Seven years.

That’s how long I had been lost to myself.

Seven years of wearing someone else’s life like an ill-fitting suit: polite smiles, muted opinions, a voice that apologized for existing. I had old friend groups that remembered the version 1.0 of me, the loud, weird, fearless kid who quoted Chuang Tzu between shots of cheap whiskey. The man that had great stories and was always ready to help out. A person that was deeply troubled and was offered shelter when least expected. Somewhere along the way, survival demanded I become quiet, small, acceptable. This started far longer than 7 years ago, but it really took shape and tightened the restraints almost 8 years ago. The old self was buried under layers of “should” and “don’t scare them.” A manager that demanded more about appearance than in substance. A manager that cared more about how I could make him look better all the while destroying me to the core in private. It was around then that I took the last of my piercings out and started to fall away.

Then, today, I walked into a piercing studio and asked for an industrial bar: two holes, one steel rod straight through the upper cartilage of my left ear. The needle went in, the pain flared bright and clean, and something inside me exhaled for the first time in seven years.

The Needle as Ritual

In Taoism, transformation rarely announces itself with thunder. It slips in like water finding the lowest place of least resistance.

“The softest thing in the world
dashes against the hardest thing in the world.
That which has no substance
enters where there is no crevice.”
— Tao Te Ching, Chapter 43

The needle was soft. My fear was hard.
The needle won.

The pain lasted seconds. The relief is still unfolding.

That bar through my ear is not jewelry. It’s a boundary marker:
Here ends the man who shrank to fit in.
Here begins the man who takes up the space he was always meant to take.

Leaving the Old Self Behind

You cannot carry the corpse of who you were and still walk forward.

The old friend groups that required the muted version of me? I love them from a respectful distance now. No drama, no announcement; just the quiet Taoist art of wu wei: stop forcing, start flowing. Simply walking away and letting what may to unfold in time.

The new tribe forming around me now doesn’t need me to be smaller. They hand me the mic when I’m loud. They laugh when I’m weird. They celebrate the wins big and small, and offer guidance and support for the losses. Support and guidance when I need it, a space to just be whenever we get together.

I didn’t find them.
I stopped hiding, and they found me.

Tug Offs and Shotgun Shells

The catalyst has a name, and he shoots shotguns for fun.

We met several years ago at a men’s retreat in Maine: a large barn, a long weekend of men being men and establishing a foothold on what would be come a catalyst in their lives.

I showed up armored: polite, helpful, invisible.

He showed up like a controlled detonation: loud laugh, zero filter, and a habit of calling bullshit in the kindest possible way.

During his talk I saw something I didn’t expect, a softer side of a powerful man… yet he didn’t seem weak. I met up with him later on in the event and had a good chat about his talk and what we could do going forward. The next day we were pitted against each other in a “tug off” or tug-of-war tournament. Despite weighing in over 300 pounds and far from short I was quickly dispatched and he advanced to the next round.

It was a year or two later that I met up with him again, this time at the range shooting clay with a group of men from the IC. It was a great time bonding and sadly not something that really continued afterwards. Not enough men cared to keep the meetups going for one reason or another, yet he didn’t seem to stop trying.

The Return

Lao Tzu says when the sage returns from the mountain, no one notices anything has changed, yet everything is different.

I came back with a metal rod in my ear, a half-healed heart, and a seven-year debt of living finally paid.

The old self wasn’t gone.
He was just waiting on the other side of fear,
standing next to a guy with a shotgun and a heart the size of Maine,
smiling,
saying:

“Took you long enough.
Now let’s make some noise.”

Reflecting on it a bit more I am starting to see the theme of this year. At first I thought it was a punishing year health wise, with one issue after another keeping me from pushing forward physically. However mentally, emotionally, spiritually I grew in leaps and bounds. No matter how much I pushed and pulled to better my physical health I was quickly and painfully reminded that my mental and spiritual health needed attention. Sadly I was not listening till recently.

And I cap it off with a stainless steel rod with balls on the ends and two more holes in my head. Fitting, and perfect all the same.