I felt really sad this morning. Jean and I spent time together yesterday that felt strained. We were together and did not have a fight. But I felt tension under the surface that I didn’t identify or effectively deal with at the time.
We met in the early evening at a business networking event. Jean arrived late, after the presentation had started. I’d noticed her absence. She’d planned to attend and a mutual friend had asked about her during the social hour. When I spotted her later, after the presentations were underway, she graced me with a gigantic smile.
My first unsettled feelings came as things were winding down, post-presentation, amidst the tail-end networking. She gave me a “high sign” that it was time to leave. I felt irritated, but as I look back, I was not really conscious of that feeling. I guess I felt she was telling me it was time to leave rather than conveying that she wanted to go – and wanted to leave with me at that time. We hadn’t pre-planned anything for afterwards. I saw the networking part of this event as very important to my job search. I needed every minute of it. I got her “let’s go” signal while still wandering around looking for people I should connect with. I saw her body language as saying...“enough already let’s get out of here.” I felt irritated, but not at a conscious level. I didn’t say anything. I might have even misinterpreted her message. But I felt she wasn’t respecting that I might not be “done”. I guess I wanted her to read my mind and know that the networking was really important to me. It sounds dumb, and isn’t logical, but that seems to be what I was feeling.
We left and went out to eat together. During the meal I felt a snippy tone between us. I certainly saw it in her, but looking back on it now, I can see I was expressing hostility. I dismissed her disappointment that we didn’t end up at our first choice restaurant. I teased her about making a wrong turn on the way over. When she probed about whether I’d gotten together with Horace lately, I got defensive and started to shut down.
Here’s the deal. Jean lately has been saying that “nearly all our interactions are negative… every conversation feels like a minefield.” So I’ve been trying to NOT FIGHT. While we indeed did not fight, I can see that my no-fighting strategy didn’t really work. We were not close or intimate. By ignoring (unconsciously) how I was feeling, and soldiering-on and avoiding conflict – I missed a chance to connect with her.
At the end of our time together, I left feeling that Jean had been hostile towards me. I was blaming her for the tension. However, by writing this out and focusing just on my actions and my assumptions, I can see how I really contributed to that not being a nice evening.
Note to self: pay attention to my own icky feelings. Bring them to the surface. Try owning them and sharing them. Maybe that will work better than “not fighting”.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Now it's your turn
This blog is intended to be conversational, like when we're together in person - one-on-one or in a small group. I don't intend this to be "all about me". I'm sharing to get the ball rolling. The next step is for you articulate men to share with each other.
If you're unfamiliar with the protocol...when a posting catches your interest and feel compelled to respond, click at the bottom where it says "comments" (there's an envelope icon). You can post revealing your real identity or a psydonym like I have. So rather than sending me a personal email, I request that you post your comments here to manifest an online conversation.
Thanks!
If you're unfamiliar with the protocol...when a posting catches your interest and feel compelled to respond, click at the bottom where it says "comments" (there's an envelope icon). You can post revealing your real identity or a psydonym like I have. So rather than sending me a personal email, I request that you post your comments here to manifest an online conversation.
Thanks!
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Lying to get to the truth
Some of you have asked: “Why am I writing this blog?” Why invite my best friends to read my journal? Why post it on a public web page? These questions bend my mind.
The short answer is: I’m blogging for the sake of personal growth and relational growth among “my fellow men”.
When I TALK with you, man friends, I feel growth. Murky things get a bit clearer. My soul strengthens and I feel closer to God. It’s a two-way street…I see YOUR faces light up when we’re together. I want more of this good stuff.
When I hang out with you guys, growth springs from developing intimacy. Funny thing about intimacy – it’s not a man thing – supposedly – but I like it. The key to intimacy seems to be honesty, openness, and real sharing of our emotions. That’s hard to do. I’ve experienced this man-to-man closeness when together in person – camping, out for lunch, our church renewal group. Yet there are only so many times each week we can get together. I resist picking up the phone and talking. And when I’m on the phone with you, I can’t get myself to dive below the surface. Perhaps blogging, can provide more? I don’t know…but here I am trying.
Something I have shared with some of you – I’ve been struggling with depression. I lost my job. Jean and I are at the brink of divorce. She’s moved out. We came within a hair’s breadth of deciding to sell our house. At times I get overwhelmed by sadness or feeling hopeless. I need to feel alive. I need to move forward. This blog project is a way to challenge myself and feel alive. You, my friends, can help.
My other joyful challenge is swimming. Today I competed in a 5K open water swim. It was brilliant! I swam hard and steady for more than an hour across the basin of the lake and back. There was a guy close on my tail through most of the race who I was DETERMINED would not overtake me. The last 30 minutes I looked over my shoulder every few minutes to spot him. The pressure of seeing him on my tail motivated me to keep up my effort and my pace. I finished twenty seconds ahead of him. Yipee!
A worthy challenge is tough and tense. Blogging passes that test because I am DEEPLY scared to be put this stuff out there…and I feel compelled to move ahead anyway. The day I posted the first entries I deeply dreaded your feedback. The feeling of impending doom was so great that I could barely move my arms when I swam that day!
The risks in this blog are real – and not just the ego exposure if my writing sucks. I risk offending and alienating you. I offended my brother David, and got an earful about how he was upset by how I characterized what happened between us as kids. I risk offending Jean, Hope, and Dodie when I write about my relationships with them. While they aren’t the target audience for this blog, they’ll probably read it from time to time. That’s a big reason I’m fictionalizing the names – to protect them, as well as to keep this separate from my work life.
I love a creative challenge – and I see this project that way. I’m intrigued by the challenge to openly express intimate feelings and thoughts, honestly, while avoiding hurting people I care about, using the public Internet. I’m going to try it for a few months, challenging myself to write once or twice each week, and see where it goes.
Lying to get to the truth? I’m lying about the real names of my family and my friends, so I can get at the truth about who I am, and who we are together. I don’t know if fictionalizing the names is necessary, but it seems prudent. As to what I’m writing about, I welcome you to challenge me. Let me know if you don’t see me facing the truth of who I am as a man and who we are as friends. I might be wrong, but I think that by putting our dialog out on the public internet we’ll be able to invite others into a discussion, expanding the circle, and increasing the benefits.
Let me know what you think.
The short answer is: I’m blogging for the sake of personal growth and relational growth among “my fellow men”.
When I TALK with you, man friends, I feel growth. Murky things get a bit clearer. My soul strengthens and I feel closer to God. It’s a two-way street…I see YOUR faces light up when we’re together. I want more of this good stuff.
When I hang out with you guys, growth springs from developing intimacy. Funny thing about intimacy – it’s not a man thing – supposedly – but I like it. The key to intimacy seems to be honesty, openness, and real sharing of our emotions. That’s hard to do. I’ve experienced this man-to-man closeness when together in person – camping, out for lunch, our church renewal group. Yet there are only so many times each week we can get together. I resist picking up the phone and talking. And when I’m on the phone with you, I can’t get myself to dive below the surface. Perhaps blogging, can provide more? I don’t know…but here I am trying.
Something I have shared with some of you – I’ve been struggling with depression. I lost my job. Jean and I are at the brink of divorce. She’s moved out. We came within a hair’s breadth of deciding to sell our house. At times I get overwhelmed by sadness or feeling hopeless. I need to feel alive. I need to move forward. This blog project is a way to challenge myself and feel alive. You, my friends, can help.
My other joyful challenge is swimming. Today I competed in a 5K open water swim. It was brilliant! I swam hard and steady for more than an hour across the basin of the lake and back. There was a guy close on my tail through most of the race who I was DETERMINED would not overtake me. The last 30 minutes I looked over my shoulder every few minutes to spot him. The pressure of seeing him on my tail motivated me to keep up my effort and my pace. I finished twenty seconds ahead of him. Yipee!
A worthy challenge is tough and tense. Blogging passes that test because I am DEEPLY scared to be put this stuff out there…and I feel compelled to move ahead anyway. The day I posted the first entries I deeply dreaded your feedback. The feeling of impending doom was so great that I could barely move my arms when I swam that day!
The risks in this blog are real – and not just the ego exposure if my writing sucks. I risk offending and alienating you. I offended my brother David, and got an earful about how he was upset by how I characterized what happened between us as kids. I risk offending Jean, Hope, and Dodie when I write about my relationships with them. While they aren’t the target audience for this blog, they’ll probably read it from time to time. That’s a big reason I’m fictionalizing the names – to protect them, as well as to keep this separate from my work life.
I love a creative challenge – and I see this project that way. I’m intrigued by the challenge to openly express intimate feelings and thoughts, honestly, while avoiding hurting people I care about, using the public Internet. I’m going to try it for a few months, challenging myself to write once or twice each week, and see where it goes.
Lying to get to the truth? I’m lying about the real names of my family and my friends, so I can get at the truth about who I am, and who we are together. I don’t know if fictionalizing the names is necessary, but it seems prudent. As to what I’m writing about, I welcome you to challenge me. Let me know if you don’t see me facing the truth of who I am as a man and who we are as friends. I might be wrong, but I think that by putting our dialog out on the public internet we’ll be able to invite others into a discussion, expanding the circle, and increasing the benefits.
Let me know what you think.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
The wake up call
Three years ago I got a wake up call from my daughter that challenged me to face everything and change my life. To be a man. She told me that as a father, I had failed.
The wake up call came on an ordinary Thursday afternoon in the cluttered vestibule we call the Drop Off. My older daughter Hope was leaving for college. A grown up young woman heading with mixed emotions to RU, 200 miles away and her parents’ alma mater, both physically and emotionally closer to home she would have preferred. Thinking back on it now, there had to be SOMETHING spurring her on (anger) to be blunt with me in a way she had been before. There was one of our typical family squabbles going on. Her pre-pubescent sister Dodie was causing a fuss in her usual manner – foot dragging, sulking, or outright defiance – and my wife Jean, the reliable dispenser of swift justice had called off the fun family outing we’d envisioned. Nobody was going ANYWHERE fun because Dodie had ruined it – again. I let this scenario play out – again. Hope turned to me, looked me squarely in the eyes, and said “You know Dad, you have let us down, again. Mom’s mad, and she has reason to be, but Dodie and I have needed you to take care of us. We’ve needed you to stand up for us. But you haven’t. You just don’t.”
My heart was pierced. Me, a bad father? Could it be???? I had to listen to what she was saying. I knew I needed to DO something. But what? Pay attention. Take care of my girls. But Hope was headed to college – flying the roost. As far as I could tell it was too late for me to change my parenting style and make a difference for her (wrong!), but Dodie was a different story. She was twelve, a budding teenager, a hellion, a ball of fire, the thorn in my wife’s side, a charmer, an award-winning pianist who no longer played, and an accomplished equestrian who was losing interest in staying with THAT passion despite our investments. While the wake up call came from Hope, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had time to change, time to get involved, time to be the man – the father – the Dad that Dodie deserved. I had no idea WHAT to do, but I knew I needed to make a change. Little did I know that it would change my entire life.
The wake up call came on an ordinary Thursday afternoon in the cluttered vestibule we call the Drop Off. My older daughter Hope was leaving for college. A grown up young woman heading with mixed emotions to RU, 200 miles away and her parents’ alma mater, both physically and emotionally closer to home she would have preferred. Thinking back on it now, there had to be SOMETHING spurring her on (anger) to be blunt with me in a way she had been before. There was one of our typical family squabbles going on. Her pre-pubescent sister Dodie was causing a fuss in her usual manner – foot dragging, sulking, or outright defiance – and my wife Jean, the reliable dispenser of swift justice had called off the fun family outing we’d envisioned. Nobody was going ANYWHERE fun because Dodie had ruined it – again. I let this scenario play out – again. Hope turned to me, looked me squarely in the eyes, and said “You know Dad, you have let us down, again. Mom’s mad, and she has reason to be, but Dodie and I have needed you to take care of us. We’ve needed you to stand up for us. But you haven’t. You just don’t.”
My heart was pierced. Me, a bad father? Could it be???? I had to listen to what she was saying. I knew I needed to DO something. But what? Pay attention. Take care of my girls. But Hope was headed to college – flying the roost. As far as I could tell it was too late for me to change my parenting style and make a difference for her (wrong!), but Dodie was a different story. She was twelve, a budding teenager, a hellion, a ball of fire, the thorn in my wife’s side, a charmer, an award-winning pianist who no longer played, and an accomplished equestrian who was losing interest in staying with THAT passion despite our investments. While the wake up call came from Hope, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had time to change, time to get involved, time to be the man – the father – the Dad that Dodie deserved. I had no idea WHAT to do, but I knew I needed to make a change. Little did I know that it would change my entire life.
For my fellow man: a dedication
Last month my friend John, his brain ravaged with cancer, exhorted me to write and publish the things we've talked about..."for my fellow man".
It was powerful to hear this from John, who frequently can't retain or completely express his thoughts. Up until last year John was a successful real estate developer. He is one of several friends I have learned so much from as I have slowly openned myself up to close male relationships. I stand on his shoulders and others, as a man finally growing up (in my 50's!). I feel more energy in my life today as a result of leaning on these guys, learning to listen, to share, and to open myself to real relationships.
For some time now I've felt called to share the joy close male relationships with a larger circle. John and I, along with a few friends have shared some exciting journeys over the past couple years. John's exhortation to me was a reminder of a calling I've shared with him over the past couple years to write about that journey. The things he and I have spoken about might benefit "our fellow man” through the written word.
So I started writing, perched in the guest room of my friend Horace. I'd been fired from my job a month earlier, was on the verge of divorce from my wife of 28 years, and had moved out. I've been feeling confused and asking God to help make sense of it all. Maybe writing will help.
My aspiration is to share a story that some may actually be interested in reading. Not a mushy feelings girly story (OK there may be some of that), but an adventure story of a man’s battles.
When John challenged me to write “for my fellow man”, I knew who he meant.
My Fellow Man
You are Mark who joined our renewal group several months ago. Linking arms with Gary and me in loving John through his disease. Meeting weekly to go out for lunch, and then when lunch got to be too difficult for our friend, shifting to a late afternoon hiatus when John's energy was strongest. Mark you have lifted me up with your stronger faith, and have encouraged me to share my trials through your curiosity about my broken marriage.
You are Gary who taught me to be the boy scout I never was. Gary you stepped up to be a true brother to me.
You are David, the brother with whom I grew up so unsteadily. Our parents didn't draw limits for you or protect me. My only blood brother in whom I see reflections of myself that I love and that I wish to transcend.
You are Horace, whose guest room I so gratefully occupied when my wife and I separated…again. Horace your devotion to your wife and kids (normal and disabled) led you ahead of me down the path of awakening, separation, elevation, then peace.
John, David, Gary, and Mark - my story is your story. My prayer is that my story is helpful to you.
It was powerful to hear this from John, who frequently can't retain or completely express his thoughts. Up until last year John was a successful real estate developer. He is one of several friends I have learned so much from as I have slowly openned myself up to close male relationships. I stand on his shoulders and others, as a man finally growing up (in my 50's!). I feel more energy in my life today as a result of leaning on these guys, learning to listen, to share, and to open myself to real relationships.
For some time now I've felt called to share the joy close male relationships with a larger circle. John and I, along with a few friends have shared some exciting journeys over the past couple years. John's exhortation to me was a reminder of a calling I've shared with him over the past couple years to write about that journey. The things he and I have spoken about might benefit "our fellow man” through the written word.
So I started writing, perched in the guest room of my friend Horace. I'd been fired from my job a month earlier, was on the verge of divorce from my wife of 28 years, and had moved out. I've been feeling confused and asking God to help make sense of it all. Maybe writing will help.
My aspiration is to share a story that some may actually be interested in reading. Not a mushy feelings girly story (OK there may be some of that), but an adventure story of a man’s battles.
When John challenged me to write “for my fellow man”, I knew who he meant.
My Fellow Man
You are Mark who joined our renewal group several months ago. Linking arms with Gary and me in loving John through his disease. Meeting weekly to go out for lunch, and then when lunch got to be too difficult for our friend, shifting to a late afternoon hiatus when John's energy was strongest. Mark you have lifted me up with your stronger faith, and have encouraged me to share my trials through your curiosity about my broken marriage.
You are Gary who taught me to be the boy scout I never was. Gary you stepped up to be a true brother to me.
You are David, the brother with whom I grew up so unsteadily. Our parents didn't draw limits for you or protect me. My only blood brother in whom I see reflections of myself that I love and that I wish to transcend.
You are Horace, whose guest room I so gratefully occupied when my wife and I separated…again. Horace your devotion to your wife and kids (normal and disabled) led you ahead of me down the path of awakening, separation, elevation, then peace.
John, David, Gary, and Mark - my story is your story. My prayer is that my story is helpful to you.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)