“Mom, I need to talk to you about something weird I’m doing. I can’t help it, and I really hate it, but I can’t stop.” Grayson’s voice on the other end of the line is flat and dejected. Borderline despairing.
“Okay,” I respond, sitting down and forcing a slow inhale, “tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s just…I’m doing this weird thing. It’s embarrassing. And gross.” I take another deeper breath, steeling myself for what I can only imagine is coming. In a lower voice, and after much hemming and hawing, he continues, “Sometimes, I try to imagine what people look like…naked.”
Relieved that this is “all” he is doing, and not something more deviant like breaking into cars, pulling the fire alarm at his school for neurodiverse young adults, or trying to climb tall fences to see what will happen if he grabs a high voltage wire, I tell him in a level voice, “Well, it’s normal to think about these things at your age. Are you feeling curious, or why do you think you’re doing this?”
The frustration is mounting in his voice, and I have to stop his beginning onslaught of words to remind him to be patient with himself, that he is still learning and growing, and that it takes time to figure out these complex life matters. He takes a deep breath and continues, his words intentional and measured, “Well, sometimes I’m just curious, and I think it’s funny. But sometimes I do it when I see a pretty girl. But I don’t WANT to do that! It’s WRONG and DISRESPECTFUL, and I don’t know what’s WRONG with me!” His voice is rapidly ascending in both decibels and octaves, so we pause once more until he’s calm.
“When you look at girls this way, Grayson, what kind of thoughts are you having?” I ask, attempting to gauge where he’s at developmentally.
There is a long silence, as he considers. “I guess I think about what it would be like to have a girlfriend. But that’s not healthy for me!” he promptly wails. “I need to work on myself before I’m ready for a relationship! It’s not healthyyyyy!”
“Well, Grayson, you’re right,” I reply. “It’s not best to look at girls and just imagine what they might look like naked. It’s best to get to know them for the person they are. But if you were to be curious and patient with yourself, what FEELING do you think is behind wanting a girlfriend?”
Another long pause, and then a slow, drawn-out answer, “I guess I would say the feeling of loneliness. I think I would say I’m feeling…lonely; I’m tired of not having friends, Mom.”
And there it is — the HEART of the matter.
*
In complete transparency, the immediate maternal response that LEAPS to the tip of my tongue in almost all situations with Grayson is, “WELL DON’T DO WHATEVER IT IS YOU’RE DOING! JUST…STOP! IMMEDIATELY!” Yet years of experience have taught me to pause, take a deep breath, and ask endless amounts of “whys.”
I wonder, how would life be different if we all responded to each other in this way — curiously, tenderly, and with a non-interrupting, listening ear?
“I’m struggling with pornography/drinking/suicidal thoughts.” WHY? What’s behind it? Tell me more…
“I dropped out of school/quit my job/am getting a divorce.” WHY? What’s behind it? Tell me more…
“I can’t forgive my father. I never want to set foot in church again. I hate my own child.” WHY? What’s behind it? Tell me more…
Far too often, we arrest our gaze on a person’s behavior — the mere tip of the iceberg — and immediately begin ransacking our brains for solutions. Yet in doing so, we turn the person before us into a problem to be solved, thereby completely missing their humanity, their heart, and their soul. For the truth is that beneath any stereotypically concerning behavior, almost always lies an entire icy, rocky mountain of buried, neglected pain.
Still, we continue on, whispering our needlessly shameful tip-of-the-iceberg confessions behind closed doors, “Sometimes, I imagine what people look like…naked.” Yet, unfortunately, tragically, we never utter our God-honest truths, “I’m lonely; I’m hurting; I’m scared. I was abused — often. I feel worthless. I hate myelf. I can’t bear to be here any longer.”
Beyond treating other people this way, what would it be like to treat ourselves this way? Do we ever consider applying the fruits of the spirit — love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control — not only outwardly but inwardly? Do we dare speak our deepest truths to ourselves? And if we dared, would we then meet ourselves with criticism, judgmental thoughts, punitive belittlement, or vengeance?
In my favorite movie of all time, “A Monster Calls,” the star of the movie, a young boy named Conor O’Malley, is losing his mother to cancer. In his recurring nightmare, the earth is quaking and splintering, and his mother slips and begins falling into the black void. Falling to his belly, Conor manages to catch her by her hand, which slowly slips into only a few fingers, and in the culmination of his nightmare, he witnesses her falling into a deathly silent oblivion. The monster, a tree that comes walking, screams into the stark silence for Conor to speak his truth, telling him that it will kill him if he does not speak it. The scene is tense, excruciating, and breath-taking. After a long while, Conor limply surrenders and speaks his truth, “I let her go. I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted it to be finished.”
Immediately softening, the tree, voiced by Liam Neeson, consoles the boy, “It’s not your fault. You were merely wishing for the end of pain. Your own pain. An end to how it isolated you. It is the most human wish of all…and that is your truth.”
This, my friends, is all of our truths, if we will only be brave enough to admit it. Our poor behaviors — our sins, if you will — are, at the root of everything, simply misguided efforts to alleviate our own pain and to seek meaning amidst the mundane. Yet, as I wrote in my book, The Light of a Thousand Wounds, “These secret truths — so dazzling when concealed — appear dull as stones when brought into the light.” If only we might all have a friend — that we might all BECOME that friend — who can receive the darkest truths of our lives, then hold them as the rocky treasures they are with soft hands.
“Oh, to have the eyes of Christ
Where every person breaks and remakes my heart
With every single glance.”
