The next step in the process turned out to be deeply uncomfortable.
Ankush asked us to bring our very best listening. In my case… my Dad listening. Then he asked us to make a list of every way we judged ourselves. Every criticism. Every unkind thought. Every judgement we quietly carried about who we were.
He didn’t give us ten minutes.
From memory, he gave us three hours.
Three hours to disappear on our own and listen.
Three hours to go deep.
I remembered something my therapist had said to me back in 2007, not long after my burnout.
“You’re not very nice to yourself.”
At the time, I heard the words but they never really landed. I knew I pushed myself hard, but I saw that as a strength. I didn’t see myself as judgemental. Certainly not towards myself.
I made my way to my treehouse at Fair Oak Farm, where the immersion was being held. I sat on the bed with my notebook on my lap and opened to a blank page.
Then I waited.
The first few minutes felt strangely empty.
I knew there would be judgements.
I just didn’t know they had become the fuel I’d been using to move through life… and to create my results.
I felt hesitant to begin.
But the clock was ticking.
So I asked myself one simple question.
How do you judge yourself?
Then I asked it again.
And again.
Slowly, the answers began to appear.
I am a failure as a father.
I’m not physically attractive to my wife.
I’m not worthy of love.
I’m ruled by fear.
I’m a good number two, but not a real leader.
I’m afraid of what other people think of me.
I am pathetic.
I hold back.
I’m terrible at buying gifts.
I’m not good enough.
I’m afraid to be seen and heard.
I’m desperate to be seen and heard.
What I have to say isn’t relevant or important.
…
Those are some of the judgements exactly as I wrote them.
I’ve kept the list.
From time to time I still go back and read it.
Whenever I’m coaching someone through the process of creating their own document, I share parts of it. Not because I’m proud of it, but because I want them to know they’re not alone. I always share the judgements that made me feel most uncomfortable. The ones I thought would never see the light of day.
But there was one judgement that stopped me in my tracks.
Five words.
When they came into my mind, I resisted them immediately.
That can’t be true.
I don’t really think that about myself…
Do I?
Then I wrote them down.
I am boring as fuck.
It still feels edgy to share that one.
By the end of the exercise, I had written more than sixty judgements.
I felt raw.
Exposed.
Vulnerable.
And I still had no idea what was coming next.
I was about to walk back to the barn and join eleven other men who had just been through the same exercise.
I knew we’d be asked to share what we’d found.
I wasn’t looking forward to it.
Not even a little.
This part of the process felt brutal.
I would soon discover it was essential.