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Stories about the things men carry but never say out loud. Written by one man figuring it out in real time. Start wherever it stings.
Looking in the Wrong Direction
Everyone I know has asked it at some point.
What do I want to do with my life? Or some version of it — what am I meant for, what is my purpose, what is the work that will finally feel like mine. We ask it at eighteen and at thirty and at forty-five.
The Parent You Never Had
I don't remember how old I was. Three, maybe four.
I remember the room. The door between me and everyone else. The knowledge — not thought, knowledge, the kind that lives in the body before the mind has words for it — that I had done something wrong. Eaten incorrectly. Moved wrong. Said something that didn't fit. Nobody explained what.
Men's inner life — without the mask
I climbed for over twenty years before I thought to look down.
Not a mountain. The usual ladder — the one they set up for you before you know what's at the top. School. Job. Better job. Title. Salary. Apartment. Car. The kind of life that looks right from the outside and feels thin from the inside.
Hunger Wounds
Part I
On food, shame, sexual insecurity, and the body that remembers.
I don’t have the healthiest relationship with food. Intellectually, I understand that food is medicine. It fuels the body. It sustains energy. It determines longevity.
But understanding something and living it are different negotiations. Food has often been a comfort.