On the transformative journey, we often wander through the halls of our histories, yet do not dwell on where you have beenor even where you are, what really matters is where you are headed
Storytime
My dad was incapable of being a great father because he never overcame his own trauma. Instead, he ran from it, quite literally, leaving his first wife and three kids at age 26 to become a marathon runner. For him, the running was a form of penance where the more suffering he subjected himself to, the more balanced the scale would be. He ran barefoot through the city. He ran in subzero temperatures through Minneapolis, returning home often looking like the abominable snowman. He ran his age every year on his December birthday from 30 until he was 50. Unfortunately for him, reconciliation in human relations doesn’t work at a distance, and as a result, he spent most of his adult life either transmitting his still unprocessed trauma to people who would accept it or overcompensating around people who wouldn’t. Avoiding pain is how it is spread and he discovered this reality the hard way.
mini-lesson:
if we do not transform our pain, we transmit it
He wasn’t malicious, just hurting and misguided.
His and I’s relationship was shaped by his mood which, from a very young age, I internalized as my responsibility. I learned that whether he was happy or sad or anything in between, it was my fault. As I grew older I started to desire recognition from him for all the great work I was doing to keep him happy. He withheld, I worked harder. He got angry, I worked harder. By my misguided calculations, I deserved the punishment when I failed, so I should, by the same logic, deserve the recognition when I triumphed. Spoiler: it didn’t play out according to my contrived formula and, hence, my striving escalated well into my adult life.
This strategy was successful in many ways for surviving childhood, but left two lingering programs running on a loop in my head which I would have to unpack later in life:
I was not important
I was not good enough
Embarrassingly enough, until well into my thirties, nearly everything I did was designed around earning HIS validation or scorning it; my life was not my own. At some level I understood this was not a healthy dynamic yet was unable to articulate it and, hence, my anger, resentment, and shame for not being myself got buried deep down. My conscious, internal wiring was dominated by this programming.
Until one day not long ago, after dozens of failed attempts over the last decade to clear the air, I finally found the right words at the right moment to say to him. It was as if a 39 year old chasm opened up inside me and an outpouring of deadly truth bombs came busting out, each with father-destroying heat seekers programmed in. My verbal ‘justice’ spewed out for no less than 5 min when, finally, he looked me in the eye and said,
‘I hear you.’
Instantly, I calmed down, sat down, ceased yelling, thanked him for enduring the onslaught, and apologized for being so yelly. I went on to explain that it was simply a long-buried part of me that needed to be voiced, but that it was over now and it was safe for us to resume normal conversations. I was excited about this exchange for many reasons and couldn’t wait to tell my therapist about the break thru:
I had finally received some validation from my father!
The following Saturday, I sat down in Andre’s chair with the whole story laid out, rehearsed, and ready to go. I drew it out in spectacular fashion, hit all the right notes, and delivered the punch line flawlessly. At which point I paused for his feedback as if he were to applaud or something. He looked up from his notepad and uttered a three-word question,
‘And now what?’
I was baffled. He was persistent and noticed I wasn’t following. So he clarified, ‘And what if you went thru all that and he hadn’t said anything? Do you really think the message in your rant was for him, designed just right to get just the right response from him such that it would fix all your problems? I mean what do you think the odds are of that? Isn’t it more likely that the message was, and always has been, to you?’
He continued, ‘Look, you are important, you are good enough, but the problem is that YOU don’t believe it, not that your father doesn’t. Nothing he, I, or anyone else can say will change your beliefs, only you can do that for you.’
I wept.
I had spent over ten years analyzing my past, in therapy, in rehab, and in various hospitals and institutions, trying to find the key that would free me from my prison, the balm that would heal all the wounds, the medicine that would make it all right.
But now I know my father is not my jailer, I am, my wounds have long ago scared over, leaving powerful reminders of healing lessons, and I never needed medicine for I was never sick.
Maybe none of what Andre was telling me would have made any sense if I hadn’t gone thru the 10-year struggle. Maybe digging thru the past in an effort to find the right keys was a necessary activity to unlock a clearer vision for the future. Maybe it is indeed a requisite requirement of a full rehabilitation to touch all the historical pain points. I guess I will never really know.
mini-lesson:
know your history, live in the present
All I know for sure is what’s important now, and that it’s all out in front of me.
After weathering the first six months of COVID19 as a boots-on-the-ground, eye of the storm, essential worker, I now, like 12.6MM other Americans, find myself unemployed (this figure is down from the peak of 20MM back at the pandemic’s onset in March). So, although I know I am not alone, no longer having a source of income, a familiar routine, and a clear, prescribed sense of purpose hits different. Perhaps you can relate.
In this article, I will share the story of how I came to be unemployed for the first time since age twelve. As we dive in, I’ll use the lens of addiction to color what I’ve learned in the first three weeks, including a sneak peek at an exciting project on the horizon. So keep reading if you’re curious to learn how to tunnel thru addiction, heartache, and loss towards your very own Golden Age.
Let’s get started.
If you know me at all, you know I pour myself into my work, always have. It was no different when I started with Kimberly-Clark in January 2012 as a senior mechanical project engineer bringing with me eight years of prior engineering experience split across two separate industries. Over the subsequent nine years, I earned six separate promotions, each with increased scope and compensation, the third catapulting me from the technical world as an individual contributor, and into leadership, with my largest team comprised of over 300 members.
Behind the scenes, however, life took some pretty dark turns. In late 2013 I lost my baby sister. Twelve months after that, my eight-year marriage dissolved, quickly consuming every penny of my savings and estranging me from my three young children for over a year as I worked thru the grief. If that wasn’t enough, I cut ties with my parents and even landed on the news for DUI. Legal and medical bills pushed me far into debt. By Thanksgiving 2015, I had arrived at what the recovery community calls, rock bottom.
Work was literally the only thing that worked for me, I clung to it like a shipwrecked captain to driftwood on a dark and stormy sea
It was as if everything I lost at home, compelled me to dive deeper at the office. 60, 70, even 80 hour weeks were not uncommon. I was all in, whatever it took. The results and accolades started piling up, people were noticing, and who was I to say no – what else did I have to do? The question I wasn’t asking – much less answering – was, ‘Is this healthy? Sustainable?’
Let’s pause here for a definition and some additional context. I warned you early on this article would center around addiction, which, according to Dr. Donna Marks, is defined as anything a person keeps doing in spite of negative consequences. Notice the word anything broadens a more traditional definition confined to, say drugs and alcohol, to include everything from food to work, religion, sex, social media, status, exercise, and even recovery itself. The key to understanding addiction is that, fundamentally, it is not about the substance or behavior, but rather one’s relationship to the substance or behavior.
In her book, ‘Exit the Maze,’ Dr. Marks goes on to describe the underlying nature of addiction to be one of trying to fill an emotional void caused by prior trauma and/or dysfunction, most often occurring in early childhood. For the addict, of which Dr. Marks estimates there are over 100MM in the US alone, the substance or behavior starts as the solution, a much-needed, but only momentary, relief from the underlying pain. Over time, as the negative consequences of the addiction take root, a desperate wrestling match between relief and recovery ensues, in which sobriety is only the first step as the addiction will often morph into the next ‘drug’ of choice. This game of ‘whack-an-addiction-mole’ will continue until the emotional void is accurately named and eliminated.
Podcast with Dr. Donna Marks & Stefan Molyneux on, ‘Exit the Maze’
For a condensed overview on the nature of addiction, see the podcast above. For now, however, let us get back to the story at hand.
As 2016 kicked off, I committed to rebuilding but knew I had my work cut out for me. I decided to leverage the area of my life with the most success, my career, to right the ship and start making my way back to shore. This approach was effective in several areas as I paid down debt, built a support system of caring co-workers, and focused on consistent routines. With this momentum, I was able to reunite with my children and broaden my efforts into other areas of well-being, including a genuine commitment to cognitive behavioral therapy, diet, exercise, and creative outlets such as this blog.
Even so, as 2018 was coming to a close, more storm clouds were forming on the horizon. See, even though, on the surface, my life appeared to be improving, I was yet to truly name and eliminate my emotional void and, in turn, failed to notice the unhealthy relationship I had developed with several of my new behaviors and the turbulent emotional undercurrent gaining hold.
In short order, I arrived at an impasse with a new manager over differing visions for the team. Having errantly attached my identity to my vision during my rebuilding process, I struggled to compromise. In fact, I flat refused, telling myself to do so would be to, quite literally, die. Unsurprisingly, the situation escalated to the brink of separation. Desperately trying to avert disaster, I called in a favor and secured a transfer to a sister facility before I could be managed out of the organization. From a career perspective, this felt positive. However, it came at the cost of putting 180 miles between myself and my children, who remained with their mom in Tulsa, leaving me to commute.
It’s March of 2019 and the stormy sea of my still largely unconscious emotional void had washed me ashore in Paris, TX.
Not having fully learned my lesson from my recent bump up with management, I charged into my new work environment, eager to play hero and rescue a struggling operation (see link for a more in-depth account written in early 2020).
My vision was simple: One Roof. Essentially, no matter what uniform, crew, function, gender, ethnicity, title, etc., we were all going to come together under the same one roof to achieve our shared goals. What I liked most about this goal were the concepts of home and family embedded in the Roof mnemonic. One Roof was a clear reference, easily recalled, with nearly infinite depth of meaning to mine as appropriate. Simple to say yet hard to achieve, as anyone who’s ever worked in large, high paced groups will attest.
Two things escaped me which ultimately led to my downfall:
wrong moment
wrong family
Wrong moment because the established leadership team was too buried in existing cultural turmoil to seriously consider any additional risk. It was ‘batten down the hatches’ mode due to ongoing litigation and precipitous safety issues. The resultant leadership focus lying almost exclusively on policy adherence and structure. Cultivating interpersonal relationships was hard to measure and therefore low priority.
Wrong family because my subconscious was using my new team as a surrogate to repair broken relationships from my childhood. News flash: if you want to repair a relationship, you have to do it with the actual person, no substitute will do. Nonetheless, I forged ahead in search of the connection and validation I never got from my parents and still hungered for unknowingly.
Blinded by my vision, it was only a matter of time until the scenario imploded, and implode it did. Short of divulging all the gory details, my unchecked expectations, lack of awareness of the moment, failure to recalibrate my approach, and insistence on continually doubling down, lead to increasing frustration on both sides. Eighteen months into the assignment, I got the call that I was no longer employed. And that was that. Nine years boxed up and discharged in an instant.
But here’s the thing: I would have worked myself to death before ever considering walking away. And at what cost along the way? I had stopped writing, struggled to complete my MBA program postponing graduation several times due to needing extensions to complete my capstone project, even my relationships with my dogs were suffering. Not to mention the emotional poison – frustration & resentment – that were accumulating at work due to misdirected emotional energy. Long and short of it is:
Recreating dysfunctional childhood relationships in adulthood can feed an emotional addiction but not nourish a soul
So, in peeling back this layer of the addiction onion, two gifts have emerged for me: 1) clarity on where my next area of emotional healing needs to be focused and 2) clarity on where the next leg of my career journey needs to take me.
Which brings me to the Gates of the Golden Age, assuming I don’t starve to death first. What I mean is, without all the stress associated with solving the problems fed to me by my former corporate masters, I have an opportunity to funnel all my energy into solving the problems I decide are most important, most rewarding, most value added. I believe I have a long enough run way to launch my writing into profitability and maybe, with your help, turn a pastime into the life of my dreams, thereby entering what I call my very own Golden Age.
Interested to learn more about my upcoming launch? Please enter your email and a comment or two into the form below and I’ll be sure to keep you up to speed. Cheers!
I live in an apartment complex and was at the dumpster yesterday taking out my trash. As I came around the corner, I saw someone else arriving with several bags. Looking closer, I noticed the items were mostly unused perishable food. My blood started to boil as my mind jumped to, ‘You’re throwing away food that others could use.’ My attack impulse was triggered.
But before I could open my mouth, I noticed a combination of fear and shame on his face, he wasn’t expecting to be seen. I shifted gears, ‘These are interesting times, you and yours doing ok?’ From there the conversation evolved into a back and forth about fear and what to do about it with one line from him especially resonating with me;
‘For me, my panic is worse than the disease itself.’
dumpster guy
Walking away from the exchange I committed to fighting and winning my own battle with panic and sharing my strategy with you.
Here’s my strategy compressed into a Top Four List:
Stay Appropriately Informed – selective news sourcing and social media strategies
Stay Physically Healthy – healthy bodies when health care unavailable
Stay Mentally Healthy – mindset training and educational resources to weather the storm
Stay Emotionally Healthy – enriching relationships while practicing social distancing
Stay Appropriately Informed – selective news sourcing and social media strategies
The starting point for appropriate action is always accurate information, but how do I get reliable COVID19 info without getting overwhelmed by contradicting reports, scorching politicization, ridiculous memes and/or misinformation? This is the first question we are collectively attempting to answer.
I have been using this time to filter my social media feeds for content that is helpful, positive, and substantive. Crisis brings out the best and worst of us, both off and online, and in the midst of the madness I can’t afford the worst. I’ll leave you a sampling of what has survived my digital cleansing:
For raw stats on the infections, deaths, recoveries and serious COVID19 cases, see this link: Coronavirus Dashboard
Not a huge fan of government agencies, but there is a ton of good info on the CDC Homepage
For a list of positive coronavirus happenings see my recent Facebook post
For social media philanthropy, there is none better than Bill Pulte
For uplifting memes and web content I like Kevin W
For reminders on how awesome people can be check out People are Awesome on YouTube
Each of these links has actionable information that has helped to both keep me informed (I’m not hiding from reality) and active (I need productive things to do to keep my mind occupied). From a foundation of informed action I can build the rest of my practice.
Stay Physically Healthy – healthy bodies when health care unavailable
Our healthcare system is likely to be overwhelmed with patients and in some areas, already is. Test kits are hard to find and effective treatments still in development. Since I’m not a doctor, I will focus on prevention rather than medical cures and since hygiene and social distancing practices have been widely circulated, I won’t attempt to add to those conversations.
First and foremost, exercise. In most areas, gyms are closed but thanks to the advent of CrossFit, equipment-free core exercises are commonly known and readily available. If you’re like me and refrained from joining the movement, see the Seven Minute Workout video for a great daily routine that you can use to get your home fitness routine started. You’ll be amazed at how much of a sweat you can get going utilizing only items you already own. Physical activity while quarantined will feel good and help keep more than your body in good shape.
A close second, eat a healthy diet. Even though there has been a run on food items, I have still found most produce and common staples to be available. I would expect this to be the case throughout the pandemic as perishables are not good candidates for hoarding. Here is a list of a few recipes that convert fresh ingredients to meals that store well in refrigerators/freezers, mix and matched with various fillers (potatoes, rice, noodles, etc.) and taste great. Invite your kids into the kitchen to help you cook, make it fun.
A few miscellaneous items I’ll leave here for good measure include:
Vitamin Regiment – this list includes both everyday health supplements as well as homeopathic remedies to carry inventory of in the case you become sick and health care isn’t readily available.
Intermittent Fasting – this practice has helped me stay at my ideal weight for over a year, and will help ration food over a longer period of time. Not to mention that, if combined with basic healthy food choices, keeps you out of maintaining complicated diets and calorie counting. I prefer the 18/6 method described first in the article.
Cold Showers – I’m not saying every shower has to be 100% cold, but the health benefits are plentiful. I’ve been doing them several times/week for over a year and can speak to almost every single one of the positive outcomes listed in the article.
Stay Mentally Healthy – mindset training and educational resources to weather the storm
Your mind is an integral part of your health and garbage in equals garbage out. If the first couple months of this crisis are any indicator of how the rest is going to play out, rest assured that we will continue to be bombarded with negative news cycles, doomsday predictions, political infighting and all kinds of other mental poison. On top of that, we are likely out of work and home with kids, trying to stay positive and active with the outside world mostly shut down.
In no particular order, here is a list of content to keep your mind positively and productively occupied for months on end:
The best mindset book I ever read because it was the most practical and easy to apply is Gorilla Mindset, and there is even an online Master Class
Looking for good online self-work, see Dr. Jordan Peterson’s Self-Authoring Suite
The always great Kahn Academy has partnered with Disney to create Imagineering in a Box if you’re looking for some supplemental online educational content for kids of all ages
Piper company has posted a list of helpful resources for parents looking to try homeschooling either temporarily or for the long haul
Stay Emotionally Healthy – enriching relationships while practicing social distancing
If you’ve taken any of the advice above and created some positive habits, you’ll be noticing improvements in your emotional health. Maybe, like me, you’ll be frequently surprised by positive emotions that sneak up on you like the gratitude I experienced for all the people who had come together to deliver essential food to my local Aldi’s in the midst of this crisis. Instead of scrambling through the store in a hurry to elbow out my fellow shoppers, I moved slowly through the store, gathering the items I needed and making casual conversation every chance I got. This was just the positive experience I needed to help prepare me for the dumpster interaction at the top of this post; who knows how that interaction would have gone without the positive setup. Without the dumpster interaction, I may not have written this article, and so on.
Thing to remember is that emotions are mostly an output of behavior, but also act as input into decision making. Keep your emotional energy positive, see below for a few examples that are especially applicable in this time of social distancing and sheltering at home:
Write a letter to anyone you know in a nursing home, or call if you haven’t already
Call a different loved one everyday and tell them 3 things you cherish about your relationship
Create a gratitude journal and write one thing you’re thankful for in it everyday, post your favorites on social media – this growing list will help combat the negative news cycle
Double down on your prayer or meditation practice – but as little as a few minutes each day can do wonders
Spend quality time with those you are quarantined with – board games are a great option
2020 bolted out of the starting block and has not looked back. At the office, after nearly two months of productivity-killing but life-enriching vacation leave at 2019 year-end; the first six weeks of 2020 have included heavy ramp up for two separate multi-million dollar project launches, a site visit from senior leadership and a customer audit. 75% of our team has less than 12 months’ experience, not to mention our day to day workload is up 5% y.o.y. and getting more complex all the time.
The setting is a rurally located 24/7/365 Distribution Center for a Fortune 500 CPG company – blue-collar America at it’s finest. The operation is kept alive by 200 employees who work shoulder to shoulder, day in and day out to ensure high-quality paper products are delivered on time and in full to your favorite retailer’s rain, snow or shine. The work is demanding and the market highly competitive requiring continuous cost-saving, value-adding innovation to stay afloat.
I entered the scene at this location roughly a year ago taking a lateral move as a team leader in order to gain new experience and prove to myself prior success was something more than dumb luck. My philosophy was simple: business results are a bi-product of human relations. High functioning human relations are measured in units of trust, which act as a lubricant, reducing relational friction as it increases.
My approach was even simpler:
increase trust wherever and whenever possible
leadership 101
But it’s more personal for me than business. Rather, this business is personal for at least two reasons: my team lost a good man, friend, and grandfather, to a fatal workplace injury in late 2018 and I lost my younger sister in 2013. The lesson in both tragedies being that life is both too precious and short to be taken for granted. Plus, life is better enjoyed and more fun with others, even at work, and fun is only possible where trust lives.
Thankfully Daniel Coyle had, by that time, published a landmark study on workplace culture, what works, what doesn’t and why. In Culture Code, Mr. Coyle outlines the blueprint for successful groups in terms I could understand. Over the last 12 months I’ve worked to employ the principles in the book, measuring success according to the following characteristics outlined therein:
Everyone in the group talks and listens in roughly equal measure, keeping contributions short
Members maintain high levels of eye contact, and their conversations and gestures are energetic
Members communicate directly with one another, not just with the team leader
Members carry on back-channel or side conversations within the team
Members periodically break, go exploring outside the team, and bring information back to share with the others
The healthier the group, the more its members exude the traits above and the more individuals in the group feel safe to take risks, safe to make mistakes and safe to not get hurt. It is then we relax around one another enough to have fun, the paradox being that is the exact moment we are most productive.
I call it focused fun, think children on the playground improvising a new game, simultaneously and spontaneously negotiating the terms, enforcing equality, competing fiercely, creating relentlessly. If you never had this experience in youth, it’s not too late to start.
Take one last nugget from Mr. Coyle before I wrap this up:
‘Individuals aren’t really individuals. They’re more like musicians in a jazz quartet, forming a web of unconscious actions and reactions to complement the others in the group. You don’t look at the informational content of the messages; you look at patterns that show how the message is being sent. Those patterns contain many signals that tell us about the relationship and what’s really going on beneath the surface.’
Daniel Coyle, Culture Code
It is with this perspective I embrace the many challenges that 2020 has in store. I look at them as opportunities to have fun with people I trust and respect. I look forward to celebrating both the successes and failures along the way, knowing that we are building greatness as measured in friendships and memories that will, doubtless, last a lifetime, if not longer.
Thanks for reading, let me know what you think in the comments below.
I am alone in the woods in McGregor, MN. It’s late, maybe 11:00p, and I am yelling up at the star-filled sky, ‘Why won’t you talk to me? What is wrong with me?’ The glow from the worship hall at Covenant Pines Bible Campvisible up the path from the clearing where my 9 year old self is lamenting. Seemingly everyone except me is full of the Holy Spirit, singing God’s praises with arms upraised, and I can’t tell if they are faking it or if something is wrong with me. Hence, under the guise of using the restroom, I make my way to a quieter place in search of an answer from above.
25 years later I would first hear the lyrics;
‘Yeah, you’re lookin’ at the church in the night sky; Wonderin’ whether God’s gonna say hi,’
The chorus bringing me to tears as I reflected on all that had transpired since that fateful night in my youth. It was only a few years before Saint Pablo, at age 30, that I had all but given up the search for God, taking the position that if He wanted me He could reveal himself, but I was no longer going out of my way to look for Him. I was, by all intensive purposes, an atheist. And yet, at 34, Kanye brought a tear to my eye and stirred a longing long buried, but not yet at rest.
Now at 37, Kanye has released his first gospel album, Jesus is King, and this unlikely disciple is again rustling my spirit against my will.
See, back in the woods at age 9, I decided it was me. I decided I wasn’t doing it right and that God would reveal himself in His time. I hiked back up the trail, rejoined my peers and counselors in the pews, and resumed worshiping, intent to walk in the light until I found the Way. But, as I journeyed in the years that followed, my light dimmed and, try as I did to remain faithful, time and time again I wandered astray. My valley of the shadow of death was full of struggle, loss, heartache, bitterness and pain.
Not sensing the presence of a higher power to guide me through, I learned to believe in my own strength as well to draw from others immersed in the struggle. I leaned on the philosophy of Stefan Molyneux, the savvy of Mike Cernovich, the stories of Ayn Rand, the industriousness of Elon Musk, and the fearlessness of Kanye West. None of them saints, they all share at least two things in common:
an unrelenting pursuit of greatness
an uncompromising search for truth
Like me, my role models refuse to take short cuts or water down their reality. In short, we find freedom in the fight.
Back when I was still in the church, it was these same attributes which I admired in Jesus. I was drawn to the story of His battle with Satan in the desert and His persecution from the powers that be much more than His resurrection. I dismissed the miracles and mysticism as pure parable, knowing that life didn’t really work that way. I was more interested in the practical wisdom, in continual search for some sort of pragmatic balm to soothe my perpetually wounded soul.
Yet, in my encounters with the purveyors of Christianity, I found a strong tendency to fixate on the salvation story and the riches offered from a faithful life. It felt like the theology of some great cosmic transaction, where the journey could be skirted and the destination was the reward. What I kept hearing was something like, ‘Just hang in there and it’ll get better,’ or worse, ‘It’s you, get your shit together.’ I didn’t find either message useful and both came off as dismissive. I continued to attend service, but at an increasing distance.
While the pastors would proclaim the power of the pending glory and sing hymns of redemption, I would search out the stoics and the story of Job. When I read of the redemptive joy espoused by St. Francis, it was as the result of traveling the long hard path, not the reason for taking it in the first place. As I left the church at age 30, I took with me the spirituality of Dr. Gerald May and Father Richard Rohr, who understand the dark underbelly of humanity, openly explore it and, like my secular heroes above, refuse to whitewash it. Bound and determined to find my own path, I committed to journeying for journeying’s sake and not for promise of future reward.
Fast forward to last Friday, October 25th, 2019 at 2:00p CST. Kanye dropped his first gospel album, Jesus is King, his 9th solo album in his illustrious career as a rapper, in which he has been awarded 21 Grammys to date. He began work on the album in true artistic form with a full spiritual immersion starting in early 2019, as displayed in his Sunday Service performances in Atlanta, Jamaica,Detroit, L.A., Chicago, New York and many others. I was intrigued, something special was happening. The Prodigal Son has returned home to the Father 15 years after dropping Jesus Walks, millions of listeners on his heels with millions others up in arms.
The spirit of the album summed up on track 8:
‘All my idols let em go,
All the demons let em know,
This a mission not a show,
This is my eternal soul’
‘God Is’, Jesus is King
And for Kanye it’s more than the album. He’s giving it all to Christ; his music, his fashion, his business, his life. He tells BigBoyTV at the 27:00 minute mark in this 10/25/19 interview, that he wants to be a, ‘Christian innovator.’ He goes on to describe the journey, completely raw and unfiltered as only Kanye can. Not perfect, not scripted, not linear; both the interview and the album metaphors for a life fully lived, full of passion and the constant renewal of purpose. For me it’s a sermon I can relate to.
And, as I sit here ready to push publish on an article I’ve written and rewritten over a dozen times, I can’t help but think that I might have finally found the answer I’ve been looking for in the night sky. The answer that has always been there for every honest pilgrim, still and silent like the cool moonlight: God Is.
So as I close my eyes tonight, I hope you join me in the Prayer of the Journey:
Credit Deacon Allan Barrow, St. Dunstan’s Episcopal Church, Tulsa, OK
I never know how I am going to get somewhere until I actually get there. For me, life’s an experiment and the fun is in the discovery. In order for the discovery to be worth sharing, the experiment must follow a consistent approach, this post is about mine.
But first a little background info.
In Enneagram language, I am a gut-centered person who instinctively feels his way through life – see Reformer below. Whether its in my personal or professional life, I rarely need more than a hunch that things are on the up and up before committing to at least try.
At work these traits can be great assets, for example, when decisive action is needed to lead a group out of a slump. They can also pose challenges when, say, trying to sell a project to senior leadership on instinct and energy alone.
In romantic relations I have been told I am a passionate lover but impossible partner. Reference my failed marriage: I proposed at age 24, only five months into a long distance relationship. I was confident we could build the airplane on the fly and spent almost no time pondering what could go wrong. Problem being, not everyone is up for that kind of challenge, no matter how good the ‘turbulence’ feels 🔥.
Did I mention that Reformers can be a bit grandiose? n-e-wayze…
As I move into the second half of my life, I have curated a four step approach to channel my instinct and keep me moving in a positive, consistent direction. As you read more about my four step approach to personal development, notice how it can help you regardless of whether you’re erratically over-zealous, irrationally timid, or anywhere in between.
Aaaaaaand, here’s the cliff notes version, drum roll please 🥁:
Bag a Big Idea (know where you are going)
Ground Your Gut (connect your where to your deepest why)
Get Going (do the next right thing, repeat indefinitely)
Reflect Religiously (checkin, adapt to what is)
Now let’s go deeper, one step at a time.
1. Bag a Big Idea
– know where you are going–
I am referring to priority one, the mission that everything else in your life orients itself around. It should stretch you well out of your comfort zone without being complicated – simple enough to share in three seconds to a stranger. The idea of it might scare you at first. Your fight/flight/freeze impulses may be triggered. This is part of the process, keep going. You will know you’re there when you are oscillating between shortness of breath and a quiet, confident smile.
This exercise is an essential first step in avoiding the common traps of chasing inherited task lists, building the busybody resume, or being stretched thin by historical programming only to find yourself exhausted and empty at the end of the day. A famous quote from the 20th century comes to mind:
to live with my children in a home they can be proud of
chow time
Simple but not easy, this vision encompasses foundational changes in my lifestyle, finances, career, custody arrangement, relationships, and geography. Simply put, I can’t think of any aspect of my life that isn’t impacted, nor can I think of anything that would make me more happy.
Even so, the most essential quality of my big idea is that sets a direction but not a course, making failure only possible if I quit. This is an example of a system, not a goal. Scott Adams illuminates the difference in his 2014 book entitled, ‘How to Fail at Almost Everything and Still Win Big.’ Generally speaking, a goal would be to loose 20 lbs. where a system would be to live a healthy life. With a goal you are constantly failing until you achieve it and then, just like that, it’s over. A system allows continuous successes and limitless improvement as long as you keep moving.
Quick Summary: your big idea needs to be directional (not dictatorial), stretchy (not safe), and easily articulated (not easily achieved).
Now that your head is high in the clouds, it’s time to:
2. Ground Your Gut
– connect your where to your deepest why –
Most of us have had a big idea, maybe a New Years resolution or new business venture, that never quite materialized. Perhaps an initial burst of energy and inspiration ran out, bad luck got the best of you, life took a new direction; a list of road blocks to a new path could circle the equator in 8 pt font. But obstacles are not unique to failed missions, success stories are rife with them as well. So, what separates achievement from failure?
It is the quality of your ‘why’.
Let me put it this way, if I had to bet my life savings on the success or failure of a big idea and had only one question to ask, it would be, “what is your why?” In my view, launching a big idea without a connected why is like taking off on a transatlantic flight with only one engine and no aileron.
The two parts of a good ‘why’ are Passion and Principle.
Passion is your engine, the more you have, the further you’ll go and the more likely you’ll keep going. Principals are your aileron, keeping you from entering a full roll when the jet stream of life gusts unexpectedly. Let me color this by elaborating a bit on my ‘why.’
‘To live with my children in a home they can be proud of,’ probably sounds like an obvious aspiration of any single parent with every-other-weekend visitation; but my ‘why’ runs deeper than desire for biological proximity.
As you might remember from a previous post, my younger sister was murdered on this day in 2013 at age 20 near our childhood home in Burnsville, MN. Without replicating the post here, I’ll summarize by saying that Anarae and I left a lot on the table in terms of what our relationship could have been. I learned, in retrospect, how a stronger, more intimate bond could have insulated her from the human predator that took her life. Six years ago today, as my sister passed away, my passion and principles were born anew.
Anarae’s death hard wired my passion for seeing people for who they are over how they make me feel or what they can do for me. Her death also permanently ingrained the NAP (non-aggression principle). Simply stated, it’s immoral to initiate force, coercion or threats. Inclined in these directions since birth, but not fully enacted, I could no longer accept anything less than my best effort in these directions.
So now, when I get a big idea that requires extensive foundational change, I put it to the 2P test: does it fuel my passion for people and can I achieve it without violating the non–aggression principle? The second part of the 2P test leading into step three in my system.
3. Get Going
– do the next right thing, repeat indefinitely –
Now that you’ve got a where and a why, it’s time to take off. Easier said than done. How many great ideas have you had that never got off the ground? If you can empathize, chances are you’ve experienced something like paralysis of analysis.
Breathe, the fact you’re nervous means you care and that you are invested in the outcome. This is healthy and natural, but not enough as inaction will lead to regret.
Call me an idealist but I think, deep down, we all know the next right thing to do. It’s just that, occasionally, we can get bogged down by the details and turn to consequentialism as a rationalization for not trying.
You ever met a consequentialist? Someone who, no matter how clear a decision, they find a way to interject doubt in the form of the insatiable, ‘yeah but, what if?’ Great chess players look several moves ahead, calculating dozens of possible outcomes, but they still make their move.
Be the grandmaster of your life. Remember, even grandmasters miscalculate. Again, the key is to keep moving. Let me give you an example.
As I start out on my mission, I live 180 miles from my kids, have burned bridges with my company which would otherwise facilitate a transfer back home, have massive debt, no savings, average credit, and emotional baggage that, to date, over $15,000 in therapy has far from resolved. And guess what? Imma go forward anyways.
The secret is not what you do, but how you frame it. For me, cold showers are about mental toughness, something I’m gonna need to overcome inevitable hardships along the way. Diet and exercise are about stamina for the long road ahead. Meaningful relationships are about building a robust support system. New responsibilities at work and pursuing my MBA are about building my skill stack. Ongoing therapy is about getting out of my own way. This blog is about creating future financial possibilities. You get the idea, I frame everything I do, every small step, in terms of getting home to my kids.
I give myself permission to climb the mountain one step at a time and to misstep every so often, even to take a rest, but never to stop climbing all together. In fact, at this point, I don’t think it is even possible for me to quit.
The way I see it, each aspect of your life that you connect to your big idea and support with your core passion and principles, acts as a lifeline in tough times. Loose your job? Supportive friends and family step in. Relationship woes? Therapy to process and refocus. Work stress getting the best of you? Exercise to clear your mind. Etc, etc.
Healthy, connected outlets keep the course, but not without awareness, bringing us to the fourth and final step.
4. Reflect Religiously
– checkin, adapt to what is –
In case I didn’t make it clear, step three is about automating the process of progress. But what happens when auto-pilot malfunctions and you find yourself unprepared and in unfamiliar territory? Or, perhaps, it’s all too familiar, but unwanted ground.
Time to turn steps 1 – 3 into questions: ‘where am I going?’ ‘why am I going there?’ ‘what is the next right thing to do?’
Easy right? Not exactly. IRL, the stickiest traps are the ones we can’t see and, by definition, are unaware of. What I am going to say next is going to sound like circular logic, and it kind of is, but bear with me: automating progress is the best insurance against sleep walking into a dead end.
You’re probably thinking, ‘first he tells me to reflect my way out of an automated dead-end and then he tells me automation will prevent getting stuck in the first place, I can’t believe I read this far!’
Fair, but hang tight, I’m almost finished. Life tends to work in circular patterns, what I’m recommending is more of a helix. Let’s get back to my story to explain and wrap up.
Recently I put my heart out there in the dating game again (you can read about my first date here). Short story, my heart ran away with me, undermining my attempts to reflect while checking most boxes in my automated progress process. I was in deep.
Initially, when I reflected about where I was going, why, and what next, I could easily answer something like, ‘dating a girl close to home with great energy would help pull me towards my kids and further stabilize my base.’ When I checked in with my support structure, I noticed it easier to eat healthy, work hard at the office and on my blog, be more social, etc.
What I couldn’t see was that I was angling after someone who was ultimately unavailable, an old pattern of mine designed to keep me both hungry for love and far from it. This awareness came from a well timed therapy session, but not directly.
The wisdom was, in my words, the right person will appreciate things about you that surprise you, they will be fascinated by parts of your personality you don’t even notice. I had a new angle which helped me understand, and get first hand confirmation, that I was over extended without the possibility of reciprocation.
In this case therapy, part of my automated system, triggered a new reflection which, ultimately, illuminated the path out of a historical trap and allowed me to get back to business.
A misstep – even an incredibly enjoyable one – should not be lingered on nor provide an excuse to quit. But as far as this post goes, I am gonna quit.
Anarae – I love you, thank you for the clarity, rest in peace.
Despite the gloom I often blog about, my life is full of light. I document both because, from my perspective, the night is how we come to appreciate the dawn.
Last night was full of sunlight, but I’ll get to that later. First, some context.
My therapist Andre has often pointed out I tend to choose unavailable friends, coworkers, lovers, situations, etc. to rest my hopes on. White knight syndrome, I suppose. No matter the beginning, the outcome is the same – I get trapped in the Drama Triangle, taking turns playing both rescuer and perpetrator to my inner victim.
For example, I married a rescuer and mostly played victim throughout the relationship. When, inevitably, she couldn’t save me, and often overcome with a toxic cocktail of resentment and despair, I might morph into perpetrator, giving her a chance at victim. Needless to say, that wasn’t a recipe for success.
Nonetheless, we have three beautiful children and a rich experience to draw from as we move forward. I’m grateful for all of it.
Don Miguel Ruiz, in his book The Four Agreements, says that it is the false idea we have of ourselves – the ‘smoke’ between us and the mirror of reality – which causes all the suffering in the world. In that sense, although the divorce was painful, in the aftermath, there is now much less smoke between me and my true self.
Now, as the smoke dissipates and who I really am becomes more visible to me, my gratitude for what I’m learning deepens and my relationship to the law of attraction grows healthier. Said differently, it’s something like, the more sunlight I let in, the longer the days.
Hiding behind her brilliant smile was a stockpile of anxiety built up over an afternoon spent watching axe throwing fails which had convinced her that our date was going to end in her untimely demise. But the host – who we named Karli – soon settled us in, partly thru helpful instruction, but mostly thru necessity as she left us in charge of the sound system while attending to work duties in the back office.
Axe throwing ended in a bullseye, literally, when my date landed the winning shot squarely in the center of the board as our hour expired. Anxiety now washed away and replaced by a shared appetite, we headed over to Duet for some amazing mac-n-cheese, less amazing hummus, and lots more laughs.
Dinner was wonderful. While sharing stories over appetizers, I noticed a surprising mixture of calm and excitement that hasn’t left me since. Covering Canada, careers and even canibalism, the conversation was the only thing better than the food. Three hours passed effortlessly. It felt good to just be myself and, when I asked her, she admitted to enjoying herself too. This I believe because I witnessed what a terrible liar she is when she tried to convince the waitress she enjoyed the hummus.
Walking out of Duet around 10:00 we decided to continue the evening at R-bar for a night cap but not before discovering this lovely present from a downtown meter maid:
OVER THE LINE!! I’ll be scrubbing that one off for a while lol
I told her I would almost rather have the ticket as it’s going to cost me much more time to get the superglue-residue cleaned from the drivers-side window. I think she’s still chuckling over it, but at least it wasn’t on the windshield!
R-bar = bizarro-world
…at least last night, or maybe in the past I was participating in it too much to notice.…
Regardless, on the patio and to our right, we witnessed what must have been the cross-fit convention after party. At one point the alpha of the pack, in a display of dominance, shook hands so hard with another man in the group that he pulled him out of his chair and onto the table.
Not long after (or was it before?) a young lady neck deep in martini’s, with lips strangely swollen and unevenly covered in bright pink lipstick, joined our table. As she sat, she simultaneously slung her 50 lb. ‘puppy’ directly in my lap. Fifteen minutes of unsolicited drunken doggie diaries ensued while my date politely concealed her mounting allergic reaction to the fuzzy canine.
As that episode wrapped up – allergies averted – we noticed what appeared to be a refreshingly normal table of three chatting quietly in the corner to our left, 180 degrees from the cross-fit clan. The normalcy didn’t last but a moment as, just then, a middle-aged, English professor-type fired up his flat black Harley. One of the two women at the ‘normal’ table, the one who appeared to be third wheel to the other two, burst into an obscenity laced tirade like a wound up jack in the box. Shouting for several minutes about how big of a d*** the motorcyclist must have and how excited she was about it, much to the chagrin of the couple at her table, who all but melted in an effort to hide their embarrassment. I assume the biker was enjoying the spectacle or didn’t notice over his roaring engine, because he was in no hurry to leave. Pure comedic gold, you can’t make this stuff up.
Did I mention the possum scare? Seriously, when a possum on the patio is the least exciting thing that happens you know you’re doing it right.
But I’m older than I used to be and, as much fun as I was having, it was well past my bedtime and I thought it best to call it a night before the next panel of Jerry Springer guests arrived.
And that’s it, that was my night of light. Paid for by the long, steady journey through the dark and smokey unknowing towards the crystal clarity of personal truth.
truth in action = happiness
(because everyone loves math)
Here’s to many more and longer days to come. You know who you are.
The Gang, Red River Valley Veterans Memorial, Paris, TX
Everything in life is a lesson. We either learn what to do, or what not to do. Take the twin sons of an alcoholic as an illustration:
About two decades ago, long before I encountered the tale of twins, I had pledged to break the cycle of dysfunction in my family tree, to internalize what not to do, and do it. As a young man in the making, I felt mostly anger and resentment towards my father and set out to use these emotions as fuel – the span of experience between then and now could be surmised as follows:
Do not forget what you are for, lest you become what you are against
Lesson #1
Today, Father’s Day 2019, I invite you on a journey with me through the tunnels of time and back again in an excavation of my Father Formation.
I didn’t have a Dad like the most Americans. Rather, I had a Pops or, until we moved to the ‘burbs, a Papa. Dad was too impersonal, he argued. As I grew older, the dichotomy between word and deed hardened my love for him like Hiawatha Falls in the deep of winter.
Intimate in title only, Pops held his affection at the precise distance of my next achievement; his yardstick moving proportional to my progress. Thus, my striving appeared to have the effect of increasing his disappointment and, in time, folded in on my sense of self-worth like one of Escher’s famous staircases.
To compound the issue, Pops harbored several demons of historical heartache who would sporadically erupt in fiery fits of rage. Cooling just as unpredictably, Pops would explain his volcanic behavior as short circuits, by which I took him to mean something like faulty brain wiring. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I worked to harness his meaning in an effort to prop up my then crumbling self esteem. But, try as I might, I was unsuccessful in warding off the belief that his tirades were anything other than my fault. A vicious cycle of striving and retreat ensued which materialized into a festering, subterranean bog of anger and resentment by the time I turned 18.
Then, with all the fortitude and grace of a piston firing, I graduated high school, moved away to college, launched my career, got married, started a family of my own, and rekindled my Christian faith. It was in community at St. Dunstan’s church where my spirit started to shift from anger to empathy. The new messaging I was hearing informed me that:
“If you do not transform your pain, you will transmit it”
This new spirit labored tenderly within to soften my heart, beckoning me to cross over the bog high upon a bridge of forgiveness. I was persuaded, and willed my heart upward on the promise that my soul would follow suit and we would, together, rise to new heights. I hadn’t yet learned that there is no such thing as a shortcut, but it didn’t matter, it was time for a different approach.
Gradually I learned to look past Pops’ anger – as well as my own – to pain, sorrow and regret. With new eyes, and my young family in tow, I set out to attempt the bridge with a dream of multi-generational reconciliation . Well intentioned to be sure, I had no idea what demons I would rile along the way.
The two things they don’t tell you about forgiveness are:
1. it can not be willed
2. it can only come from one who first loves himself
Lesson #2
Regardless, this new chapter started well enough. Pops and I began to speak frequently over the phone, willingly travelled 750 miles 2-3 times a year for various family gatherings, grieved together over the loss of Anarae, and even exchanged occasional I love you’s. Forgiveness was working like a facelift, yet as attractive as we appeared, the bog yet festered below.
I started to find myself choking on words I yearned to speak and spewing vapidly for no reason in particular. My wife would tell me I looked angry and that she was often afraid of me. I was frustrated at work, struggling with even the most menial of tasks. My spirit was rebelling and, like Gandalf in the first LOTR movie, it forbade me from further passage.
Neither my faith nor my family withstood the rising tide, and subsequently those old familiar feelings of anger and resentment grew even stronger – I was back where I started, now with a vengeance. They got me off to a good start, I thought; anger is strength and strength will keep me safe, I thought. I was mad at everybody, especially Pops; this was all his fault I mouthed to the shadow in the mirror.
As you might well imagine, things got worse before they got better. I had forgot what I stood for. I was blinded, first by rage, then, in turn, shame and regret.
Finally, the transformation was complete, I had become everything I pledged not to – my personal ground zero.
But, as you know, my story wasn’t over, not by a long shot.
By then I was no stranger to adversity and the great thing about destruction is the opportunity it creates to rebuild, alive again with new knowledge. This, too, I’ll share with you:
when darkness swallows you whole and despair becomes your only companion, and when you perservere, how precious the daylight! how sweet an embrace! how hospitable the truth!
My next move was to apologize to my children. The words came effortlessly and without shame. They, ages 5, 7 & 10, gathered together, eyes wide, bodies still while I spoke, maybe two minutes, moving my eyes from one to another throughout but never looking down or away.
What happened next was true forgiveness. It started in their eyes, briefly scanning for authenticity, then moistening slightly in the corners when discovered. Their ears, initially taught and attentive, relaxed into the moment. This ease then slid down their jaws, tugging ever so slightly at the corners of their mouths as I finished speaking. And then, not a moment later, an embrace a thousand years in the making. My first taste of fatherhood.
Another new thought entered – if my children could forgive me, they who did not choose to be brought into this world, they who have not transgressed, they who are worthy of my love and yet not the recipients, then, surely, I could forgive both myself and my Pops.
This is not the point in the story to inquire about timelines or request more details. This is when only one thing matters:
Pops, I forgive you. I love you. I’ll see you soon.
Now, however, nearly 6 years on, my nights are again alive with dreams which have illuminated a truth worth telling yet otherwise lost deep inside my dark night of the soul.
My spirit, it appears, has discovered its way back home, well fed and looking to share in the bounty. He speaks in fragments, flashes & bursts, piercing sweaty sheets in the wee hours of the morning, leaving me to weave scant, small truths together in time, much like a fog inevitably lifted by the rising sun.
Continue below to discover tastes of what I have unearthed thus far, including backstory you haven’t heard before.
Sunlight
Anarae and I have a checkered past, not absent of fondness, but I wouldn’t describe our bond as close in the sense I now use the word. We were more like fellow competitors in a race for the respect and admiration of others, most notably our parents and peers.
I taught her to play chess at 6 – she taught my son at 3 and then went on to compete nationally. I was junior class officer, football captain and graduated high school with a 3.93 GPA – she went on mission trips, was first chair in band and graduated with a 3.98. I went to a top 3 engineering college and accumulated massive debt – she was accepted to NYU and opted to attend U of MN on scholarship. I taught basic computer skills to inner city Detroit youth – she tutored struggling Minneapolis teens in mathematics. I was a student of von Mises – she a disciple of Marx.
On and on like this – shooting stars, alone in the same sky.
To be fair, she was 10 & 1/2 years younger than I and, where age wasn’t enough of a barrier between us, geography filled in. At 18, I catapulted myself 750 miles from home and never really looked back; she was in 3rd grade. Even so, we had so much in common, so much to gain from a richer relationship – what really kept us apart? The haunting reality of the answer is small truth #1:
you can’t love in another what you hate in yourself
Anarae at a Twins game in 2012
In our case, we both hated how we looked in the mirror, although we coped differently. Undiagnosed, but akin to Body Dysmorphic Disorder, she fought against internal pressure to look differently where I submitted to vanity. Both approaches lacking, we couldn’t even make eye contact without facing unresolved trauma. Let me explain.
I remember crying repeatedly in elementary school after being labeled the fat kid and later wrestling with anorexia before discovering the weight room. Even after years of hard work and developing, by objective standards, a highly desirable physique, I’ve never been comfortable shirtless at the pool.
Similarly, Anarae struggled with her weight from a young age, which morphed into bouts with bulimia by her early teens. Where I escaped to the weight room she stared into the mirror – practicing positive self-talk by reciting affirming mantras to her naked reflection in the basement of our parents home. Her messy hair, minimalistic hygiene and less than inspiring levels of physical activity were, to her, acts of spiritual resilience designed to be a sort of exposure therapy. For me, there was something both inspiring and unsettling in her approach.
Looking back, our common insecurity might well have served as fodder to fuse us together, instead it detonated, forging a chasm much more disparate than geography and age.
Next question: why did it detonate? Digging on, I arrived at small truth #2:
healthyrelationships are a cyclical process inclusive of self knowledge, open dialogue and shared experience
Excuse the crude graphic, I only have so much patience for detailed design
Had we rightly been able to identify the angst we saw in each other’s eyes as our own we would have stood a chance at diffusing the tension and healing historical wounds. Speaking for myself, I lacked sufficient self-knowledge; translation – I had secrets from myself and therefore struggled with open communication. Hence, we could be in the same space and feel isolated; reference the shooting star analogy.
For more on my struggles with healthy connection and how it ties back in to a childhood mostly devoid of the experience, read my previous post here.
As it pertains to Anarae, when she needed me most, I couldn’t be there for her, no matter how I hard I tried.
I don’t say that with regret – I know I employed every muscle I had available to me at the time – nor do I blame others for not picking up where her and I fell short. Rather, I offer up this perspective as a beacon for my readers, lest you avoid the rocky relational shores in your own lives.
After all, what happened to Anarae was no freak accident – it was entirely preventable. Predators like Nelson draw their victims into thick woods of deception towards a live trap with shame as the bait. Self-actualized, well connected individuals don’t enter the wood alone, or at all, and are repelled by those who degrade as a means of predation.
To bring it home, less than two months before her murder, Anarae re-engaged with Nelson possessing full knowledge that, concurrent to their first round of dating, he had concealed an ongoing marriage and pregnant girlfriend. Not to mention it ended with him going to jail for another parole violation despite self-proclaimed efforts to clean up his act. Throughout the earlier relationship, and more so afterwards, I pleaded with her, as did many others, to get away, to seek help, to never return. She couldn’t hear us, she was in the woods on a solo mission, ensnared.
The rest is in the papers but the horrific details and flowery obituaries obscure the learning. Those of us who remember Anarae, who loved her or tried, deserve more. I don’t proclaim to have the answer but I will share with you what my prodigal spirit has been recently whispering into my dreams:
honesty, like love, can hurt, but without both, we are truly alone
Anarae Schunk, Burnsville High School commencement speech June 10th, 2011
I stride in, all black threads, fresh from a cold shower and focused by fast-induced hunger only slightly subdued by 16 ounces of nitro. Think, Dark Night vs. Bane right before Bruce wakes up in the Pit.
I was prepared; had rose early to review my journal, collect my thoughts, and was ready to offer up a condensed version of the last 6 weeks for evaluation. But that’s not quite how it works in this office.
Cooly perched in his plush arm chair, Andre patiently notates while I cover my material – my first month back at school, my new job, my writings, my text exchange with my long-estranged mom…wait, let’s pause there. ‘Tell me more,’ he says. Then the dreaded, ‘how do you feel as you’re telling this story?’
But after 5 years on the adjacent burgundy leather loveseat, I see this coming; ‘ambivalent,’ I say through my teeth.
He counters, ‘Are you being honest with yourself?’
Persistent, I think before launching into a heady regurgitation of the carefully balanced pros and cons of meeting up with my mother after 5 years apart.
‘I don’t think she’s ready and here’s why,’ I conclude, pointing to the text where she indicates she wants to give me a hug.
She hasn’t even offered an apology; this hug – in my mind – represents a covering up of historical wrong doing – a far cry from the atonement I feel I deserve. Not to mention, the last time I went through this, she bailed at the buzzer.
I’ve worked too hard and have come too far – I tell myself – to go back to that place.
But you’re still there, Andre says with a look, and then, ‘it’s as if you’ve built a beautiful house, carefully manicured the lawn, but can’t go inside.’
I’m reeling, struggling to regain composure; the words cut deep.
He continues, calmly inquiring, ‘why are you playing victim to love?’
‘I’m not playing’….I trail off, my tongue goes limp, my vocal cords dry and taught. I assume a listening position while he explains how I’ve been here before, circling but never facing my real need: self-love.
He goes on. One who loves themselves with abandon – think child running arms open wide – cannot be victimized.
I realize I have been longing for my mother to provide this love since I was a child. I am now avoiding the interaction because I am afraid she won’t live up to my expectations and I’ll be hurt, again, as a result. The ‘house’ I’ve been building has become an icy monument to perpetual victimhood.
He reminds me that only I can give myself the love I’ve been both seeking and avoiding from her.
Time’s up.
He repeats the mantra and we schedule our next session.
The theme of the mantra is simple:
internal strength built on a foundation of love and abundance can’t be compromised
