Fatal Flaw

I'm a large group friends guy.

If I could throw a birthday party with all my closest friends their would be over fifty people present. I keep in touch with old friends from high school. Maybe three or four times a year I get back in touch with friends I lost contact with.

I'd like to say that's social media's fault for making those connections simpler than ever, but I've come to realize it's my innate desire to keep up with the friends I make. Whether it's one semester, one year, or one lifetime I don't let go of friends easily, and I want each and every one of those relationships to be impactful. You see my overwhelming desire to cling to people blends dangerously with my insatiable appetite for socializing.

I desire to feel close to my friends, but I want to make everyone my friend.



When I left for Peru (my favorite sentence to use in this blog) it was perfect. Isolated from my friends and family, I was forced to accept solitude and embrace the time alone. Not that I hate time alone, I just never quite felt comfortable achieving nothing/seeing no one.

I used to say I'd feel better about my day if I did something which, in Peru, amounted to biking out for the day or going out with friends. But then I had those nights where I just watched a lot of tv, alone, in my room, and went to bed. What happened there? In Peru I had no choice but to learn to accept it. The guilt of "not-accomplishing" something thinned out significantly. I thought I finally learned how to sit in silence. 

Then I came home.

I've been back in Dallas for well over a year. I  slowly settled back into my life, forming new friendships and recuperating old ones. Easily within a year the number of people I interact with on a meaningful level doubled. That's counting people I play frisbee with, people I work on film gigs with, coworkers, and old friends reacquainting themselves in my life. My network has grown exponentially and I absolutely love it, but I've hit terminal velocity.

There's only so much I can do to maintain an intentional relationship with all these people. In my head I have this weird sense of obligation to someone once they call me a friend. For example: I keep my phone on when I go to sleep in case I get a late night distress call. It could be from almost anyone and I'd show up. Thankfully no one's called (or I slept through them. Whoops!) but it still demonstrates I would rather lose sleep than lose a friendship. That's pathological. Arguably, it's a pathology enhanced by my return from Peru rather than diminished.

You see, when I don't feel like I'm fulfilling my responsibility as a good friend I feel like I'm neglecting my friends. If I'm not out grabbing drinks with them or catching up with them what am I doing? Life goes by fast, I ration. Why waste it watching tv when I could be grabbing a beer? I've been known to push myself for my friends and that's what makes my brand of loyalty so great, but it's double-edged because it drains me.




Think about Todd, from Bojack Horseman. He feels pathologically obligated to fulfill all of his friends' wishes no matter how offhand or ridiculous they are. This leads to some clever hijinks, but we understand (in Season 4 Episode 3) that it exhausts him and he has to learn to cut off his friends when they're being rude or just using him. I feel like Todd sometimes.

That's where we get to the heart of it: My friends can always count on me, but if they don't reciprocate that reliability I am CUT. I mean, it hurts me deeply. Loyalty, as something I practice, is something I treasure, and when it's not taken as seriously as me I feel hurt. When I don't connect with a friend or if a friendship feels abandoned it lingers in my head haunting my dreams sometimes. It's arguably a core element of who I am as a being and I can't control it to save my life, but it's unfair to expect that from everyone around me.



I write all this not to excuse myself but to ask for a remittance. Trust me guys, I'm already feeling guilty if I skip or bail on our time together. It gives me genuine anxiety. But please be patient with me. I make a million and one commitments. I try to honor every single one, and often end up with half the quality I should've given because I'm stretched too thin. I promise if you offer a little patience then you'll be contributing to my general mental health. So, here I am with my psychosis in my hands. Please be gentle.

Easter Sunday

Easter Sundays are the days where you dress in your absolute Sunday best. 

Maybe your mom dressed you up in a bright-colored pastel button up and slacks with a tie (no jacket.) Maybe you came home from college and you'd rather be sleeping in, but you have to go to Sunday church as long as you're sleeping under your parents roof. It's the one Sunday a year where you get a ham, deep dive on the deviled eggs, potatoes au gratin, and cook up some asparagus. At least, that's what Easter is for me.

Easter, as a whole, is the big sweeping moment (the triumphant fanfare) where Jesus does the one thing that literally defines Christianity separate from other Abrahamic faiths. It's this glorious moment and it's written in the Bible to be this total plot-twist. It's the redemption of all our hard work fasting and meditating and self-reflecting during Lent. It's this total, absolute swelling in the movie where we all get excited! Finally! A release from the dread and anxiety! It's a big deal, and I showed up fifteen minutes late.

You wanna know why I showed up fifteen minutes late? Full confession: I watched one extra episode of the new season of Jessica Jones. I knew full well, even told myself, that I shouldn't watch it. It was only gonna make me late for church on the one Sunday I literally can't be late for. Something about the sheer obligation of showing up on time provoked my guilt complex and in order to distract myself from feeling guilty I watched the episode.

It's not like I intended to show up late. I was actually hoping to show up fifteen minutes early. That way I can say hi to my friends (friends I don't see all that often) and get a good seat. Just, something in me didn't say no when Netflix counted down to the next episode. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Rationally I felt that if I showed up too early to church I would be the only Young Adult there. Which is no fun. When you're the only Young Adult it gets kinda weird.

You're not a married couple so you can't talk about mortgages or housing markets or school board policies. You're the only one from your generation so you're very unlikely to talk to somebody about It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia or the latest Wes Anderson movie or the best brunch spots in Church.

Then there's this weird fawning effect that happens every so often. Young Adults know what I'm talking about. It's this weird effect where, when you show up church members start acting like you're the saviors of the Church. Which, from their perspective you're the lifeblood to keep the church going and maybe they don't consciously think that but they definitely project that. SO many of my friends echo my thoughts when we talk about going to church: "I just don't like how they treat me so differently."

So I didn't show up on time. I didn't get in trouble or anything, but I definitely felt guilty. Which is another unintended consequence of missing a service or Sunday school. I call it Church-shaming.

On a qualitative level I know that faith is a habit you practice and so I need to go to church to practice it. But, like any habit, it's hard to establish and the early days of establishing a habit are the most fragile.

It's not like I hate church or anything. Quite the opposite, in fact. I grew up in a loving church family that raised me to be a (generally) moral and decent human being. Maybe I would've grown up the same without Church but I'm kind of glad I didn't have to find out. I was born and raised in a church and they helped me grow into an intelligent, responsible young man. So why don't I go on Sundays?

Well the ACTUAL excuse is: I work out on Sundays. I work out in a frisbee group Sunday mornings from 10-11. THEN! I workout Sunday afternoon at 3 in a frisbee league where we play a couple games.

The psychological reason: I can't tell you.

Do I feel a little pressured by my church family and thus put off to the whole event? Sure! Do I feel guilty for not attending church and thus want to avoid the guilt by never going in the first place? Without a doubt. Do I hate showing up to church and being voluntold to participate? I'm a total softie. I say yes to everything.

All of these are valid reasons but they are only part of the puzzle. It's also completely unfair to say Church is the reason I don't go to church. I share some of the blame too.

In the end I don't know exactly why I'd rather go to frisbee practices then to Church. For some reason I like frisbee practices more than a service. Would I go to church if it wasn't during frisbee? Absolutely. But I'm not gonna ask my Church to change itself according to my needs.

I wish I had more answers for you. Maybe I'll explore each of these thoughts in depth. If you agree with me let me know! If you disagree with me let me know! I'm always open to hearing your thoughts.