From the inner emptiness. From the silence. From the truth that I didn’t want to feel:
I had a father wound.
Not because my father was a bad person, but because he wasn’t present. Physically there – but emotionally light years away. The result? I fought my way through life like a bull. Work. Success. Distraction. Porn. Sport. Even more speed. Just don’t take a break. Just don’t feel. Under no circumstances encounter emptiness.
And do you know what’s so gross? Almost every man has exactly this wound inside him. But nobody talks about it.
We think it’s “normal”, call it “I’m just like this” – and don’t realize that we’ve been living remote-controlled for a long time.
The truth is uncomfortable: we are not running anywhere. We are running away. From ourselves. From the little boy inside us who has never been seen. Healing does not begin with courage, but with honesty. With the sentence:
“Yes, I carry a father wound.”
And only then does something begin that makes every step worthwhile: freedom. Presence. Masculinity on a new level.
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