North Star Writers Group

There are a lot of nuggets of truth floating around in books, newspapers, talk shows and especially conversations. For a long while, I considered myself quite wise, probably because I was aware of a lot of these nuggets.

For example, “The more you think you know, the less you actually do know.” Or take, for instance, “Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.” Then there’s my new favorite, “Marriage reveals us for who we really are.”

That’s the one that’s kicked me the hardest and in the worst possible place. And what I’m starting to learn is that I actually know very little, I worry incessantly, and I’m really not that great a guy. My newest nugget, one I came up with myself, goes something like this. The more highly you regard yourself, the more lowly you are regarded by everyone else.

In the last two years, life came at me fast. Evidently, new jobs, moving all over the country and getting married will do that to you. In the meantime, it’s become increasingly difficult to share my thoughts, conclusions and ideas. They’re changing so rapidly, my head seems to be spinning out of control. It’s what I would imagine a rabbit would feel like when he comes out of his hole and discovers that all of the surrounding forestry has been removed. Everything around you has been obliterated, chopped down, uprooted, and you’re left wondering if you’re in a dream, or if you’re just the only one who noticed.

However, being a person, and not a rabbit, I’m faced with the ugly realization that nothing around me is really all that different. I have a supporting, loving family and great friends, I live in a beautiful neighborhood, and there is always food on the table. The change, the real overhaul, the actual destruction is happening inside of me. No one else is to blame for this seeming anarchy within but me.

Where and how does that leave me?

First comes the anger. Why me? Why did all of this happen to me? Why is life so difficult, and why is change so incredibly painful? Why did God make me such a lousy man? What could I possibly have done to deserve all this uncertainty and guilt?

Next comes the denial. As a wise rap artist once uttered, “It ain’t my fault.” I’m certainly not to blame for this onslaught of tribulation. It couldn’t possibly be me who caused this. People like me! People ask me for advice! I help people! I’m a good guy! Then, out of nowhere comes the choice of acceptance that I wish I had chosen years ago. Responsibility falls on me.

Then comes the shame. I consider those affected by my instability, those I’ve wounded because of my own state of being direly wounded, and I am assaulted by almost unbearable sentiments of shame. I look around and consider my friends, my family, and mostly, my wife, and I realize that if I had done everything in my power to make life as difficult as possible for everyone around me, I would not have been much more successful than I already am. “It can’t be that bad.” Some might be surprised at how severe the ramifications of pride and selfishness can be.

All it would have taken was an acceptance of need for help and support, some genuine effort at self-improvement, and everything could have been different. But choices were made deep inside that can never be unmade. I am where I am, I am who I am, and nothing can change the past.

But then comes the hope. I’m a real tough guy until I start throwing the word hope, and sometimes start to cry. As Gandalf told Pippin in The Return of the King, “There is always hope.” Quite frankly, I don’t know how I could possibly believe this without my faith in God. But if we need something more palpable, we have only to look at those around us who have experienced transformation. The stories are out there. They are all around us, actually. I believe people can change.

But I’m starting to realize that positive change is almost impossibly difficult. In my case, without the tragedy of broken relationships and lives violently tossed as in a hurricane, I may have never realized that the only chance for mending must come from mending ourselves. I have to stop asking “why me?” and start saying “thank you for showing me who I am and giving me a chance to change.”

Yeah, try that one on for size. Try on gratitude in the face of the shame.

It seems to me that until I accept my own depravity, my mind will always be fighting itself in an ultimately losing battle. But I also find that in the moments of greatest humility and even shame, I experience the greatest feeling of freedom and peace. Say it with me. I can’t do this on my own. I am a person in need. OK, well, sometimes it works better than others, but I recommend repeating those two short sentences the next time you get really angry about something. Seriously – anything. It doesn’t matter what. I’m not 100 percent sure why, but it seems to me a winning philosophy. If you use my life as an example, it doesn’t make loads of sense for you to take my word for it, but my most recent opinion is that only in moments of utter brokenness can we truly experience hope.

This may have been a bit strong, or at least unexpected and uncomfortable, but that is life, I think, and there is no harm in trying to get used to it.

(If that nugget left you feeling unsatisfied, try rereading the ones at the top.)

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This is Column # NS053. Request permission to publish here.