Brooke and I were at a friend's house last week having dinner and winning (well Brooke won, at least) at Settlers of Catan with a few other married couples when the subject of fighting with your spouse came up. "It was within the first couple weeks of us being married." Someone said. "He went out and did XYZ after he said he would do 123 and that night I told him he could sleep on the couch." The room sang with quiet laughter. "But..." she continued, "He wouldn't let me do that. He made sure we worked it out." "Well, that' good." Another wife chimed in. "The Bible says not to let the sun set on your anger." And I'm telling you friend, that statement has stuck with me from the very moment she said it. Why? I don't know. Well, I didn't. I mean I've heard that verse over and over since I was a kid. It's been a piece of my marriage philosophy for years. If you get in an argument, make sure you resolve it, or at least apologize, before you go to bed. That's what the simple command is saying to do. Isn't it? Don't go to bed if you're still angry? But I guess the reason I haven't been able to shake that verse from my spirit, my mind, my being, is because right now, for me, it means something different. If you read the past post or two that I've written, you already know the state I am in. Actually, putting out Ruined was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. And really, writing it wasn't the hard part. It was actually very easy, and it felt great. I held all that in for way too long. No, writing it wasn't hard at all. Publishing it. That was the difficult part. Publishing that, and then going to church the next day, made me feel so exposed, so vulnerable, especially considering that I'm still just getting to know the people I go to church with. I felt naked. Truly. The entire service I was pulling and tugging on my clothes, as if they didn't fit right. As if they weren't there. Now there are days that I feel like I am doing better. There are days that I feel like the anger, the pain, the frustration is mostly behind me. But then there are days like today. Days that I am forced to face the crushing reality that I'm still angry. I'm still sour. I'm still so damn confused. Days that I wake up, make breakfast, clean the house, go to the grocery store, and all along feel the weight of thoughts that, despite my willingness to share incredibly personal matters, I am too ashamed to share with you here. Thoughts that have come and have been given permission to sit. To stay a while. Thoughts that have shown me a very difficult truth. I have become everything that I used to hate. Cynical. Rushed. Passive. Mean. Spiteful. ------------------ When we got back from Germany in January, I was tired. I was glad to jut be back home, where I knew I would be able to get the help I was needing. But things didn't go as planned. When we first got back, Brooke and I were attending the church we grew up in. I was excited to be around familiar faces. People who know me, and who I could rekindle relationships with to get some sense of community back. I was actually offered a job on staff, that I joyfully accepted. But I quickly realized that the church I left was not the church I came back to. Nobody here knew me. They knew 10-year-old me. And though I was there for months, excluding the few people my age, (and I mean few literally. Three.), nobody cared to know me. Nobody reached out. I tried to build relationships, but I was just the media guy. I couldn't offer anyone anything but a Facebook shoutout. I longed so much for a community, a tribe, but when a church is overrun by senior citizens and the kind of people who are too spiritual to come back to Earth to talk about a football game, let alone personal problems, it just doesn't work. And so after I realized that I was not the right fit for this place, and after catching wind of a few rumors involving me and a few other friends that had been circulating the congregation, I gave my resignation and started the Pensacola Church Tour 2K17. It wasn't but a few weeks later when we found the church we have decided to attend. And love, honestly, more than any church we have been a part of. I feel like I've been given a clean slate, another chance, to get to know people who haven't known me since I was a child. People who won't know me as "Minita and Darren's son". And yet I've found that this actually scares me. I'm scared that if people meet me, and get to know me in this present state, that I'll have blown it. I'm afraid that they'll see the angry, abrasive Nick before they see the real one. How did this happen? How did I let myself get to such a place of pain, of damage, of anger that I don't even recognize the person I am any longer. Recently I thought of a simple encounter I had with someone three years ago, and nearly broke down in tears at the very thought that a man who used to be so soft, so happy, so kind, had sat and grown over wild with thorns. And that's when the familiar phrase rang once again. Do not let the sun set on your anger. I let the sun set on my anger. And it wasn't in the course of one measly night. After going through the past year, day by day, I continued to allow my issues to remain unresolved. I continued to hide. I continued to pretend like like all was well. I continued to just keep going, treating myself like the work horse others were treating me like as well. I was angry. AndI didn't do anything about it. I let the sun set on my anger. Friend. Do not let the sun set on your anger. On your fear. On your pride. I have no words to craft to tell you difficult it is to find your way after the sun has set. And really, I guess that's why I'm writing this. I know I need to talk about what I've been through, but I'm not at the place where I'm able to talk about this face to face with anyone. At least, I don't think I am. I still cringe every time someone tells me in person how much they liked what I've written. Is that twisted? And I've been too scared to get into any legitimate relationships too quickly, despite my deepest desire to do so. I've been too scared to ask for help, as I know that that would require me to reveal pieces of myself that, even after writing this, I am still hiding. I don't mind if you think this is a plea for attention. I wondered the same thing as I hastily rapped on the letters of my keyboard. I'm not looking for attention. I'm looking for solace. I'm looking for healing. I'm just looking for the sun to rise.
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@NickALakatosThe musings of a man who experiences the highest of highs, and the lowest of lows. Archives
January 2018
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