Like a window

Transparency. When I shop for tape I usually like a good amount of transparency. I like the so-called 'invisible' tape, so it looks like the wrapped Christmas presents are holding themselves together, which is so cool. But transparency isn't just for tape and windows. I remember hearing about it being a good thing for people too, especially Christians. The thought, I think, was that it is better to reveal what is truly in your heart rather than cramming it all away inside where it can only fester. Plus, within the greater Christian community, aren't we all supposed to be caring and loving, able to lift each other up in prayer and to hold each other steadfast?
I am not writing this to chide anyone or to cause feelings of guilt (though if you do feel either of those, guilt or chiding, then I do strongly recommend that you examine that within your own heart and mind. We shouldn't be ruled by our emotions, but they are usually pretty good signposts for how we are truly doing, so it is a good idea to know what those signs are saying), although I might perhaps be chiding myself. You see, I am not very transparent. I would make a better door than a window. I play things very close to the chest, and it is not good. I suspect that no one really knows what's on my mind for certain because I simply don't tell anyone. My bad.
I am saying all of this with a specific story in mind. Over the week that I was in Winnipeg, I was hit with a bad case of the 'nobody-likes-me's. I have a history of this mindset, and I think it is indirectly (or perhaps directly) related to my opaqueness. In high school I was pretty much convinced that no one liked me - although that is a bit extreme. Never in my life have I thought that anyone hated me, and in fact, I am of the opinion that (and this sounds almost arrogant) no one doesn't like me. I am completely unaware of anyone who dislikes me. They may be out there, but if so, then they are avoiding me quite well, so that's cool. But what I do often feel is that no one really thinks about me* (read to the bottom for the irony of that statement) when I'm not around. I feel like I truly am proof of the old adage 'out of sight, out of mind'**. That translates into a low sense of self-worth and I am quick to point out, in my own mind, how little, completely innocent things are actually deliberate snubs, or accidental omissions. When I get feeling like that, I can be in a crowd and completely alone. It makes me unhappy to say the least.
The problem is, I think I am partially right, and it is largely my fault. I am not trying to become the martyr or to depress anyone (I have a direction that this is all pointing, I swear). Again, it comes down to transparency. Because I am so closed, there is nothing there worth remembering, unless they happen to think that I am a funny guy. Which I am. I know it's true, I say it every day. But outside of the sarcasm and wit, I don't present much to people, so there is not much to hold their interest. I don't like talking about myself very much, so I provide little in the way of personal information, and I don't like arguing much so I don't really present opinions either. Just being funny all the time gets annoying after a while (and it's hard), so I just fade away into the background.
If you have seen the movie About A Boy starring Hugh Grant, think of how his life was in that movie. There was nothing. I often feel like that, except without the money. I try too hard to be a self-sufficient island. I try not to share anything with anyone - I can survive on my own! But I can't. If all you can see is the outer surface, after a while you start to believe that there is nothing underneath.
So when I was having my sad attack at the orientation, I was on the edge of giving up. I had been doing pretty good up to that point, but I was suddenly slammed with these old familiar sensations. I withdrew into myself, a dangerous place to live.
Every night we gathered in a small area called the pit. It looked like a small amphitheater, big enough for thirty people to sit around comfortably. On this night, I think it was Thursday, I had spent a few hours on my own after supper because everyone just disappeared on me, one of those things, I wasn't actually to bummed out at first. Besides, I do think that it is good to have time alone, especially when you are an introvert such as myself. So that was cool. But as the time to gather for the evening neared I started feeling worse, wondering why no one wanted to hang out with me. I had to run to my room and drop some stuff off, and everyone was gathered around in the hallway (we were staying in a dorm), and they all started heading out. I trailed the group growing more and more despondent as we neared the pit. We entered the building and everyone peeled off to get a bottle of water. I wasn't thirsty, so I just went and sat down in the pit. There were a few people sitting around, mostly the leaders, so I sat down in an area where no one was sitting yet. As I sat I was hit with a virtual wave of bitterness. I was convinced that no one would sit by me, and at first it looked like I was right. The first few people sat down across the way, not even close to me. With every person that sat I grew more bitter (I don't do sad well, it usually is bitterness with some anger). Inwardly I was done. There was nothing left in the tank, I was ready to pack it all in, to politely decline the offer to go to Germany and to just go home, a broken and bitter man.
And then Meghan sat down by me. I was surprised, I had not been expecting that. As soon as she did, I heard a voice in my head say "but she's not sitting very close, so it doesn't count". It wasn't a feeling, but an actual voice, as clear as day. And it worked, too, for about a second. And then I was puzzled. Did that actually make any sense? What exactly did I want, for her to sit on my lap? Cuz that would have been extremely awkward. About this time Anne sat down on the other side of me. I am sure that neither of them we trying to cheer me up or having pity on me or anything like that. They just sat down where they wanted to sit, and it happened to be beside me. Very quickly I had no idea how to feel. I had this great mad-on all worked up, just ready to be justifiably bitter, angry at the Christians like I had been once before, and suddenly those feelings were as empty as the vaccuumm of space. Imagine a large group of people gathered for something, a concert or a protest or rally or something. Now imagine that things are going well, that the band is in the middle of their set, that the speech is at its apex...and then it is over. The drummer hits the cymbals one more time and they walk off the stage, or the speechmaker gets to his main point and says it in one sentence and leaves. Suddenly the crowd has nothing to do. They mingle and walk around for a bit, asking each other what happened, and eventually some start to walk away, soon leaving just one or two people standing in the field, until they too disperse. That was what my feelings did right then. This bitterness was suddenly done, but it didn't leave all at once. It milled about for a while in confusion, wondering what had happened, trying to get the party started again, but there was nothing left for it to grasp.
Afterwards I got into an actual conversation with Anne and Meghan and the feelings of bitterness just gave up. I felt like a million bucks. If I hadn't been feeling sick that night (I came down with a cold) I might not have gone to bed at all, so odd did I feel.
So how does this relate to transparency. I will tell you - this is the first time I have told that story. It is a good story, one with a happy ending. It is encouraging, it shows that God is always watching, ready to send help when we need it. But I didn't tell anyone, I couldn't. It was inside of me and I don't let anyone see that. I just don't think that is healthy.
I wonder about that thought I had, the one about Meghan not sitting close enough. It was an extremely illogical thought, and it was so vivid. I don't usually think that clearly even when I'm just thinking to myself. Thoughts that clear are usually spoken aloud (I talk to myself all the time). But this was almost visible it was so clear. It was a bit of a shock, sat me back on my heels, made me actually think for a moment. I wonder if it wasn't a last ditch attack by a beaten devil, kind of like the last volleys of a war already lost, just an attempt to do as much damage as possible. Had the thought been less blatant, more subtle, would I have succumbed to it? Perhaps. The temptation would have been there, but for the fact that Anne sat on the other side of me, slightly closer than Meghan, purely due to the geometry of the room.
So there you go, a piece of me that I didn't share before, a peephole into my thoughts. I will probably still say that I am fine when I am not necessarily fine. It is a fine line to walk between being suitably transparent and just whiny. And I don't think that everyone has to know everything about everyone. Some things need to be dealt with in different ways, some more hidden than others. That is okay, but simply not letting anything show isn't. I guess I still have a lot to learn in life. I thank God that He is a pretty good (and extremely patient) teacher.

*I read someting once that said: "You wouldn't worry so much about what people thought about you if you realised how rarely they actually did". Here's the problem: I constantly have people come up to me and tell me that they were talking about me the other day. I have people that I haven't seen for months say that to me, people that I don't even know all that well. I seem to be a bit of a conversation piece among certain people. It is odd. And yet I still feel like no one thinks about me when I'm not around. Weird, eh?

**I truly am a study in contrasts