COM 200 was the most discouraging class of my entire year to date and just today. This is not to say I did not learn anything – for certainly I did. And this is also not to say that it wasn’t beneficial – for it was. But in so many ways it condemned me to utter hopelessness. Dooming me to be without ability to form new, meaningful relationships for as long as cancer also dominated my life.
Social Penetration Theory. In the words of Dr. Paul Patton “for some of you, the realization of this information will cause you to jump inside and your jaw will drop and you will go ‘that’s why!’” Yes Dr. Patton, something like that. I had read through the chapter – I was fully aware, if only cognitively exposed, to the way such an explicitly obvious theory would apply to everyday life. My life in fact. I could plainly identify how pieces of the puzzle played into my puzzle, my life as a whole. I had many light bulbs; many “aha!” moments – but nothing seemed exceptionally profound. The Social Penetration Theory was clearly explaining things I had clearly seen – giving explanation and reason behind many of the relationships I have had.
But as I sat in class, my insides collapsed. As Dr. Patton went on dramatically and excitedly – creating a personal monologue based discussion as the class watched on – I suddenly began to see things from a new perspective. Or really, rather, from the same perspective with a new filter. My hand went to my neck and I touched my scar. That scar, cancer, everything...that was it. That was why I suck at life. As class went on, it all seemed to make a peculiar amount of depressing sense. Please let me explain.
Social Penetration Theory works on the basis of the model of an onion – the idea that we reveal things to people at varying layers of intimacy – a process of reciprocated self-disclosure as a relationship forms. I share something about me, you share something about you. And vice-versa. If there is no initial rejection and similarities are assumed, deeper levels are traversed. Sets of people are essentially in the process of unveiling the same level at the same time. Fundamentally, it is the theory explaining how relationships start, continue, and die. And why it sucks to have cancer.
First of all, appearances work as a baseline pseudo form of self disclosure. Maybe it shouldn’t be, but appearances are often one of the first things drawing us to engage with one another. I have been told by a few daring soles that my scar is, by some, found intimidating, gross and repulsive. According to this theory – many will never approach me to ever begin a relationship – based on the sight of my scar alone. Let’s not even contemplate other such reasons.
Second - you’re expected, naturally, to disclose at the same level you inquired at – subsequent self-disclosure is given based on your response, etc. Those who are un-repulsed by my scar often interact with me for a time at the baseline level. Any who dare proceed further ask about such an awkward and obvious blemish. The scar itself is in the next level of self-disclosure and, for me, the answer is as well. But that is because it has become so natural. On the contrary, however, an answer like “cancer” sends most people into much deeper levels of self-disclosure. It’s a fake bottom. While my answer has just barely rubbed the surface of who I am, others believe I have trusted them with a great truth. Even though I, in fact, have revealed very little to the inquirer and in fact have much more to disclose under such a broad topic – the answer feels deep.
This plays out in one of two ways and I find the result to be a discouraging rock and hard place to be stuck between. 1) Unsure of how to respond by my unexpected answer, most retreat. This was too much “Anika” to be given and, based on the rules, reciprocity would demand an answer at a similar level. Afraid to divulge that much of themselves (seeing, again, the false bottom) many do not attempt more. 2) Some, though not near as many as before, see this false bottom and feel honored to be holding such a “close piece” of who I am. They assume a deeper relationship than actually exists because I have disclosed so much. While not necessarily opening themselves up to me – they assume they know more of me than what I have actually given, creating a phony sense of belonging on both of our parts. I am left with two options – equally seemingly inadequate. I could just not answer their questions and our relationship can remain almost worthless or I can answer truthfully – either way ending up without the solid relationship I crave.
And this all leads into those who make it beyond this point – third – my current relationships. This one piece of self disclosure (some believing they’ve made it fairly close to the core of who I am) becomes the fore-front of who I am as a person. As a result I have several very shallow friendships – all formed on the basis of cancer. They, only reaching a very little piece of who I am, assume haphazardly this to be not only the depth but also the breadth of interest. This is all they discuss – because it is all our relationship and level of self-disclosure is based upon. I have either no conversations (possibly because of my lack of ability to form meaningful friendships) or dozens (with many of my sideline spectators, cheerleaders, supporters and casual relationships) in a day. When I have any number of personal conversations – they all take place within the realm of these pseudo relationships built upon my ability to trust them with the knowledge that I in fact have cancer – meaning every conversation I have is about cancer. It is not that I do not value these relationships on a basic level, we just aren’t (and probably never will be) close.
In many ways, in fact most ways, cancer, for me, has turned into a fake form of self disclosure. I can disclose cancer without disclosing anything. It can in fact be a solid wall to hide behind enabling me to close off other pieces of who I am. Few understand why I hurt for meaningful relationship though I have few willing to see past and break down the walls. Hardly any one will breach issues of political comprehension, theological justification, my fears, my fantasies, my secret longings – the real me. I have ceased to know, and constantly question, whether or not another piece of me even exists – for rarely do I have a meaningful conversation about anything other than cancer. And meaningful is very much relative to the eyes of the beholder. Most of my cancer discussions never breach a level where I can complain about the injustices, talk about what God is teaching me inside it or reveal my secret fears. That fake bottom throws people into believing they’ve got a pretty good picture of who I am inside of cancer without doing anything but air brushing the surface.
And this analysis is only the beginning. I was able, in my initial eye-opening discovery to pinpoint many direct examples of relationships, etc, that have taken place inside each of the realms I have stated. And, quite frankly, there is plenty more to the theory available for me to delve into – currently untouched and untapped by my ability to connect it to cancer. Depenetration, for example, and watching relationships that existed before the onset of a cancer announcement, slowing ebb away and dissolve (occasionally for some of the same reasons listed above – some in conjunction with other theories, etc). How I can’t wait for the saga that makes up my life to end. Cancer is a huge defining factor of who I am – but it is not the truest thing about me. Unfortunately, it tends to take precedence – in other’s minds and, admittedly, in my mine as well. Until it ends, however, it will continue to be under constant forces of mystical communication practices that guide relationships...things like the Social Penetration Theory.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Labeled Inconsistency
I have an old hotmail account. One I set up like 8 years ago...right before or after I turned 13. When the coolest thing you could possibly do was set up your own free e-mail address. The internet was still pretty new back 8 years ago. You could have just about any domain name you wanted. I was a hard core middle school Christ follower – and my favorite band was DC Talk. My address, ingenious: jesusfreakajk. I used the address pretty faithfully throughout my jr. high and high school years. By the time I reached college, however, it was not only antiquated but almost useless. I had no friends who e-mailed me...let alone used that address. I received a couple of subscriptions there and I had a huge storage limit holding dozens of old e-mails I didn’t have the heart to send into permanent oblivion and could have my large picture files sent there...but otherwise, I just used my school account. There was no need to pay much attention to my old hotmail address.
Except for one thing: all of the really random online accounts I hold are still set to that e-mail address. I haven’t had a good reason to switch them. This includes my half, ebay, and amazon accounts...where mostly I just buy my textbooks for ridiculously good prices but occasionally sell some of my own...in hopes being able to afford all these new books I’m buying. Not too long ago I shipped off my old statistics books to California. Without too much of a second thought I was $50 richer and I saved some poor college student nearly that much on having to buy a brand new copy by providing them with my impeccably and exceptionally maintained used books. Well, at least there was no second thought until I received an angry, embittered e-mail stating the CD (which I never used and was still in perfect, in tact condition when I sent it) was cracked – rendering the entire sale useless. What did I think I was trying to pull and what was I going to do about it?
What was I trying to pull? I didn’t send a cracked CD...nor did I mail it in anything but sufficient packaging to guarantee a safe delivery. I marked the book used – excellent, but used not new and, quite frankly, my book (complete with workbook) was a steal...regardless of an injured CD which was no where near my fault. I mean I felt bad but what I was I supposed to do? I explained this all calmly and professionally in an e-mail reply and offered my apologies as well as the internet link where I accessed the CD information when I was statistics student...advised by my professor as a much more accessible way of obtaining the same information. I even wished her a nice day.
Except, the issue wasn’t resolved. I received a second flaming angry letter from this embittered buyer. Again demanding I come up with a solution to her completely unsatisfactory purchase. I had a dilemma. I wanted to tell her to stop her whining and quite frankly, to shove it. But it was attached to an e-mail address, a label, a title which read “Jesus Freak”. Quite frankly I don’t need some hostile, inconsistent, rude college student 4000 miles away to like me. In fact, I don’t even think I want her to like me. But, anything I said and anything I did would be a reflection on the title I held. Not only on me but on the Christ I claimed and the label I maintained. There could be no inconsistency. Needless to say...I spent incredible time and prayer on my second e-mail.
I wonder, however, how often I think through that same process...and how often I should. How much more conscious I should be of labeled inconsistencies. How many times have I acted as a less-than-adequate representation of Christ while in the driver’s seat...with the outline of a fish on my car. How many times have I been impatient if not rude or condescending – even unintentionally...while wearing one of my many Christian t-shirts. For that matter...if my facebook status praises Jesus...does my homepage do the same? What about other Christians? What are we doing as a body of believers to make sure that our thoughts, actions, and lifestyle mirror the t-shirts we sport, the bracelets we wear, the bumper stickers we plaster all over our cars? Or is what the world seeing when they see “Christian” just labeled inconsistency?
Except for one thing: all of the really random online accounts I hold are still set to that e-mail address. I haven’t had a good reason to switch them. This includes my half, ebay, and amazon accounts...where mostly I just buy my textbooks for ridiculously good prices but occasionally sell some of my own...in hopes being able to afford all these new books I’m buying. Not too long ago I shipped off my old statistics books to California. Without too much of a second thought I was $50 richer and I saved some poor college student nearly that much on having to buy a brand new copy by providing them with my impeccably and exceptionally maintained used books. Well, at least there was no second thought until I received an angry, embittered e-mail stating the CD (which I never used and was still in perfect, in tact condition when I sent it) was cracked – rendering the entire sale useless. What did I think I was trying to pull and what was I going to do about it?
What was I trying to pull? I didn’t send a cracked CD...nor did I mail it in anything but sufficient packaging to guarantee a safe delivery. I marked the book used – excellent, but used not new and, quite frankly, my book (complete with workbook) was a steal...regardless of an injured CD which was no where near my fault. I mean I felt bad but what I was I supposed to do? I explained this all calmly and professionally in an e-mail reply and offered my apologies as well as the internet link where I accessed the CD information when I was statistics student...advised by my professor as a much more accessible way of obtaining the same information. I even wished her a nice day.
Except, the issue wasn’t resolved. I received a second flaming angry letter from this embittered buyer. Again demanding I come up with a solution to her completely unsatisfactory purchase. I had a dilemma. I wanted to tell her to stop her whining and quite frankly, to shove it. But it was attached to an e-mail address, a label, a title which read “Jesus Freak”. Quite frankly I don’t need some hostile, inconsistent, rude college student 4000 miles away to like me. In fact, I don’t even think I want her to like me. But, anything I said and anything I did would be a reflection on the title I held. Not only on me but on the Christ I claimed and the label I maintained. There could be no inconsistency. Needless to say...I spent incredible time and prayer on my second e-mail.
I wonder, however, how often I think through that same process...and how often I should. How much more conscious I should be of labeled inconsistencies. How many times have I acted as a less-than-adequate representation of Christ while in the driver’s seat...with the outline of a fish on my car. How many times have I been impatient if not rude or condescending – even unintentionally...while wearing one of my many Christian t-shirts. For that matter...if my facebook status praises Jesus...does my homepage do the same? What about other Christians? What are we doing as a body of believers to make sure that our thoughts, actions, and lifestyle mirror the t-shirts we sport, the bracelets we wear, the bumper stickers we plaster all over our cars? Or is what the world seeing when they see “Christian” just labeled inconsistency?
Sunday, September 14, 2008
And She Walks By
Hollow eyes.
An empty stare.
Only vague sparks
That once something was there.
The faintest sense
She might have been crying.
The aching reminder,
That a piece of her is dying.
And she walks by.
We don’t care if she cries.
It’s all too bad,
That’s she broken inside.
It’s not our job.
To make her feel like she’s loved.
To stop,
To care,
To comfort,
To hug.
When she walks by.
She sits alone.
Eyes cast down.
She drowns out the sound,
Of others passing by -
Ignoring her agonizing sigh.
She tries to pretend the solitude
Causes no pain
All the while wishing
She had just one friend to claim.
And she sits to the side.
We don’t care if she cries.
It’s all to bad
That she’s broken inside.
It’s not our job
To make her feel like she’s loved.
To stop,
To care,
To comfort,
To hug.
Even though she sits to the side.
And we walk on by...
An empty stare.
Only vague sparks
That once something was there.
The faintest sense
She might have been crying.
The aching reminder,
That a piece of her is dying.
And she walks by.
We don’t care if she cries.
It’s all too bad,
That’s she broken inside.
It’s not our job.
To make her feel like she’s loved.
To stop,
To care,
To comfort,
To hug.
When she walks by.
She sits alone.
Eyes cast down.
She drowns out the sound,
Of others passing by -
Ignoring her agonizing sigh.
She tries to pretend the solitude
Causes no pain
All the while wishing
She had just one friend to claim.
And she sits to the side.
We don’t care if she cries.
It’s all to bad
That she’s broken inside.
It’s not our job
To make her feel like she’s loved.
To stop,
To care,
To comfort,
To hug.
Even though she sits to the side.
And we walk on by...
Friday, September 12, 2008
Even When It's Not
Every year I struggle with the sinking feeling of leaving the spiritual high of a week of camp. This year, this year God showed me something amazing, towards the end of the week, in the words of a song. As we sang “Blessed Be Your Name,” a song I've heard more times than I can count, I was struck by the dichotemy of the words which challenged me to bless the name of God when the world was all as it should be...but then too, even when it’s not. The words, at the moment, had burned so sharp and true. Cut so deep, I knew I had to focus on them. And I did. As the song played on, the words “Even when it’s not, even when it’s not...” played through my ears, through my mind, through my heart.
It took me another day pondering over the strangeness of the intensity of the words to come to a realization about the rightness of my world at camp in contrast to the “outside world”. I came home with the weight and sadness of departure still very real but by Sunday a written understanding, a call, a challenge from God, nearly audible stating “You blessed my name when the world was as it should be and now that it’s not – bless me anyway!” It cut me to the core. And the response felt so very right.
Ironically? It was the exact next morning that my world would again crash in against me. My doctor would call and tell me it was time to try and do everything over again – that my world was again not as it should be. I bottled the frustration and tried to pretend that it didn’t bother me – all the while feeling like I was being punched over and over again in the gut. Really rather upset with the God who would allow this to go on...again. For the last month, I’ve been in varying stages of disconnect. Sometimes God and I are fine. I give Him my will and control. But often it seems, we reach an impasse and I won’t talk to Him for a while as I seek to understand the underlying resentment I harbor.
Until it occurred to me this week... “Even when it’s not” had nothing to do with camp. It was a great piece to understand, a fantastic application, but “even when it’s not” was preparing me for another upheaval on my life. Another chance to praise God during my roads marked with suffering and painful offerings. It was God’s challenge to me – a day, two days early! “Anika! You blessed my name when the world was as it should be. And now that it’s not...bless me anyway!”
My world isn’t quite right. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t flow right. So many pieces of it are off and cancer is just one huge heaping helping of all that is wrong. I’m frustrated...with life in general. With being back at school. With being back at school and the “cancer kid” for yet another semester. With being back at school, the cancer kid, and a relative loner. With being such a loser I had to go in blind for a roommate as a junior...and am stuck with a roommate that is far from my perfect match. I’m frustrated that the environment which always forced me to come alive seems to be slowly choking the life out of me. The place which always, beyond a shadow of a doubt, forced me to see the face of Christ...has left me searching for when He intends to show up. Yeah, frustrated. But I’ve been given a choice – a choice and a challenge. A decision and a dare. Praise isn’t a natural response; in fact it’s unnatural response. It’s a sacrifice, a choice, an act of obedience and, ultimately, the only way. I don’t want to praise God now...but He calls me to anyway. “Anika you bless my name when your world is ‘right’. Bless me now too...Even when it’s not.”
It took me another day pondering over the strangeness of the intensity of the words to come to a realization about the rightness of my world at camp in contrast to the “outside world”. I came home with the weight and sadness of departure still very real but by Sunday a written understanding, a call, a challenge from God, nearly audible stating “You blessed my name when the world was as it should be and now that it’s not – bless me anyway!” It cut me to the core. And the response felt so very right.
Ironically? It was the exact next morning that my world would again crash in against me. My doctor would call and tell me it was time to try and do everything over again – that my world was again not as it should be. I bottled the frustration and tried to pretend that it didn’t bother me – all the while feeling like I was being punched over and over again in the gut. Really rather upset with the God who would allow this to go on...again. For the last month, I’ve been in varying stages of disconnect. Sometimes God and I are fine. I give Him my will and control. But often it seems, we reach an impasse and I won’t talk to Him for a while as I seek to understand the underlying resentment I harbor.
Until it occurred to me this week... “Even when it’s not” had nothing to do with camp. It was a great piece to understand, a fantastic application, but “even when it’s not” was preparing me for another upheaval on my life. Another chance to praise God during my roads marked with suffering and painful offerings. It was God’s challenge to me – a day, two days early! “Anika! You blessed my name when the world was as it should be. And now that it’s not...bless me anyway!”
My world isn’t quite right. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t flow right. So many pieces of it are off and cancer is just one huge heaping helping of all that is wrong. I’m frustrated...with life in general. With being back at school. With being back at school and the “cancer kid” for yet another semester. With being back at school, the cancer kid, and a relative loner. With being such a loser I had to go in blind for a roommate as a junior...and am stuck with a roommate that is far from my perfect match. I’m frustrated that the environment which always forced me to come alive seems to be slowly choking the life out of me. The place which always, beyond a shadow of a doubt, forced me to see the face of Christ...has left me searching for when He intends to show up. Yeah, frustrated. But I’ve been given a choice – a choice and a challenge. A decision and a dare. Praise isn’t a natural response; in fact it’s unnatural response. It’s a sacrifice, a choice, an act of obedience and, ultimately, the only way. I don’t want to praise God now...but He calls me to anyway. “Anika you bless my name when your world is ‘right’. Bless me now too...Even when it’s not.”
Monday, September 1, 2008
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