The stranger who broke me

When I was in 2nd grade, my best friend moved to Idaho.

I told myself it was fine. Kids move. It happens.

Then in 4th grade, my other best friend moved to Hong Kong.

That one I couldn't explain away. So I didn't try. I just quietly made a decision … don't fully trust people. That way you can't get hurt.

It worked, kind of. I let my wife in. My kid. One friend from college I've known so long he's basically impossible to shake at this point.

But professionally? I kept a wall up. Close enough to seem open. Far enough to stay safe.

Then I posted a video of my wife teaching our daughter to cook. She was using one of those little pink plastic knives — the kind that couldn't cut a banana if it tried. It was adorable. I was proud of it.

A stranger in the comments called us irresponsible parents.

I want to tell you it rolled off me.

It didn't.

It hit something specific and old. Same nerve. Same spot. Same damage as 2nd grade. As 4th grade. One anonymous idiot with a keyboard and suddenly I'm eight years old again, wondering why my best friend had to leave.

I stopped posting about my family after that. If you don't post, you can't be judged. Simple math.

Except it's not simple. And it's not math.

Here's what I didn't get until recently. Stored pain doesn't go away on its own. It just sits there. And your nervous system starts treating it like a compass. Anything that even looks like the original wound gets flagged as danger. Protect. Retreat. Wall up.

You can't think your way out of a compass. You can only release the charge.

So in breathwork I sat with little Jason, that kid from 2nd grade. Didn't argue with him. Didn't try to fix him. Just let him feel what he never got to feel back then. Cried. Screamed into a pillow like a man who does not want to explain himself to his neighbors. Let it move.

Did it again a few days later. Then again.

Each time, a little easier.

Last week I showed back up on social. First time in 2 years.

It still feels a little weird. But the compass isn't as loud as it used to be.

If there's a comment, a room, a silence you've been avoiding, it's probably not asking you to think harder about it. It's asking you to sit with it until the charge is gone.

What resists, persists.

Cheers,