It is the end of January, with February and March close at hand, granting us nearly three months of icy cold winter in New England. Months filled with snowstorms, darkness, and introspection. We have little else to do in this climate during this time of year but to examine what has been and what is to come. We are insulated by the deep, deep snow outdoors, and the heavy handmade quilts inside. There is an inherent hush in the spaces around us, and like the Roman god Janus whom we name that first month after, we too look both ways at the years before now, and the years that will be. A deity whose sole purpose was of beginnings and transitions, over 2000 years ago, still leads us into each new year. I am no more immune to this than anyone else, and I take this time for introspection with a sense of reverence for who I was and who I long to be.
Of course the Beasts of Mental Illness that I live with play huge roles in the process, most usually as embarrassing regrets about the years behind me, as well as prayers that they will be less intrusive in the coming ones. They are pariahs, attached with a deadly grip, attempting to suck the healthy blood from my system, leaving me depleted of natural resources. But I am still the host, and I can ignore them as long as I remember that their needs do not trump my own needs. My mind is stronger than their fervent cries. My body can withstand the physical side effects of their attacks, and of the medications I must take to help me fight them more consistently. And at the end of the day I am the one who has the final word.
Yet, with all that said, sometimes I am weaker than I wish to be. Sometimes the battle takes a greater toll than I can handle, and I must return to a smaller, quieter, safer space in order to reset myself, and center within my relationship with G-d. Sometimes this can be a fairly easy task, achieved through meditation, prayer, sleep, and my pillow. Sometimes this is a far deeper one that requires something as drastic as an inpatient stay at a mental health facility. Thankfully, I have not needed this intensive therapy for over fifteen months, and I keep close watch that I will not need it any time soon.
Within this introspection of course I continue to work, play, and strive to be a true partner in my marriage, a strong role model for my sons, and a man of integrity in my career choices. This means that often the time that I want to think about the deeper questions of the heart are instead filled with questions about laundry, dinner, bills, and homework.
But those are also the times that can bring revelations that I might not have otherwise seen. By living as fully humanly as possible I find that the world engages me more than I can engage myself. As much as I would love to be able to read, and write, and entertain myself, I cannot live within a vacuum when the world is forever pressing me to act in response to its needs. And by "world" I mean not only the literal sphere, but the many realms of consciousness that surround us. There are millions of microcosms that we navigate daily, from our own bedroom to the latest tragedy in a country that is thousands of miles away. We are a global community and this pushes us to see ourselves in new constructs, both exciting and terrifying.
So, about those revelations, I had a doozy of a one a week ago. It happened when my sons had two neighborhood boys spend the night out our house. It began with the premise of only one of the boys sleeping over, but the younger sibling cried at the thought that he couldn't come too. And this is where the big softie comes in to the picture.
You see, I am a big softie, a sucker for a good kid who needs a little boost in life that will hopefully help them turn out to be better than his/her parent(s) who've made unhealthy choices. Basically, I want to give kids whose moms and dads just can't give them the love and support they need to grow, those things, even if it means sacrificing resources of my own. I want the kids whose home lives really stink to experience what a loving family can be. I want them to know that they have intrinsic value and worth, they are beloved children of G-d, even if I never utter those words. They are here, no matter how they got here, and now they have the opportunity to bring their gifts to the world. I want to facilitate that process of discovery and self awareness within them.
So, I, in a moment of "weakness" decided to allow the second child to stay the night as well. They were after all siblings, and home was right across the street, and I couldn't bear the thought of the youngest being left out. Well, joyousness resounded through the land and two boys came back across the road, clothes in plastic shopping bags, smiling as though they had just won the lottery. Even though I knew that my wife was not 100% behind me on this one, I felt confident that it would all be ok.
Naturally, the reality of 4 boys aged 8, 8, 9, and 10 on a Friday night, all in the house expecting food and fun was not as fantastic as I had hoped. I too was hungry, tired from a long week, and a little cranky about my self-inflicted routine change. Needless to say, at some point I got angry with my loving wife over something small, and it turned into something large for no reason. That is so often the way of anger, a misunderstood hurt becomes a battle of wills instead of an opportunity to hear another person's viewpoint. At any rate, I was hurt by her use of the word "weakness" and how I interpreted it.
I found myself in the fetal position in bed, crying over this perceived attack on my character. At first I did what any good man would do in this situation, I wallowed in my own self pity until I felt even worse. Then I remembered a technique given to me by my therapist to somatically deal with emotional pain. And despite my desire to keep hiding, I did it. And I had to work really hard through those burning tears as I thought about what it meant to be weak. Or, to be seen as weak by the one person I trust most in the entire world.
With the tapping technique I have learned from my therapist, I separated out weakness from kindheartedness. I discovered that weakness to me was a true failing because of the weakness my mother had when it came to my own safety. What I was doing was an act of protecting and loving, it was not an act of weakness but rather an act of kindheartedness. It was an act of Tikkun Olam, of repairing the world, two children at a time, or maybe four, as my own sons learned the value of loving your actual neighbors as you love yourself.
But there was another revelation that came, albeit a week later, with the word weakness. Another of the word's meanings refers to a special desire or fondness for something. I myself have a true weakness for homemade dark chocolate peanut butter cups. And I'm sure that there are many others like me. And that's where I can find a power within the word weakness itself, because children who are in need of extra love and support are my weakness. Out of my own needs for love and support as a child, I have been able to transform that pain into a kindheartedness for the kids who are often the most unlovable.
Importantly, I have been able to do this primarily through the acts of Tikkun Olam I perform every day at work. Each student I work with individually has a harder than average time getting their needs met, and for six hours a day I try to help them learn better ways to do that. In the process they teach me how to love the world more fully. They teach me that my old behaviors, the ones I let the Beast run wild with, can be shaped into something better. Those horrors can be used as foundations for where I can continue to rise up from, lighting the darkness as I go. And I can love the Beasts I live with as much as I love the children who challenge me the most.
So, here I am preparing for the next rounds of battle with others' beasts and with my own as I try to repair the world with my own weakness, and my own kindheartedness. I pray for the other children of G-d as we face ourselves, our beasts, and each other. I pray that we can repair the world by repairing ourselves, one little bit at a time.
Thank you for helping to repair the world, and for having a kind heart for me.
Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.
- Ari
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