Dave Lofts, Princess Anna, and Climbing Out: Self-Care Versus Self-Indulgence

I almost bought a dog.

I visited a shelter in the area, lush with flowering trees and free roaming pups just waiting to be adopted. It was like a candy store, a puppy possibility park, and I only had to fork out $400 to bring home happiness itself.

The previous few nights, I’d struggled with bad dreams and the too-frequent unexpected wakefulness that comes with being afraid and living alone. Now, I do have a roommate moving in next month, but I wanted morphine then (in the moment, a very loud “now!”). Nonetheless, I handed the much-desired ball of fur back to its handler, and with a reluctant, “I’ll have to pray about it,” slowly turned to head back to the car. “Elm” was adopted later that day—guess it wasn’t meant to be.

Four months ago, I almost lost my dad and then my grandma within two weeks. Praise God for being able to include “almost” in that sentence. Since then, it’s become increasingly easy to give in to the call of BBC crime flicks, my bed, sleep, and staying home alone—essentially digging a proverbial hole (albeit, one of the bright spots of this was finding the show Ludwig. Absolute masterpiece).

In an effort to beat the bed blues, I headed to the gym for a run, and on the way listened to Dave Lofts’, “Just a Man,” a single included in his recently released EP, “Holy.”

It goes,

So there I am, a cradle to myself /

I’m just so lonesome—I’ve struggled with my demons and mental health /

That first line hit me like a brick. I won’t vouch for the rest of the song—Dave Loft confesses to struggling immensely with substance abuse, finding momentary freedom when he performs music, but ultimately of how he is “just a man.” It’s an apt examination with an inadequate conclusion—but perhaps it’s made to be that way.

Lofts continues,

So let me just get out of my own head /

And try love myself a little more… instead /

Lofts rightly recognizes here that he must stop thinking alone—this makes for painful spiraling. But part of his remedy (ironically) is to turn inward again and simply love himself better. This makes for an almost constant state of confession—confess the need, confess the self-worth (bestowed by the self), and then confess the need again because self-bestowed worth is never enough. If one is in a constant state of confession, admitting difficulties and trying to be one’s own solution, that struggle may make for a good song, but it won’t make for a good walk with Christ. Now, granted, it’s a start, but it can’t be the end.

This is why the culture of appropriated-counseling-speak can be such a problem. It can encourage coddling and self-cradling. Consistent confession must be paired with a willingness to move and grow. I believe that Lofts recognizes this but perhaps does not have the correct tools to climb.

Now, this isn’t to devalue the weight of grief and struggle. Courtney Doctor and Melissa Kruger on this recently released episode discuss how we all have a predisposition to care for our bodies and mental health—this is a good thing. But good, Godly grief takes the next right step. For Anna in “Frozen,” that next right step after she thought (spoiler) her sister died was a difficult one—it was messy and tear-strewn. For myself, running for my emotional health when my heart rate has a propensity to jump to 195 is very, very far from comfortable. But I do it with the expectation that I will gain endurance, and that eventually my heart rate will rest ever so gently at 160.

I’d confidently say that puppies, ice cream, and laughs with friends are good, God-given gifts. What is concerning is when grief becomes a comfort object and excuse to indulge in these things instead of being something that leads to Jesus. 2 Corinthians 7:10 says that worldly grief leads to death, and it’s apparent that so can our self-soothing habits if they aren’t rooted in and stemming from a relationship with Christ. One may be able to cope by way of these habits, but true growth comes through grieving in the arms of Christ and taking that next right step. To put it in fewer words, we must practice lament.

Perhaps as an echo to Dave Loft’s song, I’m just a (wo)man, in need of a God who gives hope, comfort, and endurance. To acknowledge the need for these things assumes that there is more after all of this difficulty. And that’s what we Christians stumble toward, praying for strength and trusting in the salvation and joy of Christ in the meantime.

So yes, I’m probably picking up Watson the lab in a few days. Please send prayers as both of us will be working on digging fewer holes to lie in.