[as per usual, I probably wont ever edit this from the current raw format. If I did I probably wouldn't re-publish it again.]
I have an announcement to make! Can I get a drum roll, please? Stop acting like the son in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation when he's embarrassed about it - instead you can act like the out-of-his-league wife who at least appears enthusiastic for his sake.
Are you ready? Take a moment if you aren't, because here it comes:
***I have EMOTIONS***
Now I know what you're all thinking: "Finally - the moment we've all been waiting for. At last we can say, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we have caught Dustin in a lie. Everyone knows he has no emotions!" I quote a great man when I say "Dustin Kunz is just shy of pure evil." But I'm really not kidding or lying on this one - I actually do have emotions.
Now I know what you're wondering: "Where's the proof?" Right? Well here's the thing about that... I don't have much, if any. Ace, Z$, Trav and Toddles could all vouch - they've all seen me cry... once. It was the summer after I got home from a little jaunt through the desert, and I shared a bit of my own struggles to give grace to myself, and the anxiety that was welling up in my soul, and the vulnerability I was confronted with in the year that I was reasonably isolated from all to whom I was dear and were dear to me. They saw it. Then again, they'd probably lie for me anyway. I recant that: they'd almost definitely lie for me. (Remember that felony charge in Bell County, guys? What a story!)
Now don't get me wrong - I'm as emotionally unavailable as the next sociopath, at least when ti comes to showing it. I have this distinct memory of getting mad and calling my sister a bitch once. My mom told me to, in the future, calmly say "When you do ____, it makes me feel ____." My mom wasn't wrong to teach me this - not by a long shot. But it has become paradigmatic for how I deal with all conflict. Ask any girl I've ever dated. In conflict I don't yell, cry, or seem upset. And this is what I'm learning: THIS IS NOT A GOOD THING.
I'm a intellectual processor and I rely heavily on my verbal skills for just about everything. As a kid I could talk my way out of a fight, or else convince the larger kid I would win (I clearly wouldn't have). As a graduate student I talk every day, arguing this or attempting to prove that, and it turns out I'm not that bad at it. I also over-communicate. I'm more likely to give a person a play by play of my feelings than to hold back, resolve the issue, and then share. So I can talk about depression and explain to you what I feel like sometimes. I can enumerate insecurities about myself physically, psychologically and professionally. I can discuss with you unresolved issues regarding the lack of a father figure for parts of my life, as well as the immense gratitude I have for the amazing men that filled that role in my life in his stead. I can tell you about the crisis of psychology and faith I'm going through right now, and about the community from which I'm seeking spiritual rehab. I can tell you all of this with my legs crossed, my hands on one knee, using small hand motions and a level tone and myriad illustrations. (And even in my writing you can see when I make a quip or mot to keep from getting too serious.)
But all of this means nothing because you can't see it on my face, you can't read it in my posture, and you have no indication that if years of hiding (intentionally or otherwise) didn't prevent it my eyes would well up with tears and my voice begin to shake. It is hard to relate to me because with 99 out of 100 people I just don't show any emotion.
Why? Because outbursts aren't allowed, and weakness doesn't belong in men. I was the man of my house growing up, a leader amongst my group friends, in some form of leadership at work and church, and eventually a small group leader for a men's ministry and a Corporal in the Marine Corps. Everything in my history told me to show no weakness, to put on armor, and to show the world a brave face; nothing prepared me to take that armor off and show hurt.
I actually even learned to avoid showing weakness to myself, and eventually must have convinced myself it wasn't there, or at least that it shouldn't have been. I somehow, somewhere, became unaware that PAIN IS PART OF THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE. It is NOT peripheral to the closed circle that is the joy of life and existence. It is part of the whole, and realizing that is also part of the whole "joy" thing.
And this is true spiritually as well. The dessication of my heart has sapped the water from my soul as well, and sometimes I feel as dry as can be in every way.
So are you ready for the neat and tidy resolution? So am I. Too bad there isn't one. And I'm sorry if you read this far hoping this would be informational rather than confessional. But here's what I'm learning: that it is okay to show weakness, -especially to myself.- I'm not less masculine because I hurt, and because I can't get over the lyric "the aching may remain but the breaking does not"* due to the amazing promise it holds and for which my heart and soul crave.
I'm learning to intentionally seek out people I can be vulnerable with, and to seek out opportunities for it. It's not everyone in my life (and I have some -great- models for this). That's not healthy for either party. But it's select, it's solicited, and it is deeply, deeply cherished. And maybe by showing that weakness I'll make it possible for them to show it too. And maybe we'll both grow from it. Maybe I'll let myself feel more and more, and joy and pain and empathy and compassion will multiply in my heart. I'm hoping for these things, and I'm WORKING for them. So that's a bit of my journey. "I want to be a man after God's own heart - I'm not there yet, but I'm past the start!"**
*Andrew Peterson - Silence of God. He, Derek Webb, Robbie Seay, and whichever Nickel Creek member wrote Doubting Thomas have had a wonderful impact on my life lately.
**Bradley Hathaway. He will also "windmill kick you in the [emotional/spiritual] face."
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