Claw Marks, Scars, Lessons & Love
“I’ve always said that everything I’ve let go of has claw marks on it. And it's true—even though it gets a little tiny bit easier every year. So letting go and enduring the beams of love are the challenges.”
- Anne Lamott | interview from beliefnet
Image: Wolverine ‘Weapon X’ comic, 1991
I recently made a commitment to write a new post once per week—indefinitely.
Heaviness .
Then I had one of the hardest weeks of my adult life. Life—in general—has felt harder and heavier lately. I know it’s not just me.
I want to talk about that heaviness, but also how I’ve managed to find—and am trying to lean into—more lightness.
The compound effects of poor sleep, health struggles, and immense work stress have left me feeling volatile. On one hand, I remain optimistic, find my moments of joy and peace, and feel proud of how I’ve responded to some of these challenges. But I’ve also noticed some of the most negative and self-defeating thought patterns/spirals that I’ve had in a very long time.
Extreme impatience. Blood-boiling stress. Brutal anxiety. Like, chest crushing anxiety. Loneliness. Low self-esteem.
Anger.
I’ve had moments of intense anger, which I haven’t felt in a long time. This is a big deal, because when I was a teenager, I was So. Fucking. Angry. When it flared up, I simply had no idea where to put it. Rage would just burn up my insides until I found something to blame, lash out on, or distract myself with.
Once, when I was about 16—while banished to my room—I was utterly enraged. Seething. I had to break something. Equally eager to destroy and hesitant to reap the consequences, I put my android phone between my teeth—vibrating with hate—and bit down until the screen shattered and filled my mouth with glass dust.
But I’ve worked on it. Tamed it. I’ve learned to identify and regulate my emotions.
Until recently, I don't think I’d yelled in about 10 years. I honestly didn’t think I’d ever do it again. Couldn’t fathom it. But I did. Last week, in my car, I just screamed, because—like when I was younger—I didn’t know where to put that anger. I’ve felt the urge to put my head, fist, or otherwise through the drywall in true Kyle fashion (sorry, Kyles).
It feels awful and shameful. This is not who or how I want to be.
Not even close.
A beautiful moment .
Last week, while listening this beautiful (and short) Ram Dass guided meditation, I felt my dog, Zuko sitting on my foot. I’d promised myself I’d keep my eyes closed for the whole session, but I couldn’t help looking down. As Zuko looked up at me, adorably, lovingly, peacefully, I listened to the words:
And in that moment, I knew it was true.
I don’t need this anger.
I can choose to let go of my death grip on everything.
I don’t need to let loneliness hurt me.
Sometimes, I am going to feel lonely, and that’s okay. I’m not the only person in the world—or within a square 200ft radius—feeling lonely. It’s a totally normal feeling and it doesn’t last forever. I have so many beautiful friends, and when I can’t be with them, I am capable of being great company to myself. Having a sweet little pup also helps.
I don’t need to wish anything were different.
I can find peace in acceptance of what is. In being where I am, and not off somewhere else in my mind—or [fuck sakes] in my phone.
I don’t need to be hard on myself.
It’s hard enough without the self chastising. Progress takes time. It is non-linear. I am enough. I am doing everything I can. Often, I actually need to do less.
In allowing circumstantial burdens to consume my thoughts, in focusing on what I don’t have or what’s not going my way, I create harmful narratives. When I tell myself these struggles are “bad”, I only give them more power over me. I deny myself the peace and simple joys available to me at any time.
In an attempt to process this, I wanted to take stock of some of the brighter moments I am grateful for.
The Brighter Moments .
This morning I took Zuko to the park and I ran into my dear friend, Brian. I love Brian. I love you, Brian.
I bought a cute and funky little radio from my favourite vintage shop. The first time I turned it on, Sum 41’s In Too Deep was playing. Hell yeah.
I discovered Craig Mod. An American who’s been living in Japan for over two decades, and who is obsessed with long walks, writing, and photography as tools for cultivating total presence. His writing, art, and spirit have reinvigorated parts of me that I've lost touch with in recent years, and that I'm very excited to explore again.
I had a brilliant coaching session with my new friend, Adam, who I met online through a writer we both admire.
I posted an Instagram story asking for help with mass baking of AIP-compliant (the brutal diet I’m on right now) snacks and treats, and received plenty generous offers of support.
I've had plenty of folks reach out in support of, and with gratitude for some of my recent writing. Those moments of connection have felt very real and valuable.
Many more friends have reached out just to say “Let me know if there's anything I can do.” Even though most times there isn't, just being asked, and being listened to, feels nice and makes me feel loved.
Consistent running and consistent mobility practice (via pliability) has my body feeling a bit better. About 7 km into a 15 km run, I felt some of the rust fall off. My stiff-ass calves opened up. I felt myself smile. I felt my body smile, the sun on my face.
I had a naturopath appointment and got some helpful advice for my current health journey. I could feel, in my cells, what that inkling of hope did for my healing.
I listened to an excellent episode of the Prof G podcast with Scott Galloway, where he talked about the trend of young men feeling lost, hopeless, and that they are lacking support*. This reminded me that even though sometimes I still do feel lost, and it can still be difficult to find hope in my lower moments, I am unbelievably fortunate to have such a strong network of support.
*I do recommend this podcast for anyone who falls into this category, or is curious about the subject matter.Gratitude & Reflection .
While I am beyond grateful for the people, love, and tools that help me navigate my own shit, I’m also thinking of everyone out there facing their own battles—comparison unnecessary, but some far more dire—who don’t have a slew of brilliant, beautiful, compassionate, and endlessly generous people in their corner to lift them up and cheer them on.
I'm reminded that in, addition to my own self discovery and processing, this is exactly why I want to do this writing. To share more of my experience and inner world.
I've been that person who feels they have no support, nowhere to look, no one lean on. Who feels hopeless and confused with inadequate tools to process these big and scary feelings. It took a lot of hard work to change that, but I fought like hell to do it and I might not still be here if I didn’t.
I also want to say that even with immense growth, a rock solid support system, and all the tricks and tools in the world, it's still scary and hard sometimes. But I wholeheartedly believe that continued and relentless investment in self exploration, in other people and relationships—in the future, the community, the life that you want for yourself—is always worthwhile. Even when it doesn’t feel that way in the moment.
You may not (you won't) get everything you want. Not all time anyway. But if you work at it, inevitably you will get a bit more of whatever it is you’re seeking. More importantly, when you give less energy to what you feel is lacking, you start to realize how much you already have—how much you already are.
This is a lesson I’m still learning. That I’ll always be learning, forgetting, and re-learning.
There will be claw marks and scars and hurts and pains and heartbreak.
As long as we choose to keep fighting, they will be evidence of hard-won lessons. And of the love we never had to win in the first place.