it. A very cathartic experience, to say the least. And I just deleted the wedding video off my computer. 12 gigs in 2 seconds. It is amazing that this stuff can go so quickly. Seven years of memories burned up within a half hour (same with the final court date, oddly enough). We have ceremonies for just about every significant event in our lives (baptism, wedding, baby shower, funeral), but there is nothing for a divorce. In many ways, this was a ceremony demonstrating the finality of it all. The only thing I still have is my wedding band and claddaugh tie-tac (which was like a second wedding band to me). I haven't decided what to do with those, but I am thinking about it. The evening was even more special in that I was joined by several of my closest friends- Susan, Karen, Priscilla, Rachel, and Donna. Interestingly and appropriately enough, all females.

To top it all off, we had some food and then played Texas Hold-Em. It was a lot of fun, and seemed a great way to spend my last night down here. I will miss you all terribly. And the fact that I am still up thinking about it at 3:30 tells you how anxious I am to leave. It amazes me constantly that I have made such great friends down here. It's more than I ever would have dreamed of. I will never forget you, and I hope to come back down soon to visit. I love you all.

Dark Nights of the Soul

I began reading the book Dark Nights of the Soul by Thomas Moore for my CPE class. Although I've only read about 70 pages, it has already gripped me and helped me. The second sentence of the introduction really jumped out at me.

"If your main interest in life is health, you may quickly try to overcome the darkness. But if you are looking for meaning, character, and personal substance, you may discover that a dark night has many important gifts for you. "

It made me reevaluate my treatment of trials and pain. With my divorce, as well as other difficult times in my life, I have wanted to get over it and through it as quickly as I can so I can return to "life as normal" (whatever that is). But should that really be my goal, to simply be in health and in peace? Isn't meaning, character, and personal substance far better of a goal? There is nothing wrong with wanting to be in health and be happy and at peace. But that should not be viewed as simply the absence of trials. If it is, then this "dark night of the soul" is an interruption, an enemy to be defeated to get back where I was. But when I look at the more important things like meaning and character, I realize that those things are most often found in the dark nights. Therefore the dark nights should be fully embraced. I should not fear it or run from it. For it is only through the dark nights that I can get that which I ultimately desire.

A Kingdom Rebuilding

Once upon a time, there was a king who ruled a wonderful city. He looked out of his palace at his city, and remarked how great it was. Industry and economy were beginning to thrive. The countryside was beginning to take shape. Tall buildings were built, and it was starting to look like a great city. Sure, there was some grumbling by the people, but the king paid no attention. After all, things were beginning to pick up and the economy was booming. The concerns should be squelched in no time. The king was beginning to enjoy the fruits of his labor.

Suddenly, the queen came before him and said she was leaving. The king was stunned, albeit not completely surprised. He knew she was unhappy, but with all of his duties and his focus on building the city, he didn’t know what to do about it. He had dismissed her complaints too, assuming they would also be assuaged when things began to take shape and flourish. The king ran after her, begging her to stay, but to no avail. As she approached the door, a bomb exploded, blowing the door wide open. She walked out, taking from the kingdom as she left.

For a long time, the king sat in stunned disbelief. He returned to his room, not believing what had happened. He would not admit that his perfect city was damaged. But the problem continued. For you see, the explosion from the door did not stop there. While the king’s palace was made of stone and did not burn, the rest of the city was not so fortunate. There were dilapidated houses which immediately caught fire. There was new construction that stood no chance. Soon it became evident that the entire city was in peril. Paralyzed with fear, the king didn’t know what to do. His usual resources now seemed woefully inadequate.

He thought about the nearby cities. He could call for help. But what would they think of him as a king? Shouldn’t he be able to protect his own city? How would this affect his relationships with the other leaders? He didn’t know them well, and rarely talked with them. But he knew he needed help. He had heard that one of the nearby cities had a fire several years before. Surely they would understand. He went to the queen of the city and told her of the disaster. The queen dispatched her own people to help the city. The king began asking other neighboring cities for help. Slowly at first, but as the responses soared, the king began to get revitalized. More and more cities came to help and before long, the fires were put out. The king returned to his palace and threw himself on his bed. He was relieved that it was over. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He began to think about the city, and went out to survey it. What he saw amazed him. The king was no longer looking through his rose colored windows at the city. He now saw for himself what his city was like. His great tall buildings were now a pile of rubbish and a big hole in the ground. He discovered that in the haste of his construction, shortcuts had been made. Beautiful facades had covered up inadequate materials and poor craftsmanship. But now the facade was gone, and the truth was laid bare. Foundations were poor and sometimes non-existent. The king soon realized that it was far from over. It was now time to rebuild. And the rebuilding would take much longer. He was going to do it right this time. He didn’t want to loose his entire city again.

Many of the nearby cities who had helped put out the flames, now helped with the rebuilding. The king also found a nearby country full of cities who were ready and willing to help. They brought him supplies and support. They shared ideas and formed a community.

The king could hardly believe it. In his wildest dreams, he never could have imagined a city like this. Buildings strong and firm. People content and happy. He discovered people living in his city that he never even knew existed, even though they had been there all along. And the relationship with the other cities continued. They would visit each other frequently. And the king even helped some of the other cities with their own problems. His was no longer an isolated city, independent and sufficient to itself. It was now part of a community.

D-Day

I am now legally divorced. I went before the judge this morning. After 5 or 10 minutes and a bunch of general questions, it was over. No big to do. A bit anticlimatic. But I had been warned about that. I left the courthouse at 9:40, not quite realizing what just happened.

It is interesting how we can cycle through grief again and again. I feel as if I have re-experienced it all again in one day. The anxiety, apprehension, and fear beforehand. A 5 minute discussion that changed the rest of my life. The uncertainty and uneasiness afterward. And now relief that another chapter of my life has closed. I have been granted grace for an immature and naive mistake. I have been given a second chance. And that is an amazing feeling.

Healing grief

"Grief is ugly. The journey through it is excruciating. When people have worked through it, they will bear scars. But they will feel cleansed, unburdened and full of hope. For strange as it may seem, people who travel this jagged road are almost always enriched. They are more realistic, more compassionate, more profoundly human. In short, they are nearly always more beautiful than they ever could have been before traveling through grief."
-Judith Tate Learning to Live Again: The Journey Through Grief for the Widowed or Divorced

This is an excellent quote, that I feel really captures my journey for the last nine months. A journey I am still in the middle of. It expresses the pain and healing that I have experienced. A scar is a very accurate description. I will never look the same as I did before. The scar is a part of who I am. I will never forget the wound. It reminds me never to make the same mistake again. It reminds me of the pain that may seem so long ago. But the great thing about a scar is that while it may remind me of the pain, it doesn't still hurt.

Someday this divorce will be just a scar. It's no longer a gaping wound, bleeding and infected. But it's also not completely healed. Sometimes the initial scab opens back up. It still hurts. It still bleeds. It's still tender. But it's healing. The pain isn't as bad or constant. And it's getting better. And someday, it will just be a scar. A beautiful scar that makes me who I am.

I would never wish this experience on anyone. But I would never go back to who I was before. I have learned things about myself and about life that I probably would not have learned otherwise. I believe it has made me "more realistic, more compassionate, more profoundly human". And I will be a more beautiful person because of the scars.

Knowledge vs. clarity

I went to a divorce support group at Forest Lake today. My primary reason for going was to see how they did their group, as I am wanting to start one in Michigan. I am the first to admit that I wasn't very optimistic today when I went. But that was because of a bad encounter I had in a similar meeting on Divorce Care by the same guy a couple weeks ago. I thought it may have just been the setting we were in, so I decided to try the actual group once, even if it was just to learn what not to do. My primary issue is the approach they take, which is clearly illustrated in the format. It's a two hour session. The first hour and a half were spent watching two videos on various aspects of divorce. The last half hour was spent in discussion.

To me, this is telling the person that their primary problem is lack of information. If only you knew all this information, you wouldn't be having this problem. It's somewhat demeaning and insulting! And who are you to tell me how I am supposed to grieve! I will admit that some information is needed, and sometimes we need to be reminded of what we already know. But I believe there's a better way to do that than preaching. It is much more effective to help a person find their own answers. Most of the time, the problem is not that we don't know the answer (devoid of information), it's that we haven't been able to think through the entire mess of our head (devoid of clarity). If we simply present information, it simply puts a band-aid over the mess. If you then want to do something about the mess, you have to pull back the band-aid, which seems like regression, so you wouldn't be inclined to do that. So we have an idea of what we think things are supposed to look like, but we still don't really know how to get there.

The other issue is that a video or preaching has to be somewhat general, as it doesn't exactly know where people are. But the problem is that grief (and life in general) is a balance. Look at anger, for example (the subject of one of the videos). On the one extreme, anger can lead to violence, murder, bitterness, and many other things. But if we deny and suppress anger all together, it simply rots, festers, and grows worse. And finding the balance of expressing anger in healthy ways can be very difficult. Especially since people express their feelings in different ways. The only way to find this balance is in a personal way. It can't be done in general preaching (whether videotaped or live). It takes time. It takes a lot of work. But divorce isn't a quick and efficient process. It's certainly easier to tell people what to do and how they should be, and then let them put it together on their own. But part of the problem is that a grieving mind is not usually thinking clearly. I've been there. I know. I needed help and simply time to make sense of everything.

As I was thinking about all this, I thought of an interesting reality. A newspaper costs 35 cents (at least some of them do), and is full of advice. The internet is full of free advice. Most people are eager to give their opinion. It is not hard to find advice. But it can be hard to find someone to listen. Many people (myself included) pay $130 to have someone listen to them for an hour. Yes a counselor does more than just listen, and insurance does pay most of that cost, but it does illustrate the value of having someone listen to you. As a chaplain, that's what I do most. Most people already know what I would tell them, and they aren't listening anyway. They won't remember what I say; but they will remember that I stopped and simply listened. And if there is something they really are wanting to know, they are much more likely to listen and absorb it if they ask than if I just decide to tell them. I guess I've vented enough about this whole issue. But it's something I feel very strongly about. Thanks for listening.

Yea though I walk

I was thinking today about another comment my counselor made awhile back. We were again talking about this sense of urgency I had to get things "solved" or "fixed". He said to me, "It sounds like you want to rewrite the 23rd Psalm to say 'Yea though I run through the valley of the shadow of death.'". It really struck me, and has been a source of contemplation for me. Why shouldn't we run through the pain? What is the purpose of walking? Naturally I want to rush through the painful times to get to the point where I feel better. And yet, it seems that there is value in walking. Perhaps the experience is more important than the end result. Perhaps there is something we miss when we run.

And what am I running from? Pain seems to be the obvious answer. But can I ever escape pain? Is it not a part of life? Is it not what makes me stronger? I view pain as an enemy to be conquered. When something happens that causes me pain, I see what can be done to avoid that pain again. This results in growth. And because of that growth, I am a much better person. So in some ways, that pain that I hate so much is also my ally.

My divorce is a great example of this. It has caused me more pain than I have ever had before. It's something that I would not wish on anyone, and hope I never endure again. And yet, if given the option, I wouldn't go back to the person I was before. I have grown and changed so much because of this divorce, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.

But I find myself just wanting it to be over. I am sick of the pain. I know that I am on the upward part of the valley. Sometimes I can see the light at the top so clearly that I forget I'm still in the valley. Until I trip on something and am reminded that I am not there yet. The valley is still here, and so is the pain. I suppose that means growth is still here as well, but that's only a mild encouragement. I wish I could run. I wish I could get it all over with. I want to move on. And yet this divorce will probably never be completely over. It will impact me for the rest of my life, and hit me when I least expect it. For such are the characteristics of grief. The wound may heal, but there will always be a scar. A scar to remind me of the pain so that I won't go through it again. But until that time, I will try to walk.

Puzzle

This is a puzzle that I have hanging in my living room. It is an expression of my life, and a reminder to me as well.

I have been meeting with a counselor to help me deal with my divorce. One day we were discussing my preoccupation of having others think I am perfect. I know that I’m not perfect, but I like to portray that picture to others. That has been one of the most difficult implications of this divorce for me, it shatters that picture. I had this drive to get everything figured out and have everything be “right”. And I wanted it done quickly, before people saw that I didn’t have it all together. He asked me, “If you are putting together a puzzle, and are missing several pieces, if you put together all the pieces you have, is the puzzle perfect?” It was something I hadn’t really thought about before. If you don’t have all the pieces, it’s impossible to have the entire thing together. I don’t have to have all the pieces in place. In fact, I never will. But that’s OK. I can be happy with having done my best with what I have been given so far. I started a puzzle to illustrate and remind me of this concept. Some of the pieces I have lost (or should I say my cat lost for me). Some places I looked and looked for the right piece, and could never find it. Some pieces I have, I just haven’t gotten them in place right now.

Like any metaphor, it’s not perfect. In retrospect, if this is an expression of my life, I should have a lot more pieces missing! But I got caught up with putting the puzzle together, and didn’t want to stop. When you’re working with a puzzle, after you’ve put a piece in place, you can be pretty sure that it’s in the right place. In life, it’s not that easy. I have often discovered pieces that I thought were in the right place were not. There are also times that pieces I had in place fall out. In life, it’s rarely a continually steady progression. But despite these differences, this puzzle has been a powerful reminder to me that I am “a work in progress”, and that’s OK. I can hang my incompleteness proudly on my wall for others to see. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.

By the way, the puzzle is of Thomas Kinkade’s painting Courage.