Bread Alone

I might need to get back into therapy.

It's been a couple of rough years for everyone, and the normal level of animosity and defensiveness in society has ratcheted up to the point where marriages, families, and churches are exploding in gory messes of latent hostility. It may be that we've all got recent trauma that needs healing, or it may be that the age of social media and politics has revealed our true selves, no longer content to hide behind an avatar. Either way, people ain't right, and we could all use some help with our mental health, myself included. 

A tall apartment building made of brick with a weathered sign on the

side that reads, "How are you, really?"

Photo by Finn on Unsplash

And yet, there are so many voices discouraging us from pursuing that help, dissuading us from seeking out mental health specialists. For men especially, it's a taboo, something that flies in the face of the tough guy stereotype that pervades our culture in film and music, even the church. Maybe even especially the church. I can't even count how many times I've seen pastors or so-called theobros on Twitter mocking therapy as some kind of safe space for sissies, or worse, something anti-god or anti-Christian.

In their anti-therapy rants (which generally expose both their ignorance and their need for therapy) a lot of them like to quote Matthew 4:4, "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God." It seems like a dunk on those who need therapy to help correct situations like grief, depression, or marital and family issues. The thing about Jesus' words there is that he doesn't say that we don't need bread, just that faith and specifically Scripture is as life-giving to our soul as food is to our body. It would be stupid to say that we could survive without food - or medicine, or education, or family, or any number of the necessities of life - as long as we read the Bible enough. Another way I've seen it said is that "Scripture is sufficient." This might sound a lot more spiritual, but again, what does it mean? What is Scripture sufficient for? Certainly for faith and salvation, but for cooking advice? For medical counseling? For depression or any other mental health issues? At the risk of sounding blasphemous, can the Scriptures alone, separate from all the science and data from the last few decades, help me raise my kids when our situation is complicated? There seems to be a whole lot of ground left uncovered between the "spare the rod and spoil the child" of the Old Testament and the "Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger" of the New Testament. As a parent, how am I supposed to fill in those gaps?

Furthermore, for blended families, the need for both family therapy and personal therapy is even more crucial. It should almost be a requirement. I have to admit, I was slow to embrace therapy in the beginning of our marriage. My wife pushed for it nearly from the beginning. I, on the other hand, thought we had some normal problems that time and love would work out. I knew how much my kids and I had benefitted from therapy during those years of single fatherhood, but I wanted to believe that we had outgrown that need now that we were a new, happy family. Ultimately, things got hot enough that I had to admit that she was right, and we found a good family and marriage counselor to help us out. I don't think our family dynamic would have turned out as well as it did without that help and guidance.

Conventional church wisdom told me to talk to the pastor, or read the Bible more. Those are certainly necessary aspects of the solution, but, alone, not going to produce results. Blended families are different. Blended families are born out of pain and trauma. Somebody died. Somebody left. Everybody suffered. Stepchildren and stepparents, as well as adopted children and adopted parents, have unique traumas that require more healing that a well-intentioned, but untrained, pastor can provide. Generally speaking, most pastors are men, married, have never been through divorce, and lack extensive training in marriage counseling. Pastors, even the best, most highly educated ones, may have studied theology extensively, but only taken one or two courses in counseling, if that. Many MDiv programs don't require it at all. Both experientially and professionally, they lack the tools to actually guide broken families towards healing, and may do more harm than good. 

And beware of Christian counselors who have special practices in counseling, but also lack the credentials or experience to deal with issues involving mental health. I'm not saying that a Christian counselor is not adequate or even preferable, but as with any specialist, we should make sure we ask the right questions and look past the cross hanging on the wall of their office to the diplomas and certifications hanging there as well.

To make it even more complicated, there is a pervasive but often unspoken aversion in the church to taking our flaws and failures outside our faith "bubbles." After all, we're supposed to be the city on a hill, we don't get depressed or anxious, and if we do, prayer and fasting drives it away like roaches when the light comes on. Our children respond perfectly to the prescribed methods of discipline, and our marriages are all glorious pictures of Christ and his Bride, right? It feels like a betrayal to the church to look for guidance outside its walls.

We'd rather starve than eat the bread in the bakery right across the street and admit that we need help that the church doesn't provide.

So, in case you needed permission or a little push to start searching for a therapist in your area, now you have it. Whether that means you are seeking help with mental health or family issues, do your research, get references, and get started. If you need more encouragement, here's a couple of podcast episodes that might help.

The first is from Truth's Table, back in April of 2022, discussing the need for therapy in general, but more specifically for matters of church hurt and even spiritual abuse. Imagine having trauma related to the church, or even a pastor, and being told to just read the Bible more or sit down with other church officials to find healing.

The second is from a podcast created by a couple of friends of mine called Michel Matters. In this episode, among other topics, they discuss therapy and its usefulness in their lives. 

As much as I hope that you get something out of these podcasts, please remember that media is no replacement for professional help from a mental health or family therapist. Just like physical therapy after an accident or some trauma to the body, the sooner you get started, the sooner healing begins.

Artistry is Privilege: With Apologies for Late Blog Posts

I feel like I'm in confession. Forgive me for my sins. It's been two months since my last blog post.

I could give all kinds of excuses for my failure to post this summer with any consistency, but the truth is that I've been busy, and I no longer think that needs an apology or an excuse. In fact, one thing the past two months of hustle and guilt have taught me is that art and privilege go hand in hand.

Our culture is filled with images of artists spending hours covered in spots of paint, feverishly creating their magnum opus in wood-floored studio, or writers sipping lattes in leisure as they edit their debut novels. There's a certain romanticism of the artistic life, and some people really do live it. 

The rest of us have day jobs and kids.

Most of us have passions for writing or some other artistic vision, but very little time to pursue them. The majority of out time is spent making the money that keeps us and our dependents alive. For some of us, our work, even if we love it, saps most of the time and mental energy that we could use to hone our craft and breathe life into the works we want to give the world.

And the publishing industry knows this. On my own bookshelf here in my tiny writing nook, I have titles like The Weekend Novelist by Robert Ray and The 8-Minute Writing Habit by Monica Leonelle. Leonelle's cover actually has a picture of a woman with several arms, holding a grocery bag, a baby, a backpack, a clock, and a computer. It's a fine book, and a helpful one, but my point is - they know, y'all! They know that an entire market of stifled writers exists, dreaming up stories on their eight to ten hour shifts only to come home too physically exhausted and mentally drained to actually write them. 

On the other hand, there are rich writers out there, trust-fund kids (not that this is inherently a bad thing) who really do have the time and money for a devoted writers life, including all the contemplative morning lattes and idyllic retreats at lakeside spas. I wouldn't know what that feels like, but I imagine that it's pretty satisfying, having the time to not only write the stories that beat against the chest, but to actually reflect on them, to consider one's role in the culture and industry. I do wonder if it ever occurs to them that the barista who carefully concocts the perfect caffeinated beverage for them might have her own stories or poems to write, might jealously crave the leisure time they enjoy.

On that subject, Virginia Woolf got it right. Developing a writing practice takes time, space, and money, and those either gifted or cursed with the passion, but not the opportunity, drive themselves crazy with desperation. Alice Walker, in her essay "In Search of Our Mother's Gardens," pointed to the elaborate and beautiful quilts and gardens created by women who poured their artistic instincts into their everyday work, in order to escape the looming madness of stifled inspiration.

Whenever I feel the most productive years of my life slipping away, or the tension of my art and my vocation pulling at each other, I remember Toni Morrison, whose work I love and try to emulate. I picture her writing The Bluest Eye at 39, then a single mother with two boys. I don't have boys in the house any more, just two, sometimes three, girls who want to play games with me, wrestle, sit in my lap, and tell me their own stories. I have about fifteen square feet in this entire condo unit dedicated to my writing, and sometimes, they don't seem to want to be anywhere else. My writing routines have evolved to include a smaller laptop that fits in my special chair right next to a sleepy toddler and a pair of noise-canceling headphones that block out the sound of endless Cocomelon songs and little ones singing them as loud as they can.

As I write that, it occurs to me that all that - the chair, the laptop, the headphones - is my own privilege as well. My writing nook may be small, but I have one, and I don't have to buy a burger to keep from getting booted out of the local McDonald's and off the free WIFI. I know, I know. More than that, as a teacher, I get summers off, and for the last few years, for the first time in my professional life, I have had the privilege of actually being able to enjoy them. I no longer have to work a summer job to make ends meet, and I don't have administrative duties keeping me chained to the campus eight-to-four anymore either. It really feels like I'm a writer now, for just two hot months out of the year. I have a whole routine works out.

8:00 - Drop the girls off at summer camp and head to the gym.

9:00 - Leave the gym and shower and eat at home.

10:00 - One hour of reading to fill my brain with good words.

11:00 - One hour of editing older work.

12:00 - Write a minimum of 1500 words in my current WIP, and don't stop, get up, or eat until I hit my numbers.

If time remains, and it often does, I treat myself to a movie or video game session before I have to pick up the girls at four. I'm so productive in those two short months, I've made it my goal to spend the year thinking of new novel ideas and outlining them just so I can start the summer with a clear goal in mind. Honestly, it's the one thing that sustains me through those last two hectic months of the school year. It's the reason my grades are in on time and my end of year checklist is checked and double-checked. Most days, I aim for the minimum 1500 words, but I can easily hit 2000 if the wind is blowing in the right direction. I even have the receipts to prove it.

But just look what happens to my productivity once school starts again, and I have to abandon my privileged writing routine for the grind that, currently, pays the bills.

I promise, it's not a lack of willpower or time management. I get so sick of seeing the stupid Instagram motivational posts that say, "Everyone has the same 24 hours in the day." I'm here to tell you, time is money, and money is time, and with enough wealth, anyone can stretch their days like their living room has a black hole in it. Forget about the daily work duties - if I could pay a chef to cook and grocery shop for me, I could carve out at least ten more hours in each week to write. I know that I'm privileged to have even two months out of the year to live like a bona fide writer, but the rest of the year, I'm risking madness like Shakespeare's sister in Woolf's essay. 

So, I haven't posted for a while, because I prioritized completing this most recent novel when I actually have the uninterrupted free time to devote to it. Thing is, I still didn't finish it. I got so close, just two more major scenes to write, but time and career caught up with me. At this point, the plan is to write 200 words a day, whether I'm tired or not, whether they're good or not, until I finish the first draft. I hope Ray and Leonelle would be proud of me. Later I can worry about making time to revise and edit. And I'm going to do my best to rant about the writing life and about mixed and blended families here on the blog. But pray for me, because some nights I'm failing to hit even that goal, and embarrassed by the difference between now and the numbers I could hit just a month ago. And for any struggling writers stealing time from work and family or falling asleep with unwritten stories crowding your minds, I'll pray for you and all of us, because the madness creeps up on us when we're not looking.