serious sometimes

Just thought I could show you I can be serious sometimes.....


Comfortably Numb

I was struck today with a memory from Camp Oatka, East Sebago, Maine. While there, I went to an ecumenical service that was designed to be Christian, but not specific to any faith in particular. We listened to music, there was a sermon, and the counselors and CITs shared. The campers prayed and shared a little.

I was struck by the open atmosphere, the non-judgmental nature of the service. I was also really struck by a “sermon” delivered by a Counselor, whose name I can’t remember. He played the Pink Floyed song for us, “Comfortably Numb.” He then spoke about something that was really real for me.

He spoke of how the concept of being comfortably numb, in church, in school , and in family life could lead to a lack of novelty, and essentially a lack of meaning. He also talked about how he was leaving college soon, and would be going into the “real world.” He was worried about how he would become comfortably numb in the real world as well.

The counselor also challenged us to get out of our comfort zones, to explore life as we grew up. He was touching on some really deep stuff, and it hit home. He assured us that questioning was a normal process of growing up, and that it was essential.

I took this message to heart, at the age of 10. Growing up in a Catholic household, I was so accustomed to going to Mass every Sunday, that I had the whole mass memorized. I had come to accept the fact that I was going to be there, no matter what. I also started to become numb to the lack of change in the structure of the service. I was not finding meaning in the mass, and would often daydream. The way that my Mom and Dad brought meaning to it was by asking prompting questions after and before mass. This helped us understand a lot of the structure, tradition, and meaning better.
I also took on service, as an altar boy, and later as a Eucharistic minister, in order to literally have something to do during the service. I also did it, because it was expected (Tim and Tom had done it.) It was also a way of “showing off” my knowledge of the church, and it was one of my earliest public measures of people pleasing. I was good at altar serving, no doubt about it. I was even chosen by Fr. Bailey to serve at his funeral, because he had a fondness for my ability, and attention to detail.

This pattern of what Tim calls “everyday responsibility” was very difficult for me, from the start. I didn’t want to do things, just because that’s what I had to do. I didn’t want to follow rules, just because. I wanted to question life. I wanted to live each day differently. I thrived on structure, but I rebelled in so many ways. I wanted space. I wanted freedom, and I had a loathing for responsibility.

I can remember being in school, and how the year would just seem to fly by. The school year would start, and soon enough it would seem to be ending, and we would be going off for the summer. I remember being so lost sometimes, and struggling to find meaning, even at a really young age. I often thought to myself, what is the point of all this? Why am I here? I also remember how talking about these things with my Mom would impress her, would really make her think I was a genius. She would often remark at how mature that type of thinking was. But my siblings, and my dad would often talk about how that kind of thinking would get me into trouble.
I really believe that here began my illness as a Bipolar alcoholic addict. I was addicted to distractions. I would often avoid hard work, and I relied on my keen intellect, my social skills, and my charm to do this. I was very good at pleasing those who needed to be pleased, and doing what I wanted with the rest of my time. I was mean to kids who didn’t fit in, and I was nice to all parents. I challenged teachers in ways that students hadn’t challenged them before. I got in trouble, but I was able to talk my way out of it. I became adept at deception.
My search for meaning came to an abrupt and screeching halt when I was diagnosed bipolar. I lost my mind, and I struggled to get it back. I wanted to be healthy, but I wanted to have fun. I felt that substances were a great way to do it, and I didn’t want to deal with consequences. I was off to the races, and I was equipped with the tools of deception, intelligence, and determination to do things the way I wanted to, regardless of what anyone had to say.

I have come to realize that life is not that bad. I have been given so much, and I can give back in so many ways. If I stay away from bad decisions, risky behavior, and mind-altering substances, I can do a lot here on earth. If I open up my ears, and listen to people around me, I will truly thrive. I have a path laid before me, by God Almighty, and it is not my job to figure out where that path leads. The only thing I need to know is that I have this moment in which to live. I can’t fix the past, and I am not supposed to know what will happen in the future. With an open ear, with Love in my heart, and with a positive attitude, I can do the right thing. Today, I don’t need to know what this is. That is a gift, and it is a gift I never want to give up.