Journal Entry 52: Deflated
Jesus, if you're not in it, I don't want it.
Journal Entry 52: Deflated
Had an amazing Saturday with a simple gathering of family that went well. I got to see my oldest daughters and my grandbabies, grand parents came over, and the afternoon/evening was full of good food and good conversation. Been a while sense we were all together, so the day was that much more special to me. Sunday, happiness died at our house, and it’s been declared by my wife that it’s my fault. (Great.)
Quick and Ugly: Our preteen decided to shoot off her mouth with a bonus of attitude and sass blended in. I missed half of it, because I was in the kitchen making dinner, but the end of it was loud and clear. The night ended with me in the most trouble of all, because, according to my wife and according to her most of our family, all feel I’ve gone soft on discipline. Well, not that I agree entirely, but if several people feel the same way, there’s probably some truth to it.
The night was over. Wife was pissed at me, and the argument that followed didn’t seem to be getting me any closer to a happy ending. We finally finished with a measure of talking, but the end was the same as the beginning. I was named soft and failing to be an authority figure in the house. Tired, done with the day, I accepted this and went to bed. For me my brain takes time to process things like emotions and the like, so my brain didn’t truly start mulling over Sunday’s fallout until this/Monday morning.
My morning was spent constantly playing rewind on the previous night’s argument between me and my wife. Part of me was frustrated and wanted to continue the fight with new points. There was and still is a fire inside of me that wanted to get stoked up. My more logical side kept looking for the wrong and right of the argument. There were good points, ones that I had to smash my pride down, so I could hear truthfully. Then there was my childish side, that side we all have, the one that wants to be spiteful and show our ass. That side was pulsing with growth, that I knew was wrong but felt so easy to give into. The one side I knew I needed was Jesus’ side.
Stoking the Flames: Let’s rev things up and keep going until nothing is left. Come on, push, scream, burn it all down and leave ashes to the wind. That’s the fire side, the rage, the beast that can’t be quenched. I know that side, the males in my family know that side all too well. The problem is fire can’t be satisfied. When it loses control it destroys even those you love. Rage feels good in the moment, but the aftermath is never a cheerful one. This side I’ve learned to put on ice thanks to Jesus and age. Sometimes there’s still a desire, but I’ve learned to let that spark die.
Logical: Think through things before you act is something I’m trying to learn. My former self, that younger one that let anger’s fires run loose, regretted it every . . . single . . . time. Now, I try to stay calm while trying to put my thoughts towards Jesus (doesn’t always happen in the moment). I don’t care what others think of me, but it does hurt when your wife agrees with them about you. She’s not wrong, entirely. I was easy to anger and reacted violently in my youth. No longer wanting to be that man, I’m trying to think before I act, use disciplines that aren’t whippings, and I talk to my kids. The problem with my efforts, logic pushing in, is that they aren’t working. Violent anger didn’t work either, but the calm talks and extra chore/writing efforts aren’t doing anything either.
Childish Spite: The one emotion that was the most difficult to deal with was my spiteful side. I really didn’t expect this side to be so annoyingly persistent, yet it was the lead contender. Part of me wanted to not speak to my wife, put a stone wall up between me and my kids, and strip the entire house of my efforts and sacrifices to see them all taken care of. I was planning my spite; while, I was praying to Jesus to please help me not be that man.
Jesus was/is Needed: I was hurting, and I was angry at those that dared have an opinion to share towards me. There was a need for me to be justified in my actions to try and be a better father/man by using my head instead of my temper. My wife had labeled me soft, weak, and leaving all the discipline on her and she was overwhelmed. The words hurt, because, I am far from a deadbeat father/husband. Yet the words were there, and they stung harder than any thoughts of others.
The hurt may be the reason why my childish spite felt so strong. Thankfully, Jesus has a better hold on me. Almost the entire day I had to keep refocusing on God, talking to him. Jesus was the only reason I managed to keep focus and push forward through my work day. Not until the end of the work day, all the other foolish feelings dealt with, was I able to see my own pain for what it was.
I feel like I’ll never be enough. Before I spend a dime on myself, the bills are paid, the household is stocked with food, my wife is properly spoiled along with my kids, and then that’s it. Rarely do I take from the family budget for myself. Chores, I work, I cook, I help with the kids when I get home, I help with the laundry, I help with homework, and on and on. The list doesn’t get shorter it changes, upgrades, or repeats. My wife, Rainy, fights this battle too, because a large family is a large list of needs. No drugs, alcohol so rare in my life it’s a legend, job that has me home every day and every weekend, and it’s not enough.
How much do I have to give of myself? What will be enough? I’m killing myself for my family, and it’s not enough. I realized this on the way out of work, and then the feeling clicked in, deflated. The word, deflated, works too well. There’s an emptiness inside that has nothing to do with Jesus’ love for me but the fact that I’ll never be enough. Old me almost destroyed my relationship with my two oldest daughters and my oldest son. The guy I am becoming seems to be such a polar opposite that my kids shrug off my words of love just as easily as they shrug off my non-violent disciplines. Worst of all, my wife, the woman I opened up entirely to, thinks no better.
Deflated.
I don’t know what to do yet. I’m still thinking through things, and I’m clinging to Jesus to help me be a better man. Some things need to change in my house, my discipline on the kids defiance being one of them, but I will find a way that doesn’t require me being that fire of rage and stress. Jesus knows the way, and I am leaning on him to find the way. This feeling sucks, it sucks, but giving up isn’t an option. Jesus makes me stronger than that, and he’s why I’m still standing. Today sucked, tomorrow may not be any better, but I’m going to keep stepping forward with Jesus. Jesus will see me through this with a better way to be.
Tonight I will go to bed probably still feeling deflated, but not unloved. Jesus’ got me, and he’s promised to never let me go. Jesus has promised that no one can take me from him. Being deflated sucks, but it won’t be my end.
Trust that Jesus Loves You.