My Top Five Posts of 2015

2015 may have been the year I spent recovering from everything that happened in 2014, mostly a horrible relationship that managed to hit the traumatic trifecta of my personal life, professional life, and spiritual life.

The question of 2014 was, "How will I ever heal from this?"

The answer of 2015 was, "Through writing. And by the grace of God."

Writing has been one of the most healing practices in my life—and I'm beyond grateful to be able to do that here.

On that note, here are my five favorite posts from 2015, in the order they were written:

Photo by Matthias Ripp

1. Why is Church Cliquey? Part 4

"There's that familiar narrative we tell each other after a breakup: Time to move on. You can do better. There are plenty of denominations in this diocese, or something like that. And I feel a bit silly. Like I'm all torn up over a breakup where the guy was never really that into me in the first place."

I don't know if I would describe this as a personal favorite, but as the latest in my "Why is Church Cliquey?" series it feels significant to my journey as a Christian and (post) Evangelical. Looking back, I can see how even though I left my church for personal reasons, the exodus was both a long time coming and to a certain point, inevitable. I can feel part 5 coming on like a case of norovirus. You're welcome in advance.

2. The INTP & Giving Zero Fucks, Parts 1, 2 & 3

"You don't care," is also emotionally coercive: "You should care. Shame on you for not caring. If you were a good person, a good Christian, a good girlfriend, a good employee, you would give a f*** about what I want you to give a f*** about."

This series was so much fun to write (not least because who doesn't like to drop the F bomb every third sentence, amiright?) Numerous people (two) told me that they also found it amusing, so mission accomplished. Apparently, there is a huge (in the 100s) blog market out there for INTP-related content, so expect to see more in the future. One of my most googled posts is "INTP = Asshole?" and I laugh every single time it comes up in the search keywords.

3. The Church & Mental Health: Interview with a Therapist

"There's an old saying one of my bosses likes, it goes: 'Feelings buried alive never die.' And what happens is they come out in other very nasty ways."

Addressing the intersection of Christianity and mental health, the interviews in this series brought healing when I least expected it. I can't emphasize enough how thankful I am—how God used conversation, and questions, and writing to bring healing and resolution to some traumatic things that happened in 2014 around the issue of mental health, and even more inexplicably, to a trauma that I have struggled to make sense of for over 10 years (I haven't published that interview yet. Bring it on 2016!) I don't know what to make of it. It's a miracle in its own right. And for me, it was one of the most grace-filled moments of 2015.

4. Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys Are All Dented Cans - Entitlement

"It's not anger. Because anger doesn't cause abuse. It's not pain. Because there are many, many men (and women) who experience intense, searing, heart-rending pain and yet fail to abuse anyone. It's not that they rage--it's that they feel justified in their cruelty."

Wow, talk about raw pain. The "Undateable" series might be the most popular series I've ever written—and some of the most appreciative readers have been men, which is awesome. I've used the series in part to process one of the most traumatic relationships of my life, and I think this post gets at the heart of why dating men like this can make you question your spiritual and religious beliefs. Because unfortunately, Christian men and men in the church are no less entitled (some would say they are more entitled because of historical Christian misogyny) than non-Christian men. What happens when you would no longer like a side of misogyny and sexism with your Christianity (thank you, but I don't like mushrooms). Do you give it up altogether?

5. Jessica Jones, Sex Robots for Jesus, and the Love/Respect Binary

"So I'm going to call 'Love and Respect' what it is: a false doctrine. Idolatry. A dangerous, misogynistic, and abusive ideology masquerading as the biblical, magic pill solution to all male/female relationships."

Hello misogyny, my old friend. Speaking of misogyny and the church—I've always had something of a personal vendetta against "Love and Respect" the franchise. But I had never actually read the book. HOLY BLANKETY BLANK. It was so much worse than I thought it would be, and that's saying something. Not to put too fine a point on it, but this book is evil. And if even one person questions 1/100th of its assumptions about men, women, gender roles, and marriage, I will consider that a success. I see more writing about complementarianism and "Love and Respect" in my future, God help us all.

Runners up:

Why I kept Quiet About Being Sexually Harassed
Should I Stay or Should I go?
"Give Me Sex Jesus"

Interview with a Therapist: Anonymous, Part 2

If you missed it, here's Part 1 of the interview.

In Part 2, we talk about the stigma of going to therapy and taking medication, the definition of mental health, the role of spirituality in the therapist/client relationship, and more.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

Photo by Eje Gustafsson

Q. Any thoughts on the social stressors that might lead to a mental health crisis, such as losing a job, unemployment, divorce, abuse, trauma, etc. and how the church might address these?

All those things are considered losses—it's the same as losing a person in your life. Divorce can affect you as much as the grief of losing a loved one and so can losing a job. They impact you in the same way as far as pain and the loss of who you are, your identity.

I think the church should address [divorce]. I feel like no one likes to talk about it. People get divorced. People lose their jobs. There are a lot of freelance [workers] who are constantly without work—that can affect you.

Luckily, if you find a good community group where you're able to discuss [these things] and be vulnerable, hopefully they'll be supportive. That's happened in one of our small groups. People have started opening up about their trauma and the group has been very supportive.

Q. In your experience, are Christians more or less resistant to seeking professional help?

They're more resistant. Because they feel like God is going to heal them already, or if they go to a therapist there is something wrong with their spiritual faith.

Some people feel like going to a therapist is very taboo, like dating someone who works for the IRS. No one likes the IRS.

Usually, it's seen as a last resort [in] getting help. And it shouldn't be. It should be one of the first things that you do if you feel like you're not being the person that you want to be.

"If you go to a therapist, then there's something wrong with you."

And that's not what it is. You're going to someone who has experience and can help you achieve your goals.

The worst thing I've heard was someone who was sexually abused (the family was Christian) was told, “God will make you forget that and make it go away.”

Forgetting about it is not really dealing with it.

Q. Any thoughts on integrating your spiritual life with your practice?

I think for me, it's being open. People think that psychologists aren't Christians, and that's not true. I've prayed for some of my clients—not in the room. But I've been open spiritually to whatever they bring into the room.

And that really helps me get a sense of what's going on. Because we have all these senses and a spiritual sense is something that I feel like people leave out. [But] it's a part of you—you can't leave yourself out of the room.

You bring your whole self into a room to help integrate what the client wants to do—what their goals are, what they want to achieve—and they sense that.

I never talk about God in the room unless my clients ask me:
“Do you believe in God?”
“Yes.”
I'm not going to lie.

I've had [times] where I was going through a spiritual process, and the client started a random conversation, just talking about God. So you never know.

If you incorporate every aspect of yourself into a room, your client will see that and they'll connect with it—because you're being your most authentic self. You're being vulnerable to them, so that they can be vulnerable to you.

Q. Any thoughts about the intersection between being a therapist and being a Christian?

I will say that there was a moment where I was very rational and I didn't incorporate that—especially in my early years in clinical work. I didn't incorporate that because I didn't understand how to.

And then one day I was like, “Well, it's a part of me, why am I leaving that out?”

Once that clicked, I was able to work further with my clients than just at the superficial level. I was able to do deeper work because they sensed that I'm bringing myself into the room wholly—I'm there and I'm present.

And then we were able to share more—without me having to disclose anything [about religion]. Just that open energy and being able to share and be vulnerable actually helped me help them in their work. It's so weird. But it did.

Q. It's interesting, because I've gone to therapy, and I don't think my therapist was a Christian (that I can tell). It makes me want to know, [laughing] I wonder if they believe in God?

I mean, you can ask them.

But that's the thing—you have to be in a place where you feel comfortable asking your therapist—It's a very personal, private relationship, it's very intimate. It's very strange, but it's an intimate relationship that you have with someone.

If you're not able to ask them these types of questions, then what is going on in the room?

Yes, therapy is focused on you, but I think there's nothing wrong with asking your therapist a question. It might actually surprise them.

Q. Sometimes I like it when therapists tell you something about themselves, because it feels a little less one-sided.

It feels authentic.

Q. How do you help a friend you think might be going through a mental health crisis?

If it's just something that's been going on for a couple of days, then you might want to wait a month or two to ask them about that again. But if it's been going on for years and someone hasn't been getting any help, then you can be like, “Have you thought about therapy?”

Oh, I almost forgot: there is also a huge stigma against medication.

And I think being open, “Have you thought about medication?” I don't think there's anything wrong with it, some people do need it.

I don't think everyone needs it, but that's for a psychologist and a psychiatrist to assess. So just being open about it and supporting your friend if they're taking medication—like I said, “If it helps you, that's great.” But I don't hear that from many people.

Q. Because you don't want to be like, “You should be on meds!”

But just being supportive of their struggle. 

The medication part is always [about] whether the client wants it or not. No one is ever going to force them to take it.

It's like, “Hey, this is an option for you. Therapy is an option for you. Different types of therapy are an option for you, what do you think? Do you think it would help, would you even try it?”

Even suggesting things like this without judgement is so important—having friends feel comfortable talking about these things.

Q. I feel more comfortable suggesting therapy because I go to therapy, but the medication thing I feel like I don't know much about it. But taking away the stigma—thanks for bringing that up.

I almost forgot about it, but I'm like, “That one's big. That's really big.” [laughing]

Q. Especially in the Christian world.

“Your healing will come from God,” but what does that look like?

Q. "You're not supposed to take medicine"—

But maybe I do, people take antibiotics.

Q. Right, they take it for physical stuff. Anything else you want to add?

I think that mental health is not exclusive of the church, it's part of it—it's there, people are struggling. And I think it should be taken into account when someone comes to you for advice or help.

It's just like [any other] field, like a doctor who's a Christian or a therapist who's a Christian. I don't think that you have to pick one or the other.

Spirituality is just as important as mental health and together they really help a person have breakthrough [in their life]. I use spirituality in my own individual life along with mental health practices, just to maintain mental health.

Q. What's your definition of "mentally healthy"?

It's not having a perfect life—that's not what mental health is—it's being able to cope with difficult things in your life. And even being able to be happy. [laughing] Yes, it's very hard. It's very hard.

Pain, Part 3: Dealing with Trauma

I'm driven to understand things. To dig deep and find answers (Blame it on the INTP. I certainly do).

I mostly do the opposite of shrugging my shoulders and going, "That's just the way it is."

Even when it comes to pain. Especially when it comes to pain.

Unfortunately for me, you can't analyze your way to healing. Not that I don't try.

Why is this not comforting

Pain doesn't have words. Pain just is.

After going through a traumatic experience (or sequence of traumatic experiences) last year, I've been struggling with how to deal with trauma. This leads to quite a few questions:

How do you heal from emotional trauma?
What do you do if the pain doesn't seem to get better or go away?
How do I deal with the layers of betrayal--not only by the person who originally hurt me, but by the surrounding social contexts that enabled the original betrayal or responded with indifference?
How important is it to understand the motivation and psychology behind the person who hurt me?
How do I process and integrate the positive experiences that I had with this person without simply experiencing more pain?
How do I balance processing trauma in the way it deserves while also moving on with my life and seeking out new relationships?
How do I protect myself from situations or people who are abusive while also not shutting down all possibility of intimacy or vulnerability?
How do I deal with people or situations that trigger irrational and intense fear because they remind me of the abuse?

And on it goes.

And while I think there is nothing wrong with asking a ton of questions (I live for questions. Occasionally I die for them to), I feel like this mountain of questioning also betrays something of a perfectionistic streak--

I find myself operating in a strange place of perfectionism--that inescapable drive to be perfect--even perfect at dealing with trauma.

I hover consistently between "Don't be a victim" and "Why do I still feel like this?" I struggle with thinking that perhaps I seek to memorialize my pain rather than to let it go. But I suppose it's a bit like trying to rip out a jagged edged weapon embedded deep in your flesh--you can't pull it out without also taking some blood and guts with you.

I struggle with thinking that there is a right and a wrong way to deal with trauma, and maybe I'm doing it wrong. I'm failing.

Then of course, there's the occasional odd flash of pride: "I'm dealing with it. I'm neither numbing out, nor engaging in self-destructive habits!" Yay me!

But I also struggle with either leaning into the pain, "living in the present" as they call it, or doing everything I can to distract myself.

And when I'm not perfect at dealing with trauma, shame is ready to pounce.

That's the weird thing about shame--that it tends to spiral outward in layers--

Layer upon layer upon layer upon layer upon layer:

The shame of the trauma itself.
The shame of being responsible for the trauma (abuse) or somehow responsible for not preventing it from happening. ("If only I had...", "I could have...", "Why didn't I...")
The shame of not doing trauma right. (What's wrong with me? I should be over this by now?)
The shame of perfectionism. (It's stupid to think that I can "perform" and be good enough at something like dealing with trauma.)
The shame of self-pity. (I must be feeling sorry for myself right now, because it still hurts.)
The shame of wanting support. (Why doesn't anyone care? I shouldn't expect them to. This is mine to deal with.)
The shame of wanting revenge. (I shouldn't want someone else to suffer like I did.)
The shame of not forgiving. (If I really forgave this person, I wouldn't still feel this way. It's wrong to not forgive.)

And on it goes.

At it's core, is it not some basic shame about being alive?

I've written so much about how pain is a sign that something is wrong. What if pain is also a sign that something is right--a sign of pulsing, breathing, sensing, feeling, painful, vulnerable, life?

I feel pain because I am alive. And I am healing. And I will heal. And I am more than the shame.