I've often wondered how the suffering of the Savior in Gethsemane could evoke such a powerful and seemingly impossible physical response... bleeding, as it were, from every pore. It was kind of nonsensical and over-dramatic to me, quite frankly. I mean, how could this happen in reality?
I've experienced physical pain in my life... and I have to admit that I'm something of a lightweight when it comes to pain. I don't like it. I don't have a very high threshhold, and don't suffer it well at all.
But even as much as I loathe physical pain, it is nothing compared with emotional and mental pain. The kind that renders you paralyzed, immobile, helpless, and defeated. That's the pain that I struggle with now. Every day. Every hour. And almost every minute. It never ends. It almost never lets up. It certainly doesn't listen when it's at its very worst when I beg for relief. It's always there... laughing at me, taunting me, making fun of me... just like the bullies who did the same things to me when I was young. They didn't go away either, even though I begged them to leave me alone. They hurt me physically... emotionally... and mentally.
Sometimes you don't even realize how much pain you're in until you catch yourself planning out ways to end it. Not spectacular "look at me" ways, like jumping or driving off a bridge. I'd never do that. Not brave enough, I guess. There's always that fear of being conscious and aware during the 5 seconds that it would take to fall before I hit bottom, and then there would be the momentary physical pain of feeling every bone in your body shatter, and feel your organs being ripped away from their normal place. Even if just for a moment. I just couldn't do that. Too much of a coward, I guess.
But go to sleep and never wake up? Lie down in my comfy sheets, pull the blankets over my head, block out the world, and quietly drift off to eternity? Yeah, I'd do that. In a heartbeat. And that's when I know the pain has become too much; dangerous, unmanageable, and black. I can understand how the Savior bled at every pore. Suicide simply isn't an option for a God. Bad form. Horrible example and all that. And so the pain has to go somewhere. Bleeding from every pore sounds about right.
I understand why people self-medicate and "numb out." It's easier than hurting. It's easier than dying a minute at a time. And even the numbness beats the pain.
Sunday, December 27, 2020
Thursday, January 21, 2016
An Open Letter To A Sociopath
The following is an open letter to my step-daughter Lauren, which is long overdue. I may never decide to publish this, but it's important that I write it just the same.
================================================
Lauren;
This has been a long time coming, but the time has finally come to cut the bull and get a few things straight. It's not going to be an easy read for you, and it will most likely make you upset. So be it. I honestly don't give a crap anymore.
The reason I waited so long to write this is because for the longest time I entertained an unrealistic hope that one day you would mature, realize how badly you have behaved, and how desperately you have hurt this family, and thus want to make amends. It is clear now that that will never happen.
Let's cut to the chase, and make one thing perfectly clear. You were never abused by me in any way, ever. Period. End of story. Not even a smidgen... not even a glimmer... and trust me, not even a thought. Ever.
What did happen, as your mother can easily attest, is that over the course of your young life, you increasingly became a living nightmare to be with. You were, and are, a pathological liar. You screamed at us when we took away your cell phone for... wait for it... lying... and insisted that "no parents did that to their kids." Your Modus Operandi throughout your teenage years was to falsely accuse both me AND your mother of being unreasonable/abusive/unfair/mean to you, while you knew perfectly well that none of that was true. You led a particularly charmed life. And yet, almost 100% of the strife, contention, and bad feeling in our home during your childhood were because of you and your behavior.
In fact, we tried so desperately for so long to reach you and somehow teach you that it drove us almost to drink... you just weren't having any of it for some reason, and we were beside ourselves trying to figure out why.
And then, one day, it all became clear.
We had confronted you on yet another episode of bald-faced lying, and you very calmly, remorselessly, told us that you didn't see anything wrong with saying or doing anything, no matter how untrue, or how badly it hurt someone else, to get what you wanted.
I'll never forget that day... it'll be burned into my memory forever. I honestly thought I had misheard you, so I rephrased the question just to make sure... and yes, you made sure that we understood that that is exactly what you meant.
At that moment all the puzzle pieces fell into place, and I realized that we weren't dealing with a moody, defiant, contrary, or difficult teenager... we realized then and there that you were a textbook Sociopath. With a capital "S." You would do whatever it took to get what you wanted. Period.
You wrote to mom just today that you had been abused for "years." Just to remind you of the obvious... at no time during your childhood were you ever abused by me. And at no time during your childhood did you ever accuse me of abusing you. And no, Lauren, the part about being "too scared" to tell your mother is absolute crap. That wasn't your personality. You tattled on EVERYONE. You thrived on getting others in trouble. If I had ever abused you, you would have run screaming to your mother... like you did when Justin abused you. You never hesitated a second then, nor would you if I had really abused you. And yet, you never said anything... to anyone... even your siblings. Very interesting for someone who claims to be so abused, and who claims to feel so "unsafe." You never, repeatedly or otherwise, told your mother that I had improperly touched you or made you feel "unsafe." Ever. But you did when you were really abused.
The accusation that on one occasion I came to the bedroom door in a swimming suit is so hysterically absurd that it defies description. It never happened. I never wore my swimming suit unless I was at the beach. Most of the time I didn't even know where it was.
The only thing I can think of is that you were (are) somehow trying to accuse me of masturbating in our bedroom (while you were in the house, no less), and that I was completely naked and had to desperately try to cover myself with a bathing suit (of all things) to cover up when you knocked on the bedroom door.
The only problem is, it not only didn't happen, it doesn't make any logical sense. But you wouldn't know that, because you didn't think the lie through very well before you told it.
I've never allowed myself to be naked in front of any of you kids (except for one notable occasion when Scott was a baby and was in the bathroom with us when we were taking showers). Drove your mom crazy, because I would insist on the door being closed whenever I undressed. Not exactly the behavior of someone who wanted to abuse kids, is it? I was paranoid about my modesty in front of you guys. Still am.
But there are other problems with your story. It is patently unrealistic. Why wouldn't I have just told you to wait a minute, and put my clothes back on? And you probably don't know this (or you've watched too much porn), but I highly doubt that most (any) men undress completely when they masturbate. They don't have to. It's rather impractical. There are these neat things called "zippers." Of course, not having been a teenage boy, you wouldn't know that, so that explains the ridiculousness (and cluelessness) of your accusation.
Let's see... you claimed on other occasions that I "touched your butt." I can only assume that you're talking about when you sat on my lap as a small child, hugging me, and I tickled your back... much of the time in church. Seriously?
There was no inappropriate touching whatsoever.
Looking back, I seriously kick myself for not realizing sooner how utterly evil, dishonest, and perverse you are to accuse me of this, and am deeply regretful that I showed you any affection at all. Not to mention that your mother was always around when I held you, and when I tickled your back (most of the time at your request). It was never "dirty," and it certainly was never inappropriate. That is something your sick mind invented, and your deviant sister and uncle reinforced.
Finally, there was the infamous "shower" incident, which we know now you didn't even remember until Lindsay "reminded you" when she was mad at me for some reason. Of course, she has since recanted and admitted that it was nothing... no abuse occurred... nothing inappropriate happened. Even she admits that it was innocent. I never stood there and watched you undress... I was busy packing up the rest of the bathroom. When you were down to your underwear, I had you guys get in the shower, which had brick walls and an opaque door, to strip off the rest and pass them over the top of the door to me so I could put them in the dirty clothes and pack them... and I laid out fresh clothes for you both and left the bathroom. It was the last thing we did before we left.
What kind of a sick mind do you have, that you would turn this into something perverse? Oh, that's right. You're a Sociopath, and a pathological liar. That's "what you do." Of course, having screamed bloody murder when Justin abused you, we all found it very interesting indeed that you curiously never mentioned this incident to anyone... especially not your mom... siblings... anyone. It wasn't until Lindsay said something that you made the accusation.. years later. How "convenient."
You are definitely cut from the same Sociopathic mold as your sister Michele. Speaking of which, are you freakin' kidding me? The sum total of her "deep, dark, accusation" against me.. the "damning" smoking gun of my sexual abuse of her... was the fact that I pulled her onto my lap as she was sobbing over hearing that Papa had died... with your mom sitting right next to me, holding her as well. That's it. Through all those years that we lived together, this was it? This was the worst she could come up with, after having a bedroom next to my office, with me working at home every day, with unlimited opportunities to abuse her? That's IT?
Yes, Michele was so angry with me, and so desperate to "get even" because I married your mom and took her place as your "pseudo-parent," that she had to find SOMETHING to accuse me of, and having nothing to draw from, she had to turn this innocent, tender time into a sordid "middle-aged stranger pulling me on top of him." It would actually be funny, if it weren't so incredibly sick and twisted. And you then used her false accusations as an excuse to fabricate your own. You had an axe to grind, too.
Of course, true to form, Michele never mentioned this "incident" to your mom... ever. We found out by accident one day, stumbling across a blog post she had written to elicit sympathy from her friends, which she quickly took down when she found out that we had discovered it. She called herself a "survivor," citing this incident as her (only) example of the horrible "abuse" she endured. I can see where she became a role model for you.
Of course, lest we forget, there's the damage you caused to the young women in our ward, and how badly it mortified us that you did the SAME THING to them... lied about them, falsely accused them, and tried to destroy their reputations... to the point where when it came to a head and we couldn't have you live with us anymore, the Bishop was quick to tell us that you were not welcome to stay with anyone in the ward. In fact, the Bishop, inspired man that he was, saw right through you, and knew that you were lying... about everything. That's why he interviewed you, asked probing questions, and had you sign a letter where both you and Lindsay admitted that you never felt unsafe in our home. Unbeknownst to you, all of the adults in that ward were informed that you were not to associate with, or have contact with their sons and daughters. You were not to be trusted. You were toxic beyond belief, and everyone knew it. Your accusations against me, we discovered, were not an isolated incident. You were, and ARE, a Sociopath... a habitual, pathological liar... saying and doing whatever it takes, no matter how false, evil, and despicable, to get what you want.
Here's the bitch about the disaster that is your life, though, Lauren. It always comes out.
Does Colin know that you're a Sociopath? Have you told him what you've done, and how many lives you've ruined, including mine and your mothers? Have you told him that you're an untreated pathological liar? He's going to find out. You can't keep that hidden from him forever. It's going to come out. It always does. What is he going to say when he finds out that you fabricated Every. Single. Thing. That you've ever told him... that you were so desperate to lie that you used to sneak onto my computer and snoop, trying and find something... anything... to accuse me of?
You see, Lauren, getting Michele, Uncle Kevin and the rest of that side of the family to buy into your garbage is one thing... but your marriage is different. He's going to find out that you're a fraud, that you're sick, and he's going to regret ever marrying you... or trusting you... or loving you. He is going to find out, Lauren. What are you going to do then? Lie again? And again? And again? How are you going to salvage that? Who are you going to blame when he finds out the truth? How will he react when he finds out that you lied to HIM, of all people? Do you seriously think he'll stay with you?
I think we both know the answer to that.
The ironic part of all this is that, in stark contrast to how you have chosen to paint me, from the time I joined our little family I honestly loved you, and tried to be a dad to you, even though you weren't my own child... I tried to be the dad that you obviously didn't have. Yes, I was tough on you. You were a difficult child to raise. But I always loved you.
Yes, I know, you've elevated Rick now to the level of a Saint, and have convinced yourself that he really did love you after all, and really didn't abuse you kids or your mom... that it really wasn't that bad... that he was just "misunderstood;" but it's all another massive pile of lies.
He was a broken, horrible, evil, selfish, abusive man. I will never forgive him for what he put your mother and you kids through. He was not the great, noble man of your rather colorful, if not fully revisionist, imagination.
Have you even stopped to consider the sheer number of lives you've ruined? You have not only managed to damage many of the young women in our old ward, but you also have completely destroyed your relationship with your own mother, who even now, loves you and desperately yearns for you to grow up and mature and repent.
But you and I know better, don't we? You have too much to lose to do the right thing... to do what Lindsay did and tell the truth... to do what the Savior wants you to do and come clean. And if I were a betting man, I'd bet that you simply don't care.
The next time you decide to talk down to your mother; lecture her on not supporting you in your fabrications; try to make her feel guilty for standing by her eternal companion, who incidentally HAS treated her as the Queen she is, has never abused her, and who you know full well never hurt or abused you; guilting her for "not believing you" when you knew full well that you were lying; and then self-righteously and smugly suggesting "talks" for her to read to "heal," look in the mirror and think about what you've done. Think about the lives you've ruined and the trail of human refuse you've left in your wake. The damage you've done to your soul and your salvation. The damage you'll have done to your marriage, when Colin finds out the truth about you. And he will find out.
Get some professional help, Lauren. Get some spiritual help. Talk to YOUR Bishop, and tell him what you've done... and are continuing to do. Apply the atoning sacrifice of the Savior in your life by repenting... and do it sincerely and openly.
Of course you won't. After all, you're a Sociopath. You just don't care. Appearances are everything, substance is nothing, and as long as you can continue to scam those around you, you're good. Right?
================================================
Lauren;
This has been a long time coming, but the time has finally come to cut the bull and get a few things straight. It's not going to be an easy read for you, and it will most likely make you upset. So be it. I honestly don't give a crap anymore.
The reason I waited so long to write this is because for the longest time I entertained an unrealistic hope that one day you would mature, realize how badly you have behaved, and how desperately you have hurt this family, and thus want to make amends. It is clear now that that will never happen.
Let's cut to the chase, and make one thing perfectly clear. You were never abused by me in any way, ever. Period. End of story. Not even a smidgen... not even a glimmer... and trust me, not even a thought. Ever.
What did happen, as your mother can easily attest, is that over the course of your young life, you increasingly became a living nightmare to be with. You were, and are, a pathological liar. You screamed at us when we took away your cell phone for... wait for it... lying... and insisted that "no parents did that to their kids." Your Modus Operandi throughout your teenage years was to falsely accuse both me AND your mother of being unreasonable/abusive/unfair/mean to you, while you knew perfectly well that none of that was true. You led a particularly charmed life. And yet, almost 100% of the strife, contention, and bad feeling in our home during your childhood were because of you and your behavior.
In fact, we tried so desperately for so long to reach you and somehow teach you that it drove us almost to drink... you just weren't having any of it for some reason, and we were beside ourselves trying to figure out why.
And then, one day, it all became clear.
We had confronted you on yet another episode of bald-faced lying, and you very calmly, remorselessly, told us that you didn't see anything wrong with saying or doing anything, no matter how untrue, or how badly it hurt someone else, to get what you wanted.
I'll never forget that day... it'll be burned into my memory forever. I honestly thought I had misheard you, so I rephrased the question just to make sure... and yes, you made sure that we understood that that is exactly what you meant.
At that moment all the puzzle pieces fell into place, and I realized that we weren't dealing with a moody, defiant, contrary, or difficult teenager... we realized then and there that you were a textbook Sociopath. With a capital "S." You would do whatever it took to get what you wanted. Period.
You wrote to mom just today that you had been abused for "years." Just to remind you of the obvious... at no time during your childhood were you ever abused by me. And at no time during your childhood did you ever accuse me of abusing you. And no, Lauren, the part about being "too scared" to tell your mother is absolute crap. That wasn't your personality. You tattled on EVERYONE. You thrived on getting others in trouble. If I had ever abused you, you would have run screaming to your mother... like you did when Justin abused you. You never hesitated a second then, nor would you if I had really abused you. And yet, you never said anything... to anyone... even your siblings. Very interesting for someone who claims to be so abused, and who claims to feel so "unsafe." You never, repeatedly or otherwise, told your mother that I had improperly touched you or made you feel "unsafe." Ever. But you did when you were really abused.
The accusation that on one occasion I came to the bedroom door in a swimming suit is so hysterically absurd that it defies description. It never happened. I never wore my swimming suit unless I was at the beach. Most of the time I didn't even know where it was.
The only thing I can think of is that you were (are) somehow trying to accuse me of masturbating in our bedroom (while you were in the house, no less), and that I was completely naked and had to desperately try to cover myself with a bathing suit (of all things) to cover up when you knocked on the bedroom door.
The only problem is, it not only didn't happen, it doesn't make any logical sense. But you wouldn't know that, because you didn't think the lie through very well before you told it.
I've never allowed myself to be naked in front of any of you kids (except for one notable occasion when Scott was a baby and was in the bathroom with us when we were taking showers). Drove your mom crazy, because I would insist on the door being closed whenever I undressed. Not exactly the behavior of someone who wanted to abuse kids, is it? I was paranoid about my modesty in front of you guys. Still am.
But there are other problems with your story. It is patently unrealistic. Why wouldn't I have just told you to wait a minute, and put my clothes back on? And you probably don't know this (or you've watched too much porn), but I highly doubt that most (any) men undress completely when they masturbate. They don't have to. It's rather impractical. There are these neat things called "zippers." Of course, not having been a teenage boy, you wouldn't know that, so that explains the ridiculousness (and cluelessness) of your accusation.
Let's see... you claimed on other occasions that I "touched your butt." I can only assume that you're talking about when you sat on my lap as a small child, hugging me, and I tickled your back... much of the time in church. Seriously?
There was no inappropriate touching whatsoever.
Looking back, I seriously kick myself for not realizing sooner how utterly evil, dishonest, and perverse you are to accuse me of this, and am deeply regretful that I showed you any affection at all. Not to mention that your mother was always around when I held you, and when I tickled your back (most of the time at your request). It was never "dirty," and it certainly was never inappropriate. That is something your sick mind invented, and your deviant sister and uncle reinforced.
Finally, there was the infamous "shower" incident, which we know now you didn't even remember until Lindsay "reminded you" when she was mad at me for some reason. Of course, she has since recanted and admitted that it was nothing... no abuse occurred... nothing inappropriate happened. Even she admits that it was innocent. I never stood there and watched you undress... I was busy packing up the rest of the bathroom. When you were down to your underwear, I had you guys get in the shower, which had brick walls and an opaque door, to strip off the rest and pass them over the top of the door to me so I could put them in the dirty clothes and pack them... and I laid out fresh clothes for you both and left the bathroom. It was the last thing we did before we left.
What kind of a sick mind do you have, that you would turn this into something perverse? Oh, that's right. You're a Sociopath, and a pathological liar. That's "what you do." Of course, having screamed bloody murder when Justin abused you, we all found it very interesting indeed that you curiously never mentioned this incident to anyone... especially not your mom... siblings... anyone. It wasn't until Lindsay said something that you made the accusation.. years later. How "convenient."
You are definitely cut from the same Sociopathic mold as your sister Michele. Speaking of which, are you freakin' kidding me? The sum total of her "deep, dark, accusation" against me.. the "damning" smoking gun of my sexual abuse of her... was the fact that I pulled her onto my lap as she was sobbing over hearing that Papa had died... with your mom sitting right next to me, holding her as well. That's it. Through all those years that we lived together, this was it? This was the worst she could come up with, after having a bedroom next to my office, with me working at home every day, with unlimited opportunities to abuse her? That's IT?
Yes, Michele was so angry with me, and so desperate to "get even" because I married your mom and took her place as your "pseudo-parent," that she had to find SOMETHING to accuse me of, and having nothing to draw from, she had to turn this innocent, tender time into a sordid "middle-aged stranger pulling me on top of him." It would actually be funny, if it weren't so incredibly sick and twisted. And you then used her false accusations as an excuse to fabricate your own. You had an axe to grind, too.
Of course, true to form, Michele never mentioned this "incident" to your mom... ever. We found out by accident one day, stumbling across a blog post she had written to elicit sympathy from her friends, which she quickly took down when she found out that we had discovered it. She called herself a "survivor," citing this incident as her (only) example of the horrible "abuse" she endured. I can see where she became a role model for you.
Of course, lest we forget, there's the damage you caused to the young women in our ward, and how badly it mortified us that you did the SAME THING to them... lied about them, falsely accused them, and tried to destroy their reputations... to the point where when it came to a head and we couldn't have you live with us anymore, the Bishop was quick to tell us that you were not welcome to stay with anyone in the ward. In fact, the Bishop, inspired man that he was, saw right through you, and knew that you were lying... about everything. That's why he interviewed you, asked probing questions, and had you sign a letter where both you and Lindsay admitted that you never felt unsafe in our home. Unbeknownst to you, all of the adults in that ward were informed that you were not to associate with, or have contact with their sons and daughters. You were not to be trusted. You were toxic beyond belief, and everyone knew it. Your accusations against me, we discovered, were not an isolated incident. You were, and ARE, a Sociopath... a habitual, pathological liar... saying and doing whatever it takes, no matter how false, evil, and despicable, to get what you want.
Here's the bitch about the disaster that is your life, though, Lauren. It always comes out.
Does Colin know that you're a Sociopath? Have you told him what you've done, and how many lives you've ruined, including mine and your mothers? Have you told him that you're an untreated pathological liar? He's going to find out. You can't keep that hidden from him forever. It's going to come out. It always does. What is he going to say when he finds out that you fabricated Every. Single. Thing. That you've ever told him... that you were so desperate to lie that you used to sneak onto my computer and snoop, trying and find something... anything... to accuse me of?
You see, Lauren, getting Michele, Uncle Kevin and the rest of that side of the family to buy into your garbage is one thing... but your marriage is different. He's going to find out that you're a fraud, that you're sick, and he's going to regret ever marrying you... or trusting you... or loving you. He is going to find out, Lauren. What are you going to do then? Lie again? And again? And again? How are you going to salvage that? Who are you going to blame when he finds out the truth? How will he react when he finds out that you lied to HIM, of all people? Do you seriously think he'll stay with you?
I think we both know the answer to that.
The ironic part of all this is that, in stark contrast to how you have chosen to paint me, from the time I joined our little family I honestly loved you, and tried to be a dad to you, even though you weren't my own child... I tried to be the dad that you obviously didn't have. Yes, I was tough on you. You were a difficult child to raise. But I always loved you.
Yes, I know, you've elevated Rick now to the level of a Saint, and have convinced yourself that he really did love you after all, and really didn't abuse you kids or your mom... that it really wasn't that bad... that he was just "misunderstood;" but it's all another massive pile of lies.
He was a broken, horrible, evil, selfish, abusive man. I will never forgive him for what he put your mother and you kids through. He was not the great, noble man of your rather colorful, if not fully revisionist, imagination.
Have you even stopped to consider the sheer number of lives you've ruined? You have not only managed to damage many of the young women in our old ward, but you also have completely destroyed your relationship with your own mother, who even now, loves you and desperately yearns for you to grow up and mature and repent.
But you and I know better, don't we? You have too much to lose to do the right thing... to do what Lindsay did and tell the truth... to do what the Savior wants you to do and come clean. And if I were a betting man, I'd bet that you simply don't care.
The next time you decide to talk down to your mother; lecture her on not supporting you in your fabrications; try to make her feel guilty for standing by her eternal companion, who incidentally HAS treated her as the Queen she is, has never abused her, and who you know full well never hurt or abused you; guilting her for "not believing you" when you knew full well that you were lying; and then self-righteously and smugly suggesting "talks" for her to read to "heal," look in the mirror and think about what you've done. Think about the lives you've ruined and the trail of human refuse you've left in your wake. The damage you've done to your soul and your salvation. The damage you'll have done to your marriage, when Colin finds out the truth about you. And he will find out.
Get some professional help, Lauren. Get some spiritual help. Talk to YOUR Bishop, and tell him what you've done... and are continuing to do. Apply the atoning sacrifice of the Savior in your life by repenting... and do it sincerely and openly.
Of course you won't. After all, you're a Sociopath. You just don't care. Appearances are everything, substance is nothing, and as long as you can continue to scam those around you, you're good. Right?
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Unrighteous Judgment and Mental Illness
One of the unfortunate characteristics of my chosen faith (and let's be fair, many others as well) seems to be a near compulsory tendency on the part of some to judge others... particularly those of our own faith... harshly and relentlessly. Particularly (and specifically) those who may be unfortunate enough to suffer from debilitating disabilities. Which is somewhat ironic coming from a faith that places such a central emphasis on unconditional Christlike love, acceptance, and compassion.
I'm still trying to decide if this knee-jerk hyper-criticality is a result of mind-numbing ignorance, willful stupidity, or just jaw-dropping mean-spiritedness. To be honest, the jury is still out on that one. I suppose for some it may be ignorance, for others it may be more intentional.
From time to time, those with serious physical disabilities have attended worship services at my church, and I've always been gratified by how tenderly, patiently, and compassionately these individuals are treated and accommodated. They aren't blamed for their disability. No one seems to look down on them for their difficulties, and certainly no one seems to imply that they deserved their situation, that they "brought it on themselves," nor do they snidely insinuate that they need to "be accountable" for whatever disruption their condition causes to the rest of the congregation. In short, those with obvious disabilities get a "free pass."
Given this, I've often wondered how my fellow believers (particularly the leaders of our congregation) would behave if someone attended a worship service who had Tourettes Syndrome, an uncontrollable condition, who periodically blurted out some rather embarrassing profanities.
How would those who claim to follow The Master react? How much compassion would be shown? How much patience? How much understanding? Would they be summarily removed from the congregation for being too much of a "hinderance to the Spirit"? Would they be relegated to the nether-regions of another room to listen to the meeting, so that others didn't have to be subjected to their outbursts? I have to wonder if, in most congregations, this might be the case.
What about mental and behavioral disabilities?
Those who suffer from mental illness usually look precisely like everyone else. There is no readily-identifiable physical marker or "Hello, My Name Is" sticker that informs others that an individual suffers from autism, anxiety disorders, psychosis, personality disorders, OCD, behavioral disorders, depression, bi-polar syndrome, severe phobias or any of the other "invisible" conditions that haunt every waking hour of those who struggle with them.
And some unfortunate few are plagued with multiple conditions... conditions so severe that simply functioning in a normal daily routine is a challenge... as is the simple act of getting out of bed in the morning. Their goals and dreams are not grandiose... sometimes it's as simple as making it through another day emotionally and mentally intact.
To others who see and interact with them (all of once a week for a few hours), many of them appear... at least outwardly... physically... to be normal. So, social and behavioral expectations drop silently into place whose boundaries rigidly define what a normal, mentally-sound person might be expected to do... a variation on the "Reasonable Man" standard that both legal and medical systems revolve around. And when one (or more) of that person's mental disabilities rear their ugly head however (as they invariably do), all bets are off... the individual is no longer considered "reasonable." They are obviously "making bad choices," and are therefore responsible... completely... for their actions.
All of a sudden, the individual is labeled as "wierd," "off-putting," "offensive," "bizarre," "a whack job," and a host of other lovely epithets that seek to soundly condemn the individual for having the rather bad form of simply existing. A whisper campaign spreads like wildfire through the congregation... "Did you see..???" The blame for the behavior of mentally-ill individuals is placed squarely back in their lap and they are basically judged on the same basis as anyone else, simply because they look like everyone else. They don't look disabled. Ergo, they must be making a conscious decision to be the way they are. "Can't they control themselves?" "They did it to themselves... if they hadn't <fill in the blank here>, then people wouldn't be put off by them."
Their behavior deems them worthy of being shamed. Shunned. Avoided. Gossiped about. Isolated. And basically, thrown away. They become, for all intents and purposes, a Cypher. A zero. A nothing. Damaged. Unworthy. A victim of their own choices.
No one would dare treat someone with physical disabilities this cruelly and heartlessly, nor would they even treat someone with Tourettes this poorly. Yet those suffering from mental illness are subjected to this treatment every. single. day. It makes their life a living Hell. And it makes them want to withdraw (and in fact, run screaming) from those who are supposed to be the very exemplars of unconditional loving kindness. They not only don't get a "pass," they get zero empathy and understanding in many cases. The unspoken message is "you don't belong here." "We don't want you." "We don't like you."
Is it any wonder then that so many who suffer from these debilitating mental illnesses try to take their own lives?
My son is now 18 years old. Two years ago, when he was 16, he tried to commit suicide. In the wake of that experience, he was diagnosed with a number of serious mental illnesses.. bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, borderline narcissistic disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, etc.
The leaders of the congregation we used to attend, incredulously, viewed his behavior as being his "own fault." They clearly didn't like him, and seemed to go out of their way to let him know that... and regardless of the lip service they paid to inclusion and compassion, they made it painfully clear that there was no place for him there. He doesn't "fit in." He isn't "wearing the uniform" of conformity. Their exact words were, "What do you want US to do?"
Needless to say, if he were to have had MS, he would be welcomed with open arms, loved, and embraced... accommodated. Because he has mental illnesses, however, he is blamed for his condition, and the effects of it. No allowance is made. No attempt to understand. No compassion. No understanding. Nada. Zip. Zilch. He "made his bed, and now he must lie in it."
Yes, we all have agency, and yes, we're all accountable for our actions... to the extent that we are able to control them. Perhaps those who take such evil delight in such terrible judgmentalism can enlighten us all as to where, exactly the "accountability line" is with those who suffer from mental illness. What SHOULD they be blamed for, or "held accountable for," given the condition which they never chose for themselves? In their infinite wisdom, what is the boundary that they cannot cross before being castigated for a condition that is completely beyond their control? And on what scientific/quantifiable basis was this boundary set?
Predictably (and understandably), my son is pulling away from his faith, and is surrounding himself with others who "get" him. Who don't reject him, and treat him like he's broken. And all because we couldn't bring ourselves to actually walk the walk that we claim to believe.
One has to wonder when we will evolve as a species (and as Christians) to the point where we finally see mental illness for what it truly is, and treat those who suffer from it with the same kind of compassion, unconditional love, tenderness, patience, and kindness that we would someone who has a physically debilitating disease or condition?
I'm still trying to decide if this knee-jerk hyper-criticality is a result of mind-numbing ignorance, willful stupidity, or just jaw-dropping mean-spiritedness. To be honest, the jury is still out on that one. I suppose for some it may be ignorance, for others it may be more intentional.
From time to time, those with serious physical disabilities have attended worship services at my church, and I've always been gratified by how tenderly, patiently, and compassionately these individuals are treated and accommodated. They aren't blamed for their disability. No one seems to look down on them for their difficulties, and certainly no one seems to imply that they deserved their situation, that they "brought it on themselves," nor do they snidely insinuate that they need to "be accountable" for whatever disruption their condition causes to the rest of the congregation. In short, those with obvious disabilities get a "free pass."
Given this, I've often wondered how my fellow believers (particularly the leaders of our congregation) would behave if someone attended a worship service who had Tourettes Syndrome, an uncontrollable condition, who periodically blurted out some rather embarrassing profanities.
How would those who claim to follow The Master react? How much compassion would be shown? How much patience? How much understanding? Would they be summarily removed from the congregation for being too much of a "hinderance to the Spirit"? Would they be relegated to the nether-regions of another room to listen to the meeting, so that others didn't have to be subjected to their outbursts? I have to wonder if, in most congregations, this might be the case.
What about mental and behavioral disabilities?
Those who suffer from mental illness usually look precisely like everyone else. There is no readily-identifiable physical marker or "Hello, My Name Is" sticker that informs others that an individual suffers from autism, anxiety disorders, psychosis, personality disorders, OCD, behavioral disorders, depression, bi-polar syndrome, severe phobias or any of the other "invisible" conditions that haunt every waking hour of those who struggle with them.
And some unfortunate few are plagued with multiple conditions... conditions so severe that simply functioning in a normal daily routine is a challenge... as is the simple act of getting out of bed in the morning. Their goals and dreams are not grandiose... sometimes it's as simple as making it through another day emotionally and mentally intact.
To others who see and interact with them (all of once a week for a few hours), many of them appear... at least outwardly... physically... to be normal. So, social and behavioral expectations drop silently into place whose boundaries rigidly define what a normal, mentally-sound person might be expected to do... a variation on the "Reasonable Man" standard that both legal and medical systems revolve around. And when one (or more) of that person's mental disabilities rear their ugly head however (as they invariably do), all bets are off... the individual is no longer considered "reasonable." They are obviously "making bad choices," and are therefore responsible... completely... for their actions.
All of a sudden, the individual is labeled as "wierd," "off-putting," "offensive," "bizarre," "a whack job," and a host of other lovely epithets that seek to soundly condemn the individual for having the rather bad form of simply existing. A whisper campaign spreads like wildfire through the congregation... "Did you see..???" The blame for the behavior of mentally-ill individuals is placed squarely back in their lap and they are basically judged on the same basis as anyone else, simply because they look like everyone else. They don't look disabled. Ergo, they must be making a conscious decision to be the way they are. "Can't they control themselves?" "They did it to themselves... if they hadn't <fill in the blank here>, then people wouldn't be put off by them."
Their behavior deems them worthy of being shamed. Shunned. Avoided. Gossiped about. Isolated. And basically, thrown away. They become, for all intents and purposes, a Cypher. A zero. A nothing. Damaged. Unworthy. A victim of their own choices.
No one would dare treat someone with physical disabilities this cruelly and heartlessly, nor would they even treat someone with Tourettes this poorly. Yet those suffering from mental illness are subjected to this treatment every. single. day. It makes their life a living Hell. And it makes them want to withdraw (and in fact, run screaming) from those who are supposed to be the very exemplars of unconditional loving kindness. They not only don't get a "pass," they get zero empathy and understanding in many cases. The unspoken message is "you don't belong here." "We don't want you." "We don't like you."
Is it any wonder then that so many who suffer from these debilitating mental illnesses try to take their own lives?
My son is now 18 years old. Two years ago, when he was 16, he tried to commit suicide. In the wake of that experience, he was diagnosed with a number of serious mental illnesses.. bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, borderline narcissistic disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, etc.
The leaders of the congregation we used to attend, incredulously, viewed his behavior as being his "own fault." They clearly didn't like him, and seemed to go out of their way to let him know that... and regardless of the lip service they paid to inclusion and compassion, they made it painfully clear that there was no place for him there. He doesn't "fit in." He isn't "wearing the uniform" of conformity. Their exact words were, "What do you want US to do?"
Needless to say, if he were to have had MS, he would be welcomed with open arms, loved, and embraced... accommodated. Because he has mental illnesses, however, he is blamed for his condition, and the effects of it. No allowance is made. No attempt to understand. No compassion. No understanding. Nada. Zip. Zilch. He "made his bed, and now he must lie in it."
Yes, we all have agency, and yes, we're all accountable for our actions... to the extent that we are able to control them. Perhaps those who take such evil delight in such terrible judgmentalism can enlighten us all as to where, exactly the "accountability line" is with those who suffer from mental illness. What SHOULD they be blamed for, or "held accountable for," given the condition which they never chose for themselves? In their infinite wisdom, what is the boundary that they cannot cross before being castigated for a condition that is completely beyond their control? And on what scientific/quantifiable basis was this boundary set?
Predictably (and understandably), my son is pulling away from his faith, and is surrounding himself with others who "get" him. Who don't reject him, and treat him like he's broken. And all because we couldn't bring ourselves to actually walk the walk that we claim to believe.
One has to wonder when we will evolve as a species (and as Christians) to the point where we finally see mental illness for what it truly is, and treat those who suffer from it with the same kind of compassion, unconditional love, tenderness, patience, and kindness that we would someone who has a physically debilitating disease or condition?
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