When The Armor Cracked
...with great curiosity
I’m writing this from one of two outside spaces in my apartment building in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. There’s a roof deck where I watched July 4th fireworks from and there’s a patio deck with a big picnic table and a straightaway view of the Manhattan skyline, featuring the Empire State Building. The roof deck is more fun but the patio deck has better sun coverage and after the last few weeks of sweltering heat, my translucent skin and sweat glands will happily take to the shade.
So it’s the first time in weeks that it’s been cool enough to sit outside and just breathe; something that I enjoyed on an almost daily basis during my 4 month stint on unemployment. The 4 month stint which ended last week when I started my new job. A job that feels like a job. A job that my ego has reacted positively to. Allow me to elaborate:
When I was a kid, I was bullied terribly. The details of my bullying could be an entire post in itself but this isn’t the one for that. In high school, I played soccer, took an interest in DJing, hosted multiple radio shows, and loved playing my saxophone in jazz band. I wore clothes from Kohl’s, Aeropostale, Old Navy, and when I was really trying to impress the other kids, an Ed Hardy shirt here and there. I got pushed into lockers, had water bottles dumped on my head before class, and got verbally called the cruelest names in the halls and lunchrooms. I just wanted to fit in. I just wanted to be seen.
So I’d come home every day after school, go right to my room, shut the door, put on the radio, sometimes do my homework, and just feel. I went through some really dark days that turned into dark months, and a few dark years. My parents did the best they could and I’m sure it pained them to watch their son self-isolate on a consistent basis.
I remember telling myself as a kid that someday I would be better than these kids and they’d be forced to recognize how cool I actually am. That talk track became my motivation. That motivation became my defense mechanism. That defense mechanism became the armor that protected me.
I went to college at Temple University in Philadelphia to reinvent myself and get away from the kids that hurt me. I was so focused on my career that the 4 years flew by. I DJed some of the biggest parties North Philadelphia has ever seen (maybe a story for another time), became a regular host on the top pop radio station in the city, and was known on campus. My ego was at its peak. I thought I was at my peak.
From music radio, I went to work in the music industry at Atlantic Records. From Atlantic Records, I co-led an artist development agency and worked with some of the brightest up and coming artists across the country. From there, I took a job at TikTok on the Global Marketing Team. From TikTok, I got poached to work in strategy at VaynerMedia, a global advertising agency that works with some of the biggest brands in the world. Then I got laid off.
Within that career journey above, I left out one major detail.
While I was on the radio and co-running the artist development agency, I worked at the Wharton School of Business in Executive Education. Why did I leave that out? Because it didn’t fit the narrative of my ego. It never felt cool enough to really talk about. I didn’t believe that that job was going to move the needle and make those kids from high school respect me. Radio would. Music industry would. TikTok would. Advertising would. Planning educational programs for executives would not. This was how my brain worked.
When I got laid off in March, I was forced to reconcile my career. I was forced to reconcile my ego. I was forced to just fucking sit and feel and exist. This sitting in the mud wasn’t new to me; just last year I went through a divorce that forced me, as a man, to feel and validate my feelings really for the first time. But I had a job during the divorce. My ego was protected during the divorce. I was still wearing some of my protective armor.
When I got laid off in March, my friends and family surrounded me with love, positivity, and support. I leaned on them frequently. They accepted me freely and unconditionally. It didn’t matter which job I took next and it didn’t matter which industry I worked in next and it didn’t matter how much I made and it didn’t matter what my next title would be. They accepted me freely and unconditionally.
On my 31st birthday, in May and still during unemployment, I went down to Domino Park and sat by the water all day. I spent hours alternating between staring out at the city and writing in my journal. On my 31st birthday, I felt myself changing inside. Something was moving and shifting in me and I couldn’t explain it but I tried to:
5/7/24
Who was I before
if not a caterpillar rebelling against his impending cocooning?
And who am I now
if not a butterfly cracking out of his cocoon for the first time?
Slowly.
With great curiosity.
Slowly.
My friends and family accepted me freely and unconditionally and in turn, I began to accept myself freely and unconditionally.
As I fell in love with myself, the armor of my ego began to crack. It was too tight and too limiting and I no longer needed it to protect me anymore. There was really no use for it.
Brené Brown describes this feeling extremely well in this podcast clip:
As I interviewed with different companies, it became evident through meditation and reflection, that I didn’t want a company that would stroke my ego the way it had been stroked for the last 10 years. I had nothing to prove to those kids who bullied me. Hell, I had nothing to prove to myself. I ran the NYC Marathon, moved myself to Brooklyn 6 days later, and went through a divorce all in the last 9 months: I am most certainly enough.
So I accepted an offer with a FinTech company to help build their marketing team as the company continues it’s rapid growth. Ironically, my experience at Wharton has been the experience that has helped me most in my first two weeks as I dive head-first into financial terms and the wider wealth management industry. My co-workers are brilliant and my manager is respectful. The work is challenging and my perspective is valued. The office is cold but the people are warm.
And my personal life, right now, today as I write this, is way more fucking interesting and fun than any job I’ve ever had and will ever have. That concept is new to me. My job used to be the only thing about me I wanted to talk about. Little did I realize that all these years, I was subconsciously suppressing my own spiritual growth by over-indexing on my career all in the name of self-defense and protection. My life is now the only thing about me I want to talk about.
I’m enjoying my surroundings more. The summer breezes feel cleansing.
My patch of grass in McCarren Park feels like a front row seat to the world around me. The sounds of children playing and friends laughing fills me with calm.
The disgustingly hot, sticky subway feels like a microwave of collective agony and yet, there’s some twisted sense of beautiful human nature wrapped within the beads of sweat that drip down our backs as we surf underneath the city together.
The tight, intimate table at which I sit across a stranger on a first date feels like a fresh opportunity to rediscover myself without my armor.
Slowly. With great curiosity. Slowly.
I think your perspective is so important to an entire generation (generations?!) of men that were told a lot of things about who they were "supposed" to be, never really questioning who they are, and I don't need to expand on where that inevitably leads. Your dive into curiosity is more valiant than any big shot job ;) It feels like a fresh breath of air. Keep going so I can keep reading!
First off, love the Troye Sivan pic - such a throwback. The vulnerability and rawness is always appreciated in a time where we are forced to curate all of our feelings and emotions to attract others so we can gain clout. Thanks for being vulnerable with us Lawrence ❤️