I am waiting in the Chicago O’Hare airport, after a late Sunday morning flight. Everything went remarkably smooth, the flight seemingly over not too long after take-off. Now complications will most likely arise. The other four gentleman meeting me all flew into Midway airport, thirty-two miles south, and then we drive fifty-three miles southwest to Joliet. The others texted that their flight was late in taking off. As I sit waiting in Chicago, they have not even left Cleveland. It appears I will have a plentitude of time people watching at the airport. I find the fact appealing. A mother and teenage daughter, sharing a fine form of loving communication, laughing and joking constantly with one another, has just departed the adjoining seats. An oriental stewardess takes their place. Before the outbound flight, I was able to attend an early Mass at St Charles. Once again, I am struck by the profoundness I am experiencing attending Mass with a full church of parishioners. The families, the elderly, the gathering of people allows detachment, a pulling away from myself, a pleasing feeling of love. Currently, I am being overwhelmed with recovery efforts—a lot is coming at me. I accept the challenge of allowing a multitude of input, while outputting little. Humbly, I allow influences to emerge, and others to pass by. Silently, I try to acquiesce. There is no doubt my center is Mass, the summit of my prayer life. The reality of who I am is concrete, meaningful, and distinct during Mass. I view the process of my life, including the failures and struggles—possibly through them the most—a trudging toward the light, an embracing of God. During Mass, I did become pouty with myself, speculating about realities. I thought of my past, remembering the difficulties. I wondered why God did not guide me to a stable life within the Church. There is no place that brings such peace. Why did I wander so far? During Mass today, within the congregation, I observed women of faith, humbly dedicated to their families and community. Why did a broken young lady materialize as my first love? The heart break and immersion into sin during and after the relationship nearly did me in. I am still recovering. Realizing my first romantic love may not be going back far enough, I whined to myself while awaiting the Eucharist. Why didn’t God draw me immediately and intimately into the Church? It was there I belonged. The religious life or the life of a faithful father and husband are obviously the avenue a properly formed young man would have pursued. Yet that was not who I was. Possessing a stout faith, I was determined to open wide the gates of the world, nearly, and prayerfully not, the gates of hell, all in the name of seeking the life of an artist. Possessing mediocre talent, lacking a serious work ethic, plus being emotionally and psychologically broken, nothing substantial amounted from the grievous endeavor. The fascinated young man who read Hermann Hesse’s ‘Demain’ with a passion inherently needed to experience the world; to discover and appease himself with the possibility he may possess a unique vision. There were things that I could not avoid. Delusion drove forward, enlightening through sorrow, disappointment, addiction and severity. I can only be grateful for the protection God provided, the anchoring and guidance provided by my Holy Mother. Now looking back, it is obvious I never stood a chance. Struggle and strife were the only paths I was capable of creating. There was no way prosperity and stability could establish itself. I reflect upon my time with the Franciscan order, comprehending my proliferation within the rigorous prayer life, while unable to adapt to the emotional and psychological demands of community life. It was not long before internally I was warring with others. My thoughts while alone, away from prayer, were lonely, desperate, and ugly. Within a religious order, I became singular, an isolated being—a soul vulnerable to Satan. Unable to properly seek spiritual guidance, unable to communicate, it was not long before I was walking away, my obstinate pride leading the way. Deficient in coping mechanisms, I stubbornly rejected a life that gave me a sense of peace and depth never known before, a way of life that introduced the means of advanced prayer that grace allowed access to. There were things that needed to be addressed, and I did not have the means to address them. Rebellion, a contentious and fighting nature ruled my thoughts, and thus my behavior. I could not cease the dissenting. I could not quiet my argumentative mind. The struggles continued, within a life devoted and loving God, I could not find peace. Anger and wrath were my natural expression. I recall living with my rescuer, screaming at her so relentlessly that I piercingly gave myself a splitting headache. It was not about being right. Attached to a codependent and obsessive idea of love, the core of my being poured forth rage. Now I sit at the O’Hare airport watching people, the majority reflections in the street viewing window, distinct where the window is darkened. One of the gentleman emerging (I posted his photo) will be guiding me through the book ‘Why am I Afraid to Tell You Who I Am?’ Under the direction of another, he recently exercised his way through the book. Now the student becomes the teacher. My teacher he will become. I trust the gentleman. His unassuming, smiling nature, instantly disarms. I turned around for the exchanging of peace yesterday at St Paul Shrine, my eyes locking onto this wonderful face seated directly behind me. I knew I knew the man. It took a concentrated stare and the reception of a smile before the realization set in that it was Dennis wishing me peace. He was not wearing his glasses. I look forward to sharing a reading and recovery experience with Dennis. Together, we will explore the writing of Jesuit priest John Powell. Conducting research on Father Powell, I was saddened to discover complexity. I will link to a EWTN Women of Grace post for further examination. Life is truly a struggle.

My person is not a little hard core inside of me, a little fully formed state that is real and authentic, permanent and fixed. My person rather implies a dynamic process. In other words, if you knew me yesterday, please do not think that I am the same person that you are meeting today.

I have experienced more of life, I have encountered new depths in those I love, I have suffered and prayed, and I am different.

Please do not give me a “batting average,” fixed and irrevocable, because I am “in there” constantly, taking my swings at the opportunities of daily living. Approach me, then, with a sense of wonder, study my face and hands and voice for the signs of change; for it is certain that I have changed. But even if you do not recognize this, I may be somewhat afraid to tell you who I am. –‘Why am I Afraid to Tell You Who I Am?” Father John Powell.

I worked sixty hours last week, six days ten hours each. It is a return to the immense hours I have been working for decades. Carefully, I observe myself, checking thoughts and priorities. Exhausted by a lack of sleep, staying awake to attend a Big Book meeting and then Mass at St Paul Shrine, I was surprised by a lunch invitation, extending myself further with an accepting. The lunch proved splendid. The gentleman inviting, Big Myron, has been a presence over the last several weeks. He is a college professor, cultured and world traveled having been to the Lourdes grotto twenty-one times. His devotion to the Eucharist is authentic, practical in approach based upon healing. He explained he was meeting with two other men to discuss codependency. His friend, the man in the photo, took the lead, once assigned by Big Myron. He was told one learned best by teaching. Thoughtfully, he read form the book: ‘Codependent No More’. The fourth man was a retired priest. He presented the question whether one could be codependent upon religion. The discussion moved to the topic of solitude contrasted with loneliness and self-loathing. I am pleased to recognize a new group of male friends. We will meet on Fridays and Saturdays. Fridays discussing Aristotle, Augustine, and Aquinas, while Saturday is open for a concentration upon codependency. I appreciated Big Myron’s focus upon applying knowledge to daily living. I was astounded he possessed intimate knowledge of the writing and life of J.K. Huysmans. His familiarity with Lourdes, recently reading Huysmans expound upon the naturalist French writer, a contemporary, Emile Zola writing about his experience at Lourdes, made me bring up the movie ‘Lourdes’—a precious movie in my mind. The film is a realistic approach to Lourdes. Within the miracles and wonder, a pragmatism touches. I recommended the movie to Big Myron, stressing an effort going beyond dogma and into transformation. He turned to the other men exclaiming they must watch it. Once again, I watched the movie this morning. I decided to repost a post I did after the initial viewing.

I love the ending of this movie ‘Lourdes’. The underplay of dramatics sweeps my heart subtly into profoundness. Obedience witnessed. The entire movie is touching with its minimized need for grand pronouncements, or the vanity of declarative statements. The lack of action and emotion promotes honesty; moving the heart with simplicity, stimulating the mind with wonder. Christine, a charming young woman with multiple sclerosis, experiences a miracle visiting Lourdes. During the middle of the night, unseen, away from the crowds, lacking any form of melodramatics, she rises from her bed and walks into the bathroom to fix her hair. She miraculously gains the use of her legs, able to walk, while seemingly embarrassed for experiencing such a tremendous miracle. Not in the least does she receive the miracle with dramatics, loud proclaiming, nor tears aplenty. Preceding the final scene, she dances with the young man the French nurses all admire. She falls while dancing. The final scene with her mother, after the fall on the dance floor, at first refusing the wheelchair her mother offers, the captivating, beautiful young woman watches and listens to everything before her. The passion within her culminates. It is obvious. She wants to dance. She wants to sing. She wants to love a young man. She wants to be like the nurses, similar young women her age enjoying health and life, able to give to those less fortunate. Within all her heart, within every ounce of her being, within all her understanding, she wants to live life to its fullest as a normal young lady. Her chest heaves, she struggles so deeply with all of her passions, passions that are not evil. In the end, she concedes, acquiescing to the wishes of God. Disarming with her understated eloquence, she accepts. If it is meant for her to be in a wheelchair so be it. She sits in the wheelchair, the scene framed in blackness. Miracles are not necessary for her happiness, her faith. Mysteries are left mysteries. Happy or sad worldly endings are not witnessed as finality. I like the final comment by one of the two older women at the dining table. ‘Do you think there’ll be a dessert’? The movie fades to black as the singing continues with the delightfully catchy French pop song. The will of God is left uninterpreted, darkness regarding ultimate answers remain unanswered. That is a tremendous scene of faith. The faith St John of the Cross writes of in the above quote.

…appreciate…feelings he has had about his relationships…honesty…disappointment and pain…sharing prompted me to reflect on my own ways of relating to people and…my own experiences…an internal longing for certain types of relationships and contact with people…it makes sense to assume that I may have some unusual patterns of relationships with people in general…my expectations of friendships, I think, are not always healthy…I just wanted to be deep friends long before it was socially normal…

In normal, healthy relationships this is a slow and natural process (it could happen or it might not happen, depending on whether we eventually found us to be mutually compatible-there is no pressure). But for me, it was like I was desperate to be close because I was expecting so much from the relationship. I wanted to force it to happen. The minute I called or sent an email, I would wait all day hoping for a response. If the response took a bit longer, I would be disappointed and read all kinds of things into it…“Maybe I am not liked.” “Maybe I am inferior.” Or if the lack of response happened too many times, I would criticize (attack)…”He is an undependable person.” “He doesn’t know how to have a close friendship.”

When we made arrangements to get together, I would be thinking about it all week. And when we met, I would be listening intently for any sign of affirmation in the conversation to show how he valued our relationship. I wasn’t just enjoying the friendship. I was using it to meet some deep unmet internal need. That is unfair and unhealthy and a lot of pressure to put on a regular friendship.

Fortunately, I was socially mature enough on the outside to know to keep all this to myself…inside, I was full of all this turmoil. If I were honest with myself, I would know that I was clingy and obsessed and desperate for connection…In the end I never became a deep friend…programmed to either seek a deep friend or none at all…I wasn’t satisfied with a normal everyday friendship where we might connect every few weeks or months or at any interval that was mutually good for both of us, even if it were just once a year. It had to fit the ideal in MY mind…I am healthier now and understand some of those dynamics…I have much healthier expectations of my relationships now. But I know that I am always susceptible to such tendencies, so I always try to check myself.

…I have encountered some who also have the clinginess…some who are self-absorbed, unable to take in points of view that differ from their own…some who don’t understand the basics of keeping up a regular periodic dialogue…the relationship dies…some who are overly demanding about relationships…We all have backgrounds with pain and hurts that affects the way we interact with people…need for healing…trying to honestly look in the mirror and face my own unhealthy views and expectations of relationships…trying to have honest, healthy interactions with people…tried to be realistic…Not everyone is skilled at having healthy relationships…that doesn’t mean we dislike them…they are on their journey and they may not have the skills to be a good friend at this time…

………………

Thank you…exactly the kinds of exchanges that give me life…never met in person…connecting…mutually relate…fellow human beings…a tendency to read the other person’s problem as a reflection of me…people often disappoint…

I used to look for that one good friend to satisfy all my friendship needs. I wanted that deep, intimate bosom buddy who took the time to know me well, who knew how to encourage me when I needed, who took the right level of initiative in our friendship, who was interesting, who had similar interests…I could never find the one person to meet this crazy criteria…differently…Instead of finding the one friend…satisfy all my needs…I diversify and accept people for what they are and accept what I can get from each person…No one individual satisfies me…the composite of them together has helped me have a fuller life…not overly desperate with any single one…You said “don’t throw me away.”…I’ve had this exact phrase play in my mind all the time, “throw me away” “toss me aside” “make me feel like I don’t count.”…I have learned that I often overread situations…When someone doesn’t respond to my overtures for friendship in the way I wish, such voices play in my mind…these sorts of thoughts are distortions that come from my childhood hurts…read situations in terms of rejection and non-acceptance….It is not a personal rejection or a criticism of me…don’t “fit” together at this moment in time…areas needing healing, but God did not make a mistake…

………………

Thoughtful and honest, an increasing of self-knowledge leading to surrender-soul expanding reading. I have a friend, an academic, a language specialist and self-acclaimed Christian philosopher/psychologist. He teaches a fundamental and debilitating obstacle for growing in Jesus Christ is self-loathing. The core of our psyche is diabolically attacked by the Father of Lies to form us in a way in which we despise ourselves. As children, within all the love, care, and concern of our parents or maybe in a cruel absence of love (abuse), experience springboards us into disappointment, a movement away from love. Our teen years and young adulthood only hardens and inflates the obstacle—the distance. We cannot accept ourselves—loneliness becomes perpetual. The self-loathing, the lack of trust in ourselves, submerges into our deepest dispositions, emotions, thoughts and thus behavior. We grow foolish, unstable, unable to mature due to unsound psychological needs. The instinctive reaction to turn on one’s self becomes subtler and grows. We become desperate and expect too much, lacking an inability to be honest with ourselves—to truly know ourselves as the Creator knows us. Patterns develop that lead to addiction, codependency, and other forms of frustration. I have decided it would be best to end with words sent to me by an individual here in Courage:

After reading your not-so-hopeful message, I was just prompt to mention to you that no matter how damaged/warped you think you are, nothing is impossible to Jesus since His Grace can, did and will do anything for you as it did for many of us and many throughout the history of Christianity. We cannot change or do anything by ourselves - I agree, but by belief in His Grace, with Him and through Him - all things are possible, remember this. Please pray for His Grace to transform you. ‘For with God nothing will be impossible.” Luke 1:37