Today I'm turning 45 years old. I look at calendar and I don't understand how this happened. This year passed like one month. Like blink of an eye.
During this year I didn't move in space. I was moving deep into myself. And there inside, mixture of my traumas, fears and survival patterns from childhood times, so powerful that world around me almost stopped to exist. On the outside it was year of stagnation. Inside, discovering shocking truth what is in me.
I discovered that I wear emotional armor. I was building it carefully through whole decades. From perfectionism. From technical knowledge. From creating not existing problems and searching solutions for them. From eternal preparing myself. From being this guy who built reach of hundreds millions of views. It turned out that my subconsciousness wanted to protect me in this way from the world, from judgement, from pain of feeling not good enough.
When I just started discovering this armor piece by piece and trying to take it off. Then I discovered something terrifying. This armor wasn't put on me. It grew into me. Taking it off wasn't like undressing before sleep. It was like tearing off skin. Every piece of "maturity mask" which I was tearing away, was revealing alive, pulsating tissue. Was revealing pain that was sitting there since 40 years. Pain of small boy who every day was afraid to come back from school to home.
Through most of adult life I was expert in searching for guilty ones.
Economic situation was guilty. Bankruptcy was guilty. Toxic parents were guilty. YouTube algorithm was guilty. Debts were guilty. Lack of ideal computer setup was guilty, lack of ideal productivity system, lack of time.
This year for first time, I looked in mirror and didn't see victim of circumstances.
I saw architect of own prison.
I understood that it's not external world that blocks me. It's me.
It's me who escapes into research of this "best" solution of problem which I imposed on myself, to not feel fear of failure.
It's me who buys next gadgets to feel momentary relief and competence.
It's me who sabotage own projects, because I'm afraid that success will demand from me being someone who I'm not.
This is not fight with world. This is eternal battle Me vs. Me.
It's "Szymon Adult" who wants to build future for family, versus "Szymon Child" who wants to hide under blanket and read book so nobody will shout at him.
For years I tried to kill this child with discipline, with shouting, with demands. I was treating him like my father was treating me. "What was in school?! Why you have so bad grades?!"
This year I understood that this doesn't work. That this small boy in me doesn't need training. He needs father he never had. He needs that I sit next to him and say: "It's safe. You can make a mistake. You can be imperfect. I'm here."
I'm 45 years old. I have debts. I have endless lists of unfinished projects. I have body that screams for attention.
From outside it can seem that I'm in same place as year ago...
But it's not true.
I'm in completely different place. I'm naked. Without armor. Wounded, but aware.
I stopped searching for rescue outside. New tech won't save me, new course, or new business idea.
Only truth will save me.
And truth is like this: I am who I am. And this is enough.
Enough to start. Not from big explosion. But from one, small, imperfect step.
Today is my birthday. And this is my first day in real world. Without filter. Without armor.
Only me.