Skip to main content

I Was Already Me

In this episode, I Was Already Me: Redefining What It Means to "Become Someone” . . . 

"You're never a hero in your own home." It's a phrase that often rings true, a quiet acknowledgment that the very people who know us best are also the ones most intimately familiar with our quirks, our unedited selves, and the messy bits we rarely show the world. But what happens when that familiarity leads to disconnection, when our deepest thoughts are dismissed as "too much," and even our best efforts feel unheard?

I've been talking with my friend Dr. Don Hanley, a former Catholic priest turned psychotherapist with a background in teaching and writing. Recently, he shared a vulnerability: some friends no longer want to meet because his conversations are too deep, and his family criticizes him for being too lost in thought or writing foolish blog posts.

It's a stark reminder, even for a seasoned psychotherapist, that the "hero" outside often struggles within their own walls. It echoes a universal truth: we are all, at our core, human beings doing the best we can with our life experiences.

The Unseen Battle of "Becoming Someone”

We recently had an exchange that perfectly captures this struggle. He asked me, "Didn't you ever want to 'become someone?'" Puzzled, I asked what he meant. He clarified, "I wanted to become a priest so I could become someone." My immediate response was, "I never thought about it. I already was someone. I was me."

This distinction is crucial. In our society, "becoming someone" is often confused with attaining a job, holding a title, or achieving a professional milestone. We chase external markers of success, believing they will define our worth or earn us the admiration we crave.

Reflecting on my career, I've realized a deeper truth: people seldom remember your work contributions. What stays with them is how you made them feel. If you make others feel appreciated and enjoy your company, you become someone memorable and meaningful to them. Otherwise, you're not.

The challenge, then, isn't about fitting into a mold or simplifying ourselves to be more likable. It's about accepting that our deepest thoughts and our authentic selves are too much for some. It's about recognizing that criticism, even from loved ones, often stems from their own perspective, not a definitive judgment of our worth.

Finding Flowers in Your Own Pile of Life

Don's memoir, "Finding Flowers in a Little Pile of Sh*t," is available on Amazon. It offers a raw, honest account of a young man's quest for acceptance amid life's disappointments, failures, and successes. One reviewer said it takes readers on "a voyage of intellectual, emotional, and spiritual growth where we discover Don's experiences—and how to live life as real participants."

His story, and the real-life struggles he faces even today, illustrate that our heroism isn't found in being universally understood or celebrated, but in the quiet courage of continuing to be ourselves, to learn, to grow, and to try to connect, even when it feels like we're speaking a different language.

It's about acknowledging our own "piles of sh*t"—our perceived failures, our miscommunications, our unread blog posts—and still finding the flowers of wisdom, connection, and self-acceptance within them.

Dr. Don and I will continue to explore these deeper ideas, perhaps in these blog posts, because they are essential for understanding ourselves and navigating our lives. While not everyone seeks out such conversations, we know some do.

Are you navigating your own "too deep" moments, seeking to connect authentically, and embracing the everyday heroism of simply being you? We'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below. Perhaps in sharing our experiences, we can all find more "flowers" in our lives.

I’m Patrick Ball. Stay curious, ask questions. See you next time.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Most Popular of All Time

We Need Awe More Than Ever

In this episode, Why We Need Awe More Than Ever Yesterday morning, I slipped into the cool stillness of my backyard before dawn. The air was crisp, the silence deep—broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and the familiar calls of birds waking early. Then I looked up. A thin crescent moon hung low in the east, with Venus just above it like a shining jewel. The sky was clear and full of stars, and for a moment, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time: Awe! For thousands of years, the heavens have carried on their steady dance, untouched by human noise. No ruler, no election, no breaking news has ever changed their rhythm. And yet here I was, tempted to reach for my phone—to trade the eternal for the urgent. Instead, I stayed. I watched the moonrise, the sky slowly lighten, and the world around me stir. Ducks passed overhead in a loose V, hummingbirds zipped past to visit their feeder, pausing mid-air as if curious about me sitting so still. Little by little, the static in my mind f...
2 comments
Read more

The Birth of a Cubs Legend

In this episode, The 162-Game Exhale — and the Birth of a Cubs Legend There’s a hush in the baseball world on Game 162 — a collective breath drawn in and slowly released. Scoreboards stop flipping. Dugouts empty. For six months, the game has been our steady heartbeat, pulsing from the cherry blossoms of Tokyo in March to the crisp, playoff-charged winds of late September. And now, as the regular season exhales, baseball fans everywhere pause to absorb the story we’ve just lived. For me, that story has been deeply personal. This season unfolded in the rhythms of my daily life. It was the summer soundtrack echoing beneath the constant turmoil of politics and sensational headlines. It was a handful of carefully chosen ballpark pilgrimages stitched together with countless nights in front of MLB.TV. And at the center of it all, for a lifelong Cubs fan like me, it revolved around one name — a young center fielder who turned hope into history: Pete Crow-Armstrong. The 2025 season didn’t begin...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Pessimism Aversion Trap

In this episode, The Pessimism Aversion Trap Picture this: a room full of bright minds nodding in agreement as a bold new strategy is unveiled. The slides are polished, the vision is grand, and the future, we're told, has never looked brighter. Everyone beams—because who wants to be the one to say, "Um… this might not work"? Heaven forbid someone spoil the mood with a dose of reality. Better to smile, add a buzzword or two, and march confidently toward disaster. That's how the Pessimism Aversion Trap works. Even now, I can still hear the sound—a high-pitched shriek and a digital hum, followed by the slow, rhythmic clatter of data pouring from a 5¼-inch floppy disk. It was the late 1980s, and my makeshift home office (our living room) was dominated by what felt like a marvel of modern engineering: a used Tandy 1000 PC with not one, but two floppy drives. To top it off, we purchased a 'blisteringly fast' 300-baud modem—which, for the uninitiated, could downloa...
1 comment
Read more

Pushing the Pause Button

In this episode, Pushing the Pause Button: Stepping Off the Treadmill Hello, friends — If you're reading this, I'm already off the grid. Today begins a much-needed vacation, and for the next few weeks, On the Fly is taking a break right along with me. For a long time, my inner voice has said, 'Keep every commitment, no matter what.' That's meant early mornings, long days, and a calendar packed with posts, podcasts, and projects I couldn't seem to say no to. I've been trying to be the tireless workhorse—but that kind of grind doesn't end well. Lately, I've noticed I'm not quite myself—shorter fuse, louder sighs, and a few too many grumbles (Lori deserves a medal). That's when you know it's time to hit pause before the spark burns out. So, I'm stepping back to rest, recharge, and remember what it feels like to not live by the next deadline: no tech, no to-do lists, just some space to breathe. Thank you, truly, for all your support and ...
2 comments
Read more