Your Self Hatred Would Like To Have A Word With You

Your Self Hatred Would Like To Have A Word With You

It’s the one relative we all hate.

The one who always shows up during life’s more challenging moments. The one who is always there to remind you of all the things you don’t like about yourself. The one who will remind you that it didn’t work out because it’s never supposed to work out for you.

We never actually see this relative. But we know the far too familiar voice living rent free in our heads.

The Inner Critic.

I’d have to say of the vast majority of those closest to me, none are as consistently there for me like my Inner Critic. In my moments of doubt and uncertainty, the Inner Critic is always right there to flawlessly reinforce any of the negativity I may be experiencing. It’s a loyalty unlike any other.

For years I’d work to minimize my Inner Critic, angrily trying to suppress that relentless voice. The Inner Critic was unfazed by my hostility. It had a job to do and it was going to get that job done regardless of the feeling I had towards it.

It always owned me. Until one day I asked “why?”.

After a particularly brutal assault, I engaged in an unexpected conversation with the me which continued to work against me. Frustrated, I asked for some answers. Why was I being so hard Continue reading “Your Self Hatred Would Like To Have A Word With You”

Are You Waiting To Be Chosen?

Are You Waiting To Be Chosen?

“If you’re surrendering your uniqueness for acceptance, you are only existing and not living.”  – Erwin McManus

It’s a scorching hot day in Ocho Rios, Jamaica. July, 1990. The two captains were evaluating their options as they picked their teams for an impromptu game of beach volleyball. Each made their picks, and with the very last pick I was all one of the captains had left to choose from.

At my height I was quite surprised that neither captain saw the value I could bring to their team. I mean, height and volleyball usually work quite well together. I expected to be selected much sooner in the process, and with each pick that was made that wasn’t me the more annoyed and aggravated I became.

Unmet expectations often do that, don’t they? I mean, hell, I knew what I could bring to either team and when others didn’t have the same expectations for me I had for myself it really started to infuriate me. It was just a random beach volleyball game in the Caribbean, a perfect time to just chill and have some fun, yet instead of being happy I became anything but.

Nobody wants to be picked last. We all want to be chosen, to be seen and heard and appreciated, not to feel like someone’s only option. Being chosen brings with it a level of Continue reading “Are You Waiting To Be Chosen?”

The Desirable Discomfort

The Desirable Discomfort

“Sometimes the only way out is through.”

Recently I reconnected with an old friend. My trail bike. I’d often glance at it hanging on a hook from a rafter in my shed, promising myself that one of these days I’m going to take it out for a ride.

Today was the day.

Not too far from home is a large state forest with miles of trails and unpaved fire access roads, a natural habitat for trail bikes to explore and wander. It had been years since my last ride here but it felt like I hadn’t missed a beat as I headed off on my adventure.

Heavy rains over the past few days made the dirt roads a bit muddy in places, but mud always makes trail bike riding more exciting, more primal. Getting filthy is part of the process and before too long mud was pretty much everywhere. I guess the kid in me has never outgrown his fascination with mud.

As I got deeper into the woods the uneven nature of the roads were partially flooded from the rains. As much as I enjoy mud, I would navigate my bike around the edges of these deep puddles adding a bit more intensity to the ride. But at one point, the road was completely flooded from side to side. Impassable.

Unless I wanted to get very wet.

With trees bordering both sides of the flooded road, I stopped and assessed my options. The “puddle” was a good 30 feet long, I had no idea how deep it was, and there was no dry alternative to get around what was in front of me.

“Sometimes the only way out is through.”

Sitting on my bike contemplating the words of Robert Frost, I knew that to get beyond what was in front of me I would need to go through what was in front of me. There really wasn’t any other Continue reading “The Desirable Discomfort”

When Your Best Is Good Enough For You

When Your Best Is Good Enough For You

“The limit does not exist.”

I’m sitting in the last row of a very small community theatre. Actually, it’s a retrofitted abandoned retail space with a very shallow stage and room for about 125 seats. All 125 of these seats are filled once again as the lights go down and the curtain is raised.

Today’s performance? “Mean Girls”, the musical adaptation of the 2004 hit movie. The ensemble is a collection of high school and recent high school grads faithfully bringing the script and songs to life in the cramped space the theatre group calls home.

I’m always inspired watching these kids perform. No fancy stage, no fancy stage props. They show up, always well rehearsed and prepared, and when the curtain rises they become their characters and just give it their all.

I can’t imagine putting yourself in a more vulnerable position, to willingly stand and perform Continue reading “When Your Best Is Good Enough For You”

Giving Birth To Yourself

Giving Birth To Yourself

Mom did the hard part, bringing me into this world. The love, the nurturing, the support and encouragement. I don’t know if she was the best mother ever, but to me she undoubtably was.

Mom would often tell me that the job of a mother is to give her child both roots and wings. To give them a foundational sense of who they are and to get them ready to fly and become what their hearts have told them to become. To build them up and to let them go.

On a late December solo hike a few months after her passing I found myself reflecting upon those wings she worked tirelessly to give me. More specifically, what have I done with them in the decades since leaving the nest she so lovingly built for me. Did I ever soar to the heights I was capable of reaching? Did she ever see the very best version of the son she gave birth to?

Those wings of mine were often weighed down by the heaviness of self-doubt and uncertainty Continue reading “Giving Birth To Yourself”

The Freedom Of Possibility

The Freedom Of Possibility

It was one of the stupidest decisions I’ve ever made.

Driving home from a late night out in the big city with a few friends. In front of me was a wide open stretch of highway which for some unknown reason inspired me to wonder just how fast my car could actually go. Fueled by a potentially lethal combination of teenage invincibility and alcohol, I pressed the pedal as hard as I could just to see exactly how fast my ’73 Toyota could go.

My experiment was cut short by a rather unsettling noise coming from the rear tires. Apparently the high rate of speed I was traveling at created a great deal of heat causing the retreads on my tires to separate from the tires, which I discovered after stopping to see if I could find where the noise was coming from. I had no idea that was even possible until I held a piece of a tire in my hand. After that experience, I had no intention of ever finding out exactly how fast that car could go.

Things certainly could have easily turned out much differently.

This far more mature and long-sober version of me often ponders a different sort of experiment. What would the outcome be if I pushed myself to my limits. Like, if I gave life all I had to give, Continue reading “The Freedom Of Possibility”

The Gift Of Spiritual Impatience

The Gift Of Spiritual Impatience

That was the last of them.

The third box of books was loaded into the car, the next stop was the barn behind the old church, the storage point for donated books for their annual used book sale later in the year. 

Perhaps it’s an age thing, but I’ve been downsizing many segments of my life of late. The stuff I’ve collected over a lifetime which I no longer want to hold on to. Stuff. Expectations.

Today, it was the books’ turn to go. 

As I loaded the boxes, I realized that the vast majority of them were books I never fully read, as indicated by the number of bookmarks I found lodged into the first third of the pages of many of them. I guess the enthusiasm which motivated me to initially purchase them greatly waned as I actually started to read them. With so many of these books being not fully read, I realized there was one thing each of these unread books had in common.

Me.

I’ve had an interesting relationship with books. My now-almost-empty bookshelf was filled with the books of a seeker; non-fiction, self-help, self-improvement, spiritual, psychological, and growth-oriented themes. I bought each one for a specific reason, yet at some point early in these books I’d become a bit disillusioned and put them down only to then pick up the next book I had also excitedly purchased, only to abandon it early on just like the others before it. 

Giving up on a bad book seems logical, but when you give up on all the books the books aren’t the problem. 

As someone who has been a lifelong seeker, I was hoping each of these books would bring me closer to that which I really wasn’t sure I was hoping to find. I knew I was looking for something and I would grow increasingly impatient the deeper I got into these books when I felt it was going to be just another dead end on my spiritual journey. 

Each book was a tangent of sorts, a tangent wrapped in the elevated expectation that THIS book was the one which would deliver me the wisdom I demanded to learn. No pressure, right?

One thing I learned on my meandering journey of life is my impatience consistently created elevated levels of frustration, especially towards myself. The pressure of not finding what I wasn’t Continue reading “The Gift Of Spiritual Impatience”

Maybe The Broken Aren’t Actually Broken?

Maybe The Broken Aren’t Actually Broken?

Sometimes the heaviest things we carry are the judgments we make about ourselves. The belief system about who we tell ourselves we really are. The belief system which influences our expectations and shape our experiences, reinforcing the belief system as a result.

If you take notice, life has proven to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. We do tend to experience what we expect to experience, even if at times we don’t really want to experience it. If paradise was within our reach, our arms would never be fully extended to reach for it if on some level we don’t believe we are supposed to experience it. The weight of our self-judgment will keep us where we’ve convinced ourselves we’re supposed to be. Wanting. Wishing. But never moving beyond where we’ve accepted we are supposed to be.

Life at times can certainly leave us to believe we are broken. Flawed. Defective. Not worthy. Too Continue reading “Maybe The Broken Aren’t Actually Broken?”

When All Of Me Matters

When All Of Me Matters

I’ve never had a spa day, but according to Cleo spa days are a vitally important part of her self care regimen. 

I don’t know who Cleo is. She was one of several people sharing their thoughts on a podcast talking about how they like to show themselves a little love and attention. We all deserve a little pampering now and again, don’t we?

I’ve never been much into pampering. My way of showing myself a little love was showing myself a little tough love, of me reminding me why I didn’t deserve any pampering. It was a narrative I learned in my youth and continued to perpetuate as an adult. 

I got quite good at it as an adult.

It was one particularly brutal tough love “self care” session, though, which profoundly changed how I would care for myself going forward. Surprisingly, I asked myself why I was being so cruel to myself. Why was I so relentless in beating myself down for failing to live up to the unrealistic Continue reading “When All Of Me Matters”

When The Truth Won’t Leave You Alone

When The Truth Won’t Leave You Alone

Sometimes I’m reminded that I shouldn’t quit my day job.

The ceiling looked great. It hadn’t been painted in many years and until I rolled on the fresh coat of paint I didn’t realize how dingy and dull the ceiling had become. Painting the ceiling was the final step of a weekend project which took far more weekends to complete than I expected. But it was done.

Until it wasn’t.

A previous “weekend project” involved replacing some of the rotting trim boards that were original to the house. Apparently while fixing the trim boards I had unknowingly dislodged a few shingles in the process. A brief but intense wind-driven rain passed through our area and, like water always does, the water found its way through those dislodged shingles and into the house staining my freshly painted living room ceiling.

As a handyman homeowner I’ve come to appreciated the persistent nature of water. If there is a way for water to get into a space it always seems to find a way to do so. Water is quite good at getting my attention.

And so is the Truth.

The Truth, as in the acceptance of the reality of certain situations I’ve gotten quite good at repressing.

Like water, the Truth is very persistent. Like water, it’s also quite good at getting my attention, often showing up in the forms of frustration and disappointment, of unwanted outcomes and unmet expectations, often prompting me to confront those repressed realities no matter how Continue reading “When The Truth Won’t Leave You Alone”