why do i still feel empty?
it only took me 6 continents, 4 oceans and 23 countries to figure it out.
The One Who Finally Came Home.
A quiet reckoning. A story of exile, fire and return.
“A smart person learns from his mistakes.
But a truly wise person learns from the mistakes of others.”
- Ken Schramm
A wise man I used to work with told me that.
I never forgot it.
And now I see why.
Over the years,
I’ve witnessed men chase every advert in the success catalogue.
Only to end up empty.
I will tell you of 3 - anonymously, of course.
T. who claims he slept with over 100 women
now drowning in guilt he can’t get over.
He doesn’t brag anymore. He winces.
Those 100 damsels became 100 demons.
Glaring at him through once lustful eyes.
The stoic gym-dweller, B.
traps like boulders, eyes glazed over.
The lights are on but no one’s home.
A huge steel frame to protect a cold, brittle core.
Isn’t “machine” supposed to be a compliment…
Millionaire, M., shelling out on lavish holidays.
Valiant efforts to pay off his growing stress debt.
His life may look rich.
But his soul is poor.
Craving luxury, more money, more more.
It is never enough.
Another body in the bed.
Another plate on the bar.
Another zero on the balance.
Bellies full to the brim, yet they starve…
Oh, you want to know about me?
I was different.
While most people were chasing more
I simply wanted, some.
With stellar report cards, call of duty stats
and a comfy bed in a beautiful home
I was a happy kid.
So, how the hell did I become an anxious,
depressed and insecure 27 year old boy?
Heres how. 3 short straws. One literally.
No women.
No height.
No money.
In reality, I claimed to victimhood like it was a lifejacket.
The only thing keeping me afloat, an excuse for why I hated my life.
If all else fails, well at least it’s not my fault.
Loneliness felt like my birthright.
Drifting from group to group.
Collecting academic achievements
Watching as others got what I really wanted.
Feeling it slip away the moment I reached out.
It burned.
But with every curse, comes a blessing.
In this case, being alone.
While others chased their social lives,
I sat in silence.
I met the boy inside early.
Not because I was wise
but because I had nowhere else to go.
If I am honest
there’s still a part of me that longs to drink from the unholy fountain of youth.
The parties.
The attention.
The feeling of being wanted just because.
And this part of me will never have that.
But funnily enough, not ever having that was my rocket fuel.
My burning desire to show them.
Years of feeling lonely and unworthy
pushed me to discover a place most had never heard of.
The silence.
I regret nothing. I would change nothing.
Because if my youth had gone any other way
I wouldn’t be here.
I wouldn’t carry this presence.
I wouldn’t know myself the way I do.
Maybe that pain was inevitable.
Maybe it was the price.
And if it was… I paid it in full.
For years I vilified my younger self.
Disgusted at his lack of “masculinity” and “success”.
He wasn’t decisive enough, he was useless, incompetent and vile.
Guilt. Shame. Disgust. Pity. Hatred. Rage.
Severance.
This is what I was subjecting him to.
For years I chastised the ground he once walked.
My throat goes dry when I think about it.
It took a glass being smashed over my head for me to say
Ok, that’s enough. No more.
As the glass shattered, so did the world I had built.
As the glass shattered, I shattered.
In the aftermath, a familiar, long lost friend came to visit me.
Silence.
It was here I began walking.
My walk inside.
The way home.
In time I would develop my own method of healing,
Self-journeying.
Based on Internal Family Systems,
but with less moving parts. (nice double entendre)
As I walked, I met various iterations of my fragmented self.
In stillness, I sat with them.
I listened. I shared their pain. I welcomed it.
Over, and over, again.
Reuniting them with me.
Part by part, I brought light to dark.
And slowly, as each part healed…
The pain, became power.
Now I stand, unshakeable.
Now I speak with weight,
not because I “won”
but because I stopped running and started walking.
Real confidence starts when the running stops.
Because while you chase the world,
you leave behind those who matter the most.
And as you grow out of old identities to create new ones,
the parts that didn’t make the cut, get left behind.
And that nearly destroys them.
They fragment. Separated.
They hide in shadow.
Exiled, hurt, scared and alone.
But you are your parts and your parts are you.
Their pain is your pain.
By hurting them, you only hurt yourself.
Running from them will keep you trapped.
Seeking answers that never come.
Filling voids that never close.
Chasing shadows in the dark.
If you want wholeness, self-trust, real confidence…
You must stop running and start walking.
You must reunite your parts.
You must reunite yourself.
Run or walk, the choice is yours…
Until I healed the boy,
the man was just a costume.
But when I finally sat with him,
not to fix him, not to impress him,
but simply to be with him,
something shifted.
I wandered for years.
Over 6 continents. Across 4 oceans. 23 countries.
Always searching for “it.”
Wholeness. Worth. Home.
But in searching for it…
I became it.
Through silence. Through self-journeying.
Through reunion with every part I once abandoned.
And with gratitude that I cannot express in words,
for a mentor who once walked with me,
who helped me find my way,
the shift was a moment I’ll never forget.
I would like to share it with you.
I stood on a cliff edge,
a rock in my hand
containing the belief:
I had to find a father to become a man.
With tears running down my face,
years of pain pouring out of my soul…
I threw the rock into the river below.
I watched as the icy water washed the weight away.
And in that moment of release,
I became a father.
Not because I had the answers.
But because I stopped waiting
for someone else to give me permission.
That’s when something quiet began to settle over me.
Not pride. Not status.
Something sacred. Something earned.
Not a reward.
A surrender.
In a moment of clarity,
I realised it was never about holding on.
It was about letting go.
The need to control.
The need to win.
The need to prove.
The need to be seen.
The need to be valued.
The need to be right.
For most of my life…
Yes I was addicted to porn.
Yes I would drink myself into blackouts.
Yes I was lonely.
Yes I was heartbroken.
Yes I was insecure.
Yes I was a people pleaser.
Yes I felt weak.
But something deeper was emerging from the ashes.
I was strong.
Because I knew, despite everything I had faced up until this moment…
I never stopped walking.
And what came after that was me reclaiming my power.
It was a reminder.
A whisper.
A vow.
“I was born in the fire.”
In those quiet words, lay rebirth.
Not louder.
Not tougher.
Just truer.
Now, I know who I am.
And knowing that,
I walk with absolute conviction.
Every step
an echo
of the one
who finally
came
home.
At your side, always,
Oliver
If this lit the fire inside you, tell me.
Because it’s time we walk together.
♾️
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In next week’s letter I will be sharing an art piece I drew - my life mural - in honour of my walk home. I shared it briefly in yesterday’s livestream but I would like to show it in all its glory.
It means a lot to me, and I think it will resonate with you.
Stay tuned for that.
Thank you for reading.