Facing Our Demons

Song excerpts from Demons  by Imagine Dragons 

When the days are cold / And the cards all fold

And the saints we see / Are all made of gold

When your dreams all fail / And the ones we hail

Are the worst of all / And the blood’s run stale

I wanna hide the truth / I wanna shelter you 

But with the beast inside / There’s nowhere we can hide

Picture this: One typical afternoon a husband and wife have a fight.  On the first day, post-fight, the husband resumes his chores, but in a way that infuriates his wife.  He carefully stacks the dishes, leaving the top plate off-kilter, and strategically sprinkles crumbs across the counter.  Meanwhile, the wife is equally angry and does the laundry but crumples up his socks so they stay dirty, coming out of the dryer damp, smelly and wrinkled. From an observer’s perspective, day one is rather humorous.

The next day they both dig in their heels as they recognize the other’s silent protest, convincing themselves that they’re matching pace with their partner.  Fast forward to day 20 of the strike and the level of tension has significantly ramped up.  At this point, the husband is only sporadically helping with the kids, and the wife is only occasionally agreeing to be intimate.  Now, fast forward ten years and you have a finely-tuned Cold War.  It’s a beautiful, intricately-choreographed, cruel dance.

No matter what we breed / We still are made of greed

This is my kingdom come 

When you feel my heat / Look into my eyes

It’s where my demons hide 

Don’t get too close / It’s dark inside

It’s where my demons hide 

 

You’re worse than you think–and so am I.  I’ve journeyed with hundreds of clients and heard stories of cruelty that, even if I weren’t bound by confidentiality, I would never share because they’re too traumatizing.

I’ve had vicarious flashbacks: which means that I’ve experienced sights, sounds, or smells that triggered an intense reaction, evoking the memory of another’s trauma as if it were my own. This is the residue of what I do.  It’s a black film that clings to my being. It’s what I signed up for.  What I didn’t sign up for was the black residue of my own, one that defiantly clings to me.

Every fiber of that same being rages against the counseling theories that avoid darkness–those theories that preach safety and security.  To ignore the darkness inside us causes more trauma to those who know real cruelty then facing the truth ever could. I can’t, in good conscience, do counseling that way, and I’ll tell you why.

I attended a workshop on marriage counseling recently, and this is the post I’m writing after crawling out of the trenches.  Those of you who are or have been married will see the humor in this. At first, it may appear discordant, but isn’t marriage the place where we’re capable of inflicting the most pain?

I can only describe this conference as a 3-day, 20-hour beating.  I’m bruised and battered on this side, mainly by my own conscience.  And I signed up for it.  And I want to share it with you.  I want to share it because it’s honest and because it’s respectful of human suffering.

Curtain’s call / Is the last of all

When the light fades out / All the sinners crawl

So they dug your grave / And the masquerade

Will come calling out / At the mess you’ve made

The conference expert, Dr. David Schnarch, took our profession to task making an impassioned plea for the ambassadors of our craft to act with greater integrity, and rightfully so.  He called us to an integrity that names things as they really are. He called for an integrity that requires us to face our own demons before we face them in others.

Don’t wanna let you down / But I am hell bound

Though this is all for you / Don’t wanna hide the truth

 

We hide our demons from one another and from ourselves.  I’m no different.  I’ve hurt loved ones.  To deny that I’m capable of such hurt wouldn’t protect others.  When we deny that reality, we suppress the truth, and in suppressing the truth, we silence the voices of all who have experienced human affliction.  “Why?” You might ask.  Because when we diminish the reality of cruelty, we strip away the true narrative that gives others the ability to make sense of their worlds.

Just look at the example of marital Cold War.  By clinging to their personal justifications, each member of that couple suppressed the truth, denying their own culpability and diminishing the other’s experience of hurt to gain a strategic advantage.  In order to do this, each one had to reconstruct the narrative to fit their personal justifications.

No matter what we breed / We still are made of greed

This is my kingdom come 

When you feel my heat / Look into my eyes

It’s where my demons hide 

Don’t get too close / It’s dark inside

It’s where my demons hide 

 For those of you who know me, you might be wondering how this fits with the other edges of me that I hope you’ve seen: playfulness, care, joy, etc.  I really love people.  I love them poorly, oftentimes, but I really love people.  It’s my belief that in order to love them well, I have to face my own demons, and I have to own a view of darkness that’s respectful of both the pain they’ve experienced and the pain they’re capable of inflicting.  This is a respect that’s given without judgment or condemnation, as I know what it means to have demons of my own.

Hiding from our darkness hurts ourselves and others.  But what can emerge when we face the worst in us?  Our. Genuine.  Best.  If you want to see humanity at its genuine best, look at my post on The Stouthearted Man or Tribute to a Storyteller or Lunchbox Wisdom, and you’ll see the beauty of what can be.  Is it worth the beating?  I would say, resoundingly, yes.  But you have to make that decision for yourself.

–Your fellow, bruised, traveler