Blurred Lines

Over the past ten years, I have built up a very nice Facebook community, made up mainly of people I know personally, but certainly populated with persons who have becomes friends through purely electronic communications.

And I’m walking away. At least for now. 

There is no secret that I have bipolar disorder. I am still relatively new with the diagnosis, and it has not been an easy ride. I’m certainly in the grips of it now. I have not left the house for four days. I have moved from the couch to the bed to the couch to the bed about 7 times. One friend stopped by and gave me a hug. That was about all I could take. Can take. Will take. I don’t often feel mentally ill, but I do this week. I joke but don’t joke that the demons have me right now. I joke because demon talk is crazy. I don’t joke because they are very real, very strong, and very insistent. 

I’m a fraud. I’m a weak, broken man who has somehow charmed people into believing that I am something special. In certain moments, I believe it myself, this idea of specialness. The demons are good at putting me in my place. I ache and hurt and feel like it would be best if I just disappeared. Kind words just remind me that there is a huge gap between how others see me and how I see myself. How can I possibly pretend to be a servant if I can’t hold myself together?

Don’t worry. This is not a suicide note.  This is Aaron being painfully honest. Because that’s kinda what I do. Jesus Christ saved my life, but my life is still filled with pain.

If nothing else, I am more determined than ever to be of service to other people. but I feel like I’ve blurred some lines. I thought of some people as friends and that has caused me some emotional turmoil.  

What hurts is that I actually do ministry work through Facebook. Important work, I think. But it is causing me some consternation because I find myself getting my feelings all tangled up in blue. I begin to question the good I’m actually doing with the good I think I’m doing. And, frankly, some people are just mean. It’s hard. I have a lot of messages in my inbox now asking me not to go from Facebook, but every one understands needing some space. 

This whole thing is an exercise in narcissism, in one regard. Look at me. I’m walking away from Facebook. Pay attention to me. In another regard it is a further destruction of self. It is a step toward figuring out who it is God wants me to be, and how I can be of service to others. I plan to keep the blog going, if for no other reason than it helps me organize my thoughts and contribute, in some small way, to reclaiming Christianitinty from the extremists. 

Thanks for reading. Thanks for your prayers. And I’ll see y’all in other contexts other than Facebook, most likely until after the election. And, possibly, with a new page.  

10 thoughts on “Blurred Lines

  1. I remain respectful of your decision to take some needed time and space away, and also hopeful you’ll return if you feel ready to so at some point in the future. You dear friend, are no fraud. And you are quite special. We are each broken in some way, those human flaws are part of who we are. And those aren’t platitudes or false statements. They’re truth. I love you and will continue to send prayers and virtual hugs your way.

  2. Hi Aaron. I will miss your FB presence. You have also helped me more than you could ever know. I am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wish you only strength, comfort, courage, peace and serenity. I am sending you only love.
    yours,
    Leigh

    1. Thanks, Leigh. I’m staying in the blog. I also have a professional page. Other than that, I just want to say thank you for your energy and love. Thank you!

  3. There will be light at the end of whatever storm you are going through. It will pass. Just keep breathing.That’s all you really need to do, and your body will do it for you. I respect your decision to leave facebook. Leaving facebook always improves my mental health. Thanks again for such a special Easter service that we could bring my partner’s family conservative family to. It meant a lot to us, to show them a Christian space that is so inclusive and welcoming.

    1. As long as I live, that moment of serving you Communion will stand as one of the most spiritually powerful of my life. I invited; you came. You trusted; I was honored.

      Thanks for reaching out.

  4. Healing is often an exercise in letting go, and we can only do this according to our own journey. You are certainly not even close to being “weak” or a “fraud” or any of the negative junk (I know you know this), but neither are you special (I know you know this too)! We are all destined to return to the dust from whence we came…each of us, great and small. As Shakespeare wrote: “Imperious Caesar dead and turned to clay, might stop a hole to keep the wind away.” The rest of it, is in God’s hands.

    Your life is like a droplet of dew hanging on the edge of a leaf. Every single day, every moment is incredibly sacred, as we never know when that dew of life will fall and claim us. Heal and rejoice again.

    You are special to ME because I know your heart.

    1. Dearest Robert,

      You alight upon the important details. And though we enter through different hermeneutical doors, we arrive upon the same dew-stained resting place.

      There is no I but i; and we are his false prophets.

      Pain, though real, is false; relief, though false, is comforting.

      We are one, only through experiencing the illusion of dichotomy.

      Yet we yearn. And in our yearning we encounter the most basic of truths: nothing is as important as non-importance.

      In deconstructing the “I” do we manufacture a prideful bring that is “not-I.”

      Even within that insight, we dance. In our lives we dance to the beat that does not drive us completely mad. Only comfortably mad. Wherever we are with ego, we still exist. In that moment. This moment. Each moment.

      They come together in uncomfortable says, sometimes. Glorious ways others. But always in ways.

      Your words have penetrated me. Inspired me. Helped me in this moment of madness and clarity that we are nothing less, nothing more than what we pay attention to; and I, dear brother, appreciate your words.

      With heart filled and breath regulated, I say thank you.

      In Mindfulness,

      Aaron

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