words to die by

this is a sequel to a post i haven't published because it's embarrassing. i intend to though. not because i feel obligated, but because it's part of the story, and it will lend context to this one.

i seem to have developed an interesting defense mechanism. i like to think of it as a sort of secret service organization, designed to protect me from getting hurt. i think to some extent it's always been there, or at least for a long time. but i suspect that it really ramped up a few years ago. if it had an antihero monologue, this is what it would've said:

"romantic feelings have taken you over like a cancer. they're destroying you from the inside. and so, as with a cancer, we must eradicate every last bit of them. i will deprive them of fuel, starve them out, and euthanize any stubborn remnants. i will cauterize your heart to prevent reinfection. and if they, or any of their kind, even think about resurrecting themselves or showing their faces around here again . . . i'll be standing behind them with a gun to their head."

and like many defense mechanisms are prone to do, this one may have grown to become more of a hinderance than a help, at this point. it was once the case that i would rather feel a dull Nothing than the overwhelming pain i was facing. but i don't actually believe that blocking out entire sections of my heart is a healthy long-term solution, and it's probably not necessary anymore. it's scary to take risks. but sometimes it can be beneficial.

(i don't mean to imply that romance is necessary for feeling anything. i just mean that if that particular feeling should become a possibility, i would typically rather aim for Nothing instead.)

kill your dreams

believe it or not, i'm actually generally very happy in this season of life! that's probably why i'm able to write about this, analyzing it instead of just surviving.

buckle up. this could get heavy.

i have observed that sometimes, in the midst of important relationships, i will sometimes inevitably create dreams for my future that are tied to those people. sometimes they're hypothetical futures we create together. other times, it's just me imagining the possibilities of things we could do or build together.

either way, this is beautiful, and hopeful, and exciting, but it can also be dangerous. this may actually be sort of a sequel to my post about vulnerability. because in that moment, that person becomes inextricably linked to something attached to your very core. now something about you is dependent on them, or at least, cannot be fully detached from them without a lot of difficulty.

so. if, for some reason, that future becomes impossible, it can be devastating. the example that immediately comes to mind is when that person is no longer in my life, or not in the same capacity as they once were, so i'm going to use that to continue the illustration.

i have experienced this more than once. ways i have dealt with it include 1) shutting down all dreams and hopes for every version of the future--in essence, trying to erase the stakes, 2) creating only dreams that i can carry out without others' involvement (reducing the risk involved), and 3) carrying on the core value of that dream within my own identity. there may be others, i'm sure, but these three stand out at the moment.

1) shutting down dreams and hopes

i've been asked from time to time what my hopes and plans for the future are. the thing is, after the last dreams you've constructed have just come crashing down, it can be difficult to believe that rebuilding is worthwhile. it can feel like anything you do or hope for is futile in the face of the sudden changing of fate. sometimes, in this mindset, i have said "i look into my future and see only a void." not morosely. not to be dramatic. just to try to be honest and realistic about what my expectations for the future were--in other words, i didn't have any anymore. (whoa, pull up a little, we're nosediving.)

2) eliminating dependence on others

this is maybe not the worst way of handling this situation. my main issue with it though, is that it sort of circumvents interdependence, which i do believe is important. there's kind of a "strong independent woman" vibe about this that, if i examine it closely, seems like a cover up for insecurity.

3) internalizing and identifying as the dream

this is an interesting strategy because it seems to be trying to do a few (perhaps contradictory) things at once. in some sense, it carries on the memory of something that was once meaningful to me. sort of a "we'll always have Paris," situation. it also, maybe consequently, validates what once was. if i have been permanently changed for the better for knowing someone, even if they're not in my life anymore, it feels like providing empirical evidence that the experience of knowing them, both in joy and pain, was worth it. and when an important relationship ends, believing that it was all worth it can be a balm for the sorrow of the loss. that doesn't mean i don't still care about those dreams in and of themselves! but i have not found great success in extricating the--often painful--memories of the relationships that founded them. though sometimes, over time and through giving the dreams enough alterations and alternate contexts, they can eventually somewhat transcend the context in which they were created.

what's the result of all this? in an effort not to ignore the past, i continue to carry on the torch of what used to propel me forward, though the person/people who initially made me care about it are, in some respect, gone. and then at the same time, i try to avoid the same outcome in the future, so i stop dreaming, so i will minimize what i have to lose.

but isn't that kind of backwards? at its worst, it carries around the burden of the past whilst destroying propellant toward the future. and isn't the whole point of dreams to fuel us to move forward?

now. today, i am remembering that Hank Green has mentioned that you don't owe it to your past self to fulfill the dreams that you used to have. it's an interesting insight that, while i think it's probably true (at least most of the time), i wrestle against a bit, for the above reasons. i tend to have a strong connection to my past--i believe that who i used to be is still kind of a part of me, to some degree.

that being said, i'm contemplating the wisdom of allowing one's old dreams to die. or like, even old preferences, interests, or thought processes. i think sometimes i hold onto things long past they point where they have stopped being beneficial. it keeps me trapped in a trajectory toward a dead future, unable to open my mind to other possibilities that exist in reality.

all this does seem to be part of any grieving process. it's not like i've never done it before. but in the moment, it can be hard to discern what the right way forward is. when is a relationship functionally over? when is a dream impossible to fulfill in its original design? how important is the dream itself compared to the people the dream was constructed around? is it better to do more cutting and throwing away, or more altering and recycling? surely it depends on the specifics of the situation. but perhaps if i didn't try to salvage everything, it might make it easier to create new hopes for my new reality.

not only that, actually. step 1: i tend to think about the past AS the present for like . . . a weirdly long time? so perhaps, for moving forward when i need to move forward, seeing old dreams as something i *used* to want or something i *used* to care about, it might make it a little bit easier.

smells like duty

today, my groceries were bought by a stranger.

i was all the way up at the register when i realized that not only did i not have my wallet on my person, i hadn't even brought it with me today at all. this . . . is a shamefully common occurrence. so i was starting to (annoyedly) gather my groceries to put them back when i heard, "nevermind, he's got it." "he" being the guy i had let go in front of me while i tried to find my money and get my act together.

i looked up. "wait, are you serious?" this wouldn't even be what i would consider a "cheap" shopping day.

he just kind of shrugged. "[stuff] happens, right?"

i think i sort of nodded, and thanked him emphatically. it eventually occurred to me to offer to venmo him, but he just said not to worry about it. which is great! not worrying about things is my special talent. that's why i have a blog like this.

it's not that i was worried, exactly. i was more just taken aback. it's not like i asked someone to step in for help, or would have ever even expected that--it was my own dumb mistake, after all. the point is, he in no way had to do that, and he did it apparently without hesitation, and wasn't even interested in being paid back for it.

so yes. there are unexpectedly kind people in the world. that alone is enough to inspire me to be kinder and pay it forward. but to get introspective for a moment (after all, aren't i the most interesting subject to focus on?), my knee-jerk reaction is noteworthy for a couple of reasons:

1) i felt really bad that this was, as far as weekly shopping goes, a bit on the expensive side--not crazy extravagant, but the kind of shopping that would be evened out by barely having to buy any groceries next week. for context, i tend to be pretty aware of the flow of money. not like, in a diligent way all the time, where i'm extremely organized about it (though i try). rather, i'm very aware of when things will cost me a lot, either for my own sake or for someone else's. and i'm very aware when others spend money on me. that doesn't always mean i will withhold spending money for someone else, it's just that it tends to be a deliberate decision to do so. i wouldn't say that i'm particularly generous by nature, which is something i'm not proud of (though to be fair, i think over time i have grown in that regard, to some extent).

2) i couldn't get over how this kindness was not in any way required. i tend to feel VERY bound by duty, in general. i think i've posted about this before, but it is one of the largest factors in how i make most of my decisions--at least decisions that seem to have some kind of a moral component to them. but there was no reasonable sense of duty that should have compelled this guy to help me out in this situation, especially so freely.

this second point is particularly interesting to me because it seems to present a tension between two values which i hold in high regard: duty and grace. strange, no? it seems like they ought to go hand in hand. so why do i react the way i do? many times, i feel like i ought to be kind, or i ought to help someone if it's not too much trouble. many of us find this, i think--kindness may not always be technically required (a right), but it is often socially expected (an obligation). but then again, i also ought to use my money wisely, and i ought to make sure i have everything i need before i leave the house, and i ought to plan out my choices instead of acting on impulse. i have responsibilities to myself and to society (at minimum to be basically functional), and so do others. so there can be a conflict between the expectations i have for myself and the allowances i'm making for others. and not becoming bothered by that double standard can feel like a duty too.

now for this stranger: his actions were neither required, nor socially expected. and he would've had every reason to just carry on his way. this is why it's so surprising to me that he didn't.

the mentality of duty i described before, i'm pretty sure is in error. i think i'm missing the point. because it's legalism at its core. making a duty out of kindness? it's Pharisaical. and as a result? it can be difficult for me to accept grace, and to give it. ironic, right? considering that grace is the foundation of my entire belief system. so i need to be humbled. today, and again, and again. like the classic praying for patience, this is the kind of acknowledgement that is scary to make because it will likely be (and is) unpleasant. i need to be knocked down and land on my face so that i can love grace, and know how much i need it, and love giving it. i have thought in the past i had had enough of that to get the point, but this might be the kind of growth that needs to be hammered in deeper and deeper from time to time. because the truth is, i want to be moved by compassion, not merely duty.

rusty

whew, i am out of practice at this. remember when i used to create more than i consumed? but i have had the longest writer's block in history, and so it has helped to edit and publish some of the 100+ drafts littering my home page. i think in some ways, it's good for me to return to old writings from the perspective of being on the other side of them, with a mind less prone to being unraveled by doing so. i may do more soon. some of them are EXTREMELY cringey, so that'll be fun--but i'll try not to be too judgmental, and i hope if anyone reads it, they will be kind enough to do the same. anything i end up publishing here gets there because it mattered, and feels disingenuous to omit. and it still matters--the writing, i mean. though naturally the way i process through things, and the frequency with which it is necessary for me to do so, have changed somewhat over time. i keep telling myself that i will try not to hoard imperfect drafts anymore, and instead just publish them while they are still relevant. we'll see how i do from here on out.

2 days late

but it's fine.

you (present or future) are welcome to answer any amount or combination of the questions, including all or none of them. in the event of ambiguity in the questions, you are welcome to interpret the questions however you choose. this survey will remain open, and i would be grateful for your thoughts regardless of timing; however, if you are answering this at the time of output, i would be especially grateful if i could receive answers by the end of 2023.

1. who are you?
2. what is your quest?
3. who is God?
4. how are you feeling right now?
5. on a scale of 1-10, rate this year for you.
6. what was your favorite part of this year?
7. what was your least favorite part of this year?
8. what is your favorite color?
9. what is something you've been thinking about lately?
10. what is your favorite season?
11. how have you grown in the last year?
12. what goals do you have for the next year (activities, character growth, and/or other)?
13. what is your go-to drink order?
14. what is something you would like to learn?
15. when was a time when you felt deeply satisfied with something you had done?
16. gray or grey?
17. how would you like to see me grow?
18. describe your 16-year-old self.
19. what is something you like about our friendship?
20. what is something you would like more of in our friendship?
21. what would a successful life look like for you?
22. who is someone you look up to, and why?
23. what is a fear you have confronted in some way?
24. what is a deal-breaker in a friendship?
25. what is one question you've had for a while, which you don't have an answer to?
26. what is one song that elicits a strong emotion from you (and what is the emotion)?
27. do you have any powerful scent memories?
28. what is a quote (not your own) that means a lot to you?
29. have you ever intentionally made a change in your life that has stuck?
30. what artists, shows, or podcasts have you gotten into recently?

bonus question:

would you like me to answer a questionnaire like this?

Defender

imagine, for a moment, that you spend most of your time in your head, being constantly bombarded with accusations all day long. they are voices that shout at you from every angle, echoing against the walls of your mind and projecting onto any feasible being. they take the form of what you think others must think of you. they dramatize how others would see you if they really knew you. they remind you of all the ways you fail. they remind you how different you are from how you wish you were. they tell you that you’re basically letting people down constantly, all the time—that’s pretty much all you do, and if you don’t, it’s a fluke. or they say, “it’s ok! just do better! just stop failing!” or they draw comparisons: “if everyone else can do this, you should be able to too. it can’t be that hard.” or they suggest, “maybe it’s because you’re being lazy and stubborn. have you considered trying harder?”

yes. constantly, in fact.

it seems like these voices come from all around you, from everyone you know. you feel confident that no one will defend you, so you withdraw. you raise up walls. you become your own defender. because you don’t believe those voices, not really. except . . . what if they are true? if they were, would your stubborn refusal to listen become your own enemy?

and the louder they get, the harder it is to fight them off. and the longer you fight, the harder it is to get up from each fall. you’ve long ago passed the point of diminishing returns, but it doesn’t matter, because you aren’t allowed to stop trying. but oh, you're so tired, and it just never stops. these accusations and failures and responsibilities surround you, encroaching on you every moment. you struggle to breathe. you struggle to move. you cover your ears to try to shut them out.

in this moment, you remember that you are supposed to lift your struggles and anxieties to God. but you are afraid. you want to hide, not because you think he won’t see you, but because you are worried he won’t get behind you. you’re afraid he will join in the chorus of voices, confirming what you’ve always been afraid was true, that you’re just not doing a very good job at life, that it’s all because of your poor character development, that it’s up to you to be better, and then you’ll represent him well and have his favor. in this moment, you are not afraid that God won’t defend your sins and your failings. you are afraid he won’t defend you.




“Cast all your anxiety on him”—why? “because he cares for you.”
oh . . . really? is that what you've been believing? because it doesn't really seem like that's what you've been believing.

“Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.”


huh.
it seems you may have had the wrong idea about who God is. maybe he’s not like the other voices.

observations on suffering

suffering, specifically the kind that occurs fully in your head, is an interesting thing. it seems to be an acknowledgement that what is going on in the world or in your circumstances is, on some level, not right. at least from your perception. something i've noticed from both experiencing and observing suffering is that no one can take a person's pain and suffering away from them. it is the sufferer who has to journey to a place where they can relinquish it themselves.

not only that, but no one really has the right to ask or to try to force a sufferer to relinquish those things--in that person's mind, it is like asking them to stop acknowledging the wrongness of their situation. trying to force the issue is likely to make the person hold onto their suffering even more tightly--like they are their only defender, and they will defend themselves with the validation of their own suffering. in doing this, ironically, they suffer more intensely, and for longer.

so you cannot, and probably should not try, to make a person give up their suffering, even when you can see that the more tightly they cling to it, the worse it becomes. but maybe the best thing for a suffering person is to journey with them to a place where that suffering is no longer necessary.

(as a side note, this is at the heart of anger vs. forgiveness.)

to be clear, i am not saying that if you are suffering, it is your own fault for having feelings or for being in that state of mind. but i think that it's easy to be so aware of our suffering, to focus on it and worry it, that we don't always give ourselves the best chance to get out of it. awareness of our feelings and assumptions can be helpful, but after a certain point, i'm not sure we really do ourselves any favors by dwelling on it. we reach a point of diminishing returns on the self-awareness.