boys don't cry (such a lie)

"In the clearing stands a boxer

And a fighter by his trade

And he carries the reminders

Of every glove that laid him down

Or cut him till he cried out

In his anger and his shame

'I am leaving, I am leaving' 

But the fighter still remains" -'The Boxer', Simon & Garfunkel

-----

Anyone can listen in; this one's for the fellas--

The ones quietly pushing against apathy, pushing against emotional muting, pushing against a hangover, pushing against their fathers or mothers (or both), pushing against the withering self-talk, pushing against overcorrection. Pushing against porn and its lies, pushing against checking out. Pushing against themselves sometimes.

Pushing against G!d.

Pushing for a break in the fog. How can it look to express emotional turmoil, as a man? Want to be authentic, do not want to inadvertently add to any cesspools of 'toxic' masculinity. Pushing for a way through. Squinting toward the horizon, hoping for some lived-in guideposts of what masculinity means, without that adjective 'toxic' in front of it.

[Before I say anything else, lemme say this: warnings about 'toxic' masculinity are entirely proper, wise, and warranted. Misogyny cannot ever be an answer. The fallout of sin taints everything -- in some way, for now -- about this world (Romans 8:20-22), including how we relate to one another.]

So some ink needs spilling about masculinity, not just as 'masculinity has to not be this', but 'a meaning of masculinity should include this [insert ideal].' Embodying masculinity has to reach beyond describing what it is not.

Just some observations about sloggging through emotional turmoil as a man:

1) Non-toxic doesn't equal healthy. As much as I love me some Cheetos -- and the snack does meet the FDA-approved standard of 'non-toxic' -- that doesn't mean my health would flourish via a steady intake of the enriched corn meal, garishly orange cheese seasoning, and maltodextrin.

So if you aim to be non-toxic with your masculinity, that's laudable! It's a swell start. Thankfully, there's more to it than that.

2) As many times as a torpedo sinks the cartoon-macho facade of the emotionless, stoic, never cries and never feels pain (except for kicks to the groin) masculinity, the image consistently washes ashore like a live grenade, ready to inflict pain.

We cognitively sense this facade doesn't work. It slowly corrodes from within. But where (and how) to start piecing together alternative ways to relate? Where can one feel safe enough to clumsily emote?

For me, my wariness to torpedo that facade stemmed from this: Once I blew it up, I had no idea what would take its place. At least with the facade, I felt some predictability (this wasn't actually true, but until I had an equally compelling narrative to counter this one, it was easiest to believe).

What did help me: observing up-close how other men dealt with this stuff. Wiser men, older men. Safe men who rooted for me, counseled me, laughed with me, didn't agree with me about everything, heard me through the rough emotional first drafts.

Choosing to spend time around other men showed me how they navigated emotional turmoil without either exploding, or stuffing it a million miles down into their chest. I could learn some by imitating these intriguing ways to relate. And by imitating, I could gain some confidence to continue onward. This still helps me.

2) Speaking of older men: a word on your father, or a father figure in your life. He may seem impossible to connect with, but he's walked some of these paths. Don't write him off prematurely. There's more there than meets your present understanding. It can be a frustrating, yet rewarding, exercise to unearth the long-ago person and lessons inside of him. It'll take you some time to do this.

3) Therapy can help. I've benefitted a ton in my life from talking my stuff out with a professional. Pragmatically speaking, it's meant that I don't assume the dual roles of participant and moderator to my internal nonstop dialogue. I can talk stuff out, and someone else -- professionally trained! -- can moderate, can assist to figure out how the puzzle in my mind might fit together.

If you need a more pragmatic reason in support of therapy: it's undoubtedly more budget-friendly in the long run than not going to therapy. If you're sometimes willing to drive 15-20 minutes out of the way to fill up on gas that's just 5-10 cents cheaper, then this mindset also applies for therapy > no therapy.

4) The end goal is not to show emotions just like the women in your life show them. So if you're concerned that emoting will make you appear more feminine, nah. It will expand your notions and range of how masculinity can and does express itself.

5) That being said, odds are quite good you have strong, wise women in your life that you trust (I don't only mean girlfriends, or potential future girlfriends. I mean friends. Co-workers). This is a gift from God. Of course you can learn much from their example, their counsel, their friendship, their observations, their ways of relating, their stories. In the Old Testament book of Proverbs, wisdom is depicted as a caring, street-smart, strong, supportive 'she'. That's not a typo.

6) You possess these capabilities already. So it's not like adding an external software update onto your hard drive. It's more like discovering some tools you already own buried in the bottom of your closet, figuring out their intended purpose, and how to use them well.

I do not write as someone who's figured this stuff out. HARDLY. But I write as someone who's been some of where you are, has tripped headlong on many exposed tree roots of similar trails, and knows something of the purposeful, resolute stepping needed to make headway.

So find the trails nearby that await your walking on them. It's near time to dump the puzzle pieces out onto the table; time to start to try to make sense of the larger picture. The fighter still remains.

(Thx J.N. for the prompt!)

friends with an ex

"Of course we can still be friends." The last gasp of a dating relationship/situationship, etc.

Is trying to salvage a friendship worth your time? In time, maybe. Not always, though

Is it realistic? Well, that depends--

Is it just something nice that's said to show politeness? Usually. 

A few matters about this to point out, in no particular order (Dear Reader: please note, these principles and useful tips I've learned myself, usually the hard way -- happy to discuss further in person, as usual).

a) It's grueling to try to stay friends immediately after a breakup. Try to salvage a friendship -- not right away -- but way, way later. A wise rule of thumb: restoring a friendship cannot really start until the person most hurt and/or surprised by the breakup feels ready to do so.

b) Whether you're doing the breaking up, or being broken up with, no one can demand friendship. By friendship, I mean the effort to keep connection and to share life with another. Friendship is friendship because it's freely exchanged. So if you do not want to be friends, that's acceptable. The other person doesn't have to agree.

b) If you hope this 'let's stay friends' sentiment will lead you to someday get back together, please note: that's a harrowing place for your heart to perch and to wait. Don't let your hopes wander too far out onto that branch.

c) One (or both) of y'all will need quality time ... apart. No contact, don't reach out, social media unfollowing/ muting, stay away from where they frequent, no spending time together --- these are all wise steps to take. It often compares to weaning yourself off an addiction. So go your own way (and call it another lonely day).

d) Friends with benefits: an awful, counterproductive, dignity-marring, heart-damaging, dumb idea. Please don't do it. You deserve so much better. Part of reminding yourself of the truth (that you deserve better) is to steadfastly stay far, far, far away from whatever could never co-exist with that truth.

e) You will feel some pangs -- of desire, angst, or heartache -- when you see your ex. 

Ouch. 

A best friend of mine taught me that this does NOT mean we still want to be with them. It usually happens because we've trained ourselves to respond a certain way when we see that person. Ergo, it takes time to undo our conditioned response, and to think of them differently. 

Give yourself that time.

e) The first few times of being around an ex will feel weird and clumsy. That's normal.

f) If you want to work toward being friends, do yourself a favor: do not ask them if they're dating or in a situationship with anyone. You don't need to know. This is tea you need not try to spill.

g) We all suffer through moments when our emotions ping around our brains at hyper-speed ... when we can't resist believing every absurd-anxious, half-baked thought we have about how we suck, and how no one could ever really love us. 

"Oh, that's not just me?!?" you may think. 

It's not.

Your brain will entertain this crooked frame of thinking at times. It sucks. And it won't last. But, to get your head straight, you'll need to talk it out. With a friend.

When your perspective warps in this way, try your level best to not seek support from your ex (nor from any of your ex's friends). Fall apart and piece yourself back together in a place, and with people, loyal to you ... safe for you ... relatively uncomplicated for you ... who won't gossip about you.

i) Pro Tip: If, soon after the breakup, you're with a group of people, and the other person is also there or will be there, try to arrive first. This way, you can find people to interact with who will keep your attention occupied and talking about anything else.

j) Pro Tip #2: If you're with a group of people, and the other person is there ... leaving too early > staying too long. Plan your exit. Leave when you plan to leave. Be concise and cheerily bland with saying goodbye to the group, and get out.

k) If the ex sends a message/calls/sends a notification ... don't respond until about a full day later, at minimum. It's not mean. It's wise. 

This particularly holds true for messages received say between 10:32AM-3:47AM). In a word: everyone is dumber in the later evening hours. Everyone is less mentally/emotionally sharp after midnight. You are too.

Eventually, keeping a friendship with an ex does become easier. You may not stay in touch with this person all your life. But it can get to a place where -- if you see each other somewhere -- it can be cordial. Respectful. Not a big deal.

And ... in time ... if being friends works well, you might become some version of an unproblematic ex for them. Someone trusted. You become someone your ex wouldn't mind introducing to their current partner, or future spouse. You can be in the same space, it isn't weird, it doesn't get physical, and you're content.

That's a sweet place to be. But it takes time. It takes effort, and boundaries. It takes grace, and it takes forgiveness to get there.

fuses and matches

"By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going." -Hebrews 11:8 (underlining added)

We cannot always control what we start. Once we ring a bell, it can't be un-rung. Once we say the words, we can't force them back into our mouths. Once we light that fuse, it's lit -- we'd have to move quickly to put the fuse out before it ignites.

Independence Day brings the annual fireworks lighting in our neighborhood, and throughout our city. Not just the shows put on by municipalities -- also just regular folks spending their money to light gloriously gawdy fireworks. These fireworks usually have amazing names, such as Roman candles, bottle rockets, black cats, nuclear sunrises. If you're into fireworks, you have your favorites.

Lighting a bottle rocket -- it takes some faith. We light the fuse, and presume to point it in a general direction (hopefully straight upward!). It could make an arc. It could streak through a haze of previous bottle rocket smoke trails.

Or not. It could tip sideways, and stay low to the ground. 

Once, I unwisely stoked a bottle rocket battle with a buddy of mine when we were teens. In the handle end of some wiffle ball bats, there's this tiny hole that can hold the stick end of a bottle rocket. Load, light, and aim. It was a predictably wild and silly night (in hindsight, we should've worn gloves and goggles for, but alas ... most stories we repeat in life involve doing something dumb and somehow making it through OK).

So we light the fuse. Then we wait and see what happens next. It's like this with bigger steps and life transitions too. 

There's just no way to always know where a path -- once started -- will ultimately meander. We take a new job, with no way of knowing what doors it could open for us. We join a new club, not knowing who we could meet that might change our life forever. We can't know every ending before every beginning.  

This is not just a modern-day sort of challenge. It's been this way since ancient time. "By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going." -Hebrews 11:8. 

This helps me relax. 

I take begrudging and grateful comfort that someone following God STILL didn't know where he was going. And he still went out. And while it had its challenges, it turned out so well for Abraham and his loved ones!

It's the bottle rocket life of kicking some dust up, lighting some fuses, and seeing where they go from there. Live wisely and boldly. Take the chance on something good. Just because you don't know exactly where something's heading doesn't mean you're not following where God's leading you.

Future you will have more ideas of how to navigate what's ahead -- no need to figure out every last possible circumstance and contingency before you even get going. 

Time to step out, touch the lighter to the fuse, and see what's what.

familiar cross-fades

I vividly recall a college conversation with my friend Rachel. We chatted within the first few weeks of my first semester of college. She was one of the few people I already knew when I started.

"I'm thinking of transferring to another school," I told her.

The first few weeks of college took its toll. The erratic loneliness. The awkward meals alone. I missed my girlfriend back home. I missed my family. I missed my friends.

And I wasn't just missing what used to be.

Adapting to college brought plenty of challenges.

Attempting to adapt to two new roommates with wildly different personalities. Attempting to push my introverted self out there to meet people. Attempting to time my showers in the floor's community bathroom to avoid waiting for an opening. Attempting to comprehend my poly sci professor's impenetrable lectures (spoiler: I dropped poly sci as a minor).

All this attempting brought one solution to my mind: I needed to leave. 

Even though I'd just replanted myself, I wanted to uproot.

My reactive plan did not persuade Rachel, a seasoned college junior. "You just got here," she said breezily. "Slow down; give it some more time."

I didn't like her idea.

Yet transferring seemed like a ton of extra work. So, I stayed.

Within a few month's time, Rachel's advice seemed eminently wise. I acclimated. I made friends. Girlfriend from home and I broke up (so in a rough way, that situation worked itself out). I found people to share meals with.

 I settled in to my new life.

I re-learned an important lesson: my initial impressions often mislead me.

It's like this: sometimes the familiarity (and our memories) of what was can blind our imagination's ability to accurately see what could be.

Don't stay fooled by the cross-fade of what was and what could be.

It took every bit of the "give it some more time" my friend Rachel suggested.

I met people my first few weeks of school that seemed like they could be my friends all through college. 

It didn't work out that way. But I met other people, and found another crowd or two by the next semester that ended up introducing me to lifelong friends. By the end of that first year, I looked forward to coming back the next fall.

My friend Rachel's advice guided me well; it helped me to be skeptical of my skepticism. Hopefully you have someone who helps you to be skeptical of your own skepticism.

I never did try to reacquire poly sci as a minor, though.