#251:These walls we build
To hide, to protect ourselves.
I wrote in my journal a few nights ago “these walls we build” on an empty page.
I’d filled the previous pages with a diary of events, what happened that day, what I am doing, where I am going, what I could do more, or less of.
These walls we build…
I’ve been reflecting on my identity, my work and the stories that I tell myself.
How the labels and narratives I create of what’s true in my life, past or present - are like walls. Walls that I put up to keep me safe or allow me to fit in. Walls that can easily slot next to another wall, like a tetris block.
I find it hard to keep my walls down. I’ve mastered the art of seeming open yet having the drawbridge up, no way in.
I’ve been noticing the ways I hide, the walls I build to avoid connection, avoid taking risks and avoid being seen.
“Work” is a big wall for me.
The label of founder, entrepreneur or writer is as much a sign to help me be understood as it is a way for me to hide in plain sight. If I give you “entrepreneur” I don’t have to give you anything else about me. When one wall is up, what’s behind that, what’s left behind?
I always have a project. I always have a startup. I always have a mission - it’s the way I engage with the world. It’s the dominant part of me that I’m comfortable talking about or sharing - it’s a way I meet people, a way I also keep people at a distance.
If I were to drop that work wall. What would be behind that? Who else would I be? It’d just be me.
If I dropped the work wall completely, it’d be me, me and this newsletter. James who writes. (Saying that out loud feels liberating)
My other walls are stories rather than labels. Stories about my past or about who I am, that keep me in the box I make.
I have an “alone” wall, a story that says I have to do things on my own, that I’m more inclined to be on my own, perhaps because I’m an only child. When I take a closer look at this wall it feels like a second skin. I see it up close and can pick it away easily - it’s not even that strong, it’s flaky. I don’t have to do anything on my own. I love people, I love to connect, I love my friends and my family. I don’t love or hate being on my own more than any one else. It’s a story.
These walls we build.
I’m taking a closer look at the walls I put up to protect myself or to portray an image to the world outside, because I’m noticing how easy I find it to put them up and how I’ll keep making them stronger if I don’t check myself.
My strongest wall is my work wall. Before I know it, I’ll be wearing a t-shirt with my latest company on and it’ll be all I talk about, all people know me for. Am I doing that out of love, or because I’m not ready to show those other parts of myself?
What kind of wall am I building?
My walls are coming down at the moment, I don’t know why. I think, perhaps, I’m tired of putting them up and realising I don’t need to. The people that love me saw through them years ago.
I’m scared at what it might mean to drop them all. To put the guard completely down, to be fully naked, to be fully me. No work walls, no labels, no stories that wrap me up. Just James. I don’t even really know what that would mean.
I’ve always felt like I have to be something other than myself to fit in, to be valued, to be recognised, to make money.
These are now the unfinished sentences that I was avoiding writing towards. It’s the raw essence that I don’t understand, the rambling nonsense feels messy.
Will I be understood, will I be accepted, shall I put the walls back up? Will I find my voice?
I don’t want to ask “who am I?” Over and over again. I just want to know. I just want to put those walls up.
The labels and the stories, they help that way. “Who am I?” The answer is fixed, permanent - never in doubt.
Yet inside my walls, in my essence, soul, self, god, nature whatever you want to call it - that seed of me, of who I am - it’s in flux, it’s evolving, dancing, moving, playing.
When you ask it; “who am I?” It says “I’m this… today.” “I’m this… now.” “I like that. I like this.” It’s a verb, not a noun. I’m writing, not a writer. I’m building, not a founder. I’m running, not a runner.
These walls we build to keep us safe.
These walls we build to give permanence.
These walls we build to protect our essence.
These walls we build to hide the deeper part of us.
These walls are coming down.