A Vulnerable Share

I don’t remember how old I was. I just know I was young.

I was at my grandma’s house with a group of people when an extended family member, drunk, pulled my pants down in front of everyone.

I don't remember much, but I do remember the the heat in my face, the blur of voices, and the roar of laughter while I felt my whole body collapse inside.

I frantically yanked my pants up, ran out the back door, and hid in the hay barn for the rest of the night.

But the truth is...the hiding didn’t stop there.

I would go on and hide over the next few decades of my life.

I just hid in more socially acceptable ways.

I hid behind achievement, ambition, and a performance-driven life that looked good on the outside.

I hid behind being a man that had it all together and didn't need anyone's help.

I hid behind rage when I felt the threat of being exposed.

But beneath it all, I was still that young boy in the barn—ashamed, small, and terrified of being fully seen.

Somewhere deep down, I believed that if people really saw me, they’d laugh too.

They’d see I wasn’t enough.

So I made sure they never could.

Eventually, though, endlessly striving and using all of my energy to hold it all together lost its power.

I reached a point where my body was exhausted, and my soul was tired.

At first, I interpreted this as failure.

But what I see now is that it was an invitation into a deeper kind of growth that can radically expand what's possible for our lives.

But, it only happens when we choose to stop hiding and allow ourselves to be fully seen.

I don't know your story, or what you've been through in your life, but I do know that every one of us will come to a moment when hiding no longer works.

When the cost of pretending outweighs the risk of being seen.

And while it is deeply scary and wildly vulnerable, it changes everything.

Because when we stop hiding, we stop abandoning ourselves.

We stop living on guard and start living in truth.

As a result, life meets us differently.

Inner peace grows, relationships deepen, and possibility expands.

Not because of your grind and hustle, but because you became someone new.

I want to leave you with a few lines from the poem, Love After Love by Derek Walcott:

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
​You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Keep showing up. Keep leaning in.

As always, I'm rooting for you. We're in this together.
​
-Caleb

P.S. If you know someone who might resonate with it, feel free to pass it along!