learned secure

Uncategorized

This will be my attempt to do some external processing, so it’s probably not going to be very polished or final/complete. I’m learning, more and more, that it’s okay to leave room for further exploration. In blogging about my recovery journey, it’s okay if everything’s not buttoned up.

I’ve written before how I developed insecure, disorganized attachment in my formative years. In brief, I experienced loss of my mother as abandonment, and that was followed up by abuse at the hands of my widowed father. This left me looking for ways to be seen, soothed, safe, and secure. In other words, I was seeking intimacy. This was, in big words, how my pathology developed.

Now the “other shoe” that I developed early was attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). This was how my neurology formed.

These two components of my development worked in tandem to bring about a propensity for a disordered pursuit of intensity, thinking it would bring intimacy. People also call this unwanted sexual behavior, or sex addiction. I hate writing that out. My shame attendant, with his accusing, hateful voice, is crouching ready to spring into action and heap shame on me as I write those words.

I also grew up “in church”. My dad – yes, the same man who abused me – took me and my older sister to church every time the doors were open. If you’re noticing a dichotomy there…that is intended. Think how confusing it was for me as his kid!

Of course, I don’t remember a lot about those days. My dad was all about control, structure and rigidity. His expectation was compliance. Church was a non-negotiable. This was the way. Other than that, I also recall thinking that the pastor had a booming voice and seemed angry all the time. He was, at least from the pulpit which was the only context I experienced him, definitely one of those “scare the hell outta them” kind of pastors.

Then my dad got remarried. I gained a new mom, brother, and some new grandparents. We changed churches. The pastor at our new church didn’t seem so angry. My new grandmother was sweet, and also pretty intense (aggressive) about saving my heavy, dirty soul (you’re welcome for that fantastic Twenty One Pilots reference). Oh… back to my new grandmother….she led me in “the sinner’s prayer” when I was six years old. Not long after, that new (to me), quieter, pastor dunked me in a baptistry. I was saved! No going to hell for me! This is how my spirituality was formed.

Over the next 12 years of my life, my dad and new mom made it their mission to instill biblical values in me, in every way possible. Church remained a non-negotiable, along with a lot of ploys to get me and my siblings to memorize copious amounts of scripture so we could be good christians. I learned the concepts, but because of ADHD, my working memory was terrible. My siblings learned easily and were rewarded. Me? Not so much.

The snark slips out of me as I write/process this time of my life.

My pathology was never talked about. My neurology was a constant battle. All communication was about behavior modification and control. My spirituality, on the other hand, was addressed ad nauseum. If I could just learn to be spiritual enough, then my pathology shouldn’t matter, my neurology should be under control. Of course, these things were never communicated expressly.

My dad was a successful “christian businessman”. For as long as I can remember, his business cards and “business signature” included a scripture reference. The reference was to Proverbs 3:5-6. Even with my difficulty memorizing things, I’ve had that one burned in for decades!

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Lean not on your own understanding. In all you ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your path.”

Interestingly, I don’t think I’ve ever heard my dad actually quote that passage.

I may have struggled with memorization, but I was determined to be really good at being a good christian. If I could just trust hard enough, I could do it! And I could be free of my moral brokenness.

“There is a way that seems right to man, but on the end it leads to judgment” – Proverbs 14:12.

I knew my way was right. No judgment for me! Plenty from me, sure.

Here comes the pathology part again. At the age of eight, I was introduced to pornography by my new brother, thanks to his (sometimes on weekends) dad. Two years after I was “saved”. Apparently the saving didn’t fully “take”, or I wouldn’t have been susceptible to sexual addiction. Right? I mean, if my spirituality were strong enough, then I wouldn’t have taken a second look.

Bullshit.

My pathology and neurology weren’t automatically corrected by saying the sinner’s prayer as a six year old. They were hard-wired and continually reinforced by my upbringing.

But, that didn’t keep me from thinking all I needed was to try harder, white knuckle more, and recommit my life to Christ at every revival, youth camp, crusade, discipleship weekend, and twice on Sundays! Actually, it’s exactly what caused me to choose this route. I even went so far as to dedicate my life to “the ministry”, like some modern-day Nazarite vow – thinking surely this would get God’s attention and he would then fix me.

Back to attachment. Proverbs 3:5-6, Philippians 4:6, 1 Peter 5:8, and really, much of scripture, all encourage “earned secure” attachment. But the paradox is that “I” can’t earn secure attachment. Oh, how hard I’ve tried through the years! Only, always, to fail miserably. I lived and re-lived the shame cycle like Groundhog Day. SSDD.

Then, one day, I found myself in the therapist office, with my wife – convinced she was the problem. And I came face-to-face, for the first time, with the truth that I was an addict. It was a relief! That led me on a journey of un-learning all my spirituality and began an awakening of how my pathology and neurology were formed. As I’ve worked through the trauma, as I’ve been practicing real intimacy through vulnerability and transparency with others (specifically my Samson brothers, my therapist, and my wife), I’m increasingly able to practice putting everything before God, not out of anxiety but out of gratitude. And in so doing, I’ve found the peace of God talked about in Philippians 4:7, which I think IS that earned secure attachment showing up in me. Or, maybe another way to put it would be “learned secure”…after all, there’s nothing I need to do in order to “earn” it. (I’m thinking of Jesus’ admonition to abide in Him – John 15:4 – and God’s invitation to just be still and know He is God – Psalm 46:10). But there’s been a lot I’ve needed to learn in order to experience this earned secure thing.

There’s a book that I started to read, but haven’t finished yet. Actually, there are many that fall into that category. I’ve referred to this one before. It’s called Renovated, by Jim Wilder. In it, he writes about conversations he had with Dallas Willard not long before Willard’s death. Here’s how it starts:

I think Willard was onto something big!

My thoughts and understanding of the subject are still a work in progress, like this blog and this post. But as I stated at the start, I’m less and less concerned about what I write being all “buttoned-up” and more committed to just writing as it comes to me. I learn and synthesize more, every time I write!

Oh, in case you’re left with the question I’ve asked myself many times over the course of my life: Was I “saved” as a six year old? Here’s my not very theological answer:

I tend to think I was, and it’s taking me a lifetime to even begin figuring out what that really means. Eugene Peterson calls this being saved stuff “A Long Obedience in the Same Direction” (another title I haven’t quite finished reading). That long obedience part still feels a bit unattainable to me, honestly, however I think I’m beginning to get the idea it’s possible. Dr. Curt Thompson says all this stuff we do called “life” is really just practicing for Heaven. I like that idea, and the word practice is growing on me.

Published

28 thoughts on “learned secure”

  1. David, some times when I read what you write, my mind goes into overdrive with so many relatable things we have in common…Brother, the heart that beats beneath your chest is truer than many I have encountered. I am blessed to read of your insights…thank you and may God continue to grow you…hugs

    Like

    Reply

  2. You wrote, “If I could just learn to be spiritual enough, then my pathology shouldn’t matter, my neurology should be under control. Of course, these things were never communicated expressly.”

    I felt this as it relates to my personal healing journey, and it is what the more “spiritual” of some of my relatives think of me-a pastor-and why I should just be healed of the physical and emotional affects of trauma.

    But, like you, I also have been on a journey to fall more deeply in love with my God (my latest post on my substack addresses this, in case you are interested in reading it https://pastoracate.substack.com/p/you-cant-have-the-light-and-dismiss)

    Thank you for sharing and making yourself vulnerable.

    Sis Cate

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  3. Have you ever read the book (or maybe I should ask if you’ve ever almost finished reading lol) the book The Body Keeps The Score? I’m reading it now, it’s confirming a lot of what I’ve theorized throughout the years & given your history and knowledge on the subject matter I think you would find it interesting & enlightening as well. This was a very interesting read btw, whether you consider it polished enough or not, it was great.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. I have read it… partially 😏

      I’ve made a few incomplete passes at it, and definitely my experience is that it’s absolutely true. Van der Kolk knows his stuff. I’m watching the reality of it with my dad…while endeavoring to change the trajectory for myself, my family, and those who come after.

      You’ve been an encouragement to me once more. Thank you, Desiree.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  4. Thank you, David. I appreciated how you began…noting that it’s okay, in your recovery process, if everything isn’t ‘buttoned up’. Gosh. I feel that for you, and I love how you concluded, thinking about practice. All the best to you!

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Thank you, Karen. For some reason, your comment got stuck in my “spam” comments folder…I just saw and retrieved it. I appreciate your encouragement. It feels like care and compassion. And yeah – what an adventure!

      Like

      Reply

  6. Thank you for being raw and vulnerable about your experiences. It couldn’t have been easy growing up with a dad like that and not understanding that you needed help with your ADD. But I’m glad you got better help as an adult and are recovering.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  7. Wow… just I really feel you on a lot here. I feel like I could write forever. But I guess what I really can say or really ask is – which definition of practice are you using and when is heaven, and why isn’t the answer to both what we’re doing now? And I guess, figuring out getting rid of everything that tells us it ain’t it?

    I love what you said about just letting it out. Being unfinished or unpolished. I think that’s where my head has been too. Everything is so fucking curated and designed and made to attract. Why spend time polishing turds and at least, if we’re gonna, find the pearls of wisdom I suppose. I think it’s just getting to the point where like, either I just dump it or it’s not coming out. I really appreciate how much insight you’re giving into yourself because you’re giving me so much insight into myself too. It’s really awesome, and sorely needed.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. I mean, it’s all processing…so always feel free to write as much and whatever you want!

      Hmm…which definition of practice? I guess my own?

      The one that allows for some experimenting, with a lot of self care and compassion involved. The one that brings about progress. And it definitely includes others – collaborators and co-journey-ers.

      I think the answer to both is (or maybe can be?) what we’re doing now.

      Thanks for being a co-journey-er with me! 😊

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

      1. I love that. I guess it’s that perfectionism is really a fear of failure and fear in general in disguise and if you can’t dress up your BS, you don’t have to process it or maybe do something about it. Now that I’ve been seeing my bypassing, I’m irritating myself lol. Less excuses that way.

        Experimenting feels like the antidote to all that crap – you can’t really fail an experiment. It’s way more non committal and more about learning. So much healthier.

        I agree. Your writing has helped me a lot and I appreciate it, especially right now. Thank you.

        Liked by 1 person

  8. Dude, it has been the get out of jail free card with so many of my arguments with myself lately!!!

    It’s like the hardest part is to remember anything and everything as an experiment and/or experience but once I do – I can’t lose.

    The worst case is I learn something new. And if I cherish learning as much as I do, and if I believe learning, growing and changing are integral parts of life, cause that seems biologically sound … to learn anything new is a sign of life. It’s like… one of the ways I can climb out of depression is to literally learn anything new, and applying it to anything is … making me stop caring about the results so much that doing nothing seems more logical than the obvious. It becomes so much easier to see how irrational I’m being. Doing something is always, categorically better than nothing, regardless of anything else.

    It’s like – anything labeled as experiment or experience -I just can’t argue that defense, the prosecution rests (from exhaustion) 🤣

    I’ve said a lot yet is the most powerful word in the English language. Anything before yet… limitless possibility, I don’t know, I can’t, whatever … yet. So easy to reframe. And the experimenting thing – it’s like anything with what if before it becomes an experiment and eradicates the failure mentality. It makes everything the same level as like … what if I wrote without editing, what if I just said shit instead of doing literally anything else, what if I tried a sardine – it sounds disgusting, I don’t wanna I don’t know why I’m asking it, just what if. What if the bad thing is the good thing? And what if so much is a shitty hypothesis, and if I trust more, I can fear less. Something like that << another one cause I’m tired of trying to find the best doilies to wrap my turds. 🤣 aand! Even better, when so much of that shit doesn’t work – then I can make it a dare. I was always the kid that took all the dares, and so sometimes I can just dare myself to experiment, but really any word can suffice.a lot of times I dare myself to be myself and that is strangely way harder than anything from high school.

    In short, basically how I’m getting back to writing and a lot of other schtuff in days not years, and it’s kind of annoyingly a matter of words reframing or redefining. I donno, it just feels woefully ironic to be a walking thesaurus arguing with myself about definitions over and over.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. I think the bad stuff will always be bad. The hard stuff, on the contrary, can be good. And in doing my work, I can come to know the bad stuff for what it is, without it having ownership over my life – the reframing and redefining work matters!

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  9. What a fascinating synthesis of SO many interesting and complex topics! Wow, wow, wow – it’s like each could take a lifetime to understand and then all together? Whew! But your writing about your path makes a lot of sense.

    To comment on just one part – the experience of spirituality. The influences you mention – amazing how we can spend a lifetime just trying to imitate them. But, speaking for myself, it’s not until I started created my own understanding that things got real. The difference between acting on stage and living a role, maybe?

    Great post – and amazing work. Thanks, David!

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. It’s another one of those deep reads that I get lost in… and not in the same way I can get lost in a good novel. But yeah. Still, it has inspired me. And, btw, I very much think Aundi Kolber writes about attachment with some of the same ideas in mind. Her book, Try Softer is more attainable for me, over all. Maybe it’s all the stories?

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

      1. I listened to that on audio book and liked it, but I think I rushed through too fast. I might need to read that one. I just checked out her book, Strong Like Water and then I’m also reading attached. Trying to understand some of my seemingly impossible barriers and how to heal from or work through them. It’s funny because I just googled it as a subject, and lo and behold your blog popped up again. Seems like we’re on a verrrry similar journey. ❤️

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I have not read Strong Like Water, or Attached. But yeah, similar journeys for sure!

        Seemingly impossible barriers…I’m grateful to be learning there are ways…

        Liked by 1 person

  11. Pingback: buried…yet alive? – unwanted

Leave a comment