Read time: 6 minutes

MCC #79 – 29 Oct 2023

Hey! My second son was born this week! Such a beautiful moment. All are doing well.

Welcome to My Creative Calling!

I’m hesitant to tell you about my last week.

You wouldn’t believe it.

It’s been a crazy rollercoaster ride. 

I don’t enjoy playing the victim.

But it’s been rough.

I felt the most amazing, intense highs and the most crippling, lowest of lows. 

It’s easy to complain. But then I realised, hey, that is life. Did I think this would all be some magical walk in the park? No, life is a constant series of problems that need solving. And we will encounter suffering. So, wishing it to be another way isn’t helping.

But among all that, there was a light in the tunnel:

Our little bundle of joy who emerged out of the chaos — our second son was born.

But I am mindful of how people show up online and only share the good bits. So it creates this unrealistic image of life and your journey to “success” — whatever that means to you. 

This was supposed to be one of the best weeks of my life. 

Then I catch myself “supposed?”

Says who? 

Exactly. 

It’s not written in stone. It’s an idea I cooked up in my head. The harder I cling to that, the more I’ll be disappointed. 

But why was I thinking I was entitled to the perfect week?

Our new baby was due to be born. 

Exciting times. 

So what happened?

I’ll spare the details to keep my family’s privacy. Still, a series of events unfolded, which resulted in severe hospitalisations for both of my parents and two separate emergency room visits with my wife and son. 

It felt like our world was imploding!

Then, to cap it off:

• We had a food poisoning incident, 
• our kitchen oven died, 
• a plumbing emergency flooded our bathroom, 
• and our dog had a seizure while away in the dog hotel. 

I was like, “WTF! How is this happening? And of all times, it could happen. Why now? Whyyyyyyyy!!!”

I just wanted to focus on enjoying the build-up to the birth of our son.

But life wasn’t having it. 

You know that feeling of despair.

I consider myself pretty emotionally intelligent, but this damn near broke me. 

It feels like the world is out to get you—one punishment after another. 

You reach a point where you want to tap out. You are ready to give up. 

This reminds me of a reflection from the poet David Whyte, where he describes how we feel in that moment of great tragedy or loss, and we say to ourselves:

Well, God, if this the way the game is played, then I’m not playing it.

If these are the rules, I’m not participating.

And so we pull back from life. We retreat like hermit crabs into our shells and close ourselves off from life’s vulnerabilities. We stop connecting with the world. 

But that is not the way to live a full life. 

You need to be visible in the world. 

You need to feel emotion — the ups and the downs. 

David continues:

Part of a human being can’t believe how much loss there is in the average life.

One of the tenets and hallmarks of real healing from a grief or a loss is that you actually start to come out and play again.

You start to make yourself visible again in the world. You start to reach out to others. You’re not caught in this necessary, initial, hermetic enclosure where you’re finding shelter because you’ve been hurt in such a powerful way.

And so I reached that low point during the week where I thought to myself:

“F*ck it. I’m just gonna make the most of this one way or another.”

I realised my family needed leadership.

This was a dark time. And such an interesting time for me as I enter some version of midlife. It’s this weird dynamic where you have your own young children, but you’re also beginning to feel like you are now parenting your elderly parents, as strange as that sounds. 

It kind of gives me the creeps realising I am entering “midlife”. Part of me doesn’t want to let go of youth. But the other part of me is excited and hungry for the possibilities and responsibilities of midlife. 

And so I had a choice:

• I could bury my head in the sand, close off my emotions, and pretend nothing was happening.
• Or I could step up and be the father figure my family needed during this time.

Choose to lead

I can viscerally remember that moment of decision. 

It was when I realised my mum also needed to be hospitalised.

In the lead-up, I had been whining about all the work I needed to do and the house I had to get in order before our baby would be born.

I was avoiding the real issues.

You know what you do; you find a way to make it all about you:

“Me, me, me”.

But this was bigger than me. 

My spine shot up. I had goosebumps on my skin as a cold chill ran through my body.

This wasn’t going away.

My family need me. Everything else can wait. We’ll find a way to make things work.

So I surrendered in that moment. And I vowed to focus on what mattered most—the health and support of my family. 

Here are eight things I learned over this turbulent week:

1.     Stand up and lead

Put your hand up to break the news, speak with the doctor, and find out what’s going on. Don’t avoid the difficult conversations. You have no idea how much those close to you require your leadership.

2.     Your presence matters

Spend physical time with those you love. Your presence is the ultimate gift. Let them know you love them. You never know when it will be the last time. 

3.     The work can always wait

Forget about your work for now. People will understand. And if they don’t, they don’t have your best interests at heart. If the worst-case scenario unfolds, do you want to miss the final hours with your loved one because you were chained to a desk at work?

4.     Find pockets of joy

Once our beautiful baby boy was born, my wife and I made a little pact: Let’s draw an imaginary line in the sand for a few days. We decided that no matter what, we would make the most of our little bubble in the hospital, away from the world. If you’re a parent, you know how heartwarming this special time is with your newborn. 

5.     Get back into things 

Cherish that little pocket of joy. But once it’s over, stand up again and face the music. Slay your dragons. Those monsters only get bigger with time. We had another crisis develop while we were in our bubble, and as soon as we emerged, we got back to where we were needed. 

6.     Make time for yourself

Sure, your family needs you. But you need to look after yourself. You know the old airplane metaphor, “Put your own oxygen mask on first before helping others.”

You need a few boundaries. I told my wife several times: “I just need some space to think. Please let me be for the next half hour or so”. And I did the same for her. In this space, you can reflect, develop self-awareness and compassion and then come back in the way you are needed. 

7.     Health matters most

Look after yourself. Cause at the end of the day, nothing else matters if you don’t have your health. I realised I want to take better care of myself as I enter this next stage of life. It’s easy to let yourself go as you throw all your energy into parenting or give your soul away to work. But poor health compounds into serious issues as you age.

8.     Accept you are not in control

I felt like I was losing my mind. I couldn’t get a grip. Then I realised I was clinging to those things outside of my control. I was letting it dictate my emotional state. But once I resolved to let go, things became more manageable. I felt lighter. I felt liberated in the sea of noise. Strangely, this left me feeling that everything would be ok. There is power in accepting we are not in control. 

No matter how bad things feel, you come out the other side

And now, here we are, coming out the other side of this week from hell, and I am glad I made that choice. Our family now feels stronger than ever. There is nothing like a crisis to realign values and tighten bonds.

And that little bundle of joy? Well, don’t get me started; I will tear up! Tears of joy, of course!

I hope this letter serves as a reminder to keep your cool when things inevitably fall apart when you least expect it. 

Reflection

What will you do when the proverbial sh*t hits the fan in your life?

• Run away and hide? 
• Or stand up and lead?

What work can you be doing now, on yourself, so you can best lead when that day comes?

A quote to ponder

Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing.

We think that the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved.

They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that.

The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.

Pema Chodron

What happened this week

Poetry & Purpose

Already here

We said you were arriving.

But really, 

you were already here.

… Continue reading on Substack. 

Final thoughts 

Today’s writing background music playlist was Electronica Romantica on Spotify. 

I hope you enjoyed this letter, please share it with a friend.

If you would like to receive my weekly letter in your inbox, sign up here.

It would be great to have you on board!

Cheers!

Matt K. Head