In my thirties, I dated a talented visual artist for a while. One day, I asked him what had made him become a painter. He paused, looked at me pensively, and said, “Love. It was because of love.”
Thinking he meant his love of art or colour, I nodded. But he continued.
“When I was a small child, in pre-school, I once drew a picture and received a lot of praise from the teacher, and later from my parents. I realised I could get love that way. So that’s where I focused my energy. And I became an artist.”
At the time, I was deeply struck by that level of self-awareness. I am even more impressed by it now, because over the years I have realised just how rare it is.
I have been reflecting on this a great deal lately. How much of our lives is truly chosen, and how much is shaped by conditioning or trauma? We think we want something because we are genuinely interested in it. We assume that our desires are entirely our own. But do we ever go deep enough to question our real motivations? To think back to what we longed for when we were small? Did we really want the marriage, the children, the house, the BMW, the high-pressure career? Or, conversely, did we want the opposite?
I suspect that much of what many, if not most, of us choose is shaped by our early experiences. More precisely, by what we did not receive. What was missing can quietly become the goal, and we then try to obtain it by whatever means we believe will work.
And what is it that we are trying to obtain?
Admiration. Status. Money. Praise. Success. Power.
But ultimately, are these not just substitutes for something else? For love, for being seen, for being accepted?
A while ago, I was discussing this with an acquaintance who, at just thirty-two years old, captured one of the world’s most powerful and dangerous drug lords. After a burnout and a deep depression that forced him to turn inward, he came to a sobering realisation: much, if not all, of his ambition had been fuelled by unhealed childhood trauma.
His father, who had been his hero, left the family when he was twelve. The wound was so deep, and his sense of inadequacy so overwhelming, that he spent much of his adult life unconsciously trying to compensate for it.
By becoming more successful than anyone else.
By achieving the almost unachievable.
By numbing his existential pain through work and relentless overdrive.
Until he cracked and finally began to feel his pain instead of pushing it away. To heal. And what he eventually found was glorious. Relief. Authenticity. Deeper emotions. Inner freedom. A spiritual connection strong enough to fill the emptiness that he had carried for most of his life.
It does not have to be this dramatic. It can be far more subtle. Our society rewards behaviours that are often rooted in trauma responses. Extreme ambition. Pushing through. Overachieving. Fighting. Winning.
And even if we are living an outwardly amazing life that others envy, we can still feel very lonely and insecure. A brief look at the world of celebrity confirms this. Maria Callas. Marilyn Monroe. Layne Staley. Michael Jackson. The list is potentially endless.
So what is the antidote to this? How can we discover what truly drives us, and begin to live a life that is more authentically aligned with our real needs rather than our overcompensations or fears?
I think, as so often, that self-awareness is key. Taking time to be still. To step away from the noise and busyness of our lives and turn inward. Reflecting. Journalling. Meditating. Discovering what we really need, and what is true for us, regardless of what others – or even we ourselves – believe we should want.
And then? Many of us are afraid that our whole lives will fall apart if we start questioning.
Because if we were to see clearly, we might have to make changes.
Because the lives we have constructed, which may deep down feel like gilded cages, could combust.
But quite honestly, that might be the best thing that could ever happen to us. Even if it feels as though everything we know is falling apart, and nothing makes sense anymore.
I know. Because I have been there.
One of my friends likes to joke, “If everyone healed their trauma, nobody would do anything anymore. The unconscious drive to prove something, to prove their worth, would be gone.”
I would refine that slightly.
If everyone healed their trauma, people might be far less inclined to do things that do not truly make them happy. They might dare to connect and love more. They might not be afraid to show themselves as they are. They might not cling to situations or people that make them feel secure but not fulfilled. They might not drive themselves into the ground, overcompensating for feelings of inadequacy through workaholism. They might not believe they are worthless for taking time to be instead of constantly doing. They might treat themselves and each other more kindly. They might not start wars.
And for that, honesty is needed. A willingness to see ourselves clearly, even when it is uncomfortable and shatters the image we present to the world. We might feel exposed, almost naked, in a culture that values image and dominance above most other things.
But the reward might be a quiet happiness. A deep contentment. Joy. Inner freedom. A life we truly want to live. One that can, in turn, touch other lives because we are more present and open-hearted.
And we may find that this, in itself, is enough.
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You might also enjoy my recent article “The Beauty of Being Undefended”.