#272:Calling my soul back

Mar 14, 2025

I lost part of my soul and I’ve been trying to get it back.

I read something about trauma that made me think.

In shamanism, there’s a view that when we suffer some sort of trauma, part of our soul flees.

This makes sense to me. I’d understood it before that when you’re going through something incredibly painful, you close off or numb yourself to protect.

Yet, when we lost our baby Teddy and went through the trauma of that, I felt like something more substantial had happened to me that I couldn’t understand rationally.

I know that I had shut parts of myself off simply to bear witness to what was happening to Sarah and me, but I’d never considered that a part of my soul might literally have left my body during that time.

It makes no sense, but makes sense. So, where did it go?

The part of me that was frightened, in pain, broken, angry and confused - that left me alone in the shell of my body. Where did that part go?

I was a shell in that hospital, emptied out - left with a crust of love for my wife and our baby that was never meant to be, resting next to us in their cold cot. I remember walking outside of the hospital for the first time in 3 days to pick a pizza. I remember saying to myself; “this is you walking down the stairs” Echoes in the shell.

Since then I’ve grieved. I’ve wailed, lay on the floor and cried. Rested my head on my desk and thought what’s the fucking point. Walked up and down the canal a million times. Sat on my own listening to Linkin Park. I’ve felt that seared emptiness.

Reading this writing on Shamanism, that I came across through Tim Malnick - must have landed somewhere, because the other night I did some yoga. Stretching in the living room, in the dark. (I’ve said before, but the floor is a great place to be when you feel low.)

At the end, I lay. Just lay with my head flat to the floor. I thought - where are you? Soul that left me, where are you?

I began remembering and reconnecting to the version of me that walked into the hospital with Sarah. I could see myself. Lost, hurt, helpless. Wearing that blue fleece I haven’t worn since.I could see myself on the campbed in the hospital room, shuffling around in my sliders. I could remember feeling unclean from not showering, I can remember my head hurting, I can remember feeling like I was banging on the glass not being able to help. Watching it all unfold and being able to do nothing.

I called him back. I imagined that ghost of me falling back into my body and me giving him a hug. Come here mate, you’ve been through a hell of a lot. I placed him like a miniature figurine back in my heart, where he belongs. You don’t smell great, but that’s OK - come here.

And last night at a yoga class, I thought about this again too. I thought about younger versions of me that got hurt and went away. I thought about James during COVID doing 30 virtual talks in a week for mental health awareness week. I thought about James raising money from investors in my kitchen with my feet in the dishwasher. I remembered James founder of Sanctus stressed, anxious, losing my power, losing my soul all behind a little screen in a one bed flat. I called him back too. Stop for just a second will you, breathe. I put my hand on his heart and brought him back into mine. He was wearing that long black Sanctus T, of course.

I don’t know what’s real, what’s not. I don’t know what the lines are between psychology and spirituality. I couldn’t even tell you what a soul is, or isn’t. But honestly, who cares? These are just words to attempt to understand the full unknowable breadth of the human condition. Calling my soul back felt good. I would recommend.

And now, with all those pieces of me back in my heart. What next?

I’m not sure, but actually, now I come think about it.

I feel complete.

James x

p.s I think my next business will be in the men’s health, mental health and advocacy space. I want to train, coach and support 1,000 men to have a positive impact in the world. Coaches, leaders, founders, workplace champions - who are all changing the narrative on men - together we can achieve a lot.

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