Interlude #1: Christmas Reflections

So this is Christmas,

And what have you done?

                        --John Lennon

 

Lately I’ve been taking stock of the last year, to see what progress I might have made.  It’s not so much a matter, as Herr Lennon suggested, of thinking what I have done or accomplished over the year (uncomfortably little, as it turns out), but rather of taking note of what I have learned.  The memory of accomplishments tends to dim with the passage of time and the reality of new challenges; learning remains, however, with each new insight building upon (and often reinforcing) previous ones. 

 

Here are a few of the nuggets that I have picked up:

 

• Something as simple as watching my breathing can have a dramatic impact on my mindset.  I have asked myself how this can be, and I have concluded that much of it is what I call “neurophysiobehavioral”.  One of the unfortunate side effects of the pace of life that we are more or less compelled to live these days is that we get into the pattern of reactive behavior.  Being called upon to make split-second (or less) decisions at a nanomoment’s notice, we don’t take the time to think before speaking or acting.  Consequently, we generally find ourselves in crisis mode, regressing to the status of cavepeople who are always on Saber-Tooth alert.  Constantly on edge, waiting for the next emergency, we “act (or react) first, and regret at leisure”.  As Raymond Tallis recently noted, “We do not walk, we sleepwalk; we do not act, we react, scarcely aware of that to which we are reacting.”   The one thing I have found that breaks the cycle is slowing down my breathing.  Slower breathing means slower neurological and physiological response, which gives me time to consider my options and to choose a response.  Just five minutes or so of concentrating on my breathing usually does the trick.  I have found that it also prepares me for prayer, clearing my mind of the babble of concerns so that I can pray in a peaceful, trusting state of mind. 

 

• Agency (or free will) is supreme, but it is not as simple as we seem to make it out to be.  While agency is an eternal principle, our ability to exercise that agency can fluctuate according to circumstance.  Our task is not only to make good use of our agency, but also to optimize conditions so that we can make best use of that agency.  Psychologist Allen Bergin has pointed out that the ability to exercise agency can be enhanced or impaired by our actions or by the actions of others.    In my own case, I have seen that my agency-exercising capacity has been limited by both, as well as by the limitations imposed by my AS.  Much of my activity over the last year and a half has been in the context of increasing my ability to exercise my agency.  It’s been massively difficult and incredibly discouraging, but I see that I have been making some progress. 

 

• Shame is absolutely debilitating.  It causes us to question our worth, distrust our thinking, and dismiss even our noblest impulses and desires.  It makes us intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually dependent upon other people, assuming that they know better than we do and that therefore we need them to dictate to us.  It places us in the role of victim and keeps us there, since we believe that’s all we deserve.  It paralyzes us and renders us incapable of acting for ourselves out of fear of making even the slightest mistake.  In short, it keeps us in the position of frightened children who never grow up unless we “wake up” and summon up the courage to move out of that role.  One of the most enlightening pieces I have ever read is an article called “The Three Faces of Victim”, which has helped me understand how the combination of continued social rejection due to my AS, the various forms of abuse I experienced as a child, and a rather dysfunctional family dynamic all contributed to a deep sense of shame which paralyzed me for most of my 40 years.  It is only this last year that I have become aware of its effects and have made some initial, tentative steps to move out of a “victim” identity.  Ironically, I realize that my incessant self-blame only made me a victim of myself, and that’s the worst form of victimization. 

 

• I believe that the key to understanding and overcoming our problems is to understand our concept of God.  I now see that not only my own hyper-conscientious, perfectionistic tendencies but also my associations with various influential people for whom “good enough” was never good enough have led me to perceive God as judgmental, exacting, impatient, and waiting to lay into me for every trifling mistake I make.  This has further paralyzed me and kept me from being more than I am.  As psychologist Wendy Ulrich has stated, “Excessive self-blame . . .distorts our view of God, who becomes the Great Ruthless Judge in the Sky waiting for the worst possible moment to shame and punish us if we stop our self-reprisals.”¹   I see that I have taken what should be a reverential fear of God and turned it into a terror of God, thereby turning away from the One who can truly help me.  I forget that while perfection is His standard, He is also infinitely patient, loving, and merciful, and that perfection only comes as we surrender ourselves to Christ and latch onto his perfection, rather than trusting in our own feeble achievements.

 

• Finally, I came to realize that all I really have to offer Christ is a broken heart.  However, that is the one thing I have devoted my efforts to avoiding at all costs.  I hide from people to avoid having my heart broken and crushed as it has been so many times before.  I over-intellectualize things to avoid having to feel them—keeping them instead tucked away deep inside my brain, at a safe distance from my heart.  The consequence of this is that my heart is not only hardened, it is well-nigh calcified.  I have guarded it well, all right—so well that nobody, God or man, can penetrate it, and it is therefore useless to anybody—least of all myself. 

Last night as a family, we talked about what we can give Jesus this Christmas.  We each wrote our gift down on index cards and put them in a box under the tree labeled, “To Jesus”.  My gift was a truly broken heart which can be influenced by the Spirit.  It may not be too much of an exaggeration to say that all I have learned throughout the year—and much more—has been leading to this point.  It will be interesting to see what 2009 brings, and what I will have to offer Jesus next Christmas.  

1.  Forgiving Ourselves: Getting Back Up When We Let Ourselves Down, p. 32