3 REs

Recently, I heard that there was word spreading in church that I was not repentant at all. Since nobody had bothered to keep in contact with me at all, it was most likely a few cowards who chose to read my blog and judge me from a distance. While deeply disappointing, it nonetheless has been a very consistent behaviour from this church community that probably didn’t want to taint themselves with the sins that I bear on my unworthy person.

So to those of you who chose to cast the first stones at me, I have only this to say. I am regretful, remorseful, but I am nowhere near repentant. 

Regretful

I deeply regret the things that I did. Misery has a way of loving company, and I regret that my actions have subjected so many people I cared for, to such an extreme form of pain and betrayal. I hurt those whom, even if they may not have made time to know me, had nonetheless trusted me. I let down everyone in church with my behaviour, regardless of any reason that drove me to such actions.

I caused irrevocable damage to relationships not just in my own life, but that of my wife and possibly my family as well, and it is something I can never make up to them for what they have and will be going through. To those whom I have victimised and hurt, I have no intention to ever face them again. I despise myself for having ever gone down this path, and would not wish to inflict my presence on them. Once upon a time, I felt I had something to offer those around me. I felt I had some goodness in me that I could share. Now, I only feel contempt towards myself, and it feels only right that I lose the whole community I once thought I would spend my life serving. 

Remorse

If I could live that whole period of my life over, I would surely try a lot harder to stop myself from ever going down that path. Better that I had just cut myself off from everyone, rather than do so only after having hurt everyone. Hollow as these words are, it is nevertheless what I have been telling myself every day. 

I don’t blame anyone for not understanding. I also did not understand myself, and why I allowed my madness to drive me in the direction that it did. Much better if I had just jumped off a building and ended my own existence.Perhaps if I had done so, some might have felt mere sorrow at my demise, instead of the intense pain I now put them through. 

Repentance

The only way to be repentant is to be repentant towards God. And that’s something I have not changed my position on. My questions about my own relationship with God remains unanswered even today. He has remained silent towards me, and his church has been silent as well (apart from the time they spent judging and discussing how great a sinner I am, and how unrepentant I remain).

So yes, ironically, they are right in saying I am unrepentant. I see no reason in my life, in this season, to return to God. Before, my cries for help to turn away from my desperation were unanswered. After things came to light, my cries to him for answers were also met with silence. Like Ivanhoe, I have taken the name El Desdichado for myself.

I am a man with a lot of pride. I took a lot of pride in the servanthood I displayed in church, the concern and selflessness I always showed in helping out those around me. I took on responsibilities and chose to step up when there was a need, and I never begrudged God for my labors in church. And even though I know my actions have been heinously despicable, there are days when I wonder if anyone in church had bothered to weigh up my two extremes of behaviour and tried resolve the difference. They can either chalk up all my positive actions as hypocrisy, or they will have to ask themselves how could I have done what I did. If they had questions, it would have been natural to want to find out, especially if they cared. By the act of shunning me, it was very clear that everyone had decided I was a hypocritical asshole who preyed on those around me for my own sick delights.

Yet when I find myself disappointed with such a response from those whom I had served, I am accused of being unrepentant. So my question back at God is this: If your vaunted body of Christ rejects me so absolutely, how am I supposed to return to you? What am I returning to? Is it possible to return to you detached from the context of the church?

I used to love the story of the prodigal son. I was told that the emphasis was actually on the elder brother, who had failed to understand the Father’s heart. Yet lately, I find myself wondering how the son would have felt after returning back to the Father’s house. Would he be faced with a house full of servants who similarly welcomed him back like the Father had, or would they all be like the elder brother, forever having decided that the prodigal son was not worthy of the Father’s acceptance, and have all decided to reject him.

Perhaps after returning home, the prodigal son would have realised he still does not belong...

Updates

So much time has passed since my last post, I feel I needed to record down some milestones. I guess I could blame the silence on my injured wrist ligament which indeed made it harder to type, but if I was perfectly honest, I started to be a little scared to post something else. I didn’t want to let my own words trap me into a vicious cycle of self-pity. Its one thing to have such thoughts floating around in my tormented mind, but its another to see it immortalised in words on the screen, and screaming at me louder than when inside my head.

But these recent markers deserve a mention, as they each provoked some reaction in me, be it big or small.

1.      I started work.

This should have been a good thing after 9 months without a job. But it has actually put me under tremendous stress.

I worry about what to tell my colleagues when I am sentenced, and thereafter must return to work.

I worry at the timing of my being called up to the station, and if I will have messed up the work planning for everyone… and so soon after just joining!

I worry if I will be able to adapt to the new work, which is significantly different from what I’ve ever done.

I worry that working means I’m outside more often… which means I’m more likely to bump into familiar faces. I laugh at myself whenever I look back at each time I’m outside, because I am comically worried about bumping into familiar faces. The level of shame, embarrassment, even anger that I fear would come uncontrollably out of me, is unreasonable even by my standards. But I must confess that its very much there.

2.      Injured my ligament.

My left wrist has been in a really ugly blue splint for the past 2 months, and the slightly worrying thing is that it doesn’t seem to be getting better. It still hurts like hell when I exert it slightly more, and I can feel my whole arm getting visibly weaker from the inactivity.

Perhaps my left arm is a very apt symbol of my life right now. Its hurting, it can’t do much, and there doesn’t seem to be a recovery anywhere in sight.

3.      Padma has put me on open date.

To my surprise, my IMH therapist went 180 degrees on me. After weeks of repeatedly telling me that the session with her are a long-haul thing, and urging me to persist, she suddenly told me she wants to put me on an open date appointment, meaning I should stop seeing her until I feel I need to.

Invariably, the reflex of feeling abandoned surfaces. But at a deeper level, I again find myself asking… so is there really anything wrong with me? I find myself paralyzed by my condition, and unable to move on from so many failures: Church, school, Grace, Sammyboy… I find myself struggling to overcome those profound periods of sadness that washes over me in the dead of night when I’m alone by myself and  can truly be myself. And yet everyone is quick to assure me that I’m not depressed, and there’s nothing wrong with me.

SO IF THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH ME, WHY AM I FEELING THIS WAY? AM I JUST A SELF CENTRED DRAMA QUEEN WHO SHOULD SHUT UP AND STOP FEELING I DESERVE ANY PITY, OR ANY CONSIDERATION AT ALL?

4.     Grace and Andrew got married!!

Surprisingly, this has affected me much less than I expected. After all that rubbish I keep spouting about how much they have played a part in destroying me as a person, their wedding came and went without much of the expected turmoil.

If anything, it seemed to simply afford me a full closure, that this long awaited marriage of theirs has finally rubber stamped the things I’ve always said about them, which many has always refused to believe.

5.      I was asked for my deacon resignation letter.

Caleb texted me to ask me for my resignation letter. So after the one time we met up at his office, there has been no communication at all. No surprise that when he finally gets in touch, its to tell me he needs my resignation letter.

Its really hard to believe when anyone tries to tell me that people are still concerned about me. Because I’ve seen what concern looks like – from the non-Christian friends that I have. The ones who don’t make me feel judged, the ones who made it clear they still accepted me as a friend despite what I did. The ones who evidently have more free time than church goers (who obviously spend a lot of time worshipping God), and who therefore can take time out to check in on me.

This episode was actually more painful than it seems at first glance. The brutal excommunication I have been subject to was again highlighted for me. And asking for my resignation was therefore the ultimate act of adding salt to injury. Since they already treated me as if I was dead, why bother asking for a letter? Do they ask for resignations from elders who passed away? Sheesh...

6.      Spoke to the lawyer’s again cos things might be coming to a head.

This was the most dramatic episode. At one of my bail extensions, the police officer evidently wanted to be prick, and picked on me. One unexpected result was that they seemed to have given away something about my case, since they hinted that the investigations might be ending soon.

So I decided to meet my lawyers again for an update. This prompted a short but intense exchange between me and my wife, which demonstrated how much tension continues to simmer beneath the seeming still waters of our lives now.

So even though I should be glad that things seem to finally be ready to move on, there’s the inevitable dread. Is it 3 months? 6 months? 9 months? The internal monologue again goes into overdrive, where I debate the dilemma of wanting to be sentenced so that “justice is done”, and feeling that the sentences meted out for such crimes is relatively harsh. For example, you could physically assault a lady, leaving her bloodied, and walk away with a monetary fine. #DawnHo

7.      Edmund’s father passed away.

The news came as a shock, since it was rather unexpected. Well, yes and no.

I guess what made it significant was that we wanted to skip the crowd yet still be there for Edmund. So we went to the wake in the afternoon. But we failed to skip out in time, and ended up bumping into Hongli and Ruyan. Sigh.

Made some small talk where they tried to show concern for my arm. I mumbled some answers then decided to leave. Which I guess was a relief to them. What made it doubly ironic was how Hongli decided to grab me to give me a hug.

He was always one for the showy gestures. I mean, I would like to give him the benefit of the doubt and not be douchebag. But if he can ask to meet me once, bail on me and never contact me again after that, then the hug he gave me was just about the biggest irony that I have ever encountered.

Yups. Good to get all that out. Now time to sleep, as I have a paper to study for.

Therapy Chronicles 2

Secondary School/Junior College 
These were some of the most formative years of my life. When I was in secondary school, my whole life revolved around church. I hardly had a single good friend in school, and I would devote all of my time outside of school towards the church. Literally, 6 days a week would be devoted to church and bible. I attended evening classes at Singapore Bible College, I would serve in fellowship and prayer meetings, and also help out in camp committees. In short, I was pretty much the model youth that attended church.

I used to tell my fellowship peeps that school would no longer be around after 4 years, and friends would move on. Only church peeps are here to stay. And so, I would urge them to make church the anchor of their lives. Looking back, I was only half right. Truth is, even church peeps are not here to stay.

In Junior College, I started to experience a change. I began to sense that I was better able to connect with the friends in JC, as compared to my own fellowship. It seemed natural, of course, since we would see each other 5 days a week in school, but fellowship members saw each other a lot less than that. However, it was more than that. It seemed that at school, we were genuinely interested in how each other was doing, whereas in church it always felt like everyone was just waiting to get back to their “real” lives after the weekend.

Ironically, Junior College was also the time of my greatest spiritual growth. Despite feeling on my own in church, I never felt closer to God, and felt like I was growing the most. I had a good bible study teacher in school, and I also was part of the largest scale church camp I had ever experienced, with spectacular lessons on the faithfulness of God. I felt this was the foundation that I could base the rest of my life upon, that God was truly the anchor to my life. I felt so sure that I had made the wise decision, and that there was no way God would ever let me down. 

National Service/Dating/NUS 
If Junior College was the pinnacle of my life thus far, National Service plummeted me to the depths of my despair. The irregular hours I had to keep for 2.5 years meant that I was basically stripped of my church life, other than as someone who attended church whenever I was able to. Church friends also drew even more distant, and a giant gap opened up in my life.

Into this void, came Grace. She was the girl I had always dreamt of being with. Mature for her age, loves God, and we were able to converse and understand what each other was saying like no one else could. We very easily struck up conversations, and got very close. Very quickly I decided that she was the one for me, and we started dating. I made her the centre of my life, since church was no longer viable for me.

Of course, there were so many things that I felt uncomfortable about in our relationships. She was very distant from her family, whereas I grew up in a family that was strongly bonded. She had a much more cavalier attitude towards friends, whereas I was more concerned about how everyone was doing. And naturally, I could feel that I loved her a lot more than she loved me. However, I chalked that up to a maturity thing. I was young, and thought love could conquer it all. As long as we stayed resolute in our love, some things are only a matter of growing up. I never once realised how foolish I was, until many years later, after things had ended between us.

There was once when I had gone on holiday, only to have everyone tell me that they saw her holding hands with another guy while I was away. I asked her about it, and she admitted as much. Of course, she insisted that it was strictly platonic, a brother-sister behaviour. On my part, I told her and myself that it wasn’t my place to suspect her. As a boyfriend, my job is to believe her, and to give her my absolute trust. As a girlfriend, it was her job to keep that trust and not betray it. Anything less than that, and we are just building wall after wall in our relationship. Looking back, I still think that was the right approach. If there was any foolishness in my approach, it was merely in the fact that she was undeserving of my trust.

We broke up in university, and all hell broke loose after that. Andrew, whom I always considered my mentor and friend, had obviously taken her side. He deliberately humiliated me in front of Grace’s fellowship, and took a very high handed approach towards me. Grace also treaded the same paths as before, having gotten very close to another guy. This time round it was Andrew. I remember in my “breakup letter” to her, I told her that she was going to break up his marriage one day and end up with him. I only hope he doesn’t hurt her the way she hurt me.

Towards almost everyone else, I hid the facts of what happened, as I felt obliged to protect her. Nobody knew the abuse that Andrew directed at me on her account, and nobody knew the real reason why she broke up with me (she literally told me she felt she got attached too young, and felt she deserved to explore more instead of settling down with me). Subsequently, I heard from many people that they were spreading pretty vicious rumours about me, that I had been sexually abusive towards Grace. I decided to adopt a dignified silence, and not speak about the matter, believing that one day the truth will out.

Of course, on my own part, I silently wondered who would care enough about me to ask what happened. Out of the list of friends whom I thought would talk to me, less than half actually did. To everyone else, it seemed like they would prefer to stay out of the whole sordid affair, like I was just as much an outsider as someone they would read about in the news. Once again, I became painfully aware that the commitment I had given to those around me were mostly unrequited. I was still the social outcast in church, and people only approached me because everyone else did. And why would everyone else do that? Because I was so approachable, and always good for a favour. 

Summary 
I think these 10 years were the most formative years for my life, and set the stage for my big fall later in life. I had painstakingly built up two pillars in my life – church and relationship. Both these pillars crashed and burned before my very eyes through the betrayal of 2 individuals who embodied the very essence of my pillars. Grace was the love of my life, and Andrew was the paramount example of a Christian in church. I watched as my own life collapsed around me, while they continued to live happy and successful lives. Nobody around me seemed to really understand what was happening. They simply urged me to move on, as if it was my own design to continue wallowing in my despair.

I desperately searched for a replacement pillar in my life. I started to work, and realised that without a degree I was getting nowhere. For many years, I did not dare to return to school, because it was the scene of one of my spectacular failures. In the midst of all this, I discovered Sammyboy, and I also created an alternate reality for myself. I found escape in creating another individual who did not carry the heavy burdens of failure, betrayal and abandonment. When I immersed in that universe, I suddenly became a different person, almost like a split personality. I no longer was alone. I was in a community where I could get recognition, and was not 20 steps behind my peers.

And so began my journey into my nightmare.