On a sunny morning in June, 2003, two days after my 37th birthday, I had an unsolicited, unexpected and unbelievable encounter with God. Put more simply, without asking, praying or seeking, I woke up one morning a churchgoing agnostic (following years of rabid atheism) and put my head to the pillow that night a newly minted, highly unlikely Christian. I wish I could say my radical conversion happened gently…all harps and angels and light…but that was not my experience. On the contrary, I was nauseous, had trouble catching my breath and felt like there was a 500 lb weight on my chest. I thought I was having a heart attack. But here’s the kicker. A lifelong skeptic who was, at times, militantly anti-Christian, I suddenly believed without hesitation that the Christian story that I had frequently railed against was true. I couldn’t have told you what that story was, but I knew without the luxury of details that it was all true. Now this might make some sense if I needed a spiritual experience. Say if I was fighting a serious illness or was down on my luck financially-or maybe if I were struggling with a painful loss or trying to navigate a tough personal challenge. But I didn’t need a spiritual experience. As far as I was concerned, my life was perfect. I was a successful PR executive making a healthy six-figure salary, married to my best friend who also made a six-figure salary. We had three healthy, happy kids and lived in our dream home about an hour northwest of New York City. I was seven years sober and had faced down most of my major issues/resentments in a program of recovery. Life was pretty good. Yet, there I was-sick, crying and convinced that something beyond my comprehension had happened to me. No one was more surprised than my husband Martin, who was there with me when it happened. He had been a Christian since he was a kid and knew the extent to which I thought the whole Christian thing was a contrivance. I had fought vigorously over coffee and cigarettes to convince him that religion had been created by leaders to control the masses or by weak individuals to soften the blow of their incapacity to deal with their day to day lives. He never did come around to my way of thinking, but I figured if he could overlook the fact that I was an alcoholic single mother with two kids and marry me, I could overlook the fact that he was a Christian and marry him. So here I was, convinced that this Christian thing was true, with no idea what that really meant. What followed was years of learning that is discussed in much greater detail in a book that I am writing. Suffice it to say that I learned that following Christ and living by the dictates of the Holy Spirit does not always add up to the overly simplified “join the team and your life will be wonderful” message that I have heard so frequently. As a matter of fact, the years since that day in 2003 have been some of the most difficult I have ever encountered. We have lost more than you can imagine-money, possessions, prestige and people. And yet, I would not turn back for the world. So, now I’m trying to make sense of this new life. Attempting to go beyond predictable platitudes in order to allow this change of heart to lead to a genuine change of life. This blog will chronicle the day to day joys and trials of my journey and raise some key questions and challenges I face as I find my place in a faith that still confounds me.
Got home from the hospital last night following an unexpected three day stay that included lots of tests and a few odd physical episodes of unknown origin that quacked like seizures but didn’t quite walk like them. I will spare you the details of prodding, poking and monitoring. Suffice it to say that I feel a little beat up, have as many questions as answers and will know more as results come in and further tests are conducted in the coming weeks.
But that’s not what this post is about…
This post is about a sneaky bit of arrogance that masks itself as humility and results in an arms-length distance between me and the folks I interact with on this blog and in my day to day life.
I should have seen it sooner. The hints were there in my writing–or should I say my lack of writing–in the weeks since this started on the day after Thanksgiving. “I’m just procrastinating,” I’d tell myself, as I wrote a sentence or two and saved them, half convincing myself I would actually return to them later. “I’m blocked,” I justified as I unintentionally, one day at a time, just stopped writing.
It wasn’t until it became obvious that this little health challenge appears to be lingering that I began to see that I was neither blocked nor procrastinating. I just didn’t want to admit to anyone out there that there was something wrong with me…
My first thought? The illusion of perfection thing I thought I’d kicked to the curb years ago was rearing its ugly head. But a little reflection (and the fact that I have a book hitting shelves in May that makes excruciatingly clear just how flawed I am) told me that my old bravado was not the problem. Instead, something new occurred to me. By admitting that my health is in question, I open myself up to the well wishes, caring and encouragement of others.
And for some reason, that makes me incredibly uncomfortable…
Too tired to unpack this one at the moment, but thought I’d start by getting it out there. For now I’m just wondering: anyone else have trouble when it comes to accepting love, help and support from others?
posted February 6, 2010 at 9:51 pm
I can relate Joan. But I am very glad that you are home. Be well and God be with you and the family, too!
posted February 6, 2010 at 10:44 pm
I’m so right there with you! Receiving well-wishes and sympathy makes me incredibly uncomfortable. To the point that I also tend to withdraw when I am dealing with something that might trigger sympathy, etc. I can’ quite put my finger on why that is. I think some of the contributing factors are:
Not wanting to face directly how tough a situation you are dealing with is.
Also, some people feed off of other people’s sympathy; it makes them feel special and they come to crave the attention. I don’t want to be one of those people.
Not wanting other people to think that you are one of those people who is seeking attention and sympathy.
Being the nice one who helps others can be empowering and help us think well of ourselves. Not being that person can feel like the opposite.
One piece of advice that my mother gave me which has helped a lot is that other people also enjoy being able to do something nice, offer comfort, be helpful, etc. If we refuse to let others do these things for us, we are depriving them of the chance to take pleasure from helping another human being. So as long as you know you are not taking advantage of someone, the nicest thing you can do for them will often be to allow them to help/comfort you.
Good luck to you! I hope you are feeling well again soon.
posted February 7, 2010 at 4:02 pm
I understand what you mean – I’m just the same way. I’ve known this for ages but your post made me think about it again and this is what I figured out.
So for me I think it is an identity, self-esteem thing – unconsciously my current identity is my protective shield against a world I perceive as hostile and unaccepting of (?the real) me.
I draw most of my sense of self from my role as healer, counsellor, supporter, helper etc (I’m an RN by training and an INFP type personality by birth!)I’ve also been divorced for going on 15 years and have taken on the role of strong, independent woman, someone who doesn’t ‘need’ others to get by. I’m the one who copes in any crisis, leads when others don’t etc etc… so for me to give up that role for any reason (illness, financial need, or sheer loneliness) is very hard – not only do I feel very uncomfortable with it, but at some level I start feeling like a failure, a loser, inadequate etc. The person I thought I was for many, many years …
Great and thought-provoking post. And it should go without saying that I have a great deal of concern for your physical health at present – the RN in me is trying to diagnose you and the INFP wants to hold your hand, support you and see you healed. You will be in my thoughts, Joan.
Lin
posted February 7, 2010 at 8:40 pm
Grace to you, Joan. What a roller coaster you’ve been on. I understand.
Almost 20 years ago, my heart started pounding, my weight plummeted and I couldn’t sleep. It took several weeks for doctors to figure out I had Graves disease. The illness, from which I eventually recovered, exposed mental/spiritual flaws that I struggle with to this day. I find it much easier to care for others than be cared for. My default setting, when things aren’t going well for me, is to go down a hole and pull the hole in after me. Better to share no news than bad news, my sick mind pleads.
I’m so grateful to have a Higher Power who digs me out every time. You have one too. And he works through people who WANT to care for and encourage you. Let them!
Meanwhile, I pray that your doctors prescribe the right treatment and that your capacity to accept encouragement grows beyond anything you can imagine.
posted February 8, 2010 at 8:42 pm
Lin: Thanks for your concern. Glad to report that the anti-seizure medication I started taking appears to be helping…
posted February 9, 2010 at 12:15 pm
Joan – I hope and trust that you will take care of yourself and that this health issue will get resolved! Thanks for your transparency here – this will help many people – the idea of perfectionism masquerading as humility, not wanting to admit when things are wrong, or when we are over our heads. Happens to the best of us, all the time!
I know that whatever you are going through, God is teaching and will allow you to share that lesson with others.
posted February 11, 2010 at 12:09 am
Thanks Bradley. I appreciate your encouragement.
posted February 17, 2010 at 4:15 pm
Dear Joan, I had written a really nice response to this when you first posted and then I guess my time was UP, I took to long and the site would not let me post it. Basically, it was that I felt the same about holding on to my independence but that when you let others do unto you, you find out all sorts of wonderful things about them. Not saying it is easy to let go but it gets easier. Be well. xo I think I also said something about being prepared to be dazzled by the unexpected beauty of what you “mean” to all the people who love you. That’s actually kind of *fun.* ; D