Infliction: Childhood Wounds

I've been sitting on the fence after the thoughts of "Old Spice Can't Help You", and the posts prior to that, especially "Broken Love". In the midst of all my realization of the sinfulness and brokenness of my own heart, I find myself looking back at what I've written, and hesitating. Hesitating, because things have been converging to this for some time, and I didn't realize it. Hesitating, because it forces me to get personal and frank, and I really don't want to. Hesitating, because the rubber of my theology must meet the road of reality and I'm suddenly recalling a quote from my favourite movie:

"Remember what Bilbo used to say: "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

- Frodo Baggins, The Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of The Ring

I think I'll step out onto the road, and trust God to guide my thoughts for the next few posts.

In the cognizance of all that I've been running from, I've had to acknowledge the hurtful experiences of childhood and see their effects through new lenses. In some cases, I've needed to admit that they happened, that it mattered, and that neither could be conveniently swept under the rug.

A lot of the wounds I've had to process are from school. Being the youngest in my class, I was 'different' in many ways that I couldn't really explain. I guess I still am. For other reasons that I've never understood, the bullying began after I shifted classes in Grade 6 - first verbal and then the physical beating. This went on for years, all the way to my final year of high school.

Writing this now and feeling a familiar sharp pain coming on, I suddenly feel like shrugging it off, saying it wasn't a big deal, didn't matter and changing the subject. I mean, everyone gets beaten in school, right? So what? '"Stiff upper lip, be tough and take it like a man!", I feel like telling myself, just as I did as a child. But there was the problem in trying to "be tough" - I took it all silently and said nothing. Picked myself up quietly for years, after getting ganged up on, insulted, pushed around and beaten up, and went back to class after lunch recess, or home after school as if nothing had happened. I suppressed the pain of abandonment and rejection because I wanted to be "strong", and vowed never to cry. And so I did, proceeding to build walls around my heart and layering on the "emotional armor". Even though I accepted Christ as my Saviour in 9th grade, I didn't know how to deal with the underlying hurt and anguish. The wounds festered under the surface and during high school, led to another unconscious vow:

No one would ever be allowed to hurt me or lay a finger on me again.

Initially, that translated into picking fights with the same people who had started the bullying years ago in sixth grade. But after high school, things proceeded on a different front with silently shutting people out in different ways for the next 11 years, trying to keep people from getting emotionally close enough to figure out where to "aim the arrow". When they did hurt me, it became an immense battle to forget; a close friend of mine recently made the observation that my mind is simultaneously my greatest gift and my worst enemy. I had no problem admitting that he was absolutely right. The pattern of hurt, suppression, building emotional armor and shutting people out was one of the contributing factors culminating in the events described in my previous post, "Family Matters".

There was one glaring problem with all the emotional armor and walls that I was building:

No matter how thick the armor, how high the wall, or repeated vows to "be strong" and "never cry", the heart stubbornly rebels with all its might in the desire to be genuinely loved and keeps hammering back against the barriers, demanding to be let out.

During my time in school and for almost a decade after, that desire led my heart to some strange and curious people in search of rescue and freedom. I will keep that for the next post. Writing this one has taken the longest and been the most draining of any that I have ever written. I suppose that's what happens when the rubber meets the road in attempting to "walk the walk, not just talking the talk". It's tough to be honest and face the brokenness.

Till next time, then!

- The Wisdom Seeker

NOTE:

   This post was the first that led to a four-part series on childhood hurts, heroes, and realizations about both. The full series is listed below:

• Infliction: Childhood Wounds
• Adoration: Childhood Heroes
• Conviction: I'm Not Iron Man
• Salvation: The Guardian

Starlight Theatre's Dress Rehearsal

   I got home a little while ago from attending the dress rehearsal for Willingdon's annual christmas musical production, put on by its very own Starlight Theatre. This year's production (titled "The Christmas Party") is particularly special and important to me, because I volunteered to help with set construction and will be volunteering during the actual show times. It was the very first time I had volunteered with a major Willingdon event, and I've learned so much in the process. I'm looking forward to writing about my experiences in upcoming posts.

   I was surprised at the size crowd that filled the main sanctuary to capacity, as I sat in one of the back rows with my friend Tim. It was hosted as an outreach event for seniors, so families brought their elderly relatives and friends. While Tim and I were waiting for the show to start, I overheard a lady taking her seat in the row behind me, mentioning that she had brought 30 friends from her retirement home to watch the show. I was so impressed - this lady was still sharing her faith and making an impact for Christ in the retirement home in which she found herself.

   It was a terrific performance, made deeply satisfying knowing that I had been part of an amazing experience building the set, props, painting, lighting, and everything else that I had poured myself into. "The Christmas Party", from Willindon Church's Starlight Theatre, runs from December 16th - 20th. Information about the event can be found at: http://www.willingdon.org. Do try to come and watch!

   But more about that later. Here are some photos. I will be adding more throughout the week at my Flickr photostream.

December 14th: Completed Set, Before Rehearsal Time

Willingdon's Main Sanctuary, Taken From High Up On The Set

In Full Swing, With Pastor Ron Clark Conducting The Orchestra

This Was Such An Awesome Song!

        - The Wisdom Seeker

"Old Spice" Can't Help You

"Smell Like A Man, Man" - The advertisement for Old Spice Bodywash

Three days after the reflections of We All Want To Believe, I'm still haunted by "Beauty and The Beast". I think I need to see the whole movie and absorb its full impact; it's been ages since I last saw it. It's hard to swallow the fact that it's taken God more than 11 years to break through to me with the power behind its message. And with it, He's also blown all the wounds and submerged hurt of more than a decade to the surface in one mighty eruption. As I'm confronted with the "Beast" in the mirror, I'm crushed under the realization of the gaping hole in me that needs change and healing. God's ability to torpedo my world with one animated fairy tale is shocking; this year seems to have been an unending series of such assumption-devastating events.

So what does Old Spice have to do with it?

"The man your man could smell like!" was the punchline of the recent spate of advertisements from Old Spice, implying increased manliness if men would use their bath product instead of "ladies-scented bodywash". I don't question the wit and humor of their marketing strategy (only surpassed by a friend of mine named Wanda). But in the light of the pressure and affliction that other men and I struggle with, this Old Spice advertisement reeks of pure superficiality.

"Old Spice" has become my metaphor for all the falsehood that men are coerced to use in demonstrating masculinity, ultimately as bogus as the love underpinning the marriages surveyed in TIME Magazine's report. I refer to all the posturing and masquerading that we are encouraged to undertake in hiding behind looks, physique, money, clothing, education, career, power, prestige, rebellion, the pseudo machismo attitude, fake spirituality....I could go on and on.

What good is it being "the man your man could smell like" if there's a hole in his soul the size of a bomb crater? Or "an oyster with two tickets to that thing you love" if he has emotional barriers that could stop artillery shells? Or overflowing diamonds if he has gambled away his soul? Or being able to "bake a gourmet cake in the dream kitchen he built for you with his own hands" if he burns down a relationship because he refuses to admit his wounds? Or taking a "swan dive!" if his emotional and spritual depth can be measured with a ruler?

We are beyond the help of "Old Spice" if such is our condition,. I believe this is beautifully illustrated in the prologue of "Beauty and The Beast". My problem, similar to the predicament of the prince in the video below, had some variations. More in upcoming posts. Until then, have a good weekend!

- The Wisdom Seeker

DISCLAIMER:

I wish to admit that I have used Old Spice aftershave, not because of clever marketing, but because my maternal grandfather uses it and I admired him for many reasons as a child. I copied him when I first started shaving. I still use it not because I want to be the man her man could smell like, but because I don't like irritated skin and skin infections after shaving.

I highly recommend it for this purpose :)