Yup, that’s right. Deal with it, manly men. Congrats on your ability to chew glass and spit out nails. I realize that you can eat fire and fart out handcrafted wooden furniture. Look, I get that you shave with a machete. And do all of it while sipping from a can of beer…
But the face I look at in the mirror each day?
It could easily grow a massive, thick unibrow.
So, yeah, I get this taken care of every couple months.
And allow me be even more honest. I actually like going to the eyebrow place. No, wait, let me correct that. I secretly love walking in there. Why? Because it feels damn good to take care of myself. Fine, sue me. Shouldn’t we take pride in respecting oursel—
—ok, sorry, that’s actually not the reason I love walking in there.
Here’s the real truth…
The old lady who runs the place apparently thinks I’m the studliest guy around. Quite literally. I mean, she doesn’t even call me by name. Not even sure she remembers my name at this point. She just refers to me as, “Handsome.”
“Hello handsome!”
“Good to see you, handsome!”
“How are you, handsome?!”
And so on.
Not gonna lie. It feels pretty great to hear. Especially as an aging nerd with sore hamstrings and a bunch of gray in my beard. But, man, when I walk in there? It’s like Handsomefest ’97.
Cut to last week:
I take a look down at the ol’ calendar.
Boom, it’s eyebrow time.
I walk through those doors. Strutting in there as usual. Almost gliding. Even the hamstring feels great on eyebrow day. I look around at all the old ladies in their chairs. Wait, are they checking me out too? Sure seems that way. Does everyone in here think I’m a stud?
Hey, maybe that’s just called good taste.
I grab a seat and wait my turn. Flashing my megawatt smile at all the friendly faces. Is this what it feels like to be a movie star? Nothing but adoration. Fans all around.
Welcome to Stud City. Population: me.
I pick up a magazine as another guy walks in. Please note that I would never make fun of his appearance. That’s not who I am. But let’s just say he looks like a total mess. People would probably describe him as, “unfortunate looking.”
Sorry, bro.
You can’t all be movie stars.
The eyebrow lady takes notice of his entrance. Poor guy. But then she turns excitedly to him and says:
“Hello handsome!”
Wait, what?
Hold on a minute.
And then it dawns on me…
As my cockiness melts into panic.
While my hamstring tightens up like a rock…
Apparently, this is just the word she uses for EVERY GUY WHO WALKS IN THE DOOR. To her, all of us are “handsome.”
I sure wish I could tell you what happened next.
But I blacked out for the next 3 days.
So, to summarize, I no longer take part in the act of grooming.
I now chew glass and fart out handcrafted coffee tables.
If I had a son, maybe I’d write him a letter. Might even use an “A through Z” type of format…
Allow things to affect you. Why? Because it’ll happen regardless. So you can put up a big, exhausting fight to bury your feelings. Or not. The world around is getting more robotic. Give yourself permission to stay human.
Be an original. Your unique “weirdness” is a superpower, as the kids say. Really take a good look around. People who are comfortable in their own skin can make some very big impacts. Don’t hide who you are. Be memorable.
Cologne – just say no. Oh, and while you’re at it, stay away from the hard drugs. Floss your teeth. Use sunscreen. Let’s click the fast-forward button to the end of your life for a second. Wouldn’t it be nice to look back at some good choices?
Don’t be a dick. You will make some incorrect assumptions about people. It happens. Because you’ll never really know anyone’s story. Not fully. It isn’t a journey you lived through. So, try to remember that none of us are a finished product. And give yourself that same courtesy.
Everything can change in an instant. Your intuition is often much smarter than your brain. Really listen to your gut when it’s trying to sound the alarm.
Find more humor in your day. Things will get heavy enough. Keep it light when you have that luxury. Hold on to the silly. Remember to have fun. And awaken your playful spirit as necessary.
Good guy vs bad guy is a story for children. In reality, the “good people” sometimes hurt each other. The “bad ones” can have moments of kindness. So, how do we handle that? By growing up. And realizing that human beings are more than just an adjective. You’ll never have the power to define a person. And nobody will ever own that power over you.
Have love in your life. It doesn’t need to be a person. Just love something. Anything. You can love a dog, the beach, playing tennis, a fun book, a sad song, or whatever else. Just keep love in your life. Otherwise, what’s the point?
It’s astounding how much you’ll never know. That goes for all of us. So, avoid ego traps about knowledge. You should never feel bad for saying, “I don’t know.” Really embrace those words. They’ll be the foundation of your lifetime hunger for learning.
Just breathe. Learn to do this in overwhelming moments. As simple as it sounds. Even if it appears to be the most basic of basics. Life will get loud. You’ll need to know how to quiet the noise and just focus on your breath for a moment.
Kiss more. While you’re at it, laugh more. Listen more. Move more. And say “yes” to more.
Look out for the future you. “What do I want– that piece of cake or a healthier body?” Each day is packed with those kinds of questions. And not about food. Daily choices between immediate gratification and investing in the future you. Give some consideration to the old guy yet to come.
Money isn’t the root of all evil. But unhealthy self-esteem is. Sure, you can make an enemy of some green pieces of paper. But why? Get to the root of it.
No such thing as a hot 90-year-old. Don’t make this aging outer shell more important than it is. Focus on a person’s heart, spirit, and actions. That’s a much deeper type of beauty.
Only apologize if you mean it. Otherwise, stop wasting their time. Every street in your town is overflowing with people whose words lack meaning. That club doesn’t need another member. Be a man who says what he means.
Play the martyr card and win sad prizes. It’s a simple math equation. Lack of gratitude equals a surplus of unhappiness. Avoid engaging in the “Who has it harder” game. If others want to play it, make sure to lose badly.
Quit playing it so safe. Does that mean being reckless? Of course not. But look out for your pitch. Be willing to take a big swing. To make a leap of faith when the moment is right. At some point, you have to take a chance. Or things will never change.
Remember to check in on people. It’s such a gift to have someone to care about. So, reach out. Keep all the important birthdays in your calendar. Send sweet or funny messages. Allow your people to feel cared about. Everyone in your life will have a last day with you. And you have no idea when that’ll be.
Say thanks. Even just to the waiter who brings you a glass of water. Or a stranger who holds the door. Express it out loud. This is a verbal reminder that nobody has to do anything for you. People have a choice. And none of the gifts you receive are promised.
Take punches head-on. It’s unavoidable. And I wish I could spare you all of that pain. But really look around. At how some people build an identity around disguising their hurt. At the way others self-medicate because of it. All of that will only deepen a wound. Such courage is required here. Because fear wants to dominate your life. You will either look this right in the eyes or be slowly suffocated by it.
Understand that you will never be perfect. You’ll screw things up in a big way sometimes. There will be amends to make. Forgiving yourself will often be the hardest part. You are allowed to be imperfect. Winners tend to lose more than anyone else. They just don’t give up along the way.
Value your well-being. Can you share what you don’t have? Of course not. Think of it like hosting Thanksgiving dinner. An empty table means you can’t share a plate with your guests. But the more you have, the more you can give. So, in life, your primary job is to fill your cup. With health, happiness, and fulfillment. To pursue what makes you come alive. Now, with your cup overflowing, there’s so much that can spill over to others. That fact will never change. You cannot give what you don’t possess. Isn’t there a reason we don’t walk straight into traffic when crossing the street? What is that reason? You care about yourself. Be proud of it. Because the alternative is brutal.
When someone hurts you, be specific. Ask yourself if it might be communication-related. An attempt to say something that just isn’t landing. So many relationships are thrown away for the wrong reasons. It’s a concept too difficult for the masses. The pattern is to get upset and react. Over and over indefinitely. Try to look closer than most. Talk things out with the people worth talking to. But, of course, if someone is trying to hurt you…that isn’t someone you need in your life.
X-rays, blood tests, and whatever is needed. Keep all of it handled. Take care of your body. Only then will you have the good fortune of focusing on day-to-day matters. As the saying goes, “A healthy person wants a thousand things. A sick man only wants one.”
You have so much to offer. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. Ever. Not for a single second. Playing small will never help anyone. So, shine your light as bright as you can.
Zero percent of this planet will make it out alive. That includes you. So, keep coming back to the most basic question of all. What do you want?
Hi, excuse me. So sorry to bug you. But, um, are you…
Yes, I am.
Wait, you’re Jennifer? Really? Are you sure?
I’m quite certain.
Oh, wow. Of course you are, yeah. Not trying to be awkward here. Just caught me by surprise that you look so–
Thank you.
No, I mean…wow. Sorry, did I say that already? It’s just that you’re so…
Don’t hurt yourself.
I know, exactly. Total spaz alert. Sound the alarm. Like, how many times can a guy say wow? But, honestly, I had no idea you’d be so beau–
Nobody sent you a memo?
Sorry, I’m being weird. Not sure why the ol’ mouth won’t stop talking. Like, how big is this hole I’m digging, right? Just hand me the nearest shovel. Also, for some reason, keep saying “like” and “wow.” Might as well dig all the way to China at this point. Wait, did that sound racist? Because I have zero problems with the Chinese. Or any other type of person. Well, other than myself, of course. At this point, I think even my mom would tell you to end this date.
Hey, at least you stopped saying “wow.”
No, yeah, that was bad for sure. It’s just that you look so much younger than I thought you’d be. Sorry, not younger. What I mean is…um…how do I put this? You’re so beautiful. And it’s kind of blowing my mind. Not that your picture is ugly, but in person you are such—
Wait. Did you say ugly?
Woah, not that. No, no. Wrong word. Sorry, I meant the total opposite. Was trying to say that you’re not ugly.
Let me guess. You’re a poet.
Good one. Point taken. True, I really know how to sweep a girl back on her feet. I get it. This is going very poorly. The thing is, um, I haven’t been on a date in a long time. And I’m just so incredibly…
Horny?
No, no. Out of practice. Woah. Wow. I didn’t mean to infer…well, yes…but I didn’t mean to objectify you like th–
It’s fine, Tommy. My turn to talk now. And, yes, I do know your name is Thomas. But, let’s be honest, you seem more like a Tommy.
Sure, Tommy works. That’s totally fine. You can call me anything you wa—
Easy, tiger. Here’s some breaking news, Tommy. Women are, in fact, human beings too. We also have needs. And, for some unknown reason, I find myself intrigued by you. Maybe because you’re the least confident person I’ve ever met. Literally ever. But probably because you seem less…fake…than the man-boys I usually date. You’re not doing the usual dog and pony show. Can’t imagine you even know how. I think you might be interesting. In an awkward and possibly disordered way. But I’ll give you one chance tonight. How does that sound?
Can I just apologize again for the Chinese comment? Really, that’s been bugging me for the last—
The nation of China forgives you, Tommy. We’re moving on. Tonight, I’m offering you the chance to play a game. Because, frankly, I’m exhausted by the song and dance of dating. Year after year. It’s excruciating. This repetitive ritual of bullshit. All the same people acting fake in all the same ways. So, here’s a game. I want you to be 100% honest with me. Every single question I ask. All you need to do is answer with complete honesty. And, if you can do that, Tommy? If you can do that, I’ll let you take me to the backseat of your car after dinner. No strings attached. Why? Because you’re probably the least threatening person on the planet. And, also, I’ve started to doubt that any man alive can be honest. I’ll do just about anything for some true honesty. Do you want to play my game, Tommy?
Um, the thing is…I don’t want to objectify—
Got it. Noted.
Well, what I mean is…like, is this a trick? Because I think you might be upset about the China th—
Jesus Christ. Yes or no? Do you want to play my game, Tommy?
Yes, please. I would like to play. Thank you.
Complete honesty. With every question I ask.
Absolutely. It would be my honor to–
First question. What’s your greatest fear?
At the moment…uh, well, it’s probably you.
Very good. Let’s see if you can keep up this level of honesty. Next question – what would you do to me if we went to the backseat of your car?
I’m not sure I understand the qu—
Completely honest answers, Tommy.
Ok, um, I mean I’d want to kiss you. If that’s ok. And then maybe I’d try to kiss your neck a little. And then it’s hard to say from there…
Last chance, Tommy. I’m about to leave.
Ok, well, I’d try to take your clothes off. But you’re so incredible looking…and I’d be so excited…that I’d probably stumble around for a couple minutes trying to get your bra off. Then you’d look at me annoyed. Thinking you made a mistake. Which is probably accurate. So my palms would get sweaty. Very sweaty. I’d worry about you feeling my palms and being grossed out. Would definitely obsess on that for a few minutes. Somehow, if you don’t leave by then…I’ll take my pants off. Exciting moment? Sure, for most guys. But I’ll mostly just wonder if you’re disappointed. Which is a bit scary to experience. And by “a bit scary,” I mean utterly terrifying. For sure a living nightmare. So, yeah, I’d mostly just be sweating and hoping I’m not grossing you out. Can’t imagine you’d stick around for all that carnage. But I don’t know for sure. Because this was such a strange question. Also very exciting, by the way. Thank you for the opportunity. Anyway, then if we actually…um…commence the action? Y’know…I mean, well…proceed to liftoff? Sorry, that’s weird. But rockets seem like a good analogy. Regardless, if this event did take place? Then I can’t imagine it would last for more than a couple minutes. Like, I imagine heating up a Hot Pocket takes more time than I could last. Not that I’m calling my thing a Hot Pocket. Definitely not the case. Although I never really had a nickname for it. I guess maybe I’d call it a Jolly Rancher. Or maybe more like a Skittle. Unless, do you not like candy? I can call it something else. Definitely not locked into the fruit-flavored nicknames. Wow, is it hot in here? Can I possibly take a sip of your water?
Meet me at your car in five minutes, Tommy.
Narrator (in Morgan Freeman’s voice): That was the greatest day of Tommy’s life. Unfortunately, when paying the bill, he had a heart attack from reaching such extreme levels of excitement. He eventually recovered. But Tommy never did make it to the backseat of his car. He spent the rest of his years explaining why he is not a racist. And eating Skittles with a faraway look in his eyes. Dating is very, very hard.
Can I remember a time without her? Well, she arrived right before my second birthday. So, literally no memories of a world that doesn’t include her in it. She later became the middle child. And you’d need a supercomputer to calculate the number of Jan Brady memes we’ve sent her through the years. We all just call her “T.” It’s quick. Easy. And fits her perfectly. She’s not even high-maintenance enough to trouble us with a second letter in her nickname.
Even as a baby, T never made waves. While I was breaking out of my crib to escape into the night…not a peep. Wouldn’t even cry if she was hungry. Maybe the only infant in history who didn’t utter a sound when her diaper needed to be changed. All good, guys. This’ll get sorted out. No need to cause a ruckus.
And on we went…
Growing a bit older. I decided to start my own private rock band. Well, technically, I just banged on pots and pans all day. Had to express all the loudness I felt inside. T just sat there calmly. Smiling and clapping.
Supportive from the start.
During our school years, I picked up some new hobbies. Like getting kicked out of class. Visiting after-school detention. Lighting stuff on fire. My sister, on the other hand? She loved reading books. The girl actually had a stationery collection. I’m talking about literally collecting pens and paper. Through all of my rebellion, she stayed solid as a rock. Always there for whatever her family needed.
Whatever I needed.
Some things never really change. I’ve spent most of this life in my head. Getting lost in the storm of my mind. Still trying to express all the loudness I feel inside. And, during all of it, T just kept helping. She remained so consistent…and so dependable…that I never thought much about it. Never wondered whether she’d be there.
She always was.
I think even her dog takes it for granted. You can see the daily sense of calm. Even within a tiny canine brain, there’s just no question marks. As a dog mom, friend, employee, boss, sister, or child…I have never seen T drop the ball. She’s the definition of showing up for others. My family jokingly calls her, “the eldest son.” And I can’t help but laugh. She’s just better at the job than I am. Jumping on a call…or a plane…at the drop of a hat. Generous with money, gifts, and time. I’ve known this beautiful soul since the first day of her life. And I have yet to see her let anyone down.
And on we went…
This world feels more solid when someone is your rock.
Then came last week…
Out of the blue, T found out she has breast cancer.
Even as I type those words, they don’t look real.
Don’t feel real.
And, yet, here we are.
She took a nap yesterday. Had a vivid dream. So intense that she woke up confused. For a minute, she thought this diagnosis was only part of the dream. What a huge relief. And then the truck hit her again. It’s real. Her very sudden truth.
I’ve spent my life trying to express all these loud feelings. But still managed to do such a poor job of it. I keep thinking back to when we were kids. T asked me one day:
“Do you think we would’ve been friends if we weren’t related?”
I said, “Probably not.”
And I have a hard time dealing with that one. Grasping how I could’ve said such a thing. Sure, I was probably 12 years old at the time. The idea of saying anything gushy to my little sister would’ve felt like drinking poison. But I know it hurt her feelings.
Why couldn’t I just say it?
Why couldn’t I just tell T she was amazing?
That our dad was on guard with everyone in the world but her. Because she was so sweet…and so kind…that even he could take his armor down.
That I know there isn’t a mean bone in her body.
That people are drawn to her. Even now in this famously distant city. She made friends with all her neighbors. Made them feel like part of a community. Tied them together like she did with our family.
I want to tell her that she was so much more than just the plain one.
The introvert.
The Jan Brady.
I want to tell her that I know she isn’t perfect.
That, like so many of us, she’s a good person with a big heart and damaged self-esteem.
That, fine, she annoys the hell out of me sometimes.
But that she was never just…there.
That I think she was actually wrong about me being the star of the family.
That it was her all along.
I want to tell her that I see her.
That I’ve noticed.
That I hope she can learn from this. How her life is precious.
That she has to show up for herself too.
That there’s more to all this than just a sense of duty.
That her life’s mission should be to find what makes her feel alive.
Well, I mean, plenty of stuff that came later was totally your fault. But that’ll take years to unwrap. Y’know, in the unlikely event that you’re ever willing to look at it.
The point is this…
I understand why your head is such a mess. It’s what our brains do. Even the criminal who rapes a woman has a voice inside trying to justify his actions. Was she was dressed a certain way? See, the human brain can take a tiny grain of truth and twist it around like a very weird pretzel. Sure, she might’ve been dressed in seductive clothing. But here’s the thing about that fact…
Only a complete nutjob would use it as a justification for rape.
Crazy example, right? Very extreme. Clearly, you are not a sociopath. But I had to grab your attention. Because this main point is important. It needs to hit you right in the gut…
There’s a part of you that justifies everything you do.
All of it.
There’s a part of your brain that will always judge others by their actions. It’ll do this for the rest of your life. While judging you by your intentions.
Think of that as a flaw in our programming. Call it “bad wiring.” Do whatever you want with it. But whether you choose to see it or not is irrelevant…
It’ll be true regardless.
Your brain…and your own thoughts…will quite often be the worst enemy you encounter.
Most likely, you have some understanding of this fact.
But it’s around the edges.
In the margins.
With the pills you can swallow.
No, you’re not a rapist. Never will be. Not even in the same universe of being a monster. But does your brain operate in some nutjob-y ways too?
Abso-fucking-lutely.
Today, I’m offering you a chance to fast-forward through the years of therapy you desperately need. A kind of skip-the-line pass. Getting you straight to the finish line of all that work. I’ll put it on a shiny, silver platter. All you need to do is really allow it in. No tricks here. No hidden objective. I’ll cut right through all the years of bullshit. And what’s your job? Simple. Put your defenses down, allow a few moments of true vulnerability, and maybe feel some (healthy) discomfort.
That’s all it’ll cost. But, ultimately, the price will be too much to ask.
And it’s because of that part of your brain.
But we soldier on. In the hopes that, one day, this pill can be swallowed.
Look, I get it. Your discomfort armor is already starting to activate. Might be thinking about skipping this post and coming back in May for the usual witty banter. So, please feel free. This isn’t for everyone. As a matter of fact, it will only appeal to a very small minority. Because we build our lives around not getting too personal. We constantly protect ourselves from danger. So, I really do get it. For most people, a lifetime of programming is sounding the alarm right about now.
But maybe you’re the exception.
Maybe you feel intrigued…
If that’s the case, here’s a quick disclaimer about why this is such a longshot. Mainly because none of it will be sugarcoated. And that “sugar” tends to be a necessary evil. Have you ever wondered why therapy takes a bunch of years to work? No big secret. Same reason so many of us think we don’t need it. When push comes to shove, this pesky part of our brain doesn’t want to look at our shit. It doesn’t want to feel wrong about how it operates. Even with our most dysfunctional stuff. Which is why we need to be gently eased into it. Really think about how wild that is. A loud voice inside of you actually wants to be right about the shit that makes you feel bad about yourself. The stuff that makes you feel small. You know all that inner noise you dream of transcending? Well, it’s the exact same nonsense this part of your brain needs to hold onto. And, man, what a difficult thing to see. If you (somehow) grasped this paragraph and find yourself nodding your head right now? You’ve hit a level of honesty that most people never will.
Let’s take a trip back to when this seed first started growing…
As a teenager, I was abnormally curious about people. Myself, of course. But, really, all the people around me. Family…friends and neighbors…teachers at school…even random strangers. In short, I wanted to figure out why everyone was so fucking weird. No, not just the homeless guy muttering in the street. What about the rich dude in his convertible with all his strange tics? The confident lady with perfect makeup and designer clothes who needed to be so put together at every moment? All those friendly, awesome people around me who were capable of being so…different…in certain scenarios? Humans were a big mystery. And I was ready to play detective.
Eventually, I narrowed it down to specific questions. Like, why is it so difficult for our brains to be wrong? Sure, it’s easier with small things. But what happens with something significant? When emotion gets involved? Always the same old pattern. That quick, instinctive pushback. A resistance. I started seeing it everywhere. The more emotional a moment, the harder it is for a human to be wrong. Were there exceptions? Of course. So, I looked at them. And, underneath the bullshit, those “exceptions” were mostly just attempts to manipulate. Whether to gain someone’s approval. To appease them. A clever tactic that people use to gain something. Not maliciously. Just by instinct. I didn’t judge any of it. Just a kid detective trying to observe. Wanting to learn what the hell makes us so strange.
So, in high school, I started doing what I called “scientific experiments.”
I went around asking a simple question: “When were you wrong?”
Took it seriously. Had a fresh notebook to track all the data. Certainly wasn’t a shy child, so talking to people was never an issue. Mostly, I just wanted to listen. Unfortunately, as a teenager, I had the focus of a squirrel. Lost myself in video games or whatever else for months at a time. It ended up taking years to finish the “scientific experiments.” Finally completed the surveys in my mid-20’s. The results were always so consistent. I had the answers I was looking for. And here’s what I learned:
Most people have a really hard time coming up with an answer. I mean, we’re all wrong thousands of times in our lives. But the majority of people struggled to think of a single example. When were you wrong? Such an easy question. The answers that did come were usually about small, insignificant things. Again, stuff without any emotion attached. I spoke to humans of all shapes and sizes. Various ages, races, and genders. People I loved. Absolute strangers. Everyone in between. And the responses were always in 3 categories.
Either: A – struggled to come up with an answer, B – insignificant stuff (easy to “forgive” oneself for), or C – something more interesting.
That final category? It got juicy. You could see it in their eyes and hear it in their voices. There was emotion attached. Leading to longer conversations. For the most part, it was still a ton of resistance. A “but” at the end. Which became its own category. The “I was wrong…but” people. They basically just took a longer road to not being able to answer. However, a small percentage of people went deeper. Seemed to have more self-awareness. More honesty. More…something. And, with these people, there was always a visceral sadness when speaking of being wrong. It’s what I found most significant. Just how sad they looked when speaking about it. Usually, they seemed to have “wronged” themselves the most. Meaning, they appeared to have paid the biggest price.
And that’s when clarity began to form.
The growth of something big…
Why do we find it so hard to embrace being wrong? Because it makes us feel bad. It causes us pain. And we humans will go to great lengths to avoid feeling that.
At such a young age, this was a breakthrough.
I started observing more closely. The elaborate song and dance we all go through. How we create our personas. Developing our sense of self. Building these identities. Defining ourselves by an adjective or two. And at the root of this? A shared foundation built on avoiding pain. People would rather fall into destructive habits than really feel it. Will live a life in denial…rather than just dealing with that shit. Sure, we feel plenty of stuff. But from within our carefully constructed stories. Inside our own matrix of who we “are.” And what runs this whole show? The same damn part of our brain. The one that justifies everything we do. That one that doesn’t want to feel bad. What the hell is this mechanism? It seems to exist for one purpose – to “protect” ourselves from feeling our shit. So, if that requires dysfunction or dishonesty? No problemo.
Ok, ok, ok.
So, this is why people have such resistance to being wrong.
It always comes back to that same damn part of the brain. Behaving like an enemy. Wearing the costume of an ally.
Boom.
Now the floodgates were open…
It all made sense. It’s impossible to live in this society without falling into “The Big Lie.” Which is what I started calling it. From an early age, we learn the lesson. That the world (and people within it) can tell us our value. We relearn this on a daily basis. Seeing and hearing the message every single day of our lives. So, we believe it as fact. And you’ll see how that plays out in different ways. We all treat our value like a currency that can be increased. Based on our looks, money, success, good deeds, parenting, strength, character…or whatever your individual story is about.
That’s your big lie.
See, you will never actually be a “better person.” And, yes, I know you just experienced an inner reaction reading that sentence. It’s the same part of your brain trying to get loud again. Just be aware of that feeling. See, if you can be a “better person,” that also means you are currently a worse person. Which is exactly how this part of our brain operates. Eventually, we get to the end of our lives still believing it. On a constant search for ways to increase our value. In whatever currency we’ve been raised to use. Even those big, bad bully world leaders are terrified inside. But, of what specifically? Their own big lie. That being weak will make them small. And being “strong” will increase their worth. See, we all do the same dance in different ways. Wrestling with our own big lie. But the truth is this…
No magic pill will ever give you more value.
No reading of self-help books will get you there. Listening to wellness podcasts won’t change it. Behaving in confident (or humble) ways won’t make a difference. No amount of money, no size of house, and no speed of car will change it. None of the sex, love, or approval can help you earn it. There’s zero chance of burying it under any amount of alcohol, drugs, or food. Won’t hit a number of years of acting strong…or kind…that will affect it. Friendly or angry. Fat or skinny. Success or failure. That won’t make any difference. Your charitable acts will never buy it. And no line of people telling you how great (or terrible) you are can ever impact it. Maybe you’re a parent. Or feel alone in the world. None of that will change this.
Your value exists.
Because you exist.
The world (and your brain) are playing an obsessive game of pretend. On an endless loop. Win or lose, it will never make you matter more. Or less. That’s all just a made-up concept. An accepted insecurity that we pass down to each new generation.
A baby doesn’t rank itself against other babies. Better or worse. Superior and inferior. It’s all just noise we learn over time.
Deafening noise.
The big lie.
So, that’s when this puzzle came together. The pesky part of your brain? It doesn’t actually want to be wrong about the big lie.
It needs to believe it.
I want you to look all around you. In every direction. No matter what “type” of person you see, they’re battling with a feeling of smallness. A belief that their value is a currency which can be won or lost. The hottie who needs to stay attractive or else…the entrepreneur who needs to be successful or else…a need to be loved or else…a need to be strong or else…and on and on.
That part of your brain might be trying to say you had a great childhood. What a gift. But, yes, even you are at war with your big lie. Think about what matters most to you. Whether it’s your success or looks or parenting or whatever your “thing” is. Ok, now what happens if you suck at it? What happens to your sense of value and worth then? See, there’s a massive difference between caring deeply about something…and deluding yourself that your entire human value hinges on it.
The latter is a lie.
And the big lie impacts each and every one of us.
World leaders, the rich and famous, the poor and sad…none can exist in this society and be immune to it. Yes, you can absolutely behave in ways that are fulfilling and healthy. Ways that will have a positive impact on others. Of course, you can want love and success. But none of it will ever change your value. It’s not a currency that can be increased.
It’s already there.
Why do people go around chanting “I am enough” like some kind of mantra? Because they believe they’re not. Because of the big lie. The most important thing we can ever do for ourselves is actively search out where we are wrong. So we can develop that muscle. To be able to see that we’re wrong about a long list of things. Which is much harder than it sounds. Because of that part of our brain. But doing this will make it possible to see your biggest wrong. To see your story for what it is. To see your big lie. You don’t have value because of what you own, who you’re with, what you’ve accomplished, the people you’ve parented, the way you look, the approval you’ve gotten, or anything else. And you never lost any value for your failures. No matter what the world says. No matter what your brain says.
This is not something to earn.
Not something you can lose.
Your entire life is branches off this tree. It’s all an extension of this. Can you see your own personal big lie? This isn’t some new age hippie greeting card. It’s about honesty. About realizing you’re more than just the way you’ve been programmed since birth.
There’s just no way to be honest with yourself when you believe your big lie.
