Back in 2019, before I started life coaching, I was posting a lot of honest writing on Instagram. Probably some of the most honest stuff I’d ever written. It was both exciting and terrifying to be that vulnerable, writing nakedly about my struggles, my beliefs, my past.
But as my coaching business grew, I stopped being so honest. I figured: Does a guy that I’m coaching really want to hear about my latest dating disaster, or how I’m so broke I’m living in my friend’s backyard? What if I say the wrong thing or offend someone? Will I lose clients? Does anyone really need to read another fucking essay about my dad?
Eventually holding myself back from what I really wanted to say became so agonizing I stopped sharing. And sure, it felt safer in hiding. But I’ve always had a rabid desire to express what is in my heart. Expression is my thing. It’s like breathing. And as I silenced the truth inside myself, I started to feel my life force slipping away.
Who knows how long this self-imposed silence may have gone on. But in February, I met a woman. A powerful, beautiful, creative, deeply authentic and unapologetic woman who woke me up like a bucket of ice water to the face. Reading this woman’s writing was like looking into my own soul. In her words, I saw a dormant part of me - the me who had withered while trying to protect my reputation as a coach. Now, with this fully expressed woman as my mirror, I couldn’t hide anymore. I knew I had to get back in the game.
These days, we’re all pretty co-dependent. John Mayer summed it up best on his track from last summer “I Guess I just Feel Like”: Nobody’s honest, nobody’s true, everyone’s lying to make it on through… I’m the same way too. And while we see a lot of ‘my way or the highway’ stuff masquerading as truth on social media — the self righteous venom that I’ve been guilty of many times over, trying to force our views onto others — or the passive aggressive, sarcastic cutting down of other people’s beliefs that has been become so common in our culture today, it’s rare to find someone who has the courage to share their true self openly, honestly, and compassionately. I’m not much of a religious guy, but as someone who values authentic expression the metaphor of Jesus being crucified has always kicked me right in the guts. This man was willing to die gracefully for what he believed in. And how many of us - in 2022 - can say the same thing?
Of course, in modern times the odds of us losing our lives for our truth is slim (at least in the circles I run in), so the death we’re all afraid of looks more like character assassination, rejection, falling out of influence. A glorified ego hit, really. But the fear is no less real. As Gatsbys, many of us have unresolved abandonment wounds that make showing up as our true selves seem nearly impossible. We’re so scared if we say what’s really true for us the people around us won’t love us anymore.
Ah, but we lose so much in that lying. We gain comfort, yes, but we lose freedom. We lose life force. I wrote this column last month for Valet about doing uncomfortable things mainly to remind myself to keep pushing through my discomfort. Because it’s precisely in the middle of that delectable dance of the unknown where I feel most alive. I think it’s the same for all of us.
I’ll always remember the thrill of revealing my father’s suicide in a GQ piece years ago. To be able to own something like that - a family secret I had at one time found so shameful - was massively empowering. I felt liberated. Light. Free.
In the years following, I began to challenge myself with my writing: what else could I reveal? Could I take ownership for this disaster or that disaster - my drug use, my womanizing, my at-times disastrous past relationships? Yes, yes, and yes. And with each truth revealed, I’d get more and more responses from you guys saying: I relate. I understand. That happened to me, too. The number one thing I hear most in initial coaching sessions? I’m here because I read this essay or that essay. I’m here because you shared your mistakes. I know you won’t judge me for mine. Turns out my vulnerability - not some perfect, edited version of me - was the reason I had any clients in the first place. But I forgot that. Because we all forget that. Which is why we need each other. Now more than ever.
We live in a highly repressed culture. Free speech is being impinged on more and more every day. So anyone speaking their hearts respectfully - even though I might not like what you’re saying — is a hero to me. And when I see someone else putting their guts on the table? Fuck. It’s inspiring. I see it all the time in men’s groups. One man’s willingness to go there opens up the door for others, just like that amazing woman’s courage did for me.
So in honor of the Fourth, let’s wake each other up to the power of what happens when we speak our truth, whatever that truth is. Let’s champion each other in our vulnerability. Let’s remind each other of what Steve Jobs famously wrote in his 2005 Stanford Commencement speech, and bears repeating:
You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.
Wishing you freedom of expression today and always. Let it rip-
Sean