Posted on 11/14/2016 7:14:56 AM PST by C19fan
“Abby or Abner? How much artificial testosterone is she eating?”
Well, she’s surely not getting any the ‘normal’ way.
Was that insensitive? Good.
Check out #35 ... Abner needs a shave.
They put their heart and soul into it, don’t they?
They will get into an argument and her “partner” will beat her to a pulp....
“Check out #35 ... Abner needs a shave.”
It sure looks that way. And I have heard that some lesbians do take male hormones. Ick.
One of my old high school teachers with whom I am in contact on Facebook recently sent me a copy of this person’s book, “The Love Warrior,” which is causing the Oprah-ettes of the world to swoon. She requested I let her know how I liked it. I responded with this review:
This is an amazing book. It’s well-written and absorbing. The reader immediately sympathizes with the author and that kinship carries throughout the book. Her brutal honesty engrosses rather than repels the reader. She’s walked a tough road, endured, then survived, then triumphed, and the reader is with her every step of the walk. It is impossible not to like her and cheer her on.
Some of her insights are amazing. I had to re-read more than one paragraph several times to be sure I grasped what she had written because it was so profound, deep and obvious only in hindsight. This is what poets do – reveal the colors in a picture when most of us see only black and white. She has that kind of vision and not only sees, but translates the vision into exquisite prose that connects the reader to her thoughts. She is a gifted writer. I became so engrossed in her story that I often read too quickly though a page and had to take a breath and start the page over, just in case I had missed anything. I can’t remember the last time a book did that to me.
Her honesty is the force that makes the book a positive experience. It is also that force that exudes much in the negative.
She ridicules those who did their best to provide comfort to her in the difficult time of her separation, going so far as to mockingly place each one into a category of false comforters. She uncharitably relates their stories so the reader can share in their ridicule. That is cruel. Not everyone has the gift of saying the exact correct thing to a hurting person at the exact right time in the exact right way. At least they tried. But, she doesn’t allow them that much latitude. It boils down to this: they are bad and she is good. The end.
About ¾ through the book, one thing becomes clear: This is a self-absorbed woman whose idea of empowerment is getting everyone around her to dance to her tune.
She intends to be the hero of her story, but the real hero is Craig. Yes, he failed her miserably and she could have washed her hands of him and no one could have blamed her. But, instead of quitting in the face of Glennon’s fury, he does all he can to reconcile; to make it right.
He put his heart on the line, went to counseling and was willing to pay any price to get her back, regardless of how long that would take. He went on his own journey to become a better person for her sake. But, the tenor of Glennon’s description is one of contempt. He must patiently wait for her enlightenment to be allowed back into the inner sanctum of her benevolence. After he moves back into the home, Craig waits on her and the kids like a servant, day after day, month after month, and yet she could barely find a positive word to say about the man. I’ll tell you this, of all 4 billion or so men in the world, there are maybe 8 or 10 who would wait over a year to have sex with their wife, yet that is what Craig endured after he moved back into the home. The man is a saint. He is also deeply and completely in love with her. He has his faults, but he forsook them all for her and his family.
The last chapters of the book are hard to read. Not because of her difficult journey, but because she has become so insufferably narcissistic. She seems to have as many issues at the end of the book as she has at the beginning. She’s just happier in her positive self-absorption than she was in her previous negative self-absorption. She is the sun around which all of creation lovingly turns, entirely on her terms, of course.
Much of her spiritual journey (for lack of a better term) hinges on two events: the hot yoga experience and the breathing class. In superbly written prose, she reveals that she has come to believe in the god of the fuzzy feelings. All fuzzy feelings are God, therefore God communicates only through these fuzzy feelings and these feelings reveal all truth.
I don’t want to get sidetracked into any theological debate, but truth isn’t revealed exclusively through fuzzy feelings. Sometimes truth is a bucket of ice water in the face. But fuzzy feelings have become, in her mind, the conduit through which all truth flows. She knows this because she had these two experiences. This goes back to her great revelation: “The God I decide to believe in ….” Again, no theological debate, but God is whoever God is; we can’t decide to believe in some misshapen God of convenience for that moment. If there is a God, we accept that God on His terms.
Not so for Glennon, for who even the Creator of the Universe must be twisted like a pretzel to conform to her adoration of the all-knowing Fuzzy Feelings. Her “god” is what more honest new agers refer to as “my higher self;” a self-affirming, flattering deity whose tenants can be boiled down to one commandant: love yourself above all things.
And don’t get me started on the touchy feely, oh-aren’t-we-so-much-more-enlightened-and-wonderful-than-those-nasty-people-who-read-the-Bible-and-believe-that-stuff church she began attending. To each his or her own, but she can spare me the arrogant condescension. There is no reason to exalt one’s self by demeaning others. But, she can’t help herself.
Her interactions with others, though more assertive and self-assured, take a decidedly self-serving tone. Mundane, every day interactions become a test of her will. Something as simple as a hug, a small act of affection practiced by all societies for millennia, becomes kabuki theater, with a myriad of unknown rules – or rather, rules revealed to her and only her – on the spot. “Do I want this hug? Is this hug stifling me? Is my husband extending the control of the hand of The Patriarchy by asserting his presumed dominance by wrapping his arm around me? Let’s tap into the all-knowing realm of fuzzy feelings and divine what they say, for I know nothing without their counsel.”
Everyone else is a bit player in her world. Her children seem an afterthought. Her parents are merely reminders of who she was and who she is becoming. Her sister is the all loving, intuitive force who cares for her and sees to her emotional well-being. Craig is a handsome appendage whose only purpose is to push her toward the love of self. She is the only three dimensional character in her world.
The explanation she provides her children of what constitutes “sexy” comes across as self-gratifying and hopelessly out of touch. She relates what she told them as if she were reading from golden tablets that fell from the heavens. Her words are filled with insight gained from experience. But, she pretty much gets most of it wrong. The concept of beauty and what is sexy far predate the advertisers who currently distort the definitions to sell their products. By her definition, both she and Mother Theresa would have been two of the sexiest women of all time. Yes, beauty can come from deep inside a person, and “sexy” can emanate from the beautiful honesty within. But, sex appeal and beauty are often only skin deep. That’s the world we live in. That’s the world we have lived in from time immemorial.
I do envy her this: she seems to know who she is. I’m 56 and barely have a clue who I am. She has actually spent time and done the homework to learn more about herself and her interactions with those in her circle. That is laudable and it makes the book so good a read. The problem is that once someone becomes convinced that the only way to happiness and loving others is to achieve some sort of personal nirvana by endless introspection and learning to love one’s self, the process never ends because no one is perfectible. One can spend a lifetime and never achieve the result of total self-love and acceptance. There is always one more flaw to be discovered and conquered. The pursuit of self-love soon becomes a dog chasing his tail.
Imperfection is our nature. While self-worth is a valuable component of any fulfilled person, we don’t need to fall hopelessly in love with ourselves before we can truly love other people. I don’t know if she will ever come to that realization, though. Not fuzzy enough.
I don’t mean to be too critical of this book or the author. It’s a fascinating and deeply satisfying book on several levels. Just because I don’t agree with her conclusions doesn’t mean I don’t sympathize with her. This is a courageous woman who splattered her heart onto paper and had it published for the world to see. It is an unforgettable book.
She needs therapy and she is not a Christian.
100% the reason is don’t read any of these so-called Christian books. The Bible and devotions are all you need. Period.
Sadly it is working. I know many actual Christians who seem to think homosexuality is ok. And when you point out Bible verses they pull out the ‘do not judge card’, thn get upset and call me a homophobe when I point out they just took that out of context.
You gave a better review than I would have. And the god of fuzzy feelings is a common heresy in Christianity. Cults like Mormonism also use it - their entire hook is feelings not facts, but I also see it in Evangelical churches. Perhaps, being an exmormon, I see it easier and am more devoted to fighting it because I know the damage it causes.
Never heard of either one.
You don’t mean the original poster, d you? Or someone on this thread?
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