Until an unpredictable day in the future, it’s impossible to understand why we’re doing anything we do. When we do arrive at this future clairvoyance, we’ll be strong enough to understand; until then, the truth’s weight is unbearable.
This week, I arrived at one of those days, opened its hefty package, and received the key to unlocking life’s next chapter, through understanding why I really wrote my first book.
We self-deceive to survive. Partitioned from the full truth of the present, we’re allowed safe passage into a future where we can handle the truth. How wild is that?
If you don’t believe me, think back to one of your major life decisions. Maybe it was the acceptance of your first job, a relationship’s beginning or end, or the choice to get a pet. Try to recall what you told yourself about why you were doing it. With today’s hindsight, dig for the motivations that were just below the surface of that decision. Was that first job a resume builder or was it justification to leave where you grew up? Was that significant other too immature or were you too scared of heartbreak? Did you get the dog because you love dogs or because you fear being alone?
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In a quick accounting through my significant choices, not a single choice of mine was immune to self-deception. None of my past rationalizations hold up today; they were all cover-ups.
You see, to survive, I cut my tequila truths with salt and lime rationalizations. Thankfully.
When I started this website, I thought I was sharing my story to help others build a life they love. That’s all I wanted then right? It sounds strikingly similar to my previous belief that I was going to medical school to help people. That’s all I wanted then, right?
Of course not.
All week, I’ve been recording the audio version of my first book. I began writing that book a year ago. Then, I was proud of what I put to paper. Then, I knew it was as honest a reflection of my story as I could offer. I knew I was motivated to help other people build a life they love.
So, how has that particular why held up with time? Well, it’s dissolved.
In its place, as I read the lessons of my book, I sensed a lot of fear. I sensed anger. I sensed the need to be heard. I wanted to give myself a hug and say, “Man, it wasn’t all your fault. It’s alright. You don’t need to rectify everything. You can’t rectify everything.”
In finishing the book’s recording yesterday, I began to see my efforts as an attempt to wall myself off from pain, to avoid the full loss of dedicating eight years of my life to something I didn’t want. The book read like a playbook of prevention, driven by fear of replicating the mistake that got me into medical school. Below the surface, I see myself thinking, if I only write about every single mistake I made, then I won’t repeat what happened. I won’t feel that shame again. I can’t let that happen.
My dad was my little league baseball coach. He was fond of telling me and my teammates, “When you walk up to the plate, never think, ‘Don’t strikeout’… because you’ll strike out. Instead, just envision hitting the ball hard.”
A year ago, I was in the batter’s box, thinking, “Don’t strikeout.” I was playing the game not to lose. I was defending myself from a fuller understanding of the game… because I wasn’t ready yet to play the game. I wasn’t ready to see the game fully. I couldn’t then. And that’s okay.
Now though, I see more.
I see it was never all my fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. I see I can’t undo the past. I see that my attempts to undo the past only undo my future.
Everything that happened across those eight years was hard, but beautiful and needed. If I neglect to live from a more wholesome understanding of what happened, I’m doomed to strike out in perpetuity. But if I work to integrate what’s happened, holding the beauty and pain of life simultaneously, then I can step into today’s batter’s box as myself—a wiser, cagier, and less naïve player—waiting for my pitch, and when that fastball arrives, I’ll be ready to knock the shit out of the ball.
Every week, I send an email of encouragement to anyone in pursuit of a life they love. As a guy trying, I promise honest perspective. You can join our community here, where you’ll receive my 7 Days of Aliveness course for free.
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