And we’re going to kick off January, 2022 with a dandy, short book by Christian clinical psychologist, Andrew J. Bauman, called “How Not To Be An *SS”.

I “met” Andrew Bauman on Facebook and was thrilled to be on his launch team because after following him for nearly a year, I realized he had much to say to men who’d grown up in evangelical Christianity.

While I’m not sure I would’ve titled the book this way (although it is eye-catching and that’s likely what he was going for), these short essays are such that you can open the book and browse through them and read them out of order, or in order, depending on your mood.

Here’s the back cover copy:

“I am a recovering ass. Of course, at times I still am one, but it’s less often. I now recognize my “assness” more quickly, recalibrate, and take action to make amends for my poor behavior. It’s important to acknowledge the truth of our mistakes without turning towards self-contempt, shame, or beating ourselves up for the harm we have caused to those we love. Yet, we must take full responsibility for our poor behavior and fully own what we have done and learn to live differently, becoming men who bring life rather than further heartache. This book is just as much for me as it is for you. I am in the process of learning to become a good and safe man and writing out these truths in this book has helped me immensely. I hope it will help you on your journey to becoming the man you most desire to be.”

What I love about Andrew is that he’s transparent with his own journey of addiction and recovery, and writes about it in such a way that the reader can’t help but feel he can relate – without the self-condemnation and shame that prevents healing and growth.

But that’s not all the book is about – it’s about healing childhood trauma because abused children grow up to be abusers. (Yes, women too, although this book deals with men) It’s about what domestic abuse/violence actually IS, and it’s not just black eyes and broken wrists. It’s much more insidious than that and comes from darker places.

Andrew takes on the evangelical church and it’s lack of nurturing for boys, the lack of “good and safe” role models for them to aspire to become, and it’s an eye-opener. He provides a “self-test” in case the reader wants to know where he might fall on the evangelical scale of “am I an abuser?”

People who’ve been deeply hurt, hurt other people. Even in the church – especially in the church. And this book has the statistics to back up that statement.

Women will also learn a lot from this book. If you’re in a relationship/marriage where things don’t feel right, where you’re walking on eggshells or don’t know when the shoe’s going to fall next, then this book is for you.

And, if you’re single, this book will give you a clear picture of what a “good and safe” man looks like so that you can use that ruler to watch for any red flags in your dating relationships. Of particular interest is an essay written by a female psychologist who gives training on domestic abuse, called “If I Were An Abuser, What Church Would I Go To?”.

As Christians, we can’t close our eyes to the fact that we have hurting families in our churches. The statistics for domestic abuse don’t stop at our doors and we’re not exempt from bad parenting, bad teaching, or dysfunctional relationships.

This book goes a long way towards opening up that conversation between men and women, wives and husbands, pastors and their boards/councils.

I highly recommend it.  *****5 Stars

You can buy it here:  https://amzn.to/3GaFF49

And you can find more of Andrew J. Bauman’s books at his website here:

 https://www.andrewjbauman.com

If you are in an unsafe relationship or marriage, please seek help from your local women’s shelter or the police.

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Excerpt #4 – Chapter 1:

“What’s wrong with the policeman, Mommy?”

“Nothing, honey. I just had to talk to him,” said Joy. She hung a right to go north and then a left at the Town Centre.

Her ancient two-door sedan had nearly 110,000 kilometers on it. Up here, everyone drove their vehicles into the ground. The only places to go were around town, out to the airport, or along the coast twenty-three kilometers to the Arctic Studies Research Centre. She’d gotten this car from her parents when she was sixteen, but it was already well used then.

She helped Emberlyn out of her car seat and let her skip along the sidewalk towards the main doors. Her princess backpack bounced on her thin shoulders when she hopscotched on invisible squares before hitting the automatic door opener with the flat of her palm.

“His ear looks ugly,” said Emberlyn. They entered the air-conditioned building that housed every important business for the town. The Town Complex stretched for five city blocks along the shoreline.

Joy worked in the Health Centre here and loved the fact that she could leave Emberlyn in the Little Tots Day Care because it had extended hours for shift workers. They walked past the library and down the hallway towards the indoor play area, where young moms and their little kids congregated on days of inclement weather.

That’s because he got mauled by the polar bear last winter,” she said as she held the inner door open for her daughter. “Don’t say that to anyone. I’m sure Constable Koper’s self-conscious about it.”

“I won’t.” Emberlyn skipped into the day care foyer, her light-up runners flashing pink and purple lights. “Can he hear out of it?”

“I’m sure he can, or he wouldn’t be back at work.” She stood by while Emberlyn hung up her backpack in her cubby and toed off her runners. Fatigue washed over her. Her Saturday overnight shift had been busier than usual. A fight at the Legion and two domestics. It made it harder when she knew the victims.

“Okay.” Emberlyn shrugged and reached up for a quick hug and kiss. “Love you,

Mommy.”

“Love you too, baby.” She squeezed her daughter tightly. It was so hard to leave her in the care of others besides herself or her own mother. She straightened as Shannon appeared.

“Hey, Emberlyn. Are you ready for breakfast, or did you eat at Gramma’s house?”

“We had chocolate chip pancakes,” said Emberlyn, beaming. “Gramma let me pour the pancake batter because I’m six now and big enough.” She clutched her princess doll to her side. “I can help you make breakfast.”

Shannon laughed. “Well, aren’t you wide awake this morning. Sure, you can help make breakfast for the little kids.” She took Emberlyn by the hand and smiled at Joy.

“Looks like you could use a decent sleep. Rough shift?”

Joy shrugged. “Eh, rough enough. I didn’t get much sleep before I went on.” She ruffled Emberlyn’s hair. “I’ll be back to get her by 5 p.m. Bye, squirt.”

“Bye, Mommy.”

Joy watched the two of them disappear into the kitchen, then headed back out to her car. Every part of her ached from being on the run all shift. But it was the middle of summer, which meant staff shortages from holidays. After this next shift, she’d be able to collapse into sleep while her mom took Emberlyn for the night again.

Joy watched the two of them disappear into the kitchen, then headed back out to her car. Every part of her ached from being on the run all shift. But it was the middle of summer, which meant staff shortages from holidays. After this next shift, she’d be able to collapse into sleep while her mom took Emberlyn for the night again.

Driving back down the hill, she remembered the feel of Ben’s hard shoulder under her hand. Something about it wasn’t right. She touched her throbbing nose ruefully. Served her right for scaring the poor man. He’d been having a full-blown panic attack. She hoped for his sake, he’d had some therapy back in Winnipeg. No one here expected to see him again after his close brush with death.

They’d stabilized him with two blood transfusions and a quick surgery to put his shoulder back in place, before helicoptering him down to the Health Sciences Centre in Winnipeg for proper reconstructive surgery. Her boss, Dr. Will Stedman knew the plastic surgeon who’d reattached Ben’s right ear and fixed the scarring on his face and right eyebrow.

Emberlyn was right. His damaged ear was noticeable—but only because as a police officer, he had to wear his hair short, and it was uncovered. Kudos to him for being brave enough not to care what people thought of his looks. And for coming back here where he was injured in the first place. She didn’t know if she would’ve had the guts to go through with it. On the other hand, her return to Churchill had taken a different kind of courage.

She wheeled around the corner of the building into the Health Centre staff parking.

Time to grab another coffee and get back to work.

Have you ever had an injury that disfigured you or disabled you in any way? How did you cope with it?

Leave a comment and be entered to win an E-book copy of NORTHERN PROTECTOR.

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CHAPTER ONE

Saturday, August 1

Churchill, Manitoba

CONSTABLE BEN KOPER PULLED HIS POLICE truck over to the side of the road across from Ruby’s Café & Emporium. His first day back at work in nine months, and already he was running late. He slammed the truck into park and stared up and down Kelsey Boulevard, on high alert for any movement between the buildings.

Last November, a polar bear had attacked him in this exact spot. He hadn’t been back to Churchill since then. Goose bumps skittered along his arms. Rationally, he knew that bears had been spotted along the coast and probably hadn’t made it into town yet. But his anxiety and the acid in his stomach told his brain a polar bear could be anywhere, now that the sea ice had melted.

Ben grabbed his mobile phone with the coffee orders on it and stepped out of his truck, pulling his baseball cap down to his sunglasses. He slammed the truck door and strode to the pavement of Kelsey Boulevard. The rest of the street sat quiet, while Ruby’s 6:00 a.m. crowd was hopping with its early morning breakfast specials. He could see people eating at tables through the huge front plate-glass window.

When he hit the middle of the street, his heart sped up, jackhammering in his chest. His feet refused to move past the centre of the road, like he’d struck an invisible wall. Adrenaline shot through his limbs. His vision tunneled into black holes. Sweat poured down his back and gathered on his forehead. He put his right hand on the grip of his service weapon, trying to get some equilibrium. His throat closed, and he leaned over with his hands on his knees. Deep breaths.

Deep, deep breaths Trying, trying…

Dan Sherman, his therapist, sounded in his head. “Look for five things around you to centre yourself. Repeat them to yourself. Then count them down one by one.”

Panting, beads of sweat rolled down the right side of his face over his scarred eyebrow and ear. All he could see was the concrete road and small rocks littered about.

There’s nothing but the road. Concrete, rocks, concrete, rocks…

He needed five things. His boots wouldn’t move. He stood hunched over in the middle of the street, trying not to throw up his meagre breakfast. No other objects around; nothing else to see. His feet… he couldn’t move his feet.

Running shoes, white and pink running shoes… Where did they come from?

“Ben? Ben,” a lilting, female voice broke through his fog. “Are you okay?”

A hand touched his shoulder, his sore right shoulder, and he flinched. Finally. He could move. He reared his head up and collided with the face belonging to the voice.

“Ow.” The woman let go of his shoulder and grabbed her nose while he staggered sideways.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he stammered. He reached forward to steady himself with his right hand but dropped his phone on the ground with his other hand. The woman dove for the phone and swiveled around to give it to him.

*****

My husband was in the financial investment industry prior to joining the military. He won a trip for two to Las Vegas for a four day weekend as part of a company-wide incentive plan, so off we went to Sin City. It was actually a wonderful trip as we saw Siegfried and Roy with their white tigers, and a musical that I can’t recall. (Those white tigers were my main memory and favorite thing!) However, after seeing the S&R show, the crowd spilled out onto The Strip and joined in with a huge wave of people flowing down the pavement. We were shoulder to shoulder with people and being carried along organically. People were openly drinking beer and other alcohol, and the crowd was raucous, to say the least.

We were being crushed in this crowd and even though it was going in the direction we wanted to go in, I started having trouble breathing. Then I got crushing chest pains and thought I was having a heart attack. My legs shook and I grabbed my husband because I was afraid I was going to fall down and be trampled. He managed to maneuver us over to the hotel-side sidewalk so I could take a breath. However, things just got worse. I wanted him to call me an ambulance I was so sure I was having a heart attack.

However, smart man that he is, he pulled me inside the hotel and found the breakfast cafe. (Las Vegas really is open 24 hrs a day and they were serving breakfast) He ordered me black tea and toast, rubbed my hands, and spoke soothingly to me. I gradually calmed down. It was visceral, uncontrollable body experience that I’ll never forget. I just had to ride it out. It was also the one and only – thank goodness – panic attack I’ve ever had in my life. I’ve experienced anxiety on a much smaller scale but never anything that bad again.

Have you ever had a panic attack or been with someone while they were having one? How did you cope with it?

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