The Battle Between My Ears

The end of 2024 is fast approaching which means it is time to update my ten year plan. This also means setting goals for 2025: goals that will help me take a step or two forward along my chosen path. I don’t really make New Year’s resolutions, although I guess in a way some of my goals fit the bill. But whether I call them goals or resolutions, I face the same problem that I hear others talking about year after year as we all take on new challenges without giving in by Quitters Day, something I only recently learned was a thing. (In 2025 it occurs on January 10th.)

Setting goals is a relatively new thing for me. I think I made my first serious attempt at creating a ten year plan at the end of 2017. It sounds funny to admit that I never set any real goals for the first fifty years of my life but before then I simply did what others said was best for me. I suspect this was a direct result of growing up as a codependent, where my mom’s alcoholism too often derailed my attempts at achieving something in life. Codependency meant giving up trying to succeed back when I was a teen, becoming convinced that setting goals would only remind me that I was a failure. (I didn’t understand it back then but a lot of that came from the toxic language that was the norm in my home, especially on the days that the bottle was in control.) By letting others direct my path, I could blame them when I failed even though that really did not help me feel any better about the results.

By 2017 I was ready to set real goals but I was not ready to achieve those goals. All too often I lost the battle between my ears. This battle came in the form of an internal voice which generally focused on my fears and my own perceived limitations. As a Christian, I often encouraged others to believe that God would bless them and that they could do all things through Christ who strengthens them (Philippians 4:13). At the same time I often talked myself out of living with that kind of faith, allowing that voice to have too much control even as I recognized that it was an echo of my life before I became a Christian. As a result I fell short when it came to achieving my goals and in moving forward in life according to the will of God.

This internal, codependent, and negative voice talked me out of doing the things that I said I wanted to do, while talking me into wasting time with things that often derailed my progress. Fortunately I’ve learned to argue with this voice, talking myself into doing the things that I know will help me achieve my goals. I’ve found that for me the, “...all things in Christ…,” begins with being able to win the battle between my own ears. God has freed me from bondage to that voice and He has also empowered me to move forward where I once held myself back. Now I am free of the excuses and of blaming others and I am ready to follow God’s perfect will for my life.

With this change in my own thinking I am prepared to update my ten year plan and to set my goals for 2025. Up until now my track record has not been great but as I win my own internal battle I expect that the results in 2025 will be something to brag about by this time next year.

There’s Nothing I Can Do About It

It was a show of blatant disrespect, the kind that people later try to justify because they know they are wrong. There I was trying to make what I thought was an important point but someone else kept talking over me. They felt that the point I was making didn’t apply at the time, even though later on someone else asked the very question I was trying to answer. Somehow the answer was important when the other person asked the question but wasn’t important when I, knowing the information was needed, tried to anticipate what would be asked. Later on the person tried to explain why they interrupted me, as if the explanation somehow made it less disrespectful.

Fortunately, God has done quite a bit of work on my heart. Having been brought up under the cloud of codependency, my old self would have reacted poorly. I would have started yelling or done something else that would have made me look like a fool. If I didn’t yell, I would have made some sort of passive aggressive comment when the question I was trying to answer was asked later on. Somehow I would have found a way to mess things up so that in the end all anyone would have talked about was my own immaturity instead of that of the person who was really at fault.

In the past if I somehow managed to hold my tongue I would have felt compelled to try to change how that person thinks about me: I would have tried to earn their respect. If I had lost it, I would have gone to grovel at the person’s feet, taking full responsibility for my wrong and for theirs. Why? Well that is a symptom of codependency. It’s a drive to get people to like and respect me while fixing problems that I didn’t create in the first place. Along with that, codependency tells me that I am usually wrong and the other person is right, even when they treat me (and others) poorly.

What I’ve learned over the years is that there are some people whose hearts are not in the right place. They have an agenda to push and they are going to do so no matter who gets embarrassed or even hurt. I can’t make people like that respect or even like me. I cannot do anything to make them treat me any differently. In fact, there is nothing I can do about it. But that does not let me off the hook. While I am not responsible for the actions of other people, I am responsible for how I respond. I am responsible for making sure that my heart is right and that, in the end, I can walk away knowing that I responded as God wants.

Who’s In Your Inner Circle? Who Should be Out?

Over my five and a half decades of life I’ve had the misfortune of being in some toxic relationships. It started within my own family where one of my parents was an alcoholic, trapping me in a codependent relationship. Fortunately, in Christ I have been healed of the injuries that resulted from that relationship. But there have been others who wanted to pour toxins into my life. Some I could easily move far away from my inner circle. One in particular was a coworker who regularly tried to sell me on a very negative view of life. God eventually moved that person out to arms length where they could no longer make me a captive audience for their pontifications. As with this coworker, there are people who need to be held at a distance. Sometimes they sneak into our inner circle and we need to be honest and intentional about moving them back out.

In the Bible Samson allowed someone into his inner circle who never should have been there. He found Delilah to be attractive and seemed to enjoy her company. But at some point she became a negative influence as she worked on behalf of her people in order to try to betray Samson. In Judges 16:15-17 the Bible tells us that she pestered him to the point where “... his soul was vexed to death,...” (Judges 16:16 NKJV). Eventually he gave in to her pressure tactics, telling her the secret to his strength. As a result he lost his hair, his strength and the presence of the Lord in his life (Judges 17:20). In the end, because Samson kept Delilah in his inner circle he wound up paying a very steep price.

There are some relationships that we can’t get away from (like with an alcoholic parent). There are others where we can’t completely push the person out but we can keep them at arm's length, like coworkers or even church brethren. There are some relationships that we should get out of but the emotional attachments make it difficult. In all of these situations we need to call upon our God, asking for direction. We need to pray for the other person and for the grace to respond properly. It’s true that sometimes God puts us in a situation to influence people in the name of the Lord. But I believe there will be times when the Lord opens the door and tells us to move a person far, far away. When that happens, we need to pray for the courage to do so.

Where Is Your Focus? When Joseph Had to Choose

 

Genesis 50:15-21

You know the verse:

But as for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, (Genesis 50:20 NKJV)

But have you ever thought about the choice Joseph was making when he spoke those words? His father Jacob had recently passed away and his brothers were now scared. Without the protection of their father they feared that Joseph might take his revenge on them for what they had done many years ago. And who could blame Joseph if he did? After all, when he was much younger they tossed him into a pit which was much better for him than their original plan which was to kill him (Genesis 37:17-22). Later his brothers decided to make some money by selling Joseph into slavery (Genesis 37:25-28). This was the start of what could only be called a roller coaster of a life, that is if roller coasters existed back then.

As a slave he found himself traveling with a group of Arabian Nomads who made their living by selling things, in this case spices, balm myrrh and the occasional human being. (If you are curious as to why the Bible calls this group both “Ishmaelites'' and “Midianites'' check out “Ishmaelites or Midianites” on appologeticspress.org.) These Nomads sold Joseph to Potiphar where he would find himself falsely accused of attempting to assault the man’s wife. As a result Joseph would find himself in prison before eventually being freed in order to guide Egypt through a rather severe drought. According to a number of sources, Joseph would spend a combined 13 years either serving Potiphar or sitting in prison before seeing the fulfillment of what he had seen in the dreams that turned his brothers against him in the first place.

Having experienced these ups and downs, and now facing his brothers without his dad there to intervene, Joseph had a choice to make. He could focus on all that had gone wrong in his life because of one malicious act carried out against him by his brothers. He could focus on how he had overcome the difficulties of his past to become second only to Pharaoh in all of Egypt. Instead of choosing one of these, Joseph focused on a third possibility: that God worked everything for his good and for the good of his family.

Joseph chose to see his life through the eyes of God, focusing on what God was doing instead of focusing on the actions of his brothers or anyone else that had wronged him. This allowed him to forgive and to live free of the bondage that comes when past trauma colors our point of view. What could have been a life of depression and anger or a life spent carrying grudges was instead a life of purpose and blessing which Joseph was only able to receive by seeing God at work in his life.

This lesson is one that is very personal for me. I’ve shared in the past how my teen years were lived under the bondage of codependency. Early in my Christian walk I found it difficult to forgive and to let go of my past, allowing the chains of co-dependency to haunt me long after I had been set free. But in order to forgive and let go, I had to come to terms with the fact that God allowed me to grow up in that situation. No, He did not cause alcoholism to run in my family but He also didn’t intervene to keep me out of the situation. I had to accept that God had worked all for my good including my past and what was a very difficult situation served a purpose in God’s plan for my life.

Chances are there are times in your life where you have wondered why God didn’t intervene. Was He even there with you? Could He hear your cries? The answer is yes and yes. But will you choose to see your situation and your past through His eyes, believing that He works all for your good?

And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28 NKJV)

Looping Coasters and...What's Her Name?

As a codependent one of the first things to go was my ability to trust. Trust leaves you vulnerable and when you trust an alcoholic, as I did, trust wrecks your life. You quickly learn that being vulnerable can leave long lasting emotional injuries from which it seems impossible to heal. My most important relationship was too unpredictable and too full of pain for me to trust anyone else, including myself. So it was easier to just not trust anyone. In fact, as a child the only thing that I feared more than trusting someone was...well...looping roller coasters.

Back then my favorite roller coaster was any coaster that didn't have loops. I could tolerate the highest hills and the steepest drops. High speed turns were a must as I wanted to feel g-forces, the kind that made it hard to sit up straight. I loved (and still love) wooden coasters even if they sometimes felt rickety and metal coasters are fine, although the smooth ride takes away some of the feeling of speed. Up, down and around, roller coasters have always been my favorite part of going to an amusement park and I would ride any coaster as long as it didn't turn me upside down.

I'm not sure why I was afraid of loops and corkscrews, afterall I knew the physics behind why I wouldn't fall out. My dad is an engineer so I knew the physics behind a number of things and he demonstrated the concept behind a loop by using a glass of ice. The ice barely moved as the glass flipped over. It didn't even raise its hands and scream. (Silly ice, screaming is the best part of the ride.) There was no reason to be afraid but I chose to miss out until that fateful day when my 6th grade class took a field trip to Old Chicago Amusement Park.

Old Chicago Amusement Park was a bit of an oddity in its day: a fully enclosed amusement park wrapped in a shopping mall. Opened in 1975, it was billed as the first indoor amusement park (Mall of America opened years later  in 1992). I doubt the park ever made any money. The rumor back then was that it was built to be a massive tax writeoff. By the time of our class trip it was already clear that the park was in trouble. Many of the stores were closed leaving the mall section with a number of boarded up storefronts painted to look like they were stores from an 1890s era main street. Of course as preteens we didn't care about the boarded up stores, even though we had to pass them all to get to where the rides were. We only cared about two things: the rides and which one of the girls we would ride with.

Funny but I can't remember her name now but back then I would have done anything for her. She knew it and all our friends knew it as well. And so she became the one designated to get me to go where I said I would never go, into the queue of the Chicago Loop: a looping roller coaster named after the section of the city where Grant Park and the Willis Tower (Sears Tower) are located. My friends were quick to correct me telling me they were corkscrews not loops. Either way they turned riders upside down and everyone knew that the idea of a loop made me weak in the knees. But she asked and I was stuck riding the coaster. Anything to sit next to what's her name.

I was scared...to,,,death! So, as the ride pulled off I did what any red blooded coward would do. I closed my eyes. Did you know that with your eyes closed a ride on a roller coaster is over before you realize you've hit the bottom of the first drop? Yes you still get that feeling in your stomach on the first drop but the rest of the ride feels kind of like a wobbly seesaw. I couldn't believe it when the ride was over. What had I been so afraid of?

Later, what's her name conned me into buying her lunch. After that I didn't see her again...ever again. We wound up going to different schools the next year. Such is the life of a preteen. She was out of my life. In her wake I was left with a love for looping roller coasters.

Now I can't leave an amusement park without riding every coaster no matter what type. Just ask my family about the long queue lines. One time we stood in a queue line that was so long that it had a concession stand about a quarter of the way down its length. The ride was worth the wait (the food wasn't worth it but the coaster was). I love roller coasters, especially when they turn me upside down. I wish I could thank ole’ what's her name for getting me on the Loop. If only I could remember her name!

(I understand that as Old Chicago was closing a number of its rides were sold to other amusement parks. The Chicago Loop is now the Canobie Corkscrew located in Canobie Lake Park in New Hampshire.)

The Chase

Photo by chris howard from Pexels

I recently watched the season finale of Chasing Classic Cars on Motor Trend Network. This reality show stars Wayne Carini, owner of F40 Motorsports in Connecticut, who buys and restores classic cars. The show follows the process as he visits homes and barns in search of cars that might turn a profit. In the finale Carini spoke of how nine out of every ten leads he receives wind up without him purchasing a car. I tried to wrap my head around a 90% failure rate. Beyond the financial considerations, what makes that one out of ten worth the chase? This must be an example of someone pursuing their passion and a great example for others learning to do the same.

The connection between career and passion has long been a tough thing for me to wrap my head around, as one of my symptoms of growing up in a codependent household is a view of work that is very limiting. I was told growing up that work was all about the paycheck and that I should find something to do that is legal and that makes a lot of money. Passion and loving what I am doing were not part of the equation.

Even as I saw it in the work lives of others, I remained convinced that passion was something a man and a woman had for each other. Passion for work didn't add up until a friend of mine told me the difference between a job and a career. By his definition a job was something you do just for a paycheck, whereas a career is something you build because you want to build. I thought the difference was whether you are hourly instead of salaried. My friend opened my eyes in a way that allowed passion and love to finally become part of the career conversation.

I'm now learning to bring passion into my work, although sometimes it still seems like a foreign concept. When I heard Wayne Carini make that 9 out of 10 comment, a light bulb came on. What I've seen over several seasons of Chasing Classic Cars is passion and I started thinking about the things that I would be willing to do even with a 90% failure rate. Writing immediately came to mind. For now I still have my day job which I am thankful for especially as I see so many losing their jobs during this pandemic. As working from home gives me a chance to really examine what I do on the day job, I am also looking forward to my own chase. I am looking forward to doing something I can be passionate about. Now, where's my pen?

My Identity In Christ

Photo by lalesh aldarwish from Pexels

The biggest hurdle on the path of my Christian walk was that of recognizing my identity, as most of who I was and how I perceived myself was the result of codependent living. In fact I identified more with codependency than I did with being black. It didn’t help that my friends from time to time called me an Oreo Cookie, leaving me questioning my own racial makeup, nor did it help that I equated value with the ability to meet the expectations of other people. Even after becoming a Christian codependency is what defined me. That, along with being an Oreo who often fell short of expectations, was the reason that I didn't really like...me. These made up my identity and none of them was worth writing home about.

One of the things we tell people when they come to Christ is that they are a new creation. We tell people they are different: different from who they once were and different from people of the world of which they are no longer a citizen. That all sounded good to me and I made sure to tell everyone about this new me. However my heart did not feel new. It felt like the same heart of stone, the one God promised to replace but I felt like I missed my appointment. I called myself a child of God but in reality I doubted this fact more often than not. Though I said I was a new creation I still struggled with insecurity and with the view that I was a failure with fake relationships and with no real racial identity.

I wish at this point I could say that things just clicked one day and I realized something different about myself. That’s not how it happened. Instead I struggled for years after receiving Christ and being baptized. I struggled with impostor syndrome even as I was elevated into church leadership. I struggled with doubts, believing the promised abundant life in Christ was only for others not for a person like me. I believed these things because while I am saved and living the gift of eternal life, the most important part (a growing relationship with God) was missing.

The Bible tells us that eternal life is about relationship with God (John 17:3). It is about a complete change in identity wherein we become children of the Most High and He becomes our Father. As a result of the cross we are free to come home to our Creator, whose will is for us to know His love. In Christ we are given a new identity which we claim by faith. It may take time to learn to live as one of His but know that He is doing a good work in you. Know that as a believer you are not an impostor. By faith know that your identity is God’s son or daughter.

The Challenge of Writing About Anything

My favorite radio station is WHYY in Philadelphia, our local public radio station. I am very curious,
and the full roster of local and national programming on WHYY is a natural way of feeding my curiosity. A few weeks back, my curiosity lead to a swift kick in the pants which came while listening to an interview on Fresh Air. I do not remember the name of the person being interviewed. What I do remember is being challenged by his claim that a writer can make a story out of almost anything.

I do enjoy writing, easily getting lost in a river of  words while sitting at the keyboard. As often as possible I sneak off with pen and paper (yes I sometimes write the old fashioned way) just to see what thoughts and dreams come out on the page. True, I often find myself doodling, but the challenge of telling a story is one I am always ready to tackle.

So why don’t I write as often as I’d like? My list of excuses is long. And yes I have to admit they are excuses, not real obstacles. One such excuse is not having anything interesting to write about. This is a throwback to my time as a codependent. Having lost myself in the destructive cycle that comes with living with an alcoholic, I never thought myself good enough to come up with my own stories. Being told I would never make any real money as a writer did not help either, as I took it to mean I was not good enough. Because of codependency, I tend to hide, allowing my dreams to wither on the vine. Writing is all about being on display, something way out of my comfort zone.

I once caught myself telling a story someone else told me about something from their past. Don’t worry, I did not take credit for the story nor did I impose myself upon the plot. I did tell the story with passion which must have seemed odd to the listener, especially considering I was talking about someone they did not know. I figured the story was more interesting than anything I could come up with on my own. And while I enjoyed telling the story, I felt very empty especially when the listener made an off hand comment about a plot detail. It’s hard to come up with answers when your trying to explain something from someone else’s story.

A writer can make his own story out of anything. This is my new challenge. I do enjoy telling a good story. Now I feel challenged to come up with my own material. With anything and everything in front of me in the world, there should be plenty of topics to write about. Having nothing to write about is no longer an excuse, having been scratched off my list. It was a silly excuse, as most of them all of them are. Right now, as I look at a spring rain outside my window, I find myself wondering if I see my next bunch of new stories. In fact I do.

June 1st: A New Celebration

Celebration on the Water: Taken by Dennis Coleman

There was a time when the first day of a new month meant absolutely nothing to me. Codependency
made life something to be survived, not lived. As a result each day was no different than any other: each simply another day of suffering. Morning was a bit of a reprieve but I knew that each day we would eventually wind up on another riding upon our alcohol fueled rapids. With my mom serving as captain, we would spend most days running aground or crashing upon the rocks.

This time around the 1st of June was different. For the first time in memory, I woke up celebrating. I woke up, not as a codependent, but as a living thriving human being. Having been set free in Christ, I had the opportunity to thank God for all the wonderful things we did in the month of May. It was a month in which He changed my heart by opening my eyes to the truth of what for too long has held me back. I came out of the month of May with a new attitude towards life, knowing that I can do more than my mom’s teachings allow.. Now I am ready to live, having grown from codependent child to independent son of God.

With May behind me I also thank God for the opportunities that will come to me during this new month. I know I can do good. I can enjoy blessings from God. I can use the talents and opportunities He has and will give to impact those around me. This is a month where each day I will take a step or two forward on the path to my dreams. Now I can wake up each morning ready to enjoy the adventure that is my life. I will invest in others while enjoying the fullness that comes with being human. This month I will enjoy time with family. I will finish a book or two. Perhaps I’ll even knock a few things off my honey-do list. In short, this month I will live.

At the end of this month I will be ready to celebrate once again on the 1st. No longer will the first be a day hidden under a codependent stupor. It will continue to represent a new beginning and I plan to enjoy each 1st as well as every other day of every future month.

Codependency: Yes Somebody Cares

On my old blog I often wrote about codependency and how having an alcoholic parent was what defined my

Foster sisters by Phillip Richard Morris

life well into adulthood. While trapped by my mom's addiction I found that the best way to cope was to suppress my very negative and destructive feelings out of fear of what might have happened if they were to reach the surface of my being. Yet, as much as I thought I could hide, I still became angry and sad over something inside that I was unable to describe. Fortunately a recent post by a fellow codependent has opened my eyes. The writer, a fellow codependent, has confronted me with that which I did not want to admit to myself.

Talking or writing about the past is difficult for most codependents. So it must have taken quite a bit of courage to write “The Effects of Alcoholism Through the Eyes of a Child,” (posted on allprodad.com). I am not sure who wrote the post but can definitely relate to the experiences. The writer speaks of finding his mother dead in her room, reminding me of the phone call from my brother telling me of my mother’s death. As with the writer of the blog post, I was shocked but not surprised. But I never came to terms with perhaps the most destructive part of being a codependent, a truth spelled out in the post’s final paragraph.

In my own words: Being a codependent means living with the fact that your parent, or some other family member, loves alcohol more than they love you.

Playing second fiddle to an aluminum can destroyed my self esteem. And while I wanted to take responsibility for my own life, I found no real reason to care about myself if the one who should have cared most did not. Instead I have lived with a lot of hidden anger refusing to believe in anything but a negative view of myself. This is where I was until I discovered the truth.

If you are a codependent or if you have bought into the lie that nobody cares, I would like to share one truth with you: Somebody cares! A lot of people care, starting with our Creator who demonstrated His love on the cross where He died for you. Stop listening to that lie that tells you otherwise. There are many who care about you and who want to overlook your codependency. In short: you are loved.