My theme for Lent

In January, I was walking laps at the Y when I realized that I believed "Pain is the only way."  I also realized that I wanted to trade off this belief for a new one.  Although early, I had hit upon my theme for Lent 2011.  (Almost sounds like a concert tour of something- "Lent.  2011.") 

This last Wednesday was the start of Lent and despite my early clarity I wasn't feeling completely satisfied with my theme now two months later.  Since Wednesday I've expanded my theme.  Here goes.

For Lent I am releasing:
Pain is the only way.
Frustration is the only way.
Never enough.

Also today I had an insight which is both painful and liberating.  My parents wanted me to be successful but not too happy.  They want me to be successful so that my accomplishments can vindicate their sacrifices for me and they don't want me to be too happy about it because they aren't happy. They want their sacrifices to mean something but they don't want my happiness to rub their faces in their own choices.

They love me as best they can and would never of course say that and yet, there it is.

I was glowing about square dancing the other day, saying how much we've all enjoyed ourselves.  My mom may have gotten up and left to tend the kids and after a couple minutes of listening, my dad said, "Well, I bet Tim doesn't enjoy this as much as you do."  Tried to pop my bubble. 

How much different would my relationship with my parents be if when I glowed, they glowed back?  What would it be like to never feel the need to defend or minimize my happiness?

A month ago, I called my dad frantic in worry about my surgery and how we were going to pay for it on top of all the other unexpected expenses that month.  He offered his help and support and he talked about himself- his disillusionment in his 30's and 40's, his struggles with his health, how his story had turned out so differently than he expected.  This was a golden conversation, 20 minutes of heart-to-heart connection.  This was the best connection we've had in years, like maybe 7 or 8 years.  At the time, I was really blessed he could meet me in my suffering.  Today I am struck that he can only meet me in suffering and not in happiness.  He has no matching excitement, no enthusiasms to throw back into the conversation.  Ok, that's unfair- he does read some books he likes and he talks about how great his dog is.  But share his happiness?  What happiness? is my response.

One of the main reasons this was our best connection of the decade was because when I came to them and shared about being abused as a child, literally the same day I remembered, he completely shut down.  He recently told another family member that he was glad she was more upbeat because her sadness was such a drag.  So basically, he's good for 20 minutes commiserating about problems he can help with, but I best to get over the grief and pain quickly.  I feel like my dad has a relational dimmer switch which dims that which is too happy and ignores that which is too dark.  When I started counseling 9 years ago, one of my chief complaints is that I felt girdled in by my family.  Now I don't feel so much constrained as sad.

Which brings me back to the themes of "Happy, happy, happy" and "Pain and frustration are the only way; never enough."  I realized that I have believed that if I ever became too happy for my family, that I would be abandoned.  So, I've always diluted my pleasure with frustration, exasperation, and a constant drive for more.  There was a time my dissatisfaction served me, propelled me from my dysfunction where I was miserable into the great scary unknown.  But this is not that time.  My life is not in shambles.  I am not axle deep in dysfunction.  I am not co-dependent.  And my ambient frustration, exasperation, and drive for more is undermining my happiness.  I am abandoning me.

I choose to trade off.  I am going to walk on down my path of happiness.  I'm going to dance and yoga and art.  I'm going to grieve and lament and live deeply into the real suffering of my life, too.  I'm busting out of the girdle and I am coming back for me again and again as many times as it takes to live my life.  I'm not rebelling against my parents, nor spiting, nor abandoning.  We've walked together as far as they can go thus far and quite frankly, I've walked on miles and states and half a continent beyond, yet I've been corded back there still like some mutant umbilicus.  This Lent, I wave, blow them a kiss, send them my love and release 'never enough' and exasperation.  Pain and frustration are no longer my home town and I'll send my love from the road to happiness.