Journey to Truth
What started as a personal self-inventory and an identification process of my pain and lack of joy, has now turned into something much more profound. Today, I find myself seeking truth in such a way that my heart has been revitalized, imbued with new life and vitality.
I have been on a journey to determine what happened to me in the past and how my most important relationships almost were without the communication and understanding of love. I have gone through life thinking something is wrong with me, and I do not know how to connect with others. This has been a struggle of mine sense as far back as I can remember.
At age two, with the Iranian revolution in full effect and the commencement of the war between Iraq and Iran, my dad decided to take his family of four and flee the country.
Eventually we were accepted into the country of Sweden where I grew up. Fear was most likely the overwhelming thoughts and feelings of my parents and older sister. I cannot recall most of what happened, but I was told I exhibited signs of distress such as bedwetting until the age of five, hyperactivity, and withdrawn behavior.
My parents were grateful to the country of Sweden; however, it was hard for them to assimilate into the Swedish culture. My sister and I had to learn to adapt and speak Swedish on our own and these were not easy tasks. With my parents strongly holding on to their roots and traditions, there were frequent clashes between what my sister and I learned inside our home and outside our home.
I had trouble making friends and found it difficult to gain acceptance anywhere. I did not feel protected or loved by my dad, and I was scared to disappoint him. My mother had a short temper and was quick to punish me. My sister did not hold back in pointing out my flaws.
I believe I was a troubled child and that I caused a lot of trouble for others. My dad was verbally abusive and quick to anger. I was often yelled at and blamed for things that I could not understand; yet, I was expected to demonstrate understanding after receiving unjust punishment.
I had no idea what I was feeling, and processing emotions in unsafe environments is not feasible. No one was allowed to see me cry because I feared my peers and parents would use that as ammunition against me. Anytime I experienced discomfort or anytime I was hurt by others, I would keep that to myself.
This became something I accepted as truth from a young age that being vulnerable in my own home and with my peers would be used against me. I learned that not speaking up about my existence and experiences was a safer option, which allowed me to process life privately and in my own time.
I was too scared to confront anyone, and I avoided conflict. I was interested and curious about the world but often shut down or ridiculed while exploring life openly in front of others.
Approaching girls was a big fear of mine, and it was obvious to others who used this fear to make fun of me. In most of my childhood, I could not identify my own emotions, and I was unable to verbalize my intimate thoughts and feelings for decades.
It wasn’t until I was a teenager when I learned the power behind intimidation and fear, and I learned to stand up for myself. Anger was my go-to friend, and I used it to keep the bullies at bay. I did not strike first, but I learned that publicly humiliating a bully could serve many desired functions, particularly my desire to be left alone.
I became skilled at verbally intimidating others as a defense mechanism. I also became skilled at verbally mediating peace when stronger peers got aggressive with me and others. I learned that reacting to insults often meant trouble, and taking verbal abuse and looking the other way to avoid engaging in unnecessary battles was easier.
In my own home, I learned what my parents desired from me and what their expectations were. I silenced my parents by fulfilling their expectations before they could be conveyed to me; consequentially, they could no longer tell me what to do. I did what I wanted, and I did not disclose any details of my life to anyone. I became skilled at lying, and I used it avidly to deflect nosy peers and curious parents.
I learned to look for intentions of people and became allergic to nonsense. With this type of mentality, no friends became close friends, family members were kept at minimal disclosure, and distance was maintained at all costs.
During this period of finding my own identity, I believed in God, but I did not seek him. My eyes and mind wandered quickly, and there was little room for reflection in my heart. I was trying not to draw attention to myself and hiding behind aggression helped me accomplish that goal. This game of hiding and posing consumed me and was leading me into destruction. I was not happy with who I was, where I was, and who I was with.
As a young man, I decided not only to leave my parents’ home, but to leave the country of Sweden. They say that home is where your heart is and throughout my life, I did not feel like any place was my home. I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere, and it was easy for me to leave everything behind and go wherever I wanted.
I was invited by my aunt to move to Los Angeles, USA. My aunt was a blessing and she helped me get stable, save money, and enabled me to secure my own apartment. Living in Los Angeles was not easy and finding people who were genuine was even harder. I resided among drug dealers and other people who were up to no good. Truly, to this day I can only thank God for watching over me and in my lowest moments, I cried out in his name.
I loved life in Los Angeles for the beautiful weather, relaxed atmosphere, and the option to pursue life as I pleased—California dreaming and living carefree without anyone hovering over me, telling me what to do. Rainy days were few and far between whereas in Sweden, you just could not get away from the rain, cold, and slushy weather.
Things were going great for a few years until I decided to pursue my goal of becoming an airline pilot. It required a lot of money if pursued through a fixed-base operator at a local airport and I just did not have the financial backing to do that.
I realized that I could move anywhere in United States, and I googled colleges that offered aviation classes and pilot training. What came up was Texas State Technical College in Waco, Texas. All I had to do was look at the price in comparison to schools in Florida and California and the choice was made for me.
I pursued a bachelor’s degree in aviation science and was adding to my already acquired private pilot license while in Los Angeles. As I was working on my multi-engine commercial pilot rating, I realized this was not the lifestyle I wanted, to constantly be on the move and not have any stable roots. I longed and yearned for a wife and a family of my own. It was not hard to connect with women at this stage of my life, but I was looking for them in all the wrong places.
Lies I was telling myself throughout my life controlled me, lies that I was unlovable and unwanted. Before any relationship could emerge, I was quick to hide and get in the way of anyone showing a genuine interest in me. I was struggling with myself and curious to learn more about how to identify my problems and human behavior in general.
I decided to pursue a degree in psychology through Baylor University. I had no idea what I wanted to do with a degree in psychology, but I was fascinated with humans and how they engage in life. I was willing to learn from books since getting real with people and learning from them in person was not likely for me.
Fear was such an obstacle for me, particularly because I was in denial that it was an issue, and anyone looking in would not have noticed because I hid my fear behind recklessness and posing to be viewed as good.
It was around that time I was led into the arms of my wife. I typically had no problems being a poser and pretending that I was just fine. Having fun with college students was not an issue, but getting close to someone and revealing truth about myself was like climbing Mount Everest. My go-to lines for women used to be: “I don’t do commitments” or “I am not the boyfriend type.” I knew these lines were lies, but they were what helped keep my pose alive. Deep down inside, the truth was that I wanted nothing more than to drop the pose and be myself, but that was a terrifying thought. I did not think the world would perceive me well because I did not like myself.
I remember telling my college roommates that I had a pick-up line that was corny, but it worked, at least to get a foot in with a woman and open up a conversation. They all laughed at me and wanted me to prove it after hearing it. I decided to show them on the next woman I thought was cute and wanted to get to know a little better.
On the day I met my wife, while around a bunch of people at a birthday dinner, from across a table, I opened up a conversation with:
“Hey, Kaitlyn!” She did not even know my name as she curiously answered:
“Yeah?”
I paused for a brief moment to gather myself because I did not want to ruin it by laughing. People around us were anticipating the conversation to continue as I casually cut my steak and chewed some food. As I swallowed, I stated calmly:
“If you were a booger…I would pick you.”
That line put me on notice with my wife. She was the first woman who wanted to know more about me, and I did not feel like she had a hidden agenda. She did not make me feel uncomfortable because she was genuinely interested in me as a friend. Her kindness was what attracted me to her and she reminded me a lot of my mom.
She was calling and inviting me to events and gatherings in her life, and I felt at ease when talking to her. She was persistent and did not give up on me, even after being pushed away several times. Eventually, we got married and had two beautiful children.
As a husband, I behaved selfishly and thought about myself before I thought of my wife. After all, I did lead a selfish lifestyle and my mentality was every man for himself. I did not understand husbands who were loving toward their wives; however, I wanted what they had. I was uncomfortable when faced with questions such as: “What do you love about your wife?” One way or another, I kept avoiding conversations and situations that could lead to a loving relationship.
Around my fortieth birthday, the purpose of life sprung into doubt like never before. I was drowning in my marriage and began realizing my issues were rooted in childhood trauma. As a husband, I was detached and unavailable to my wife. We did not go on dates anymore and frequent arguments about finances ruled our lives.
I followed my wife’s leadership in what we would do as a family, and how we raised our children. I did not concern myself with the specifics of anyone’s life, and the only time I inserted myself was as a mediator of peace and enforcer of rules. I was in pain, and I had no clue I was dealing with anxiety and fear all my life. I had no self-confidence and in defining moments: I avoided truth, deflected truth, or hid from truth.
I lived a complete year in isolation, in hiding, and posing to be viewed as good; however, on the inside I was slowly dying. I did not engage in arguments, and I did not insert my thoughts or inputs into daily conversations with my wife. I went along with things I did not agree with, and I did not speak up when my soul was troubled. Of course, life brings you joy, ups, and downs but my emotional spectrum was disturbingly numb. Good and joyous events moved me but not intensely and not for extended periods of time. Similarly bad events did not seem to faze me much or for long.
There is a saying, an accepted notion worldwide, that truth will set you free. I continually thought of truth as what was given to me or how I interpreted the information I was given. I may have stretched my search for truth in many directions at first but at some point, I stopped searching and accepted my understanding of information gained as truth. In essence, I accepted defeat and I felt defeated.
Each battle in life ended poorly for me and at some point, I stopped fighting for a better life. My focus shifted toward what my dad had told me all his life, that his time was over and that his main focus was to make sure I didn’t waste my time like he did. Thus, I began pouring into my children from a perspective of defeat in my own life. What I had to offer was hard for my children to buy so naturally they gravitated to my wife who had a lighthearted outlook on life.
Today, I realize discovering truth is an ongoing process that you must continuously pursue. Our understandings are limited by our perspectives, and we may accept something as truth with limited understanding. We are forgetful and it does not take much to sway us or make us doubt ourselves or our understanding of truth. Truth is not limited by perspectives or understandings, only humans are.
In June of 2022, I prepared myself for addressing the needs I had regarding my childhood. I had a lot of anger toward this unresolved conflict within and a lot of anger directed toward my dad. I created a mission statement regarding my family and what intentions I had to bring up the past with them. I wanted a better understanding of who I was as a person and what made us drift apart from each other. I knew that I was looking for love and restoration primarily and not to condemn or accuse my family.
I took my wife and my two children to Sweden to visit my mother, dad, and sister. I wanted to approach my family with tenderness and care, not to lose my temper or cool, rather to show them vulnerability and need for understanding.
I didn’t know how to begin these conversations with my dad, but it did not take long before he began questioning me. It could have easily turned into an accusatory conversation, but my prior preparations served me well.
For the first time in my life, I was vulnerable with my dad, and I shed my first tears in front of a man who I feared, respected, and admired my entire life. I asked him tough questions such as what prevented him from telling me that he loves me. I wanted to know why he only called me a handful of times since I moved out of his home twenty years ago.
My dad is a hard-working family man who sacrificed everything for our freedom. He did not get an official schooling in life but rather began working as a young child to support his family. He worked all day long as a child laborer and in the evening, he would take classes with grown men to receive a basic education.
My dad has continually put others’ needs before his own. I respected him for his selflessness, but I also did not understand how he could neglect himself for so long. He kept telling me that his time was over and that it was too late for him to do anything with his life. This is a lie he has been living with since as far back as I can remember. There are wounds in my dad’s heart that no one was allowed to hear. He has not opened up about his wounds and I hope that one day he will share his wounds with me.
I believe my dad was living vicariously through me in the beginning. He was disappointed with me. In his mind, I had all these opportunities available to me, and I did not pursue them with everything I had, like my sister did. She is an accomplished pediatrician, and she did not waste her time seeking pleasure or enjoyment. On the other hand, according to my dad, I was content with the pleasures and distractions of life. Most likely, there was resentment for how casually I viewed life and how I did not take it as seriously as he would have liked me to do.
I realized that my wounds regarding my dad had evolved with lies that he did not love me and that I was not good enough for him. The truth was that I just needed him to tell me that I was good enough and that he was proud of me. In my visit to Sweden, my dad told me he was proud of me, and he assured me with words that he has not stopped caring for me even though we live so far apart. I felt in my heart that my dad loved me and for the first time, that newly found understanding spoke louder to me than the lies I was living with.
Another wound I wanted to uncover was with my sister, whom I did not feel close to. I needed to know how she felt about me. I needed her to tell me because my own thoughts were self-blaming and unkind. We spoke two or three times a year on the phone on occasions such as birthdays and holidays. It was all surface conversations where we both pretended that things were going well in our lives.
It was close to eight years since the last time I saw my sister in person. I wondered what caused us to drift apart and what was keeping us apart. I looked at my son and his relationship with his sister and it hurt to see what I had been lacking. They have a special bond and play well together despite their eight-year age gap. They back each other up and protect one another when each is feeling distressed. Anyone who meets my children can tell that they love each other. I could not help but wonder what happened to my sister and me, who are only two years apart.
I don’t remember wanting to be friends with her and we avoided each other. My memory was failing me, but I still believed it was my fault and that I was troublesome. I made fun of my sister and made her feel bad about who she is.
My sister convinced me during our talks that she loves me dearly. She claimed to be a helicopter sibling to me. In her own words, instead of being a sibling on the same playing field, she attempted primarily to re-enforce the rules of our parents. Hovering over me and reminding me of what I was doing wrong. We agreed that we both failed to come together in support of each other.
I asked my sister about struggles she experienced in and outside our household. In my mind I felt like she was the golden child, the role model that I could not live up to. I did not see my dad raise his voice to my sister and it made me feel that she did no wrong. If there was a black sheep in the family, it would be me when compared to my sister or cousins.
What my sister told me unmasked my thoughts about her. It turned out she was fearful of everyone as well. It was mostly our responses to fear that were different about us. She was fearful of making any mistakes; therefore, she did everything in her power not to draw any attention to herself. Her fear of making mistakes or acquiring unwanted attention guided her life in becoming a perfectionist. Being a perfectionist and not allowing mistakes is a life with high anxiety and fearing everyone.
Alternatively, my fear revolved around being disowned and feeling unlovable, also resulting in a life with high anxiety and fearing everyone. What I learned was that fear was in the driving seat of our lives. And fear is an emotion triggered by lies. The exception is the fear of God, which will be discussed in the chapter about investigating truth.
My mother and I were speaking in more frequent intervals over the years, partly because of her grandchildren but also because she had shown an interest and care in me since the beginning. If it wasn’t for my mother, I do not think I would’ve survived in this life. She was a teenage mom of two small children and her patience was tested daily as a young mother.
Even if my mother did not tell me as a child that she loved me, I could feel that she loved me by the way she hugged and kissed me and took care of my needs. When she punished me, I didn’t feel anger or resentment toward her. Back in the day, I did not have spankings on my bottom, but rather a backhand to the face just to snap me out of whatever I was doing.
The worst punishment I ever received from my mom occurred after telling her to “shut up” in Swedish. I did not have the courage to tell her that in our native tongue, but for some reason I cursed at my mom for the first time around age fifteen. Nonetheless, her punishment affected me tremendously. She stopped speaking to me for two weeks, and it destroyed me.
During these two weeks, she was still doing things like feeding me and taking me to practices. Not a single word was spoken, and she would not look me in the eyes. I tried to have conversations with her, hoping she would respond but she was adamant about teaching me a lesson. All I had to do was ask for forgiveness, but my pride got in the way.
Eventually, I broke down and asked her what I could do to fix things between us, and she spelled it out for me that she wanted an apology. All this time I thought to myself: “What an effective tool my mom used to create a remorseful response in me.” I used her method of silence when someone I cared about hurt my feelings in life, not realizing the detrimental effect it has on both parties involved.
Today, I understand that silence is the way to allow the devil into your mind. When my mom gave me the silence treatment, she was expecting me to come to my own senses and apologize. In my heart, I knew I had to apologize for my wrong, but in my mind, something was holding me back. Something was telling me not to admit my wrongdoing because that admission would be used against me. Anytime I looked at my mom and she would not respond or share her loving smile with me, it would tear me to pieces. Simultaneously, my prideful mind was talking volumes in that silence between us.
The devil planted so many blocks in my mind from tending to my wounded heart, the wound of knowing that I hurt my mother so deeply. Can you imagine what my mother could have thought during this time? How the devil held her back from disclosing her wounds and attempted to isolate her and slowly steal her joy. How the devil prevented her from sharing the truth and in silence, spreading lies about her son. All I felt was remorse in my heart, but my mind was guiding my behavior. The devil must have had a field trip trash talking me to my mom. It wasn’t until the silence was broken that truth was revealed.
A great number of lies were exposed during my visit to Sweden and replaced with truths that indeed my family loves me. It was a process that my parents and sister were willing to go through with me to ensure that lies regarding my loving family were exposed and put to rest. The entire trip turned out to be filled with emotional healing and my connections to my family gained strength. A solid foundation was formed for the first time in my life.
As we returned to Texas, I was hopeful that my relationship with my wife and children would improve as well. I felt disconnected from my son, and I feared he was going through some of the same things I experienced as a child. I made sure to tell him daily that I love him, but it was hard for a child to understand love when his dad was quick to anger and spoke harshly with him. I even criticized my son with similar words my dad used to describe his frustration with me—that he does not listen when spoken to and that he does not think before he acts.
My son did not want to carry on many conversations with me, and often avoided me. He would typically go to his mom for all his needs and reluctantly come to me when his mother redirected him. I had my son in mind when I went to Sweden to address my wounds with my dad. I wanted to break the generational wounds between dads and sons in our family.
My wife and I created moments of hope together, but our sparks dwindled into our unhappy familiarity. I was accustomed to staying silent and let my pain build up inside when things got difficult. My wife would react quickly to challenges in our relationship. We were communicating much better at this point with each other, but our wounds from the past were still interfering with our emotions. We loved each other, but we were not able to validate each other to overcome wounds from our past that crept in to interfere with our feelings.
I was hard on myself and guided by lies such as: “I should know how to fix things as a counselor” and “I can’t get past my own issues.” I was scared to look for help because of these lies and I needed validation that I am good enough and that I have what it takes. My wife and I needed validation from our dads, but these relationships were wounded. Believing in God is one thing, but to actually put your trust in God for validation when we need our Father is a completely different thing.
My daughter and I had the strongest bond out of all my relationships. I was a better dad to her than to my son. She was validated daily by me, and she was thriving as a three-year-old princess. My daughter would seek me first when she was hurt, when she needed comfort, or when she wanted attention. Our bond was almost unbreakable, and she was assured with my words, hugs, and kisses. She trusted me completely and I noticed that I treated her differently.
I predominantly spoke to her with kindness, and I went out of my way to make her feel validated. Through our relationship, I realized where I was lacking in effort toward my relationship with my son and my wife. I slowly learned to improve my other connections by drawing from our strengths.
Despite the improvements and increased understanding, I fell back into my customary isolation and despair, mainly because of lies I was living with and feeling unlovable and useless. Love was the one thing I needed. Yet, I did not understand it, nor did I have the courage to outwardly love others the way I wanted.
In December of 2022, something spectacular happened to me. Maybe it was the magical season of Christmas and the birth of Jesus because I found myself hopelessly yearning for his love. The emotional healing that occurred during my trip to Sweden had come and passed, and all that was left was this overwhelming need for love and seeking truth.
I thought that my improvements in my relationships would give me a sense of purpose, that I would start feeling like I belonged and that my negative self-thoughts would be replaced with positivity. The internal transformation I was looking for was not happening. Instead, I found myself at the lowest point of my life and at the verge of giving up on myself. I was desperate and the only thing that remained now was to go to God for help.
I had exhausted all my efforts and tried to do things on my own my entire life. I was completely lost and did not know what to do anymore. I did not feel needed anymore and I felt more like a burden to those who had to withstand me. I opened my Bible and tried to see if there was any hope to be found. I will reflect more upon the events that took place during this season of Christmas in the chapter about going from burdened to blessed. These events changed my entire life.
My heart rejoices when I think of the transformation that God has made within me. It is a blessing to be able to read and understand the word of God. I asked myself: What is the most important thing I could be doing to gain God’s friendship, loving touch, and seal of approval? It went against everything I did before because I was not seeking any of these things from anyone. I was not seeking friendship, a loving touch, and I did not need anyone’s approval. I was detached, uninvolved, and unavailable; yet it did not seem to alarm anyone around me because I hid so well.
I kept looking for what could be the most important passage of the Bible. How do I decipher what is the most important passage when it comes to my life? Surely, I am so different that God must have a particular passage that I should be paying attention to, or at least this is what I thought.
We tend to choose what we think are the most important aspects of our faith or perhaps what society, our religious institution, or closest group of people think. Truth is written in the Bible and what is known as the law was better explained by Jesus Christ in the New Testament. His words were recorded out of his mouth by meticulous disciples. These people were dedicated and intent on making sure that the truth was documented correctly.
In the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, we are introduced to the passage in the Bible that I consider the crown jewel. It is practically God’s only request of us spoken directly by Jesus. It states that there is no greater commandment than to love your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. Then Jesus wraps up our mission as individuals who should love God above all else by asking us to love others as much as you love yourself (New International Version, Matt. 22.37-40, Mark 12.30-31).
