Petey passed me the ball and I knew I had to take the shot today because this one was going to hurt to write.
You are not enough
You do not deserve this
You are not loved
I hate myself
Those are a just a few of the attacks on my name that my ego throws at me on an hourly basis. My ego is a monster most of the time.
I have spent the last several years trying to understand the root of this self-talk and have concluded that I may never know.
This is the burden of life I have been given that I am trying to turn into a gift.
I recently finished The River of Doubt by Candice Millard, which is an incredible recount of Teddy Roosevelt‘s insane trek through the Amazon. It was clear he escaped his existential angst through pushing his mind, body, and soul to the limit. This trek resulted in the River of Doubt being renamed in his honor. I’m renaming my stream of negative self-talk the river of doubt in his honor for this learning.
What Teddy taught me was that when we are experiencing this deep internal pain, primarily because of the way we talk to our self, there are two options, productive action, or destructive action.
On my best day I choose PA. On my worst DA. But in the last 15 months there is a name that I protect dearly, even from my ego, and that’s the one my son calls me when he comes running up to give me a big bear hug. Dada.
I am a broken man trying to become whole. My son Beck, my wife Lauren and a select few are helping me on this journey.
I don’t share this to depress, impress or ask for sympathy. I share this vulnerably with you all in hopes that if you are experiencing some of the same negative patterns that you are not alone, and we can all surf this river of doubt together. Always together.