Candid Conversations Newsletter: Letting Go...

Have you ever sat with your younger self and asked why you wanted what you once wanted? I do that sometimes, and the answers are not always flattering.

Sometimes what we call dreams aren’t really ours at all. They’re masks, shaped by distortions we don’t notice at the time. A uniform, a title, a job — they bend our reflection just enough to convince us we’re chasing what matters, when really we’re just chasing what we think will make us worthy.

My whaleminded friend and I circle this question often. What did you want to be when you grew up? My first answer was soldier. Then politician. Then computer analyst. His was soldier too. On the surface, these look like different paths. But underneath, the same thread runs through them: recognition. Status. That itch to be seen.

We chase both even when we pretend we’re not. As kids, we picture uniforms, titles, corner offices — not because we know what those lives are actually like, but because they tell other people we matter. The Big Job is never just a job. It’s a badge.

The Chase Beneath the Dream 🛌🏽

Until I was fourteen, being a soldier was my dream. I liked the structure, the weapons, the command-and-control fantasy. I watched every war movie. The Dirty Dozen, Delta Force, Platoon, Rambo First Blood, the list goes on.  I even built a wooden gun silhouette so I could hold the dream in my hands.

Then came the hair. My first week at cadet school, they told me to cut it. That was my last day. Of course, it was never really about the hair. It was my first clash with authority. The moment I realized that the uniform demanded more than discipline. It demanded surrender.

Even in regular school, compliance never sat easily with me. I wore the uniform, but I wanted my individuality. My freedom of expression. And that’s where recognition gets tricky. In societies like mine, ambition leans toward logic and testing and predictability. Creativity gets dismissed as wasteful. You’re praised not for who you are, but for how well you slide into the right-shaped box.

Cognitive Distortions🪞

This is where distortions creep in.

• All-or-nothing thinking: If I can’t conform fully, then I don’t belong at all.

• Should statements: I should pick the profession with the most status, whether or not it fits me.

• Emotional reasoning: Because recognition feels good, it must mean the path is right.

Distortions twist how we see ourselves. They whisper that worth equals achievement, that creativity has no place, that recognition is proof of success. They flatten the messy complexity of a life into one narrow definition of value.

It took me years to admit I was chasing my own distortion.

Societal Uncommunicated Expectations🫂

On top of personal distortions come the silent expectations. Cut your hair. Follow the rules. Sit the exams. Pursue the Big Job. Learn that discipline equals conformity. Learn that stability matters more than creativity. No one says these things out loud, but you absorb them anyway. They become the invisible script for ambition.

The truth is, these expectations aren’t designed for your wholeness. They’re designed for order. For predictability. And sometimes that predictability costs you the spark that got you dreaming in the first place.

Understanding the Duality ☯️

I’ve often said I’m lucky to have friends who see me clearly. One of my closest friends from high school once said I was the most disciplined and the most undisciplined person he knew. As much as I wanted to argue, I couldn’t. He was right.

To understand that duality, I’ve had to talk to the little soldier inside me. The part that longed for structure and recognition, but hated rules that strangled individuality. Discipline and rebellion have always lived side by side in me.

The trick is asking the right questions: Why did I want what I wanted? Whose recognition was I chasing? What did I give up to fit the silent script of status, and what have I reclaimed by choosing otherwise?

The Chase🏃🏽‍♂️‍➡️

I remember weighing a career move once. I asked myself how I could jump two levels, double my salary. Then came the shadow questions. What would you do with it? Where would you live? What car would you drive? And then the ultimate question: what for?

Was it for me, or for others to see and nod approvingly? Would I feel at home in the neighborhoods I bought into, or like  an outsider with the right address but the wrong story, the wrong skin?

That’s when I realized I’d been chasing my own distortion. I had mistaken recognition for fulfillment. I had confused validation with value. That moment pressed me into silence and shifted my idea of success. Recognition could no longer be the only measure.

Once a Man, Twice a Child 🧒🏽

There’s a line I come back to often: once a man, twice a child. Life circles back. It peels away ambition and illusion until what’s left is simple.

I think I’m waiting for that return. Not to the soldier, or the politician, or the analyst. But to a simpler life. One that lets me be. To live from authenticity instead of the chase.

Along the way I’ve been given friendship. People who remind me of truths I can’t always see in myself. They help me hold the paradox of being disciplined and undisciplined, structured and rebellious.

And maybe that’s the reconciliation. To stop running after recognition, and to start living with the quiet courage of being good enough, even when the world insists otherwise.