Curt - 32

I remember sobbing on the cold concrete floor of my apartment in Thailand, having just moved there with my family to start our big, exciting travel-the-world adventure. Not even 2 weeks in, and here I was wondering where it had all gone so wrong.

I had, once again, blown up at the slightest provocation from my sons. Fatherhood has been my greatest teacher, and it is painful moments like these that remind me of why that's true. My wife, my kids and everyone close to me lived in fear of upsetting me, because my default reaction was rage.

I would blame everyone but myself. I'd get big, loud, and scary. Often because the kids were being noisy or weren't immediately listening to my demands. I was completely and utterly out of control. I don't even know what led to this particular breakdown, but I knew that I had to sort my shit out, because I truly believed I was ruining my kids' lives.

On that cold floor, with tears and snot running down my face, I felt like I was broken. Like nothing could ever fix me. I had been meditating, journaling, and doing some "inner work" for about a year at this point. Yet here I was, having just done who-knows-what in a fit of rage. Why didn't anything work? Why was I still hurting so bad? In retrospect, that's what it was. I was hurting so badly. I was scared, uncomfortable, alone and worried. Thinking everyone was out to get me if I couldn't hold the weight of the world on my shoulders.

In case you've never done it, let me just say that moving to a new continent completely destroys all of the routines and crutches you build to keep you on track. This same sort of thing would happen when we went from Asia to Europe the following year. Not only had I stopped doing basic things like working out and meditating, but I also didn’t even know where to get groceries. I was worried that if we did anything wrong, were too loud, rocked the boat in a way I couldn't even think of, we'd be kicked out of our apartment. Ostracized by the people in whose country we were now visitors.

This moment on the floor in Thailand was the first time I hit rock bottom. For all the misery I experienced in this moment, it was the first time I truly committed to healing and figuring out what was "wrong with me". I figured I was so bad for my kids and wife that I either had to work like I've never worked before to keep them, or that they'd be better off without me. And in my mind, that didn't mean running away from them. In my mind, the alternative was death.

This was the turning point for me in many ways. The moment I committed to healing and growth like it was my full-time job. It's rarely been a smooth ride. At first, I had to rely on tools, techniques, and hacks just to stop the bleeding. It was necessary to build these guardrails. I needed to be settled enough to start the deeper work that went into healing the "why" behind my reactions and the feelings that drove them.

Underneath it all, it turns out, I had a deep feeling of abandonment, loneliness, unworthiness. This belief that I had to be perfect, because it was the only thing that could stop people from seeing the real me and leaving me because I wasn't good enough.

It's been a journey of healing, growth, and ultimately, surrender. It is my deepest pain, but also the well from which my greatest gifts and gratitude’s spring. It has led me to forgiveness, to gratitude, to love. I began practicing breathwork and educating myself on plant medicine. I joined a men's group, built strong relationships, and found the ability to ask for and receive help. All of this has motivated me to share my journey with other fathers who are suffering, who need to know that healing and growth is possible. Most importantly, I have been able to connect with my wife and children more deeply than I ever would have thought possible. I've finally entrusted them with my whole heart.

Music - Curt’s music choices during our photo session included, The Offspring, Metallica, and John Denver.