I CAN Do It

I could feel my heart beating in my chest, my hands were sweating, and I could not think through the fog that enveloped my brain. The woman was speaking; I knew because I saw her mouth moving, but I didn’t know what she was saying. I felt as though I was a visitor in my body watching the events unfold like a movie. I did not know these people, and I did not know what they expected of me. One thing I knew for sure: I did not belong here.

My mother must have anticipated my reaction to starting first grade because she stayed in the back of the room instead of leaving me there like the other parents. For three days, Mom sat on a stool in the back corner and watched me. If I had not already felt out of place, the fact that she was there would have embarrassed me to no end. Nobody else needed their mom to stay. They were all “big boys and girls.”

The feeling I was out of place, like I had no part in my situation and nothing in common with the people around me, like I just didn’t belong? Yeah, that was pretty much my life, and I never considered that others might feel the same way. I always thought I was alone in my loneliness and was very surprised when I learned how many others suffer from low self-esteem, insecurities, and depression.

Compared to many others, I understand that my life may look like a day at the park. Far too many people suffer abuse, molestation, rape, neglect, and other forms of trauma, and they have much deeper wounds than I. Because of this, I often felt like an imposter attempting to compare my pain to theirs. Even my unworthiness was unworthy. The truth is that emotional issues such as low self-esteem, insecurities, social awkwardness, and depression are just as real regardless of the circumstances or the causes. The pain, the feelings of loneliness, worthlessness, and isolation are just as real.

I do not intend to say that my story is as bad as others, but I do say that my pain hurt just as much, and the process for beginning the healing works the same regardless of the root causes. I want to help all who suffer from these emotional issues find their path to healing and live the lives they were meant to live. By telling my story, I hope to help someone else know they are not alone.

***

My parents' influence on my story is pretty significant, but, unfortunately, not all of their influence was positive. I learned a lot about love, character, and how to treat other people from Mom and Dad, but I also learned a lot of things that, collectively, almost destroyed me.

My Dad was born in 1910 in rural South Mississippi, the middle child of seven. His parents were farmers who barely made a living, so Dad had to work from the time he could walk. He was forced to quit school after the sixth grade to work full time to help feed his family. Although he was uneducated, my Dad was far from dumb. He had an excellent understanding of basic math and geometry, which eventually led him into carpentry and woodwork as a life occupation. And he was pretty good at it.

Growing up poor, Dad learned to work and work hard. He continued this until his seventies and did his best to pass his work ethic on to me. He would say, “If someone is paying you for a day’s work, work all day.” And he lived by this. He would often leave before sunrise going to a job, and return after dark, and he would do this five or six days a week. When he was home, he would be working in the yard, the garden, cutting firewood, something productive all day long.

Dad married the love of his life in his twenties during the Great Depression and began his family. My three brothers came from that marriage. Shortly after my third brother was born, however, Dad’s wife died. Although he eventually remarried, he never quite got over her.

My mother was also born in rural South Mississippi, but not in 1910. She was born in 1935, the same year as my oldest brother. She was also the child of poor farmers and was the youngest of three.

Mom had asthma as a child and was extremely limited in the things she could do. Whenever she started to run and play with the other children, her mom would say, “You can’t do that!” Because of asthma, Mom also dropped out of school after the sixth grade but was no dummy either. The combination of being uneducated and constantly being told she could not do things left her with many insecurities and a significant inferiority complex.

In her early twenties, Mom married a guy she met a year or so before. Almost immediately, this man began to abuse Mom physically, and she divorced him after just a few months. This divorce caused the church she attended to tell her she was no longer worthy. This rejection, too, would stay with her for years, supporting her already profound feelings of unworthiness.

Mom and Dad met and married a few years later. When I was born, Dad was 55, and Mom was 30. Being in my fifties now, I cannot imagine having to start over with a new baby. I understand my Dad a lot more. He did his best, however, but he did not do typical fatherly things. He never played games with me, he never taught me how to bat or catch or throw a ball, and he never talked to me about what it took to be a man. Except when he was working, he did not spend much time with me, but he loved me the best he could.

Mom, on the other hand, spoiled me. She allowed me to watch TV all day if I wanted to, even if Dad needed me to help him outside. She would also cater to me when it came to meals. If I did not like what she had cooked, she would fix something else just for me. And she sheltered me by not forcing me to do things I felt uncomfortable doing. To her, this was loving me.

Having been told that she could not do things most of her life, Mom passed this on to me by telling me I could not do things. I did not have asthma, however, or any other reason that I could not do them. The effect was the same, though. Insecurities and inferiority dominated my life for years. I believed that I could not do the things others around me were doing, so I did not try. If you don’t try, you can’t fail, right?

I have often heard that circuses train their elephants to stay put by tying a rope to the young elephant’s leg and securing it to a post in the ground. Even though the elephant may try to pull its leg loose, the rope and stake will not give. Eventually, the elephant will stop trying to break free and, even after they grow to full size and could easily break the rope or pull up the stake, they stay. This phenomenon is known as “learned helplessness.”

In an experiment in the 1970s, psychologists placed dogs in harnesses so that they were standing but could not move. One group of the dogs were simply kept in the harnesses for a time then released. A second group received an electric shock through the metal floor but were able to stop it by pressing a lever with their nose. The third group also received the shock but were unable to stop it.

Later, the scientists placed the dogs in a box with two sections separated by a small divider. The dogs would receive a shock but could escape by jumping over the partition to the other part of the box. The first two groups of dogs did this easily, but the third group, the ones who were unable to stop the shock while in the harness, simply cowered in the corner and endured the shock without attempting to find a way to safety. This group learned that the situation was hopeless and that there was no need to resist.

In the same way that the elephants and dogs learned to believe they had no control over their situation, children can also be taught helplessness. When children are in situations at home where they are constantly abused, neglected, or criticized, or told they can not do things as I was, they learn to accept this as their reality. Students who have difficulty in school with certain subjects or with social connectedness or are bullied by their peers soon learn that they have no hope of success. They stop trying to find a way to better their life. They may develop low self-esteem, withdraw from social situations, or even become depressed.

But it does not have to end here. Just as the individual learns helplessness, they can also be taught that they can change their situations, control their lives, and not be resigned to failure.

***

The fact that my dad was an older man when I was born made my childhood interesting. The youngest of my three half brothers turned 21 on an aircraft carrier near VietNam two weeks after I was born. The other two lived in Texas and were married with children of their own. I was an uncle when I was born. I grew up as an only child, but worse. I was out of phase with the rest of my family.

I was a son but the same age as the grandchildren, and I did not fit with either generation. When I was with my nephews and nieces, they would introduce me as their cousin, so they did not have to explain the age difference. Likewise, my brothers made sure to emphasize “half-brother” when I met their friends, and I understood this to mean that they were all ashamed of me. It increased the feelings of loneliness because, once again, I did not belong.

These feelings led to the trauma I felt during my first days in school, which plagued most of my educational career. I had a few friends in high school, and I even dated a girl or two, but it was all very uncomfortable. I still felt that I did not belong. One Friday, I got up the nerve to ask a girl to “go” with me. She said yes, and we became a couple. The following Monday, she came to me after lunch and said, “These have been the three most miserable days of my life.” That did not help my self-esteem at all. I made girls miserable, I wasn’t athletic, I wasn’t musically talented (even though I tried to play trombone in the marching band), and I wasn’t smart. Sure, I made A’s and B’s, but that was because the tests were easy. I didn’t even study most of the time. And I sure didn’t learn anything, which became apparent shortly after graduation.

After high school, I went to college to start my journey toward becoming a psychologist. And I hated it. None of the few friends I had in high school went to the same college I did, so I knew no one. I was alone again. And I was scared. During the first semester, I spent most of the time between classes sitting in my car eating convenience store sandwiches and listening to the radio.

During the second semester, I took a college algebra class. The first week of class, the professor was working on a problem on the board, and I had no idea what she was doing. I had never seen anything like it, even though I had B’s in Algebra 1 and 2 in high school. Another student in the class raised his hand and asked the professor about the formula she was using. The professor answered, “You should have learned that in high school.” She then continued with no further explanation. I heard my Mom’s voice in my head: “You can’t do that.” I believed her. I could never do algebra. I gave college one more semester, then I dropped out and joined the Navy. The apparent failure caused me to believe that my dream of being a psychologist was dead, so I started building a life on that premise.

***

During Navy basic training in San Diego, CA, I managed to stay under the radar. I was able to make friends with the guys I bunked with, but that was about it. After basic, I went to a training school in Great Lakes, IL, for my specialty and was alone again. I reconnected with one of the very few girls I dated in high school while home on leave, and we married a few months later, which turned out to be a bad idea because she and I did not like each other as much as we should have. We thought we did, but no. After five years, a couple of years before my second enlistment was up in the Navy, she left me and took our daughter with her. I did not see my little girl for almost a year, and that broke my heart.

Soon after the divorce was final, I received word that my dad and my brother were both diagnosed with lung cancer and did not have long to live. I was devastated. I arranged for a hardship discharge from the Navy and moved back home to help my mom. Within a six-month time frame, I lost my marriage, daughter, dad, and brother. Also, having moved back to rural South Mississippi, I could not find a job that paid as much as I made in the Navy, not even close, so I started getting into financial trouble. These events, while devastating and almost deadly to me, were also very sobering.

I eventually met a lady that stole my heart. She was the sister of a girl I knew in high school, but we had never met. This lady was smart, beautiful, classy, and an overall incredible woman. And, she married me. This was amazing because I never considered myself “good enough” for someone as wonderful as she is, but we celebrated our twenty-forth-anniversary the year of this writing.

After my wife and I were married about ten years, we moved to Texas. She became a Chaplain for seniors in a long-term care facility, and I was in charge of a team of technicians who installed and maintained car washes. I made a good living for my family, but it was nowhere close to the dream of my youth of counseling those in pain. I was good at my job but still felt like I was somewhere I did not belong.

As a part of my wife’s job, she attended a meeting of local Chaplains where she met a woman named Molly who taught a course in Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE). Listening to Molly speak about the CPE program, my wife felt sure that I needed to apply. After the meeting, she talked to Molly and got the information for me, and I started the process.

The CPE program was mainly an introspective journey, and I learned to think of my story for the first time as it was intended instead of through the filters of inferiority, unworthiness, and shame. As I became more in tune with my true self, I realized that my dream was not dead and that I could still be the counselor I had wanted to be since my youth.

At 45 years of age, I was able to finish something I never thought I would. I returned to college and completed my Bachelor’s degree in Psychology. Shortly after, I became employed as a mental health crisis assessor and case manager at a mental health clinic. Being a part of that team, and being able to help those who were hurting, was the greatest thrill I had ever experienced.

A few years later, we moved back to Mississippi to be near our children and granddaughters. I accepted a position as Hospice Chaplain while continuing my education. I completed a Master’s degree in Human Services Counseling and Life Coaching, then founded Waves Coaching Services. After a couple of years, I began missing the work I did with the clients at the mental health clinic but didn’t want to get back into that field. Instead, I decided to help teens before they reached crisis levels. I went back to school for an Education Specialist degree, received a teaching license, and found a position as a high school history teacher at a local private school. I have never been happier. And, my story is far from over.

My parents are both dead now and have been for many years. The effect they had on my life still lasts, however. I see and hear their voice in my head daily as I teach my children, grandchildren and as I go about my own life. My one regret is that my parents did not live to see the man I have become. I think they would have been proud.