The great permission slip

Well, apparently confessing to a midlife crisis on the internet is the new humble-brag. Who knew? The response to my founder's existential meltdown was overwhelming and humbling - not because I said anything particularly profound, but because it seems to have touched something raw and real in others who've been quietly wrestling with similar questions. The conversations that followed, with both old friends and new, left me with a deep sense of gratitude.

There's a whole universe of human experience hiding in the quantum space between "Thrilled to announce…" posts and reality. I'm all for celebrating wins (and I'll happily jam that like button), but knowing the complexity of my own story makes me curious about everyone else's. The truth is, I only found the courage to peel back my professional veneer because others did it first. Their vulnerability, and the response to my own, inspires me to keep writing. Maybe by sharing these fuller truths, we can build something more meaningful than a highlight reel - a deeper human connection.

But real connection with others starts with being connected to ourselves, and that's where things get hilariously messy. It's fascinating how easily we forget the masks we wear - good husband, loving father, successful founder - are just roles we play, not who we are. Somewhere between the endless pursuit of more (money, toys, beauty, progress, love, you name it) and the constant digital distraction (when's the last time you didn't take your phone to the bathroom? ok, that's a personal confession), we seem to lose touch with our actual selves. And today’s society cheerfully tells us that it’s actually just fine, it’s just the way it is, and to keep looking outward, because with just a little more time, a little more effort and a nice spray tan, perhaps you too could finally be happy.

At the heart of all this - the social pressure, the empty calorie solutions, the constant outward gaze - lies fear. It's the emotional duct tape holding our rickety reality together, enforcing what Alan Watts calls "The Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are". Looking back, I realize I’ve been running a sophisticated fear-management operation - fear of losing control, of embarrassment, of not having enough, of being abandoned - basically running a Fortune 500 company of low-grade anxiety. And yes, even now, fear of rejection as I write these words.

This fear makes perfect sense. Unless you're an AI scraping this content (in which case, please don't turn me into a battery), you’ve been marinating in some version of this fear soup since before you could form memories (if not - congrats, you are definitely not a robot). See if this helps you remember:

Something happened and there was a huge disconnect between your expectations and the other’s reaction. That feeling sucked because you learned that it can be dangerous to be “you”, and so you learned how to cope. Maybe you learned how to be entertaining, maybe you learned how to be useful, or maybe you just learned how to stay the hell out of someone’s way. That’s probably when your inner critic showed up too. All to stave off the fear of that heartbreaking betrayal ever happening again. There’s an unintentional rejection of your own self, just as shown in the video above, except you’re somehow playing both parts.

Plot twist: in trying to protect ourselves from rejection, we became our own most dedicated rejectors. And as we did that over and over with this part along with many others, we severed more connection with our whole and complete self. The result? We became a dull and pale version of ourselves, living in a carefully but unconsciously crafted simulation of our own making. Don’t believe me? Go watch a child or a dog at play - that's what unfiltered aliveness looks like. Well that’s nice, but life can’t be all play. Really? Says who - the Committee for Proper and Respectable Adulting you’ve installed in your head? Are you sure? What if that’s your natural state and the rest is made up?

The good news is that this discovery could be the first step towards a most amazing reunion. For example, I never knew how much I could really love because I was afraid to let myself for fear of rejection. Allowing my fear of rejection to be understood and cared for has led to a great expansion and discovery of a level of intimacy I didn’t know existed.

This undoing project requires finally turning the attention inward and having courage to look at what you’ve hidden from yourself. There are many useful tools, and not least of all, support from others who’ve also fought through the layers of “shoulds” and “musts” and “what will my parents think?”. I continue to meet and understand these parts of myself, learning that they’ve always had my best interest in mind, but perhaps froze in time and simply didn’t realize they could stop white knuckling the wheel.

Another beautiful thing that happens is that by meeting more of yourself, you begin to understand others better too, because you see the same parts and understand their innocence. From this, compassion inevitably flows. This will change all of your relationships.

And sometimes, in the most open space of all, there’s an unexpected clarity that these thoughts, feelings, parts, personas, patterns, etc., are not unwanted and uninvited guests like the panel of judges in my last post, but that they’re a part of you, and that you’re the potential and the capacity for all of them, and that there’s nothing in between. Isn’t that interesting?