Who are You Capable of Becoming?
By Chris Wilson
In his final instalment of the Pass the Mic Summer Reading Series for the Future of Masculinity newsletter readers, Chris reflects on his upward how to battle with your self-talk and come out victorious. Read the first part of Chris's journey in What Dropping Out Of High School Taught Me About Being A Man.
How do you talk to yourself? If you let me into your thoughts what voice would I hear? Do you talk to yourself more like a hard ass or a coach? Do you box yourself in with assumptions of who you are and what you’re capable of? Or do you champion yourself to be the best version of you?
I finished the last piece by posing a question to you: How long will you put off what you are capable of doing just to continue what you are comfortable doing?
If you want people to take you seriously, you have to take yourself seriously. This comes back to breaking a pattern of how you talk to yourself. And it’s pretty damn hard to accomplish this if the voice inside your head doesn’t treat you with respect.
No one is willing to go above and beyond for someone who doesn’t treat them with respect. This includes you and how you talk to yourself.
This voice is like the soundtrack for your life. Is it bumping some feel-good vibes, or is it setting a mood that spirals your thinking into a place where you feel stuck?
My soundtrack was tuned into a playlist that played nothing but the classics. A horrible mix of everything I hated about myself. You’re not good enough. You’re not smart enough. You’re never going to do anything worthwhile with your life. You’re a fuck up.
I’d take hearing Baby Shark on repeat for the rest of my life over hearing that depressing voice on an endless loop.
It played from the moment I woke up, until the time I fell asleep. Which usually meant in sheer exhaustion from being blasted by the voice of the drill sergeant who refused to give me a day off.
Changing your soundtrack is a lot like finding out about new music. It takes someone, a movie, a Spotify playlist, to expose us to something we haven’t heard before. Otherwise we could spend our entire lives thinking all there is [olka music because that’s all dad plays.
This is where the power of seeking help comes in. In the early stages, a therapist can help move us from a dysfunctional to a functional place by introducing us to a new playlist. I struggled for years because I wasn’t aware of how this voice was getting in the way. Polka music was all I knew so it played on repeat. Poor bastard, right? I struggled far longer than I needed to because I didn’t have someone to point out my blind spots.
So with their help—a new playlist—we begin to curate what it is we want to listen to. In the same way I was focused for years on what was wrong with my life, I became hyper focused on what was right and who I wanted to become. This is what got me back into school so I could become a certified coach. Where a therapist helps you move from a dysfunctional to functional state, a coach guides you from a functional to an optimal life.
When we get to a place of being functional, we see how much better life is. And when we get to optimal? It’s like we get to eat dessert with every meal except it's not filled with empty calories. Life becomes rich, meaningful and purposeful.
This is where it gets really exciting. Me dropping out of high school, having crippling depression, wanting to be dead, is actually a superpower. The meaning in my life comes from the obstacles I’ve overcome. The obstacle is the way. Tibetan Buddhist Pema Chödrön said it best: “Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible in us be found.”
Tattooed on my arm is a stoic motto, Amor Fati, which means not merely to bear what is necessary—but love it.
All the shit I went through was not happening to me, it was happening for me. It was showing me the path I needed to walk so I could see the person I was capable of becoming.
I still catch myself slipping into the old playlist when I’m stressed or anxious about what the future holds. Most recently, it’s been the knowledge that there's a daughter coming into my life at the end of the year. I want my daughter to be aware of negative self-talk. I want my daughter to understand this voice that we all have, and know to see it for what it is.
I want to explore my own struggles and share them with her.
I want to be vulnerable with her.
I want to be a coach for her, not a hard ass.
I want to share in the beauty of compassion for the struggles we all face.
But I can only do this if I choose to model what it is I’ve learned.
If I can’t love myself unconditionally, I can’t love my daughter unconditionally.
If I can’t help myself, I can’t help my daughter.
If I can’t see the best in myself, I can’t see the best in my daughter.
If I can’t be a coach with myself, I can’t be a coach with my daughter.
If I can’t be a support for myself, I can’t be a support for my daughter.
If I can’t show empathy to myself, I can’t show empathy to my daughter.
I’m not going to be a perfect dad. I’m going to be the best dad I can possibly be. I don’t want to be a model of perfection. I want to be a model of a work in progress. Every superhero has flaws. It’s what allows us to relate to them. We can see ourselves in them and their struggles. It gives us a belief that anything can be overcome if we’re willing to work on it.
What I assumed was the plan for my life was boxing me into a miserable existence. It limited what I believed was possible for my life and who I was capable of becoming. I sure as hell didn't see myself as a dad. I saw a hopeless life with a tragic ending.
If I didn’t challenge my assumptions and beliefs I never would have found myself where I am today. It takes a willingness to embrace the suck. To let your story find its way. It’s okay to be entirely wrong—very often, that’s the best part. This is the power of vulnerability. It can liberate us from feeling we need to be perfect.
My daughter won’t be left to battle with my shit I didn’t deal with. She gets the best version of me because I decided to redefine what it means to be a man. I exposed myself to annihilation through the power of vulnerability.
This is the indestructible strength that we all possess.
From the Future of Masculinity weekly newsletter, where our community’s hearts and minds come together each week to do the work, tell the stories, and build the blueprint for a future where men and boys experience less pain and cause less harm.
Since 2012, Chris Wilson has helped hundreds of people get out of their own way and lead lives of fulfillment (all without the use of drugs or pictures of cats riding unicycles). Chris is a cognitive-based therapy expert with 500+ hours of direct facilitation with one of Canada’s leading mental health programs for youth. He proudly served as a life coach with a Canada-wide initiative that helped increase high school graduation rates by an average of 75% for youth in low-income communities.
You can try out a free course he made, aimed at helping folks lead happier, more productive lives while enjoying more simplicity and less stress.