The Therapy Sessions #10: "Do Not Resuscitate"

If you have been following this series, you know that, instead of going through a journey of grief using journaling like I did after my dad died, I am navigating  the valley of childhood abuse by putting my thoughts into songs. 

Specifically, I am writing lyrics and (as I am not a songwriter) Suno is helping me match it to lyrics. 

 As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by memories of the legacy of childhood trauma while in my 50's. I have not added details in this series, nor do intend to.  

My second post/song noted that for the next several songs, it's worth noting that the ages of 8, 9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma. I have been learning the past few just how wildly impactful our childhood is.

My third song looked at how a child can form views of themselves based on trauma and not reality. This song was a loving song to remind Little Me of who I really was.

The fourth song had more to do with navigating that legacy as a man in my 50's. It's been a wild ride, y'all, but I'm getting onto solid ground.

The fifth song was meant to capture a child-like me asking God some sincere questions about why God allows life to unfold the way it does.This song is quiet, contemplative, hopefully capturing some hopeful sorrow.

The sixth song was not quiet. Part of trauma recovery is being honest about anger and the weight of all that happened, and, well, sometimes the day in front of us gets overwhelming. This song let me vent.

The seventh song was a reminder that it was not my fault, though I have carried that weight for decades, and lived out that legacy by defaulting to carrying the blame for things that go wrong. 

The 8th song, "I Won't Be That Kind Of Man", was about my determination not to pass on the legacy of trauma I endured.

The 9th song is called "I Won't Be That Kind of Man." We can choose what to do with legacies: pass them on, or change them. I'm doing a bit of both. 

This song is a recent one. I have been through some dark times of the soul where life felt like more than I could handle. When I am in that space, there can be moments when I think about death - and yearn for it. That doesn't mean that I wanted to end my life; it just meant there was a stark moment when I realized I longed for my eternal rest. 

In my journey - and perhaps in yours? -  there are times I am intensely in love with this life. I have so many wonderful family and friends around me, and I have had so many blessings. Then there are the days that overwhelm with the legacies of the sinful brokenness of the world. Both are true. Hopefully, this song captures both.

"Do Not Resuscitate"


The mirror says I’m older than my years 

Every little burden leaves a mark

“God won’t give more than you can handle”

Are just words while I cry in the dark

My thoughts all now feel disconnected

Like sparks that go out as they rise

I ain’t looking for peace anymore now

Just anything to dry out my eyes


[Chorus]

Now I lay me down to sleep

And Jesus sits with me while I weep

And if I die before I wake

Do not resuscitate



[Verse 2]

I know there’s life past the curtain

Every wound finally understood

Relief from the grief will be certain

And broken things heal like they should

And I believe scarred hands will hold me

No shame, just hope to amaze 

So if God calls me home before morning

Don’t drag me back from glorious days


[Chorus]


I don’t hate life

I’m just tired

Tired of heartbreak and tears

Tired of carrying everybody’s pain

While mine just languishes here

Still…

There’s a table for me in the kingdom

And I hear my chair scraping the floor

Some nights I ache to stay present

Some nights I ache for eternity more



Now I lay me down to sleep

And Jesus sits with me while I weep

And if I die before I wake

All that’s sad God will finally unmake

So please….

Do not resuscitate

The Therapy Sessions #9: "The Sons Of The Fall"

As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by memories of the legacy of childhood trauma while in my 50's.

My second post/song noted that for the next several songs, it's worth noting that the ages of 8, 9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma.  

My third song looked at how a child can form views of themselves based on trauma and not reality. This song was a loving song to remind Little Me of who I really was.

The fourth song had more to do with navigating that legacy as a man in my 50's. It's been a wild ride, y'all, but I'm getting onto solid ground.

The fifth song was meant to capture a child-like me asking God some sincere questions about why God allows life to unfold the way it does.This song is quiet, contemplative, hopefully capturing some hopeful sorrow.

The sixth song was not quiet.  Part of trauma recovery is being honest about anger and the weight of all that happened, and, well, sometimes the day in front of us gets overwhelming. This song let me vent.

The seventh song was a reminder that it was not my fault, though I have carried that weight for decades, and lived out that legacy by defaulting to carrying the blame for things that go wrong. 

The 8th song, "I Won't Be That Kind Of Man", was about my determination not to pass on the legacy of trauma I endured.

Today's song looks at how hard it is to live in the present sometimes. There is a danger of getting too immersed in the past, as well as being overly discouraged about healing in the future. I hope it's both honest and hopeful.

If your  life experience looks, in some fashion, similar to mine, my heart breaks for you.  If you care to read what I write or listen to the songs I post, may they remind you that you are not alone; that our history is not our destiny; and - to quote Samwise Gangee -  "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for." 

Version #1: If you like southern rock/metal

Version #2: If you like hip-hop/rap

The Sons Of The Fall

[Chorus] I get too immersed

In the past I rehearse,

But today, I’m concerned

That the future is worse

When I think of tomorrow

I’m undone by sorrow

It’s something I have to give up

The trouble today is enough.

The past has the years

That were filled with the sin

And the memories that sear

Bring the grief back again.

In the past, I recall

All the times, for too long

That the sons of the fall

Did me terrible wrong

[Chorus] 

Today I went back

To things that brought pain

And the people who thought

That my loss was their gain.

Today, I regressed

The legacy was not done,

And those who confessed

Were not honest enough.

[Chorus]

Tomorrow, I fear

it’s too little, too late

I won’t dry up the tears

And my past is my fate.

Tomorrow, I wonder

If true healing awaits

Or will I blindly just lumber

And carry the same old weight.

[Chorus] 

And I stand in between

What I dread and have known

With a heart full of ash

And a soul like a stone

What was and what is, 

Feel like such an abyss

And the cost to be new

Must pay the devil his due.

But I heard there’s a way to cover the cost

If it’s paid blood red, on a cross

[Chorus]

 I get too immersed

In the past I rehearse,

But today, I’m not sure

That the future is worse

Today’s trouble is real

But I can’t let it steal

What the pain would conceal

That God takes it, 

and breaks it, 

and heals.

UP NEXT:  #10 "Do Not Resuscitate"

The Therapy Sessions #8: I Won't Be That Kind Of Man

As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by memories of the legacy of childhood trauma while in my 50's.

My second post/song noted that for the next several songs, it's worth noting that the ages of 8, 9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma.  

My third song looked at how a child can form views of themselves based on trauma and not reality. This song was a loving song to remind Little Me of who I really was.

The fourth song had more to do with navigating that legacy as a man in my 50's. It's been a wild ride, y'all, but I'm getting onto solid ground.

The fifth song was meant to capture a child-like me asking God some sincere questions about why God allows life to unfold the way it does.This song is quiet, contemplative, hopefully capturing some hopeful sorrow.

The sixth song was not quiet.  Part of trauma recovery is being honest about anger and the weight of all that happened, and, well, sometimes the day in front of us gets overwhelming. This song let me vent.

The seventh song was a reminder that it was not my fault, though I have carried that weight for decades, and lived out that legacy by defaulting to carrying the blame for things that go wrong. 

Today's song is about how I have not passed on the legacy of trauma I endured. Perhaps the silver lining in the trauma cloud is that I have stopped a cycle of abuse.

If your  life experience looks, in some fashion, similar to mine, my heart breaks for you.  If you care to read what I write or listen to the songs I post, may they remind you that you are not alone; that our history is not our destiny; and - to quote Samwise Gangee -  "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for." 

"I Won't Be That Kind Of Man"

https://suno.com/s/NeL22GOKKMFcX7eV

I’ve been digging through a past that owes me answers,

What sinful men did to me raises some questions.

They preached Jesus but passed on their damage,

Took me down a path that led to therapy sessions.

Chaos in my chest, white noise in my head

It’s just what happens when innocence is dead

When your safety doesn’t last, you figure out fast—

The devil doesn’t need horns, just a holy mask.

[Chorus]

I won’t be that kind of man

No, I won’t be that kind of man

Give a bad man power, and the little ones pay.

I won’t be that kind of—

I won’t be that kind of man

Let’s uncover all the things that I used as armor,

Fawning, freezing, running from the trauma.

Trying to make safe every time, every place

Learning how to read every look on your face

Hypocrites with Bibles, conveyors of violence

Forced on me these tools of survival,

And I’m haunted by ghosts that continuously lurk

And learning what it takes to make life work

[Chorus]

I’m naming the damage, not carrying the blame.

I don’t carry their darkness or shoulder their shame.

If pain is a language, I’m learning new words,

I won’t translate abuse into someone else’s curse.

[Chorus]

I am not that kind of man

I am not that kind of man

What they broke, I’m breaking free

I am not that kind of—

I am not that kind of man

I will never be

That kind of man.

Following Jesus In Digital Spaces #2 : Choosing Your Arguments

 Like so many people, I wrestle with how to use social media well. I am certain I am not the only one. It can be a wonderful and terrible tool, which is true of pretty much anything people create. 

This is part of a series of videos (and a transcript) from a friend at church (he's also been a fellow elder for years). Tom Gordon taught history at Northwestern Michigan College for 30 years. He not only knows a lot about history, he has learned what it's like to navigate conversations on college campuses (and at church) when strong opinions and emotions enter the room. I have found his insight to be challenging, thoughtful, and very helpful to my spiritual and relational formation before, and it's about to happen again.

You can see the first episode here.  

Episode 2 — You Don’t Have to Attend Every Argument

One of the quiet pressures of social media  is the feeling that we’re supposed to respond to everything.Every headline. Every opinion. Every post that feels wrong or upsetting.

But here’s something freeing: Just because an argument is happening online doesn’t mean you’re required to join it. Most of us have tried. We jump into a thread hoping to bring clarity…

 and a few minutes later, we feel tired, tense, or disconnected. Not more loving. Just depleted.

What I notice about Jesus Christ  is that He didn’t chase every misunderstanding. He didn’t answer every accusation. Sometimes He spoke. Sometimes He walked away. Sometimes He stayed silent. Not because He didn’t care — but because He knew who He was and what He was called to carry.

That’s discipleship. Learning what is yours to engage… and what isn’t. So here’s a simple practice for this week:

When you feel pulled into an online argument, pause and ask: Is this mine to carry? If not…you’re allowed to scroll past. You’re allowed to breathe. You’re allowed to save your emotional energy for the people actually in your life.

Sometimes faithfulness looks like speaking. And sometimes it looks like restraint. This series isn’t about disengaging from the world. It’s about staying rooted in Christ while living in it. 

No perfection required. Just wisdom.

Grace and peace, friends.

Learning To Jump Again: The Songs ("Oh Death, Oh Life")

Some of you have read my self-published book Learning To Jump Again, which started as a personal journal of grief after my father died. I eventually made it public in hopes that it could help others as they grieve the loss of a loved one. 

Within that book were some poems, for better or worse.When my friend Avery introduced me to the AI music-making website Suno, those poems definitely changed for the better.

As I have revisited those years of deep mourning, I have found some thoughts bubbling to the service that I think have been simmering there for a long time. Since poetry was a meaningful expression for me then, I took that path again. And since I was enjoying trying to find a soundtrack to go with it....well, here we are :)

So, here is the seventh song, with lyrics first and a link to the song second (the first song is here; the second one is here, the third one here, the fourth one here, the fifth one here. and the sixth one here.)  

"Oh Death, Oh Life"

https://suno.com/s/K0gxwsiSDDOdtIKa

Oh life, the strife 

keeps coming to our door.

The challenges and hardship, 

I don’t need them any more.

The body blows of grief and pain

They take my breath, then come again

Oh life, the strife, 

Keeps coming to our door.

 Oh death, the breadth

Of what you repossess,

You keep on taking from us

And leave us with what’s left,

Of friends we loved, and family

You just can’t seem to let things be,

Oh death, the breadth

Of what you take from us. 

[Chorus] Oh life, oh death

You both take our breath

You just won’t stop,

Day after day,

And I, for one, 

Would like to say

Oh life, oh death,

Please give us back our breath.

 Oh life, the good

That must be understood

As sunshine after rain,

Forgiveness after pain

Joy after the heartache

And love for its own sake

Oh life, there’s good,

That must be understood

 Oh death, you think you won

But you moved us to the Son

Away from all that brought us pain

Into an age of so much gain

With friends we loved, and family

And a God who won’t let things be

Until everything is new

And reconciled, and true

Oh death, you think you won

But you moved us to the Son.

[chorus] Oh life, oh death

You both take our breath

With moments so amazing

They direct where we are gazing

From the strife and all we’ve lost

To what happened on the Cross 

Jesus restoring all our loss.

Oh life, oh death,

in Heaven’s time, 

and in Heaven’s way,

Please, take our breath away.

Following Jesus in Digital Spaces #1: Who Are You Becoming?

Like so many people, I wrestle with how to use social media well. I am certain I am not the only one. It can be a wonderful and terrible tool, which is true of pretty much anything people create. 

I am going to start posting videos and text from a friend at church (he's also been a fellow elder for years). Tom Gordon taught history at Northwestern Michigan College for 30 years. He not only knows a lot about history, he has learned what it's like to navigate conversations on college campuses (and at church) when strong opinions and emotions enter the room. I have found his insight to be challenging, thoughtful, and very helpful to my spiritual and relational formation before, and it's about to happen again.

And God knows, I need it. 

Here is Part One on YouTube. https://youtube.com/shorts/z7mdczik604?si=0MVHRxG0cBOYmeS3. 

Hey friends — Tom here. Quick thought today.

Most of us don’t wake up in the morning thinking, “I’d like to become a reactive, anxious, easily offended person.” But here’s the quiet truth:

Every time we scroll, post, argue, or react online, we’re practicing becoming someone. Social media doesn’t just show what we believe  - it trains our nervous system. When we’re emotionally stirred up - angry, afraid, or overwhelmed - our brains shift into defense mode. We get faster. Sharper. More certain.

Not usually wiser. Not usually kinder. And most of us know that moment.

You read a post. Your chest tightens. Your fingers start typing. Later you think, “That didn’t feel like the person I want to be.” That’s not a failure of faith. That’s a nervous system doing what nervous systems do.

And Jesus keeps asking a different question than the internet does. Not: “Are you right?” But: “Who are you becoming?” That’s discipleship. We’re being formed all the time — whether we notice it or not. Our habits shape our hearts. Our attention shapes our loves.

So here’s a simple practice for this week: Before you post. Before you reply. Before you hit send. Pause for three seconds and ask: Is this helping me become more like Jesus - or just more reactive?

Sometimes the most faithful thing you can do online is slow down. Sometimes it’s curiosity. Sometimes it’s silence. And sometimes it’s choosing relationship over being right.

This series is about learning how to follow Jesus in digital spaces with wisdom, gentleness, and courage.

No perfection required. Just presence.

Grace and peace, friends.

The Therapy Sessions #7: "You Were Never To Blame"

As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by memories of the legacy of childhood trauma while in my 50's. I've got Jesus, good therapists, a loving family and a supportive church community, but... it's a lot.  

My second post/song noted that for the next several songs, it's worth noting that the ages of 8, 9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma.  On the other end of the spectrum,I've learned it's not unusual for men my age to remember this kind of stuff in their 50s. 

My third song looked at how a child can form views of themselves based on trauma and not reality. This song was a loving song to remind Little Me of who I really was.

The fourth song had more to do with navigating that legacy as a man in my 50's. It's been a wild ride, y'all, but I'm getting onto solid ground.

The fifth song was meant to capture a child-like me asking God some sincere questions about why God allows life to unfold the way it does.This song is quiet, contemplative, hopefully capturing some hopeful sorrow.

The sixth song was not quiet.  Part of trauma recovery is being honest about anger and the weight of all that happened, and, well, sometimes the day in front of us gets overwhelming. This song let me vent.

Today's song is another perspective from adult me as I look back on Little Me and speak truth to push out the lies.

Perhaps your life experience looks, in some fashion, similar to mine. If so, I'm sorry. That's really hard. If you care to read what I write or listen to the songs I post, may they remind you that you are not alone; that our history is not our destiny; and - to quote Samwise Gangee -  "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for."  

"You Were Never To Blame"

https://suno.com/s/grhd2tRjpJwIhWOA

How does a boy, only nine, maybe ten,

Targeted by others who would sin

Prepare for the people, who would circle again?

With no means to defend

For a boy who was nine, maybe ten.

How does a boy, only nine, maybe ten,

Ashamed and confused by the hands of grown men,

Try to make sure it won’t happen again?

With no means to defend

For a boy who was nine, maybe ten.

Chorus

9 year old boy, you were never to blame,

They branded your soul with their own shame.

You made it through by forgetting the pain—

And their own darkness, told you your name.

How does a boy, only nine, maybe ten,

Already collapsing before it begins,

Show anyone else what kept happening then?

How does a boy, only nine, maybe ten, 

Know he wasn’t the problem—the problem was them

And one day there’ll be light, but it’s dark until then…

Chorus

You carried the silence as long as you could,

Believing that darkness was stronger than good.

But truth has a voice that burns through the shame—

It calls to the boy, and it speaks your true name.

Chorus

None of their darkness, can tell you…

Your name is…

Beautiful Boy.

The Therapy Sessions #6: "I Just Want This Day To End"

As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by memories of the legacy of childhood trauma while in my 50's. I've got Jesus, good therapists, a loving family and a supportive church community, but... it's a lot.  

My second post/song noted that for the next several songs, it's worth noting that the ages of 8,  9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma. These were not exclusive years, but they will show up more than once. On the other end of the spectrum, watch out for songs that reference my 50s. I've learned it's not unusual for men my age to remember this kind of stuff in their 50s - and it's not unusual for men to remember this kind of stuff.

My third song looked at how a child can form views of themselves based on trauma and not reality. This song was a loving song to remind Little Me of who I really was.

The fourth song had more to do with navigating that legacy as a man in my 50's. It's been a wild ride, y'all, but I'm getting onto solid ground.

The fifth song was meant to capture a child-like me asking God some sincere questions about why God allows life to unfold the way it does. If you listen to all the songs, you'll see I'm not trying to stick with one style. I'm getting Suno to help me find the mood that matches what I'm feeling. This song is quiet, contemplative, hopefully capturing some hopeful sorrow.

This one is not. Part of trauma recovery is being honest about anger and the weight of all that happened, and, well, sometimes the day in front of us gets overwhelming. This song lets me vent.

Perhaps your life experience looks, in some fashion, similar to mine. If so, I'm sorry. That's really hard. If you care to read what I write or listen to the songs I post, may they remind you that you are not alone; that our history is not our destiny; and - to quote Samwise Gangee -  "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for."  

"I Just Want This Day To End"

https://suno.com/s/Pk2gQ7ZbFz07uhsC

Today was not fine because 

Peace was not mine 

And I was ready, so soon

To try the next day, 

since at least around noon 

 

Today was not right because 

I thought I saw the light 

But I was ready, once again 

To try the next day instead, 

Perhaps as early as ten 

 

[Chorus] I just want this day to end, 

I find I’m too tired to pretend

 But broken things are trying to mend, 

So tomorrow, maybe, I’ll try again. 

 

Today was not good, because

 I’ve been in a mood 

Because trauma’s no fun 

And I wanted a new day 

Sometime around one. 

 

Today was so hard, because 

I let down my guard

 And tried to remember

A boy, so tender, and used. 

I just want this day to end,

 I find I’m too tired to pretend

 But broken things are trying to mend, 

So tomorrow, I suppose, 

I’ll try again. 

 

Today was so dark, 

As I grieve for the mark 

On my heart, and my soul, 

For the terrible toll. 

And now this day’s too long 

For all of my sorrow 

Yet again 

 

 I just want this day to end, 

And I just need it quiet inside my head

But this time the darkness will act as a friend,  

And tomorrow, I suppose, I’ll try again.

I’ll try again.

 

And tomorrow, I think that, I’ll try again.  

 And tomorrow, I need to try life again

UP NEXT: "You Were Never To Blame"