Taking your content warning VERY seriously this time. Flagged to read in the new year, on a sunny day by the pool, listening to soothing music, surrounded by my adoring family.....
I hope writing this out helped you as much as it seems it should (when I know writing and speaking on these sorts of emotions/topics always feels a little bit better when it's out than kept locked inside.)
I was just thinking the other day about the desire to worship. I have a desire to throw myself over to a man. It's been with me for as long as I've been wanting a relationship. It worked out horribly when I chose the wrong man. So I switched it to worshipping God instead. That changed me drastically for the better. I started to wonder if it was just me. I thought everyone probably has this desire to worship or server in them. But then I thought maybe I was projecting. Maybe I wasn't.
I'm just guessing, but I suspect the desire to give it to another human is about personal issues -- basing that on many conversations with my (based, conservative, very masculine) therapist. Even people who deeply respect and understand freedom otherwise often want to give their identity over to another. He says that since I never experienced being defined by another in a healthy way, as kids are by their parents, I have this pull to worship more strongly than most people, but most people have it. Many people pretend not to, especially men. He and I got a good laugh about all the men who are fully defined by something other than their own view of themselves, even good things like being an American or a dad or a husband or a fan of this or that team, and how they fail to see it as a form of worship. Very similar to how when men are angry our culture often fails to recognize that they are being emotional. Anyway, it's early and those are my thoughts.
People clearly like being part of a group rather than standing out as individuals. That was also evidenced by people giving over to the COVID mania concerning masking and staying home. Even people on the "Right" were okay with staying home in ways that surprised me.
As for my personal issues, I don't believe I was seen authentically when I was younger. I was projected onto and never lived up to other people's expectations. I wasn't fully appreciated for who I was. At least that's how I felt and still feel very strongly. So I tried to take on the "savior" role and do everything I could for another in order to be seen as worthy and appreciated. I know that the role is something I can slip into and watch out for it now.
God is the only one who clearly doesn't need rescuing, so it is healthier to realize I'm not doing it to give God something He doesn't already have. But I struggle with not feeling worthy because of it. That's the damage that not having unconditional love as a child does to a person.
Absolutely. I am convinced that, as long as a person's God concept isn't an evil one (like killing people for Allah or negating the Constitution for Yahweh) it's much healthier than giving it to another person.
I too tend towards the savior role -- towards earning love by being helpful.
Oh, fuck around, this is great. Sometimes, the prose just takes over the attention and invites me to temporarily forget I’m standing in the kitchen next to a coffee maker.
Winter. Christmas. The woods.
Anyway, sometimes it gets the internal wheels turning and then, when the gears mesh like they’re supposed to, I want to use that inertia and think with it.
I put reading this aside longer than I usually do with your posts. I knew it would be a hard one for me. I’m not a Christian who is much inclined to evangelism. I hate interrupting people who are busy with their own thoughts.
But reading your posts that talk about God always compels me to pray for you. Not in terms of salvation. That’s between you and God. But I pray for you regularly and often. If He’s not there I suppose that’s not worth much more than goodwill. But I believe He is there and one day you’ll meet Him and He will embrace you. Even if He does have to sit and wait out your well earned fury first. Because you’re certainly right that down here it’s no fair. I think that’s a big part of what makes me wait to read these posts. I hate that it’s unfair even if I believe that one day it is going to be returned to fair, to the great ruin of many who made it that way.
Anyway, I hesitate to send you any of that. It feels like overstepping boundaries to me. But I’m compelled to all the same.
P.S. Chuck Taylor’s are so cool. I wore blue ones to my wedding. The Christmas art on yours is awesome.
Wow, what a creative writing experiment. May your shoes always be sturdy and comfortable enough to help you outrun or otherwise deal with the pain you have.
“If you didn’t want to read the thoughts of a profoundly damaged freak, you subscribed to the wrong Substack.”
While we have never met, I do not believe you are a freak, although you are dealing with some freakishly bad stuff. And to think I wandered in for the math classes!
You are uniquely talented, Holly. It's vanishingly rare for anyone to be as gifted as you are mathematically and also have the similarly high writing / verbal skills that you do; to be able not only to explain mathematics concepts clearly to those who struggle in that domain, but also to write creatively so well, whether writing pure fiction or a piece like this that's based in your own real experiences. I'm jealous, but in an admiring way, not a petty one.
Your articles often tip me into glimpses of my past. I loved night driving as a child, we lived in mountainous countryside and in the winter it was like riding on a beam of light as the headlights lit up the snow. We would often drive late and not pass another car, it felt like being on some secret mission in a movie.
Last time I went on a night drive with my dad was 1998, I was still at university and doing the backpacking thing across Europe. I messed up bad and found myself without money, in Prague and in a very cold December! I called my old man and hopped a train back over the border. He had to pick me up at an ungodly hour in some strange town since there was no direct line. No mobiles back then - I had to book an international call at a post office - does anyone remember this stuff these days?
The train serpentined through deep snowdrifts in the Sudeten mountains and I had another now-lost experience: a railcar compartment customs search. Dad brought a surprise: a girl. She volunteered to come along for the drive in case something happened as dad's health was starting to go, and the car wasn't 100%. Ursula was the classic girl next door and younger sister of a friend. It finally hit me that we weren't just hanging out for the last few weeks as she tousled the back of my hair from the back seat. My dad noticed, pretended he didn't and it was awkward for a while... And we drove on through the night.
The early ending to my holidays gave me a few extra weeks with them both, which I didn't know then would be our last. Ursula and I kept writing letters (yes letters) for about six months after I came back to Australia, then they suddenly stopped. I wouldn't hear from her for at least another year... when she finally explained she got pregnant with some guy and had to marry him. My dad would pass away a few years later, but I have this bank of pleasant things to remember him by.
Thank you, and thank you for reading!
Taking your content warning VERY seriously this time. Flagged to read in the new year, on a sunny day by the pool, listening to soothing music, surrounded by my adoring family.....
A wise choice!
❤️ thank you for such a beautiful post! I love your writing style/skill and really appreciate your perspective on the world!
Powerful writing, Holly!
Thank you.
I hope writing this out helped you as much as it seems it should (when I know writing and speaking on these sorts of emotions/topics always feels a little bit better when it's out than kept locked inside.)
I was just thinking the other day about the desire to worship. I have a desire to throw myself over to a man. It's been with me for as long as I've been wanting a relationship. It worked out horribly when I chose the wrong man. So I switched it to worshipping God instead. That changed me drastically for the better. I started to wonder if it was just me. I thought everyone probably has this desire to worship or server in them. But then I thought maybe I was projecting. Maybe I wasn't.
I'm just guessing, but I suspect the desire to give it to another human is about personal issues -- basing that on many conversations with my (based, conservative, very masculine) therapist. Even people who deeply respect and understand freedom otherwise often want to give their identity over to another. He says that since I never experienced being defined by another in a healthy way, as kids are by their parents, I have this pull to worship more strongly than most people, but most people have it. Many people pretend not to, especially men. He and I got a good laugh about all the men who are fully defined by something other than their own view of themselves, even good things like being an American or a dad or a husband or a fan of this or that team, and how they fail to see it as a form of worship. Very similar to how when men are angry our culture often fails to recognize that they are being emotional. Anyway, it's early and those are my thoughts.
People clearly like being part of a group rather than standing out as individuals. That was also evidenced by people giving over to the COVID mania concerning masking and staying home. Even people on the "Right" were okay with staying home in ways that surprised me.
As for my personal issues, I don't believe I was seen authentically when I was younger. I was projected onto and never lived up to other people's expectations. I wasn't fully appreciated for who I was. At least that's how I felt and still feel very strongly. So I tried to take on the "savior" role and do everything I could for another in order to be seen as worthy and appreciated. I know that the role is something I can slip into and watch out for it now.
God is the only one who clearly doesn't need rescuing, so it is healthier to realize I'm not doing it to give God something He doesn't already have. But I struggle with not feeling worthy because of it. That's the damage that not having unconditional love as a child does to a person.
Absolutely. I am convinced that, as long as a person's God concept isn't an evil one (like killing people for Allah or negating the Constitution for Yahweh) it's much healthier than giving it to another person.
I too tend towards the savior role -- towards earning love by being helpful.
Oh, fuck around, this is great. Sometimes, the prose just takes over the attention and invites me to temporarily forget I’m standing in the kitchen next to a coffee maker.
Winter. Christmas. The woods.
Anyway, sometimes it gets the internal wheels turning and then, when the gears mesh like they’re supposed to, I want to use that inertia and think with it.
Thank you, friend.
I put reading this aside longer than I usually do with your posts. I knew it would be a hard one for me. I’m not a Christian who is much inclined to evangelism. I hate interrupting people who are busy with their own thoughts.
But reading your posts that talk about God always compels me to pray for you. Not in terms of salvation. That’s between you and God. But I pray for you regularly and often. If He’s not there I suppose that’s not worth much more than goodwill. But I believe He is there and one day you’ll meet Him and He will embrace you. Even if He does have to sit and wait out your well earned fury first. Because you’re certainly right that down here it’s no fair. I think that’s a big part of what makes me wait to read these posts. I hate that it’s unfair even if I believe that one day it is going to be returned to fair, to the great ruin of many who made it that way.
Anyway, I hesitate to send you any of that. It feels like overstepping boundaries to me. But I’m compelled to all the same.
P.S. Chuck Taylor’s are so cool. I wore blue ones to my wedding. The Christmas art on yours is awesome.
Wow, what a creative writing experiment. May your shoes always be sturdy and comfortable enough to help you outrun or otherwise deal with the pain you have.
“If you didn’t want to read the thoughts of a profoundly damaged freak, you subscribed to the wrong Substack.”
While we have never met, I do not believe you are a freak, although you are dealing with some freakishly bad stuff. And to think I wandered in for the math classes!
I felt this. I know this feeling. Great piece.
You are uniquely talented, Holly. It's vanishingly rare for anyone to be as gifted as you are mathematically and also have the similarly high writing / verbal skills that you do; to be able not only to explain mathematics concepts clearly to those who struggle in that domain, but also to write creatively so well, whether writing pure fiction or a piece like this that's based in your own real experiences. I'm jealous, but in an admiring way, not a petty one.
I love your courage. (The writing is great too). I wish you some peace and contentment at least some times.
There is a meme where you can choose a red or blue button. If I could wipe out cancer or pedophiles, which would I choose?
I'd wipe out the pedos, even though my family has cancer in it. No hesitation. I hate them that much.
Wow!
Your articles often tip me into glimpses of my past. I loved night driving as a child, we lived in mountainous countryside and in the winter it was like riding on a beam of light as the headlights lit up the snow. We would often drive late and not pass another car, it felt like being on some secret mission in a movie.
Last time I went on a night drive with my dad was 1998, I was still at university and doing the backpacking thing across Europe. I messed up bad and found myself without money, in Prague and in a very cold December! I called my old man and hopped a train back over the border. He had to pick me up at an ungodly hour in some strange town since there was no direct line. No mobiles back then - I had to book an international call at a post office - does anyone remember this stuff these days?
The train serpentined through deep snowdrifts in the Sudeten mountains and I had another now-lost experience: a railcar compartment customs search. Dad brought a surprise: a girl. She volunteered to come along for the drive in case something happened as dad's health was starting to go, and the car wasn't 100%. Ursula was the classic girl next door and younger sister of a friend. It finally hit me that we weren't just hanging out for the last few weeks as she tousled the back of my hair from the back seat. My dad noticed, pretended he didn't and it was awkward for a while... And we drove on through the night.
The early ending to my holidays gave me a few extra weeks with them both, which I didn't know then would be our last. Ursula and I kept writing letters (yes letters) for about six months after I came back to Australia, then they suddenly stopped. I wouldn't hear from her for at least another year... when she finally explained she got pregnant with some guy and had to marry him. My dad would pass away a few years later, but I have this bank of pleasant things to remember him by.
Thank you for bringing back memories.