The Terrorist Within, a desperate secret, sabotaging men’s self-esteem since the beginning of time, requires release for men to heal.
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The assassin stealthily creeps along the corridor. His silent progress belies serious and impending danger. Behind every door, even in the ventilation shaft above, lurks every possibility for fatal miscalculation at the hands of a known deadly, and silent enemy.
Yet, as cool as cool can be, our hero resolutely goes about his business—not one drop of sweat disturbs the impeccable sartorial smoothness of Bourne/Bond. Take your pick.
After effectively dispatching countless villains with elan, our hero will emerge from the fracas with barely a scratch, ready to enjoy a well-earned drink, before the even more enjoyable attentions of the gorgeous nubile young lady who has been smoldering with desire as he saved the world.
From Clint Eastwood to Paul Newman to Denzel Washington and beyond, men have graced the screen, while systematically programming the notion real men are fearless—chiseled granite, often incapable of feeling, and never ever afraid.
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Unfortunately that’s not my reality.
As a matter of fact, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t afraid. Every time fear has reared its ugly head I have inevitably compared myself unfavorably to the endless stream of male role models who can, and seem to do better.
I’m often described as intense and intimidating. Not my intent or desire, but I am who I am. However my deep secret, and one I’m sure many men secretly feel, is that I’m afraid.
I’m afraid I’m not good enough. I’m afraid I’m not attractive enough, handsome enough, muscular enough. I’m afraid I’m an inadequate father. I’m afraid I’m now too old to create true love or even be relevant in the game of life. I’m afraid I wasted my time, and that despite my best efforts I will not win in my battle against multiple sclerosis and orphan my beloved son.
I am afraid I’m getting old, although I’m only 42, that jokes about midlife crisis are growing deep roots. I’m afraid the finish line is closer than the starting line.
I am afraid despite losing nearly 70 pounds through hypnosis, my physique is laughable and needs to be hidden at all costs as we enter the summer season. As I look around and notice younger, better looking, richer more successful men seemingly omnipresent, I’m afraid despite all my achievements I will be perceived as fundamentally inadequate.
None of this is a new story—I’ve been living with these fears and more for as long as I can remember. From the father who abandoned me, to the children who tortured me, I have known so much suggestion, only compounded by television and the Internet, that something is wrong with me.
The message has been consistent and so long ago received at a subconscious level that the path of unpicking it is substantial and difficult.
I wonder as I gaze around beating myself up what goes on in the minds of the men surrounding me. I wonder how they stride the world with such confidence and style, effortlessly being men.
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I know I’m a man, but it baffles me how easy being a man seems to other men.
Or is it?
How would we even know as we stand at the bar regaling our prowess with ladies, in sports, in the jungle of business and elsewhere? In 42 years I have never heard a man admit he is absolutely clueless about the business of being a man.
Let me then be the first.
My father was absent, my stepfather a pathological liar and likely a sociopath whose sole objective was the twofold damnation of cowardice and lies. A neighbor, whose car had been hit, became physical with my stepfather then quickly stepped down when challenged. The color drained from the neighbor’s face as his demeanor became one of surrender.
I am not advocating physical violence, however the lesson was clear. As I proceeded through the school system mercilessly bullied, no doubt exacerbated by my own crass manner and total reality avoidance, I had learned fear as a normal behavior, strategy and emotional reality. Someone bigger, stronger, better, ready to teach me violently I was weak was everpresent.
I am not the only man who was bullied, nor am I the only man who has carried that fear with him into reality as an adult. Yet, as a man, I have constantly felt that this feeling, the secret desperate fear nobody sees, was not just an emotion, but a referendum on my quality as a male.
Brave men go to war. Brave men are comfortable in fist fights. Real men sleep with a beautiful girl then go to the casino and win at baccarat. What real men do not do is put on a front to cover their fear. What real men do not do is admit they have no clue how to live up to the terrifying archetype sold us daily in mass media.
Worse still is the never-ending suspicion if I were to admit to being scared and feeling inadequate, that I would invite not only the ostracizing of my fellow men, but abusive slurs, too—“ bitch,” “fag,” “wuss,” etc. I’m not sure which hurts more…the fear, or the fear of anyone knowing about my fear.
So let me give this a name as a beginning point for making the change regarding myself, but to allow other men permission to admit it—I live with the Terrorist Within.
My every move is scrutinized, judged, naysay-ed and systematically devalued by this appalling character who took up residence in my head before I was born, and who has made himself Lord of the Manor over decades.
Perhaps you have a similar villain living within you—it certainly is not an exclusive male issue, although the denial of the problem seems a challenge to manhood. Without the ability to have an honest conversation with one’s peers about such matters, we become inevitably handicapped, and seriously so.
The game needs to change—I am a professional coach, hypnotherapist and routinely find when working with men that their entire reality has been built on a series of false assumptions about what it is to be a man. This basis invariably sets us up for failure and deep inner conflict. The Terrorist Within is quite ruthless and determined to compare me negatively to everyone and everything!
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I know I’m not alone!
What is the solution? In the absence of a trusted coach or therapist, I’m going to give you three pieces of advice, which when implemented will help begin the process of recognizing there is no one truth about manhood. Your version is as valid as anybody else’s!
- Challenge the notion anybody or anything has the right to tell you what it is to be a man! You get to define your own reality—begin with kind and sincere reflection.
- We are born with two fears only—falling, and the fear of loud noises. Everything else is learned and the great news is…it can be unlearned!
- It’s okay to admit you’re scared, that you have no idea how to be a man in this increasingly challenging and changing world . The solution begins with acknowledgement of the problem.
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“My confession: I’m a grown man, a single father going through a toxic divorce, battling multiple sclerosis and I live in fear.”
I’m going to change that.
I’m going to fight and win, just don’t ask me how. Yet.
It must begin with admitting the fear, and if you have a terrorist within then admit that, too—a salute to the beginning of the end of that terrible regime. Let’s reclaim our sacred masculine power as we redefine the 21st century man.
Godspeed.
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