addiction

Grappling with mental, emotional, and spiritual health issues

In Brazilian jiu-jitsu, a martial art most well known for specializing in ground grappling, the goal is to pin and control your opponent and then submit them with either a joint lock or a strangulation. John Danaher, who many consider the sport’s greatest coach, describes it as “The art of control that leads to submission.” Greg Souders, another prevalent voice in the sport, describes jiu-jitsu as “The game of immobilization as it leads to strangulation and breaking.” 

However one chooses to describe it, the general idea of jiu-jitsu is the same: take your opponent to the ground and, using superior angles, positioning, and leverage, make it difficult or impossible for them to escape. Then, isolate and attack their arm, leg, or neck, and apply sufficient force to either break said arm or leg or cut off the blood or oxygen supply through the neck until your opponent taps in submission. 

Of course, this is all easier said than done. Every advantage must be earned when dealing with a fully resisting opponent or training partner. The person you are trying to pin and submit is also trying to pin and submit you. It’s a constant struggle. It’s a battle of wills as much as it’s a battle of skill, pride, strategy, and athleticism. Everything in jiu-jitsu matters, and nothing in jiu-jitsu is easy. That’s one of the reasons it is such a rewarding practice to participate in. 

With this in mind, a shared joke in jiu-jitsu is to yell, “Just stand up!” When someone is pinned and struggling to escape, it’s simple advice but often quite difficult to act on, especially against a resisting opponent and the force of gravity working against you. For this reason, “Just stand up!” is often said with sarcasm and received with scorn or laughter, depending on the recipient’s mood. 

Much like “Just stand up!” in jiu-jitsu is absurd advice to give someone who is pinned under a resisting opponent, “Just get over it!” is ridiculous advice to give to a person suffering from grief, depression, anxiety, trauma, addiction, or some other psycho-emotional ailment. While it may seem like helpful advice from the onlooker’s perspective, it is often less than useless for the person struggling with whatever issues they are experiencing. These usually well-intentioned comments can even exacerbate the recipient’s mental, emotional, or spiritual health issues by diminishing their seriousness and making it seem as though it is merely a lack of effort that is preventing them from being overcome. 

Like jiu-jitsu, our mental, emotional, and spiritual health is complicated. Many forces are working against us as we try to persevere through this thing we call life. While those of us being pinned by another jiu-jitsu practitioner would love to “Just stand up!” and those of us grappling with mental, emotional, and spiritual health issues would love to “Just get over it!” there’s usually more to it than that. As hard as we are fighting, our opponent is also fighting back, and sometimes we are outmatched. 

Sometimes, our opponent is bigger, stronger, faster, or more skilled than us, and we cannot escape our difficulties alone. Sometimes, we need help. This is true in both jiu-jitsu and in life. No one ever became a jiu-jitsu world champion without a coach, or several coaches, and a variety of skilled training partners. If you are struggling with mental or emotional health issues, don’t assume you can do it alone, either. 

When I was at my absolute lowest in my addiction, I had to come to accept that I could not overcome my problem by myself. I needed help. My parents helped me get into rehab. The rehab facility helped me get into a halfway house. The halfway house helped get me in touch with people who could lead me out of addiction and into a spiritual experience that would solve my problem. It took the proverbial village to raise me from spiritual, emotional, and psychological death. 

Likewise, many years later, when I finally admitted that I was struggling with anxiety and depression, I didn’t simply “muscle my way out of it.” I couldn’t. I couldn’t “Just stand up!” and “Just get over it!” I couldn’t do it alone; once again, I needed help. I needed my wife’s support to work through my issues; I needed friends who had been through similar problems and who could recommend good therapists; I required the therapists themselves, and finally, but most importantly, I needed God to guide me through all of this as I found my way back to him. 

Whatever you are grappling with, whether it is another person or your demons, know that you are not the first to struggle with this issue; you won’t be the last person to do so, and you are not alone. Countless other people have had whatever problem you are having and are willing to help you. Don’t waste your time trying to “Just stand up!” or “Just get over it!” You can’t. I couldn’t. We can’t. 

We all need help, and we all need each other. I love you, and we love you. Please do not give up. You are truly not alone. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Finding God at a social media impasse

I’ve begun to notice that the draw to social media is drawing me away from God. It is taking my peace and giving me little in return besides a few fleeting moments of pleasure when I see a new ‘like’ on one of my posts or when I see someone else’s post that makes me smile for a second. But then it leaves me feeling empty, sad, and full of regret. 

I’ve felt for quite some time that social media is a distraction and, worse, an addiction, but for years I have explained this feeling away by telling myself that it is just a tool and, as with all tools, it is useful as long as it’s not abused. While I still agree with this and acknowledge the value of social media if used discerningly, I fear that, like all addictions, it has begun taking more from me than it is giving. 

Historically, I have used social media to promote my business, to share my blog, and to interact with friends I otherwise might not see or talk to. It would not be an exaggeration to say that our business would not be as successful as it is if it were not for social media. Social media has allowed us to connect with and attract people we otherwise would not have been able to. Recently, however, it just feels like noise, like angry, confusing noise. 

I’m not necessarily blaming the platforms. While social media has certainly changed over the years from what it once was, which was a way to connect and interact with friends, into the algorithm and advertisement driven drama machine it is now, I have also changed. When I first got on social media, I was young, lonely, and interested in connecting with like-minded people. As I’ve matured, and especially as I’ve grown spiritually, I’m less lonely and I’m also less interested in connecting with people simply because I agree with or share certain interests with them. I am looking for something deeper. 

I do still enjoy sharing jiu-jitsu videos, funny memes, and even inspirational videos or quotes with friends and family, but it often feels like the price is too high to pay. Wading through all of the politics, divisiveness, and propaganda just to get to the odd post here and there that I find interesting simply isn’t worth it. Whatever amount of momentary pleasure I get is far outweighed by the feelings of anger, sadness, and disappointment I feel during and after I scroll aimlessly through the swamp of unrest that has become social media. 

Truth be told, I’m not sure I’d even notice this in such a profound way if it were not for my spiritual practices. The more God draws me nearer to him, the less satisfied I have become with other things. In fact, the nearer God draws me to him, the more dissatisfied I seem to become with that which is not God.

Today, for example, I had an amazing morning. I woke up, got my daughter ready for school, did my morning prayer hour, went for a walk with my wife, went to jiu-jitsu class, and talked with some of my friends. When I got home, I took a shower, had a healthy breakfast, and sat down to do some writing and reading. All in all, I couldn’t have asked for a better start to my day, but then I checked social media. Immediately, I felt something shift. 

The disturbing thing is that I didn’t necessarily want to check social media. I can’t even say I checked it out of habit. It was more of an urge. It was like I was being pulled in. 

I was having a great day. I felt connected to God, to my family, and to my friends. I couldn’t have really asked for more. Then, just as I was about to go deeper, just as I was about to get into a good book or do some writing, I felt the need to see what other people were doing, what they were saying, and what they were saying about me. And just like that, after only a few minutes of mindless scrolling, my feeling of peace, joy, and purpose all disappeared. 

I knew exactly what happened and it really bothered me. I locked my social media platforms with the Freedom app I recently installed on my phone, and then went back to what I was doing. The whole experience left me feeling really unsettled. 

What made matters even worse, however, and what still bothers me as I write this, is that, while I was reading and again while I was writing, I reflexively grabbed my phone to check social media more times than I care to admit. I did this even though I was locked out of my accounts and even though I didn’t want to. And somehow, not being able to check my accounts made me feel worse, or at least as bad, as when I did check them. 

This is what addictions are, really, isn’t it? They are unhealthy behaviors that compulsively draw us away from God, often against our better judgment and even against our will. What makes addiction so insidious, however, is that it convinces us that it is helping us, that we can’t live without that to which we are addicted, and that stopping will be more painful than continuing on toward self destruction. 

As I sat there processing this experience, I looked at my books, I looked at my prayer chair, and I looked at my laptop, and thought about all of the things I could be doing to deepen my connection with God or to improve my life, and how scrolling through social media is not one of those things. But the whole thing left me feeling helpless because, as much as I couldn’t imagine a life addicted to social media, I also I couldn’t imagine life without social media. I was and am at an impasse, but I also know that at every impasse, God is waiting for us to choose him, and he will always help us when we are willing. 

And so I remain to pray.

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

I assume it was grace

Thirty days before my nineteenth birthday, I entered rehab. Looking back, I still don’t know how I found the courage to go. At first, I was willing because I had nowhere else to turn. I had no home to speak of. I was barely getting by, working at McDonald’s, making enough money to eat and get high. 

I had been sleeping on friends’ floors and couches for a while, and occasionally in my car that had expired tags to match my suspended license. My mom had let me back in her home for a short period because I was too sick to take care of myself, but I had worn out my welcome once again, especially as far as her husband was concerned. I was running out of options. 

One night, at a Pizza Hut, my parents got together for the first time since their divorce, sat me down, and told me I needed help. My dad’s insurance would cover me going to rehab and they were giving me one last chance to turn my life around. Of course, I was angry and belligerent. This perceived betrayal was more fuel for the fire of resentment and self pity that burned me from the inside out. I said I needed time to think about it and I left. 

I knew I was in trouble. If I rejected their ultimatum, I would have nowhere else to turn. With the exception of one or two people, I had burned all of the bridges that I had crossed. I called one of my last friends up, a girl I met through drugs and drinking, and with whom I lived for a while when I dropped out of school and ran away from home. She had just recently gotten out of rehab and, as soon as she was out, we were drinking and getting high together. 

I told my friend what was going on and she came to get me, or at least I assume she did because all I remember is the two of us sitting on top of Federal Hill, smoking weed, and talking about rehab, and I know I didn’t drive there. I told her my sob story, we commiserated for a while, and then she said, “It might be good for you to take a break for a little while. Go to rehab. It’s like a vacation. I’ll be here when you get out. But, if you don’t want to go, you can stay with me at my mom’s house.” 

Her mom lived in the city. We used to go there to get high with her and she would buy us alcohol, but she was into some things even I wouldn’t touch. She had a drawer full of pills and smoked crack from time to time. That stuff always scared me. Although, with the way I was headed, who knows how many of my “nevers” were really just “not yets.” 

My friend’s offer was tempting. It was a way out. If I accepted, it meant I had a roof over my head for a while longer. It meant I could keep running. But I was worn out. I was tired and beaten. I told her I’d think about it and she took me home. 

What happened next still baffles me. The next day, I called my father and told him I would go to rehab like he said. I guess I was done, but I don’t know how or why. I don’t know what it was that gave me the power to make that decision when I had another option. The only explanation I have is that it was grace. 

My father contacted his insurance company, they set everything up with the facility, and gave me an intake date. I didn’t fight it. Thirty days before my nineteenth birthday, I was driven to rehab and I was given a chance that many do not get. I was given the opportunity to start my life over and, even thought I’m convinced that it was some kind of divine intervention, I took it.