Tuesday, July 6, 2010
I just got pummeled.
Yesterday I published an utterly inappropriate post. I basically ranted about how much I hate people. What kind of loser does that? Me, I guess.
The weird part is that I don't hate people at all. I love them deeply! One of my favorite things in the world is to sit down with someone over lunch and pepper them with questions about their life, their dreams, God's call, everything! Electricity courses through my veins as we imagine what could be. And really, it doesn't matter to me if they're weird or not. I'm weird too!
So when I go back and read something like what I wrote yesterday it's pretty obvious why it would make someone (or everyone) surprised/hurt/defensive/angry. I regret publishing it. It should have remained locked away in a journal someplace, filed in the bad attitudes section.
I feel like a total jerk. I'm slowly becoming aware that more people are reading this blog than I realized. Many of you have taken a deep personal interest in what's going on with Danielle and me. You've prayed for us. You've loved us. You've encouraged us. We've felt it and it's carried us! Thank you!
The problem is that I'm so filled with shame and self loathing that it's physically painful for me to be in the room with people I don't know. My chest tightens with anxiety, and I'm constantly afraid of someone I don't recognize sprinting up to me and yelling in my face. But it never happens. It's all fear, insecurity, and lies.
I've only been loved. So for me to write such a condemning blog sounds like the diabolical opposite of all the love and grace I've received. It's like the guy who was forgiven a huge debt but won't forgive the other guy who owes him a pittance. Hate that guy! He belongs in prison!
But the reason I wrote yesterday was not because I'm a diabolical man. It's because I'm a hurting man. It's not that I don't want to talk to people, it's that I'm afraid to hold a conversation with anyone in public. If someone is talking to me, and out of my peripheral vision I see people approaching, my heart jumps into my throat and my bones start shaking. What will they say? Do they hate me? Are they planning to humiliate me? Are they going to ask me invasive questions about stuff I'm not ready to talk about yet?
It's because of these fears that I live in constant paranoia when I'm walking through a grocery store, office building, or park. And it's the same reason I have been getting way too impatient with people lately. Just yesterday at church I practically dragged Danielle out of a conversation with her mom because I saw silhouettes of people in the distance. I thought for sure one lady wanted to confront me. Did she? Probably not.
I'm not making excuses for myself. What I wrote was mean and simply not true. It was a reaction in fear, not an actual description of people. I'm so sorry. If I hurt you, or caused you to wonder, I am so SO sorry.
Just because I'm hurting doesn't give me the right to lash out. I thought a vague sort of emotional dumping would be OK because I wasn't singling out any specific person or type, but instead it seems to have resulted in everyone feeling slapped.
In the last 12 hours I've received several comments, ranging from somewhat negative to extremely hurtful. I took down one blog altogether for fear that I would hurt my family. When I get comments like I received, it wakes me up to the fact that something in me is not right! And I want to repent.
But it also makes me more afraid. I wonder who hates me. I wonder which face in church is secretly seething about my narcissism. It's ironic, because now I realize that that's essentially what I made people wonder yesterday. "Does Matt hate me? Am I one of THOSE people?" I guess this is another helping of my own medicine. It sucks. I get it now.
Now I don't know what to do. And I'm stuck with all sorts of decisions. Do I take away my mean posts? Do I delete the harsh comments? Do I stop blogging altogether? I don't know. I just don't know.
When I started this blog I had no intention of offending people. It's not what I meant to do. It was supposed to be just an empty stage where I could shout at cornfields.
But now I feel watched and judged. And the writer in me wants that. This blog is helping me develop a passion for writing and I feel Destiny in the mix. I want to improve and feedback helps me like nothing else!
But I also feel unsafe. Like there are angry people out there, and that I'm too tender to handle it. My skin isn't thick enough right now. Pretty much anyone's words penetrate to my heart and fillet me open. Just because I can fashion cohesive sentences and passionate arguments, doesn't mean I'm prepared to absorb what I put out. I guess that's not fair though, huh?
So what to do? I HAVE to be able to be honest. Even if it's fleshly sometimes. But I CAN'T wallow in sinful attitudes either. And I don't want to.