I grew up in a small town in southern England. My father and I didn’t get along, and it felt as if I was a complete burden whenever I was in his presence.

On the outside, I was gregarious.

On the inside, I was terrified.

I went through school consistently falling way behind my capabilities, consistently pulled out of class or sat in isolation from the other kids. So I played into it.

The bad boy.

The class clown.

Whoever I needed to be, I’d act the part. 

Day-by-day, year-by-year, I had completely abandoned the core of who I was. My essence was locked away, deep down in the dark and dank core of a boy pretending to be a man.

My inner monologue was filled with self-hatred, guilt, and shame – I was my own worst enemy.  I liked myself less and less as I became an act of what I thought people wanted from me. I lacked direction, but looked purposeful. I struggled with relating, but came across fearless in the lands of love.

Self-discipline felt the same as punishment, so I continued floating through life attaching to anything or anyone who would provide temporary relief & release.

Post high school, I bounced around jobs and cities. My life, undefined, felt as though living life on other’s terms was the only way to move forward. I’d never learnt the principles of living life as a self-mastered man, so I just chose different characters to play.

The most used mask was that of the nice guy – I’d seek praise and validation from them, to fill the void within myself. I’d shapeshift to whoever they wanted me to be, only to break their hearts when they discovered the real me. 

This did not end well.