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Who Are We Becoming?

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Identity, Labels, and the Stories We Live By We spend our whole lives figuring out who we are. Not just once, not just during adolescence, but repeatedly—through relationships, through loss, through who or what we love. Through what we fear. Identity is like a living thing. It shifts, grows, breaks, and reforms. Still, we often mistakenly treat it like something that should be simple and fixed: “This is just who I am.” It’s appealing to think identity works that way. A label can feel like clarity. It can offer language for experiences that were once confusing or isolating. It can help us find community. When we finally one that fits, it can feel like finding home. But a label can also become something we cling to too tightly. When a label goes from describing us or our experience to defining us, something changes. We might stop simply being ourselves and begin to associate or perform as we think we’re supposed to. There’s a difference between: I have this experience and This experience...
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Life Summary & Blessings

I just had my post-Crucible Project weekend follow-up group. It is a mix of 6 men in person and 6 online. We shared answers to some questions at different points in our life in pairs, then the other man summarised our answers and shared them in the group. Here's his summary: André experienced wounding early that meant he felt disconnected and fragile, with less than ideal relationships with parents, and smothering by his Mum. His big wounds were: sexual abuse, bullying, and not being seen or supported by his parents. He stumbled thru his teenager years feeling disconnected. His only role model were TV models, like Magnum PI. He suppressed his feelings, yet connected with God, which became his most important relationship. He soothed his wounds through masturbation (& porn). I regret not reconciling with my wife. I’m proud of my girls. They then asked me to consider how God would bless me knowing all of our life. I responded. (I didn't write this down) Then each of the other...
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Nightguard by Robert F

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Nightguard by Robert F You grind your teeth, said the doctor.  They will grind to nothing unless you get a night-guard.  It’s just a piece of plastic to bite on in your sleep.   I’m an infant trying to sleep in my crib, and crying.  I bang a cast on my leg against the crib.  No one comes.  Mom is busy, she is with other men.  Dad is angry.  I have no teeth, no advocate.  I brace for the next blow. My brother pins this toddler to the floor, his knees pressing my shoulders and arms down.  He beats on my chest, he twists my skin, my nipples.  I cry.  No one comes.  I clench my teeth, bracing for the next blow.   My father is very angry.  He spanks me.  Did I break the garbage can, climbing on it?  Did I lie about it?  I am afraid of him.  I clench my teeth, bracing for the next blow.   My brother hides in my room with a distorted mask.  He jumps out to frighten me when I ...
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Why don't I do Brazilian Juijitsu?

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Earlier last year (before my back pain came back) I had a triggering experience at the Brazilian Jujitsu place that I’ve been to for years with a coach called Rohan. I stopped going and paused my membership, and I received texts saying, “We’ve noticed that you haven’t been on the mats…” Eventually I met up with the head coach, Mitch, and he suggested that Rohan and I meet up and share our stories. I gave him permission to pass my contact details on to Rohan. Silence. For months. In June, I got excruciating back pain and realised I wouldn’t be wrestling for a while and didn’t bother following up, but I got better and then wondered why Rohan or Mitch hadn’t contacted me to meet up. I investigated some other BJJ places, but they didn’t seem to have the camaraderie of Dark Carnival.  On Monday, my usual staff meeting got cancelled and I decided I wanted to be assertive and find out why. I walked in and the head coach, Mitch, was there. He asked how I was and said he hadn’t seen...
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As a young teen, what would I want to hear?

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As a 13 year old, I would want my father to have a conversation with me about sexual matters. As a prerequisitie, I would want a close authentic, real, open, and honest relationship with my Dad, which I didn't have. So this would be a fictious, alternate reality version of my Dad. Perhaps not just one "once and done" talk, but several over many months and years. And an open relationship that clearly fostered ongoing discussion and further questions. I would want my Dad to talk about sex in personal ways, not abstract terms. I would want him to talk about body changes as a teen: physical height, muscles, body hair, body odour, changes in penis, love, sex, marriage, girls, relationships. Emotions: anxiety over what didn't happen. Relief and joy over what could have been.
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I feel so weak and vulnerable when my nose bleeds

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  Today I was just sitting at my computer working when I looked down and saw a drop of blood on my shirt and splash marks on my desk. I get a tissue and apply pressure to my nose, get a cold drink, and lay down to rest. I feel weak and vulnerable like I'm a 6 year old boy. I picture myself in the primary school playground playing with other boys, but I've bumped my head and my nose is bleeding. I hold my nose and walk towards the school buildings where I'll go to the sick bay. I've been there a lot with a bleeding nose. My nose would bleed if I got hot.  If it got bumped. I couldn't be a "rough and tumble boy". I couldn't do team sports. It would bleed if I exercised. So I couldn't do anything energetic. I couldn't become athletic.  This story links with "Mum, am I going to die?"
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"No, I'm good thanks"

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If you're going to shame me for arranging a massage with a stranger, then please stop reading now. It was a massage we'd arranged thru MassageExchange.com. My profile says "No sex" twice. Before I met him that time I had also texted, "No sex." We met for a massage exchange about two weeks ago and that was a good experience.  However this time, he got more sensual with me than before. I had three sore points on my body I asked him to massage, and he massage two of those areas. This time he was clearly not focussing on my body, but getting off on me, and trying to arouse me. I did get aroused, but not for long. He grabbed me at one point, but I said, "No touching. Thanks" and he let go. I ended up  straddling his chest  with my penis near his mouth, and he offered to blow me, but I said "No thanks."  He gave me a body glide or two, which got me briefly aroused. I did the same and he groaned in ecstasy.  He called out what he thought was ...
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