I had a client the other day thank me for challenging her. She made a comment on a video I posted on Facebook of me doing 22 days of 22 pushups to raise awareness for veteran suicide. Her comment was “Way to put all us normal people to shame. I bet I can’t even do 1.” Despite whatever her underlying meaning was, what really jumps out for me in her statement was that it seemed like she was saying she felt shame, and minimized her own feelings with generalizing her statement to not just her. I don’t know what was really going on for her however my response was “I cannot make you feel shame. Only you can do that to yourself.” It was a couple days later when I saw her, she thanked me for saying that to her and that it helped her with a challenging situation she was in with someone at work.
It did feel good to know it helped her. I can’t take credit though since it was her experience. She made a choice to interpret it in a way that empowered her. It made me think about how I started to feel bad when I read her comment that my post made anyone feel bad and fortunately remembered the truth. I create my own feelings through how I choose to see things. It took me most of my life to realize this.
My first real breakthrough in my lack of accountability.
I was on a road trip with my best friend to pick up a trailer he had made for him out in NY. Being a day’s drive from home was a great opportunity for us to talk about all kinds of things. We always have excellent conversations and never hold back on challenging each other when we have our foot on our own brake. On top of being close friends we are able to communicate the way we do because we have the same mentor weekly, at separate times.
It was on the return trip and we were having a blast. We had covered every topic by now from work to past relationships and our current ones. Lots of laughs and new insights. I recall listening to several Joe Rogan podcasts as well that always bring in stimulating conversation. One of his biggest passions is horse pulling and that includes his family. They all attend as many competitions as possible and it’s been a family thing from when his dad was young. Despite how much him and his dad butt heads, it is very clear they love one another very much. They take the competition very seriously and used to fight about how to do things quite often. Lots of times he would talk to me about what he was going through being frustrated with his dad. I would do my best to share my perspective.
In the conversation I had mentioned how it was really cool to see how him and his dad had evolved together over the years and despite their challenges were developing a much more functional relationship. I said how I admired him and his dad’s relationship and was grateful to be a part of the horse pulling.
It was about then when Slim started asking me about my own father. I shared with him what I know of him and that I had not met him until I was 23. I knew where he lived so I drove the 2 ½ hours to his house randomly one day and walked up to him and told him who I was. We had a normal conversation over a cup of coffee. No emotions came up or anything, despite how angry I had been growing up. It was interesting how much we had in common. We clearly shared an appreciation for craftsmanship. He shared with me about his life and kids and it was a little sad really. It came to no surprise he didn’t seem to have relationships with any of them. After that I never saw him or contacted him again. I never really felt the need. I just figured I should before something happened and I wouldn’t be able to.
He asked me why I didn’t go see him earlier or why I didn’t pursue a relationship with him now. My response was that he didn’t want me to begin with so why should I? He asked me how I knew my father didn’t want me. I told him one of my earliest memories of asking my mother why I didn’t have a father like my older brother she told me that he left her because she was pregnant with me. That he didn’t want any more kids.
Slims response caused one of the biggest shifts in my life. He asked me if I realized that it had nothing to do with me. That I hadn’t even been born yet and that it was a choice made between my father and mother not to raise me together. Regardless of what happened, he said “you do realize that had nothing to do with you, right?!” It hit me like a freight train. I started crying hysterically. All the hurt and anger I felt as a kid came pouring out of me. It was a strange combination of what felt like shame, guilt, hopelessness, sadness, and a little bit of relief. I realized in that moment that I had been living my whole life like it was my fault. My story was that I was unwanted. In that moment I realized it wasn’t my fault.
It slowly became clear to me that I lived my life around something I decided was true when I was maybe 3 or 4 years old. Thinking back on it lots of things started to make sense. When I asked my mom why I didn’t have a dad, she was most likely hurting, struggling, afraid, and answered as honestly as she could. Me just being a little kid, I most likely picked up on her pain and made it my fault with my interpretation of her words as I understood them. I clearly made them mean that I was unwanted, and I better do everything I can to keep her happy with me, so she doesn’t abandon me too.
This was the beginning of me learning about what context is. I lived my life up until I was about 33 out of the context that I was unwanted and that I better do whatever it takes no matter what so people would stay in my life. No wonder why the relationship I had with my step father was shit. No wonder why I didn’t have the dignity and self-worth to speak up in my primary relationship at the time. No wonder I couldn’t express my needs or wants. I had abandoned the concept of having needs when I was 3 years old.
It was almost 2 years later I was at a seminar out in LA that I truly got in touch with what context is and how we have the opportunity to create context. Fortunately, I was able to heal and move forward to create a new context that I live today out of abundance not scarcity. Out of love not approval. Out of possibility instead of limitations. Out of accountability as opposed to choosing to play the role of the victim.
How fortunate and grateful am I to have had the experience of being called out on my bullshit story of my life and what it means about me. As it turns out, I was the one creating the meaning and how I felt about it. Fortunately, today is the first day of the rest of my life! Every day we have the opportunity to create a new past. What is the story you tell yourself?