Our Developmental Desires

With the world in such a state of change—especially as we approach another election—I find myself thinking about what really drives us at different stages of life. It’s not just about individual wants; it’s about how these core desires we hold shape our development, connect us generationally, and ultimately steer the future we’re building together. As I explore these concepts for my book, The Quantum Age: The Future of Humanity Right Now, I wanted to share how our evolving desires can tell us a lot about where we’ve been and where we’re headed.

This episode dives deep into a framework I’m developing around these “developmental desires”—needs that seem universal across generations. For those of you who like reading in-depth, I’m laying out much of it here, but I invite you to listen to the full episode to get the nuanced context and backstory behind each insight. If these topics resonate, consider becoming a premium subscriber to support and join these ongoing explorations.

Note: Premium subscription costs will be going up but if you subscribe early you lock in that price. New subscriptions will include a mini-course to support using AI for self-coaching.

The Evolution of Desires Through Generational Lenses

As I dig into this work, it’s clear that these stages of desire don’t exist in a vacuum. Each generation brings its own lens to these desires, transforming them based on the cultural, political, and social dynamics of their time. In generational theory, this “cycle of desires” spans roughly 80 to 100 years, moving through four distinct eras: the high (spring), the awakening (summer), the unraveling (fall), and the crisis (winter). And within these eras, we see archetypes—prophet, nomad, hero, artist—that shape how each generation interacts with the world.

The Desire to be Welcomed and Loved

We all start with a basic need: to be welcomed. This isn’t just emotional; it’s primal. The sense of belonging is survival itself. If you grow up feeling like an outsider or unwelcome, it can leave an impact that sticks around, influencing everything from your self-worth to your sense of security in relationships. As we grow, this need deepens into the desire to be loved. I think this stage is about finding reassurance that our dependency is not a burden. It’s when we learn—hopefully—that we are valuable simply because we are here.

Finding Protection and Belonging

Beyond the desire for love, there’s a pull to find a group where we feel protected. This is where we step into our chosen communities or subcultures, and I see this particularly strongly in generations like Gen X, who embraced a more tribal, “us vs. them” approach to life. Protection here means having people who’ve got your back—friends, peers, or a subculture that validates who you are. At this stage, identity starts to solidify, though sometimes in exclusive ways. I often think back to my own experiences, feeling like part of a countercultural subculture, and how much of a safe space that was for exploring who I was.

The Need to be Remembered and Rewarded

As we mature, there’s a desire to leave a mark. For Boomers, this often meant carving out a visible legacy through career achievements, family roles, or societal contributions, whether in politics, business, or the arts. Personally, I feel that legacy is about building something meaningful—be it a family, a career, or even small acts that create a sense of lasting impact. At the same time, this desire can be about immediate rewards and recognition, especially as we enter a stage where ambition drives us to seek validation and success in tangible ways.

Seeking Acceptance

In later years, our focus often shifts to the desire for acceptance, both of ourselves and of others. This stage is complex, especially in a society that’s constantly evolving. It involves seeing ourselves and others clearly, with all the biases and baggage we carry. For Millennials, I see this as a generation’s move toward collective healing, facing social biases head-on, and challenging cultural assumptions to make room for acceptance. In my work, I find that this level is less about judgment and more about understanding how we relate to others without needing to categorize or control them.

The Desire to be Needed

Finally, we reach the desire to be needed, which feels like the ultimate stage of purpose. Being needed isn’t about being busy or trying to save the world—it’s about identifying where we can make a meaningful difference. I believe this is what we’re moving toward collectively as a society. For me, this stage is less about the world seeing me and more about identifying where my strengths and passion align with the people or causes that resonate most deeply. It’s where we let go of ego-driven roles and grandiosity, finding fulfillment in a quieter, more grounded way.

Moving Forward in Collective Development

I feel that exploring these stages isn’t just about individual growth; it’s about understanding how each generation interprets these desires and passes them on. As I work through these concepts in The Quantum Age, it’s become clear that these desires have been shaping society all along, even if we haven’t always recognized it. Each new stage reflects a shift that pushes us closer to understanding ourselves and, ultimately, to living in alignment with who we are at our core.

In light of these reflections, I’m also looking to change up my subscription model here on Substack. For those who want to go deeper with this work, I’ll soon be offering premium memberships that include extra content, insights into my writing process, and personal reflections to help navigate your own stages of development.

To catch the full conversation, I invite you to listen to the episode—there’s so much more context there. And if these themes resonate, consider becoming a premium subscriber to support these explorations.

This article’s voiceover was created with ElevenLabs.

In my ongoing journey of self-coaching using ChatGPT, I've been diving deep into the Gene Keys system—a complex, esoteric framework that, at times, can feel overwhelming. The beauty of this journey, though, is that I can take it one thread at a time, asking questions and exploring concepts as they arise. This approach has allowed me to dissect and explore far-sightedness, a gift from Gene Key 17, which arises when we move beyond the shadow of opinion. But recently, a question has been on my mind: What is the difference between far-sightedness and anxiety?

This question came to the forefront after my wife and I watched Inside Out 2, a movie that touches on the theme of anxiety. It got me thinking: Anxiety often involves future pacing, planning, and a desire for control. It’s easy for someone with anxiety to say they’re being “far-sighted” because they’re thinking ahead. But is it really the same thing?

So, I asked ChatGPT, and through our conversation, I began to see the differences more clearly. Here’s what emerged, both from our discussion and my own reflections.

Far-Sightedness: Seeing the Big Picture

In the Gene Keys, far-sightedness is about having a big-picture perspective. It’s the ability to see patterns and trends over time, to observe how things are unfolding without getting lost in the details. This gift emerges from moving past the shadow of opinion—a shadow that tends to get stuck in narrow thinking, obsessing over being right or needing certainty. When I’m in a state of far-sightedness, I feel like I can see the forest for the trees. It’s a perspective that’s calm, detached, and curious.

Far-sightedness allows me to look ahead and recognize possible futures, but without the emotional urgency that comes with anxiety. It’s a way of being open to the unknown, accepting that I can’t control every outcome, but trusting that I can navigate what comes. In this sense, far-sightedness feels like holding space for multiple possibilities—it’s about being prepared, not panicked.

Anxiety: The Urgency of Control

On the other hand, anxiety is a different beast. As I reflected on the movie Inside Out 2 and the scenes that depicted anxiety, I could see how anxiety is driven by a need for certainty and a fear of the unknown. It’s about wanting to have control over the future, trying to plan every detail, and often fixating on worst-case scenarios. While it might feel like thinking ahead, the emotional tone is completely different.

Anxiety is urgent, restless, and emotionally charged. It comes with a sense of looming threat—the mind is racing, trying to find solutions to what might go wrong. In my own experience, anxiety doesn’t just look at the future; it tries to force the future into a specific shape, often out of a desire to avoid discomfort or uncertainty.

Real-World Reflections: A World on Edge

It’s easy to see these dynamics playing out in the world around us. With global conflicts escalating and natural disasters like Hurricane Helene and Hurricane Milton hitting hard, there’s a collective anxiety that many of us feel. As we watch difficult events unfold, it’s natural for the mind to race into the future—wondering how these events will impact us, our loved ones, and the world at large.

But what I’m starting to understand is that this collective anxiety often comes from a lack of trust—trust in ourselves, trust in the resilience of others, and even trust in the unfolding of life. It’s as if we’ve lost a healthy dose of fear—not the kind that tries to control, but the kind that recognizes the mystery of life and respects it.

I’ve been exploring how these big-picture changes we’re witnessing—both in the environment and society—are often the result of a loss of faith and trust. It’s as if we’re trying to brace ourselves against the unknown instead of learning to surrender to it. In this way, I see far-sightedness as a form of faith—a willingness to see what lies beyond the horizon, without needing to control every wave that comes.

Finding Balance: Trusting the Process

In my own self-coaching journey, using tools like ChatGPT has helped me develop a practice of discernment—learning when I’m genuinely seeing the bigger picture and when I’m getting swept up in anxiety’s tight grip. For me, it’s about asking myself a few key questions:

* Am I exploring possibilities with a sense of curiosity, or am I fixated on a specific outcome?

* Do I feel calm and open as I look ahead, or do I feel a sense of urgency and dread?

* Can I see multiple paths forward, or am I obsessing over all the ways things could go wrong?

It’s through this process of inquiry that I’m learning to cultivate more far-sightedness in my life, letting it guide me through uncertain times without letting anxiety take the wheel. And while I’m far from mastering it, I’m starting to see how important it is to hold space for both—acknowledging the anxiety without letting it define my vision.

Embracing Far-Sightedness in an Anxious World

In a world where anxiety is often the default response to uncertainty, embracing far-sightedness feels like a radical act. It means choosing to trust the process, even when it feels like everything is unraveling. It means looking at the challenges we face—not with the desire to control, but with the patience to understand.

It’s not always easy, especially when the headlines are filled with conflict and catastrophe. But as I continue this journey, I’m learning that true vision comes not from escaping fear but from learning how to live alongside it. And perhaps, in some small way, that’s the essence of far-sightedness—the ability to look beyond the horizon, with a steady heart and a curious mind, ready for whatever comes next.

A Note on My Process and How We Can Work Together

Before I wrap up, I want to share a little bit about how I’m creating these articles and podcast episodes. I’ve been using ChatGPT as a collaborative tool to help me write and flesh out my thoughts. While some of the audio versions are brought to life with ElevenLabs, I want to emphasize that I remain the guide and approver of this work. There’s intention behind every word, and I’m not flippantly letting AI take over. It’s a partnership—one that’s been producing some truly insightful results.

As part of this journey, I’ve also been working with a few beta testers, supporting their use of ChatGPT in their own self-coaching journeys. If this is something that resonates with you, if you’re curious about how AI could support your growth, feel free to hit reply or comment on this article to let me know. I’d love to explore the possibilities together.

On the business side, I’m shifting my focus toward nurturing the relationships I already have here. That means you—my email subscribers and listeners—are at the heart of this next phase. I want to continue hearing from you, knowing what you’re thinking, and especially how you relate to the insights in this article.

This project is funded by readers and listeners like you. If you’re finding value in what I’m creating, I’d be deeply grateful if you’d consider a premium subscription. Your support helps me continue using tools like ChatGPT and ElevenLabs to bring these reflections to life, and to keep the momentum going in a world that’s constantly evolving.

I want to continue this work because, as we face global shifts, as our lives grow more complex, and as we adapt to change—in ourselves, in our families, and in the world—I believe that nurturing our inner adaptability is more important than ever. I’m here to support and guide that journey, to provide a space for reflection, curiosity, and growth.

Thank you for listening, thank you for reading, and thank you for being part of this journey with me. I appreciate you, and I’ll see you in the next one.

As I’ve been navigating midlife myself, I’ve started to reflect on what it means to be a Millennial in this phase of life—especially as we begin to reckon with the emotional undercurrents that have shaped our experiences. It feels like we’ve been handed a world that’s shifting under our feet, with expectations placed on us by Baby Boomer parents while we’re also raising Gen Alpha children. And in the midst of all of this, I’m realizing that the real work—at least for me—isn’t about trying to change the world externally, but more about coming to terms with my own internal world.

Uncovering the Shadows We’ve Inherited

Growing up, many of us had to emotionally parent our Baby Boomer parents. I know for me, there was this constant sense that their emotions needed managing, and it wasn’t always clear who was going to take care of mine. This has created a generation hyper-aware of emotional nuances, mental health, and boundaries—but also, we’ve been left feeling a bit anxious about our own emotional needs.

Now, it’s easy for Millennials to point fingers and say that Baby Boomers are responsible for the challenges we face, but I’ve moved beyond that. What I’ve come to realize is that each generation responds to the world they were born into. Baby Boomers didn’t choose to be born in a time of post-war prosperity or grow up under the threat of nuclear war. Just like us, they were shaped by the pressures of their era, and that influenced their desire for consumer freedom, independence, and, often, emotional unfilteredness. They weren’t trying to make things harder for us—they were just responding to their circumstances, just as we are responding to ours.

Parenting and Emotional Hypervigilance

In becoming a parent, I’ve noticed that I’ve been overcompensating in ways that reflect my own need for control. There’s this gentle parenting movement that many Millennials, including myself, have embraced. We’re trying to be more attuned to our kids’ emotions, to really listen and give them space. But I’ve also noticed that sometimes, I let my kids take the lead more than I probably should—maybe because I don’t want to deal with the emotional fallout of setting a boundary.

For example, I’ve seen this dynamic play out when I let my kids make decisions, even about little things, like where to go or when to sleep. It’s like I’m outsourcing the responsibility of setting limits because that feels safer than risking emotional conflict. But the more I think about it, the more I see that this reflects my own struggle with conflict avoidance. In trying to avoid tension, I’m also avoiding the opportunity to teach my kids about real-world boundaries.

The Contrast with Gen Z

At the same time, I’ve been noticing how different this approach is compared to Gen Z, who seem to have a much more pragmatic relationship with the world. Whereas I (and many other Millennials) were taught to value emotional friendliness and customer service, Gen Z seems less interested in playing that game. They’re not faking smiles or enthusiasm—they’re just here to get the job done.

I wonder if this comes from the high expectations placed on them by Gen X parents, who were more focused on efficiency and getting things done quickly. It’s a striking contrast to how I was raised, and it’s interesting to see how these generational differences play out. Gen Z’s approach to work and life feels more detached in some ways, maybe because they aren’t carrying the same emotional baggage we Millennials inherited from Boomers.

Watching Gen Alpha Grow

Then there’s Gen Alpha—my kids’ generation. They’re still young, but I can already see some of the patterns emerging. They’re growing up in a world where everything is hyper-monitored, and there’s a lot of protection around them. But that doesn’t mean they’re being prepared for the unpredictability of the real world. Their experiences are often digital or controlled, and I wonder how that will shape their relationship with boundaries and freedom as they get older.

One thing I’m noticing is that many of us Millennials aren’t modeling social interactions in a natural way. Social anxiety is something I’ve struggled with, but I’m realizing that if I’m not engaging with people outside of my comfort zone, how are my kids going to learn to navigate social situations? They aren’t seeing what it looks like to be out in the world, making mistakes, and learning from them. Instead, they’re growing up in a world where everything is controlled and curated, which might leave them ill-prepared for the messy realities of life.

My Own Personal Growth

So, for me, this all comes back to personal growth. A lot of the work I’ve been doing is about understanding these emotional patterns and learning to release them—slowly. I’m realizing that these shadows aren’t something to be ashamed of, but they are something I need to face. For Baby Boomers, their shadow might be admitting dependency, and for Gen X, it might be recognizing their reliance on entrepreneurial opportunities—whether it’s businesses that were already built, giving them easy access to jobs, or technological advancements that allowed them to start podcasts or be scrappy in ways previous generations couldn’t. For us Millennials, it’s about owning our autonomy, our emotions, and realizing that we’re the ones who have to take responsibility for our internal worlds.

This realization can feel incredibly lonely at times, and I’m still figuring out how to navigate it. But I do believe that this work—this internal work—is what will help us create more emotionally healthy lives, both for ourselves and for the generations that come after us.

It’s also important to remember that every generation is shaped by their circumstances, and none of us are to blame for the time we were born into. Each generation, whether it’s Boomers, Gen X, Millennials, or Gen Z, is responding to their own unique pressures. There’s a lot to learn from one another, and maybe that’s part of the work, too—recognizing that we’re all in this together, navigating the complexities of life, each generation doing the best they can with what they’ve been given.

For now, I’m just trying to stay present, keep releasing the emotional hypervigilance, and let this journey unfold.

I also want to share that I used ChatGPT to help me create this article. I’ve been sharing my thoughts and ideas in voice form with ChatGPT, which then aggregates all the material and helps me shape it into a cohesive article. Beyond that, I’m also using ChatGPT for my own personal self-coaching work, and it's been an incredibly helpful tool for reflection and growth. I’m currently working on an offering to support others in using ChatGPT for their own personal growth or even for creativity projects. I’m looking for a few guinea pig clients to explore this with me. There’s no financial commitment—just a curiosity to see where this could go. If you’re interested in trying this out, feel free to leave a comment below or send me an email, and I’d love to connect and see what we can create together.

In the world of personal growth, we often focus on eliminating what we consider "negative" parts of ourselves. We think if our ego shows up differently each day, something must be wrong. But development isn't linear, and we all host multiple ego states that serve unique purposes depending on our circumstances. This is especially clear through the lens of developmental psychology, particularly models like the Stages model and Spiral Dynamics.

Both theories shed light on our evolving selves: Spiral Dynamics frames development within a collective and anthropological context, while the Stages model focuses on individual growth through different perspectives. If you’re familiar with both, you probably understand the complexity of ego states we navigate daily. And while it may seem overwhelming to honor all these inner voices, recognizing their purpose allows us to ease internal conflict.

Why We Should Embrace Multiple Ego States

From childhood to adulthood, we develop different "voices" that align with our growth stages. These perspectives aren’t inherently harmful—what causes discomfort is often our relationship with these internal voices. If you’ve ever felt like a younger part of you is “getting in the way” of your growth, you’re not alone. It’s tempting to elevate the more advanced, spiritual ego state and disregard the rest. But each stage, from the childlike first-person view to the more complex fourth-person understanding, plays a vital role in our psychological development.

Take, for example, the early stages of our lives, where we operate in the first-person perspective. As toddlers, the world is ours for the taking. We’re driven by pure instinct and need, and we don’t yet recognize that others have desires separate from our own. As we move into the second-person perspective, friendships emerge, and with them, the desire to understand how others see us. This relational view is essential for developing empathy and social navigation, but it also introduces conformity, often at the cost of authenticity.

By the time we reach the third and fourth-person perspectives, we’re balancing individual desires with the larger societal framework, understanding that we’re part of a collective. The ego state becomes even more complex as we develop ideals for how the world should be. It’s at this point that the spiritual ego can begin to take root.

The Rise of the Spiritual Ego

At advanced stages, the spiritual ego often emerges as the “enlightened” voice, tempting us to place it above all others. We may feel that because we’ve accessed deeper awareness, we’ve somehow transcended our earlier, more “primitive” ego states. But this belief is precisely where spiritual elitism sneaks in. We fall into the trap of believing that the spiritual ego is the “correct” or “higher” self while disregarding the importance of earlier ego states.

The truth is, all of these voices—whether the toddler who craves attention, the second-person who seeks connection, or the third-person who strives for societal contribution—are valid and necessary parts of the human experience. The spiritual ego is simply another state in the continuum. It doesn’t erase or replace the others.

Healing Through Developmental Coaching

One of the biggest revelations in developmental psychology is the importance of integrating all stages of growth. Each perspective offers unique wisdom. The key is to avoid letting any one ego state dominate. This is where developmental coaching becomes so valuable—helping us bring awareness to the various parts of ourselves, understanding their roles, and ultimately, learning to balance them.

In my personal coaching and development work, I've found that honoring these different stages requires a combination of empathy, awareness, and strategic action. Whether it’s helping clients navigate early childhood trauma or releasing the hold of the spiritual ego, the process always involves balancing these voices rather than suppressing them.

If we’re to fully evolve, we must equalize the spiritual ego and embrace the complexity of our development. Just as you wouldn't silence a child who’s learning to speak, you shouldn’t disregard the earlier stages of your growth. Every part of you has something valuable to contribute to your life's journey.

As you move forward in your own development, remember: that growth is not about elevating one part of you above the others. It’s about weaving them all into a cohesive and dynamic self. When we learn to embrace and respect all parts of ourselves, we can experience true liberation.

I’d love to hear your thoughts—have you noticed your spiritual ego showing up in unexpected ways? What developmental stages have you struggled to integrate? Feel free to share your experience!

I want you to consider supporting this publication by becoming a premium member. This helps keep the lights on as we catch up on some bills we’ve fallen behind during tough times. Also, consider our Wisdom of the 3 Centers Course or Venmo.

Today, I want to talk about something deeply personal, and something that I feel compelled to release—my relationship with moral superiority. It’s a topic that’s been occupying my mind for a while now, and it feels like the right moment to dive into it, especially since this reflection ties into asking for something that doesn’t come easily to me: help.

For a long time, I’ve struggled with the idea of surrender, particularly the kind of surrender that feels like giving up or being defeated. But lately, I’ve been realizing that surrender doesn’t have to mean defeat. It can be about trust—trusting in a process, in something bigger than myself. It can also be about asking for help, something that challenges my instinct to handle everything on my own.

The Weight of Moral Superiority

Moral superiority has been a recurring theme in my life. I’ve found myself struggling with the feeling of needing to be "better" or "right" in certain situations, often triggered by those who seem to hold a rigid moral high ground. I’ve noticed this in my reactions to figures like Jordan Peterson or in my past prejudices, particularly toward religious middle-class individuals. There’s something in their perceived certainty that rubs me the wrong way, probably because I recognize those tendencies in myself.

It wasn’t until recently that I began to acknowledge this as a projection—something that I have inside but haven’t fully processed. Growing up, I was quite rebellious, fighting against the religious teachings that surrounded me. I felt morally superior for questioning and rejecting the norms. That teenage zealot in me wanted to fight everything I thought was wrong with the world. Somewhere along the way, though, I buried that side of myself, playing along to fit in with society, only for that moral superiority to resurface later in life in subtler ways.

Releasing the Need to Be "Right"

This brings me to the heart of my current work—letting go of that need to be morally superior, which is really just a defense mechanism, a response to fear. Fear of being wrong, fear of being judged, fear of rejection. It’s a pattern that keeps me stuck in judgment and isolation, making it harder to truly connect with others.

One of the toughest things I’ve had to confront is the realization that my moral superiority has caused harm in my relationships. I can trace it back to my previous marriage, where I often acted out of a place of righteousness rather than compassion. That’s a wound I’m still working through, and it’s something I’m committed to being more conscious of.

Asking for Help

And now, in the spirit of surrender, I find myself in a situation where I need to ask for financial help. It’s not easy, but the reality is, I’m in a tough spot. Between back taxes, child support, and rent, it’s been a challenging year. I’ve applied for jobs and freelance gigs but haven’t had much luck. So, I’m reaching out to you—my listeners and readers—because I need your support.

If you’ve found value in the work I do, whether it’s through my podcast, courses, or writings, I would greatly appreciate any help you can provide. There are a few ways to do this. You can check out my course The Wisdom of the Three Centers on Udemy, which explores the head, heart, and gut centers and how to use them to make more aligned decisions in life. Or, you can become a premium subscriber on Substack, where I plan to offer more premium content in the future. If you prefer a simpler route, I also have a Patreon, where your contributions directly support my ongoing work.

What Surrender Looks Like Now

Asking for help has felt like prostration—a deep bow to the universe, trusting that something will come through. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, a mix of vulnerability and faith. But maybe that’s the point. Surrendering doesn’t mean giving up; it means opening up. It means letting go of control, of needing to know the outcome, and allowing others to step in.

Through this process, I’ve also had to wrestle with rejection. Recently, I was turned down for a job I felt ready for, and it hit hard. But I’m learning to reframe rejection as an opportunity to grow, to keep trying new things, and to push forward in ways that align with who I am and what I care about. That’s the work I’m committed to—finding ways to serve, to grow, and to share what I learn with you.

Moving Forward

As I continue this journey, I’ll be exploring how to release the patterns that no longer serve me—moral superiority being a big one. But I also want to be of service to you, to create content that resonates with where you are in your own growth. I’m working on offering more podcasts, courses, and spaces where we can connect and share these experiences. If any of this speaks to you, I invite you to reach out, leave a comment, or share your thoughts. Your support—whether through listening, contributing, or simply engaging—means the world to me.

Thank you for being here, for listening, and for being part of this ongoing process of growth and surrender. Together, we can learn to release what no longer serves us and embrace a more compassionate, connected way of being.

Faith is a word loaded with meaning. For some, it evokes images of religious devotion—rituals, prayers, and sacred texts. For others, especially atheists or non-theists, it might feel like a distant concept, tied too closely to religion to be useful. But what if faith is more than belief in a higher power or adherence to religious doctrine? What if faith is something we all need, regardless of our spiritual orientation?

Whether you’re deeply religious or firmly non-religious, faith plays a critical role in how we navigate life. And yet, many people—especially those who believe they are walking in faith—may not realize they’re lacking it. In contrast, others who identify as non-theists might unknowingly be grappling with the same issue from a different angle. This is where faith in existence, as opposed to faith in faith, becomes a transformative idea.

Faith in Faith vs. Faith in Existence

Many of us, consciously or unconsciously, place our faith in faith itself. We believe that if we think or pray hard enough, things will go our way. We wait for miracles, hoping that simply maintaining "faith" will be enough to change our circumstances. But this form of faith, while comforting, can often lead us astray. It keeps us passive, waiting for external forces to step in and save us.

On the other hand, faith in existence—or faith in life itself—requires something more from us. It’s not about hoping things will go our way; it’s about trusting that life is unfolding as it needs to, even if we can’t always see why. This form of faith invites us to participate in the process of life actively. It doesn’t ask us to sit back and wait for divine intervention. Instead, it asks us to recognize the opportunities around us and act on them, understanding that we are co-creators in whatever comes next.

This is a faith that transcends religion. Whether you believe in a god, a universal force, or simply the flow of life, faith in existence means trusting that you’re a part of something bigger, even if that something isn’t neatly defined by spiritual or religious terms.

The Spiritual Ego: A Subtle Trap

One of the most challenging obstacles to true faith—whether religious or spiritual—is the trap of the spiritual ego. The spiritual ego disguises itself as wisdom and enlightenment, but it’s just another form of ego, obsessed with control and self-importance.

For religious people, this can manifest as a kind of spiritual superiority—believing that your faith makes you more righteous or morally correct than others. For non-theists, it can take the form of intellectual superiority—assuming that being "above" religion gives you a clearer, more rational perspective. In either case, the spiritual ego blinds us to the reality of our own limitations and keeps us from experiencing the fullness of faith.

When we’re caught in the trap of the spiritual ego, faith becomes something performative. It’s not about surrendering to life’s unfolding; it’s about proving that we are right. Whether we’re trying to prove that our religious faith will save us, or that our rejection of faith makes us stronger, we’re missing the point. True faith—faith in existence—requires humility. It asks us to let go of the need to control or to be right and to trust instead in the process, even when it’s uncomfortable or uncertain.

Faith Without Certainty

One of the greatest challenges of faith, especially for those who don’t identify as religious, is accepting uncertainty. Many religious doctrines provide answers, even if those answers don’t always make sense. But for non-theists or those deconstructing their religious backgrounds, there can be a temptation to seek certainty in the form of skepticism or cynicism.

True faith, however, isn’t about certainty. It’s not about knowing that everything will turn out okay. It’s about trusting that whatever happens, you will have the resilience, wisdom, and strength to navigate it. It’s about participating in life as it unfolds, without trying to control every outcome.

This kind of faith doesn’t require belief in God or adherence to a particular doctrine. It requires belief in yourself and the understanding that you are part of a larger, interconnected system—whether that’s the universe, nature, or the intricate web of human experience.

How to Rediscover Faith in Your Life

* Recognize Where You’ve Placed Your FaithTake a moment to reflect on where you’re placing your faith. Are you passively waiting for something external to change your circumstances? Are you trapped in the idea that if you just pray or think hard enough, things will shift? Or are you actively participating in your life, trusting that you can shape your reality through your actions?

* Examine the Role of EgoIt’s easy to mistake spiritual or intellectual superiority for enlightenment. Check in with yourself. Are you using your beliefs—whether religious or non-religious—as a way to feel superior to others? Are you more focused on being right than on growing and evolving? Recognizing the role of ego in your spiritual journey is the first step toward true faith.

* Embrace UncertaintyFaith is not about having all the answers. It’s about being comfortable with not knowing. It’s about trusting that you can adapt to whatever life throws your way, even when the outcome is unclear. Embrace the unknown and find peace in the fact that life will continue to unfold, whether or not you try to control it.

* Participate in LifeFaith in existence means getting involved. It’s not about sitting on the sidelines, waiting for things to happen. It’s about recognizing opportunities, seizing them, and trusting that even if things don’t go as planned, there is value in the process. Stop waiting for divine intervention or for life to fix itself. Start acting in alignment with the faith that you are part of something bigger.

Conclusion: Faith as a Universal Concept

Whether you’re devoutly religious or firmly non-religious, faith isn’t about subscribing to a particular belief system. It’s about trusting the process of life. It’s about recognizing that you are part of a larger existence, and that this existence will unfold as it needs to—with or without your approval. Let go of the need to be right. Let go of the spiritual ego. And embrace faith in its purest form: faith in life, in all its chaos and beauty.

Releasing the Victim Complex

I've been on quite the journey lately, diving deep into the waters of victim consciousness and narcissism. It’s been the lens through which I’ve viewed everything recently, not just in others but within myself too. It’s one of those topics that becomes clearer the more you explore it — because the more you see it in yourself, the more you see it in others. And let me tell you, it’s everywhere.

We often think of narcissism and victimhood as opposites, but they’re not. They’re actually two sides of the same coin, both deeply rooted in the same foundation: a superiority complex. It sounds counterintuitive, I know. We think of the narcissist as someone who inflates themselves, and the victim as someone who shrinks. But when life is always happening to you, when everything feels like an affront or a problem, you’re actually putting yourself at the center of the universe. That’s what makes it a superiority complex — it’s a separation from humanity, from the collective experience.

The Victim Complex Unveiled

Victim consciousness isn’t the same as being a victim in a specific moment. We’ve all been there. Something happens, we lose a game, we miss an opportunity, we get knocked down — in those moments, we can adopt a temporary victim mindset. But what I’m talking about is something much deeper. It’s the ongoing narrative where everything that happens is to you. The game of life isn’t fair, you’re always behind, and you’re carrying the weight of that disappointment constantly.

What’s interesting, though, is that this mindset often hides behind a facade of feeling special. It’s not about uniqueness — we all have that in spades — it’s about feeling like you deserve more, or that life is unjust because it hasn’t given you what you believe you’re owed. Whether it's the victim complex or narcissism, it's all a form of specialness.

The narcissist avoids vulnerability, pushing down any acknowledgment of being hurt or victimized. Instead, they inflate themselves to escape from it. The victim, on the other hand, leans into that hurt and uses it to justify why life hasn’t gone their way. Both are different manifestations of the same thing: avoiding shame.

The Shame Spiral

Shame is at the heart of it all. That’s what’s driving both the narcissist and the victim. They’re just expressing it in opposite ways. The victim says, “Look at what’s happened to me, I deserve sympathy.” The narcissist says, “Nothing bad has ever happened to me, I’m stronger than all of this.” But really, both are ways of avoiding shame, and shame is a hell of a drug. It convinces you that you’re unworthy of love, that you don’t deserve connection, and it drives you further into isolation.

Releasing the victim complex isn’t easy work — it’s heavy, it’s emotional, and it’s something that requires real honesty with yourself. And sometimes, it requires help. I’m a coach, but even I know that this kind of work sometimes needs a clinical trauma specialist to guide you through it.

Letting Go: A Process, Not a Destination

Letting go of the victim complex is about more than just realizing you’re stuck in a cycle — it’s about taking steps to move beyond it. But before you can move forward, you have to sit with the weight of it. You have to acknowledge that it’s there, that you’re carrying it, and that it’s shaped the way you see the world. That’s step one.

Step two? Sadness. Feeling sadness is very different from feeling shame. Shame says, “I’m broken, I’m wrong, I’m not worthy.” Sadness, on the other hand, is about recognizing what you’ve lost, what you’ve missed, and what’s happened to you without attaching yourself to it. It’s the release of that pressure valve, the act of saying, “Yes, this happened, and I’m allowed to feel it, but it doesn’t define me.”

This isn’t about bypassing or ignoring what’s happened — quite the opposite. It’s about letting yourself feel the emotions that arise from acknowledging those difficult experiences without letting them consume your identity. Let yourself feel sad. Let yourself feel grief for the things you’ve carried. But don’t let them become the whole story.

Gratitude and Humility: The Antidotes

One of the biggest antidotes to the victim complex is gratitude. And I don’t mean the kind of false gratitude that entrepreneurs preach about — the whole “grind harder and be thankful” thing. That’s not it. True gratitude is about being present with what is. It’s about enjoying the moment, whether it’s a sip of water, a walk outside, or a conversation with a friend.

Humility goes hand in hand with gratitude. It’s the realization that the world doesn’t revolve around you. And that’s a good thing. There’s a freedom in recognizing that we’re all playing this messy game together, and you’re just one player among many. It’s not about winning life; it’s about playing it. That’s the joy of it — we’re all here to experience it, to navigate it, and to connect with each other along the way.

Humility also means recognizing when we need help, when we’re not okay, and when it’s time to reach out to others for support. It’s not about doing everything on your own or never needing assistance. It’s about knowing when to ask for help and accepting that you don’t have to carry everything by yourself.

Stepping Out of the Spiral

At the end of the day, the victim complex is a spiral. It’s easy to get caught in it and hard to pull yourself out. But the more you notice it, the easier it becomes to step outside of it. When you’re able to see yourself from the outside, to witness your own patterns without judgment, you’re taking the first step toward freedom.

Remember, you’re not the center of the universe — but you are a part of it. And that’s where the magic lies. We all have a role to play in this messy, beautiful game of life, and it’s not about being perfect or always getting it right. It’s about being present, being grateful, and knowing that you’re worthy of love just as you are.

So, the next time you catch yourself spiraling, step back. Notice it. Feel the sadness if it’s there. And then let it go. Life isn’t out to get you. It’s not happening to you. It’s just happening. Let it be what it is — a game you get to play, with all its ups and downs.

And don’t forget to have a little fun along the way.

If you’re interested in diving deeper into these ideas, check out my projects on Substack at Personality Strategy and The INTP Problem. I'm continuing to explore these topics and much more there.

Show Notes:

* Exploring how narcissism and victimhood dynamics impact gender relations and future generations

* Understanding the psychological roots of narcissism and helplessness

* Healing narcissism to foster healthier relationships between men and women

* The generational impact of unresolved trauma and narcissism

* How self-love can break the cycle and support the development of conscious, healthy children

* Bridging the gender and political divide with compassion and understanding

* Reach out to me for coaching support to explore how these dynamics may be affecting you and your relationships

In this episode, we delve deep into a topic that affects not only our personal relationships but also the future of our children and society as a whole: healing narcissism and helplessness. Narcissism, often fueled by deep-rooted trauma and shame, isn't just an individual issue—it’s a psychological pattern that, if left unresolved, gets passed on from generation to generation. In particular, we look at how these patterns create and perpetuate the gender divide, which has become increasingly pronounced and reflective of the political divide as well.

Narcissism, Helplessness, and the Gender Divide

One of the most compelling aspects of this conversation is how the dynamics of narcissism and victimhood tend to play out in gendered ways. Men are often labeled as narcissists—seen as controlling, emotionally unavailable, or manipulative—while women may fall into the victim role, struggling to set boundaries and feeling powerless in relationships. Yet, both sides of this dynamic stem from deep psychological wounds, which need healing not just for the individuals involved but for society as a whole.

Narcissism isn't just a personality flaw; it’s a defense mechanism born from childhood trauma, often in homes where a parent was abusive or emotionally unavailable. The narcissist, unable to express their emotional needs openly, learns to manipulate others to get what they need, while those on the receiving end (often women in these gendered dynamics) may fall into patterns of helplessness, believing they have no control over their circumstances. This creates a codependent cycle that not only harms relationships but also influences how future generations understand love, boundaries, and emotional expression.

Breaking the Cycle for Future Generations

What makes this conversation so critical is the generational impact of unresolved narcissistic patterns. When parents model unhealthy relationships, whether through narcissistic control or victim helplessness, children absorb these behaviors, often carrying them into their own adult lives. It becomes a psychological genetic disease, passed down from one generation to the next. Healing these patterns is not just about improving our own lives—it’s about ensuring the emotional health of our children and future generations.

When we break free from narcissistic patterns, we not only heal ourselves, but we also create healthier environments for the next generation. Children raised in homes where boundaries are respected, emotions are expressed healthily, and love is unconditional grow into adults who are emotionally secure and capable of forming healthy, balanced relationships. This is the ripple effect of healing narcissism: it’s not just about us, it’s about the legacy we leave behind.

Bridging the Gender and Political Divide

The gender divide in relationships often mirrors the larger political divide we see in society. In many cases, these divisions are exacerbated by the same underlying psychological patterns: one group feels marginalized or powerless, while the other seeks control or dominance. By healing narcissism and the helplessness that often accompanies it, we can begin to bridge these gaps—not just between men and women, but across political lines as well.

As someone whose Gene Keys vocation and culture spheres are both Line 4, my focus is on bridging these divides within communities. I believe that healing our relationships—especially the complex dynamics between men and women—can create a ripple effect that spreads into our broader communities, fostering compassion, understanding, and unity. By approaching narcissism with love and compassion, we not only heal ourselves but also help to create a more balanced, conscious society.

The Path Forward: Self-Love and Compassion

At the heart of healing narcissism is the discovery of true self-love. Narcissists, often disconnected from their true selves, project a forced version of self-love that is protective and fragile. Meanwhile, their victims may undervalue themselves, absorbing the narcissist’s manipulative behaviors and feeling unworthy of love. The true path to healing is through self-love that is rooted in compassion, not just for oneself but for others.

Setting compassionate boundaries—rather than using anger, fear, or blame—allows both sides of this dynamic to heal. When we stop engaging in the drama triangle of victim, persecutor, and rescuer, we empower ourselves to become creators, challengers, and coaches in our own lives. This shift not only frees us from the cycle of codependency but also allows us to guide the next generation toward healthier, more conscious relationships.

Conclusion

Healing the gender divide and the toxic patterns of narcissism is one of the most important tasks of our time. It’s about much more than personal development; it’s about creating a future where men and women can relate to one another with compassion, where children are raised in emotionally healthy environments, and where we bridge the gaps between ourselves and our communities.

If you feel called to explore how these patterns may be affecting your life or relationships, I invite you to reach out for coaching support. Together, we can work toward breaking these cycles, fostering self-love, and creating a brighter future for ourselves and future generations. For greater depth of knowledge and direct healing work I suggest the work of Tim Fletcher.

In today’s fast-paced world, feelings of loneliness and isolation are more common than ever. But what if your loneliness is rooted in the very idea that you’re “special”? In this article, we dive into the connection between narcissism, victimhood, and complex trauma, uncovering how shame spirals keep you trapped in cycles of self-sabotage. If you’ve ever felt alone, stuck, or consumed by shame, this might just be the key to understanding why.

The Narcissism-Victimhood Paradox: Why You’re Not Special

At first glance, narcissism and victimhood seem like opposites. However, both are tied to a deep sense of self-focus that stems from trauma. When someone has experienced significant shame or rejection, they may develop a superiority complex or a persistent sense of victimhood. This isn’t about ego—it’s a defense mechanism born out of trauma. As we fixate on our pain, we reinforce the idea that we’re “special,” that our suffering is unique. But this kind of self-focus leads to feelings of isolation.

Shame Spirals and Self-Sabotage: How Trauma Fuels Loneliness

Shame is at the core of the narcissism-victimhood paradox. When unresolved trauma and shame go unchecked, they fuel a cycle of self-sabotage and loneliness. According to trauma expert Tim Fletcher, individuals caught in shame spirals often push others away—consciously or subconsciously—as a way to protect themselves from further hurt. But this self-protective behavior only deepens the isolation. The more we withdraw, the lonelier we feel.

The Need for Deep Rest and the Desire to Escape

One of the hidden effects of trauma and shame is a deep longing for rest. This isn’t just about physical rest—it’s about emotional and psychological rest, the kind that comes from feeling safe, supported, and cared for. Spiritual teacher Amoda Maa introduced the concept of deep rest as the ultimate release of mental chatter. I’ve connected this idea to how suicidal ideation often stems from this need for rest. We become trapped in a cycle of hyper-vigilance, self-criticism, and shame. The solution lies in finding ways to experience true rest by allowing others to care for us and releasing the belief that we must always carry the weight alone.

Loneliness, Narcissism, and the Drama Triangle

Loneliness often stems from the roles we play in what psychologists call the "drama triangle." The victim, the rescuer, and the persecutor are all roles that keep us trapped in codependent relationships and self-sabotage. The victim role, in particular, often feeds into the narcissism-victimhood paradox, where we overvalue or undervalue ourselves, pushing others away and deepening our isolation.

Breaking Free: Rebalancing Your Needs

Fletcher’s concept of the "12 Needs" provides a helpful framework for understanding the roots of addiction, loneliness, and shame. Often, when one need—such as relational support—is unmet, we overcompensate by fulfilling another need excessively, such as seeking out addictive behaviors. For example, if you lack close relationships, you might turn to addictive pleasures like excessive screen time or overworking, all in an attempt to fill the void.

The key to overcoming this is recognizing and rebalancing these needs. By addressing what’s truly missing—whether it's connection, purpose, or support—you can begin to escape the narcissism-victimhood trap and find your way out of loneliness.

The Power of Letting Go: You’re Unique, But You’re Not Special

One of the most powerful realizations in this journey is understanding that, while you are unique, you’re not "special." This concept may seem harsh at first, but it’s incredibly freeing. Letting go of the need to be "special" allows you to step out of the shame and self-focus that keeps you isolated. Recognizing that others share similar struggles can create the connection you need to heal.

Practical Steps for Overcoming Shame and Loneliness

* Embrace Your Uniqueness: You don’t have to be special to be worthy of love and connection. Accepting that you are part of the shared human experience can ease feelings of isolation.

* Find Rest Through Connection: True rest comes from feeling safe and cared for. Allow others to help you, and don’t be afraid to ask for support.

* Rebalance Your Needs: Address areas of your life where needs are unmet. Seek connection, creativity, and purpose to counterbalance addictive tendencies.

* Break the Shame Cycle: Shame spirals keep you stuck. Focus on self-compassion and avoid self-sabotage by letting go of unrealistic expectations.

* Move Beyond the Diagnostic Spiral: Constantly diagnosing your symptoms (whether mental or physical) can trap you in a cycle of anxiety. Seek professional guidance and stop relying on endless self-analysis.

Final Thoughts: The Path to Healing

Breaking free from loneliness and the narcissism-victimhood paradox isn’t easy, but it is possible. By letting go of the need to be special and rebalancing your needs, you can begin to heal from shame and trauma. Remember, you are unique, and that’s enough.

Something I love about wrestling is that it creates this ability to look at a character, a person, and especially as a younger person, see yourself in that character. There are different personalities, expressions, stories, presentations, body types, colors that represent the person, pyro, theme music, and styles of wrestling - grapplers, brawlers, high flyers, agile people, ground and pound, etc. There are so many different types of characters that someone can go to a show and resonate with.

When I took my kids to a wrestling show, my stepson in particular was really excited to basically try on every single character that came out. He saw them doing some sort of symbol or gesture or hand movement and he just tried them on, kept "putting on outfits to see what fit him." I recognized in myself the ability to do that when I was a kid - with video game characters, people on TV shows and movies. There's this exploration of "what do I resonate with?" This comes through sports too, seeing someone performing at a high level and aspiring to be like them.

This exploration of avatars and archetypes is something we often go through as kids, to see what's possible for us and try on these different characters to see who we want to become. In a lot of ways, this is represented through the earlier gods and goddess archetypes - Egyptian, Greek, Mayan - that manifest today in things like wrestling, the Olympics, and even politics. They represent these energies that people aspire to, for better or worse. It may not be the person in its entirety, but just their look, the way they speak, stand or present themselves.

This leads to the Jungian concept of persona - we're often trying to choose and look at avatars to develop a persona. Becoming an avatar is essentially like connecting ourselves to the person, idea, or character that we're resonating with. Whether or not that matches up to our actual physicality or capabilities, that's work to be done later to reconcile what we connect ourselves to relate to who we expected ourselves to be.

In a lot of ways during this time, we're developing who we expect ourselves to be - whether we want to become a "big strong boy" or a "nurturing feminine woman." But in this day and age, it's so much more nuanced and complex than anything ever documented before, especially in terms of masculinity and femininity. Being a man doesn't necessarily mean going out and chopping wood and building a log cabin - it may mean being a software engineer with more traditionally feminine qualities in terms of personal relationships.

The challenge comes when that persona gets used for everything - it becomes a hammer and all the world's a nail. If you want to become a wrestler and take that attitude to everything in your life, you might have trouble with your relationships or going to the DMV. The flexibility of persona comes later through doing "shadow work" - exploring the parts of ourselves we've repressed or hidden away.

Jung saw the self as having different layers - the ego, the persona, the shadow, the anima/animus (the animating force), and the collective unconscious. The persona is the interface between ourselves and the outer world, the ego is the interface between the self and the persona, and the shadow is everything that gets filtered out. The anima/animus is the animating force, the soul or spirit that makes us alive.

Having an animated force, a soul, protects us from the complicated, timeless, boundless inner world that can feel treacherous if we fully submit to it. Traditionally, the anima/animus has been seen as the opposite of the persona - men want to be men, women want to be women. But today, it's much more nuanced and complex.

The challenge when we're younger is that we must do all this filtering and develop a rigid persona. But as we grow, we need to expand that self and allow the ego and shadow to be partners rather than just protective forces. We need to be willing to tap into parts of ourselves we've repressed or hidden away, to discover our true, animating soul.

This is my work now - pulling forward aspects of myself that I've long repressed, like my emotionality and spiritual side. I want to bring a look and a persona representing more of the fullness of what I truly am, not just who I feel I'm supposed to be. It's about agency, choice, and letting the self be in control, not the rigid ego.

Approaching this kind of inner work with curiosity and not judgment is key. It's about discovery, not forcing ourselves to be something completely different overnight. By approaching ourselves with grace and hope, we can find our true, animating soul and live more authentically.

I hope this exploration of avatars, archetypes, and the layers of the self resonates with you. Let me know your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. And if you'd like to support this ongoing work, consider becoming a premium member.

In recent episodes, I've explored the intricate concept of victim consciousness—a mindset that subtly keeps us stuck, preventing growth and self-actualization. While discussing this topic, I delved into the triggers that figures like Jordan Peterson and Elon Musk evoke in me. Not personally knowing them, it's fascinating how their public personas stir something deep within, bringing to light the narratives I've carried for years.

Victim consciousness is not merely a matter of feeling sorry for oneself; it's a complex psychological dance. It's about recognizing how certain beliefs and stories we've told ourselves over time hold us back. It's an internal narrative where we convince ourselves of our inadequacies, often manifesting as a fear of failure. This fear, in turn, keeps us from pursuing opportunities that could lead to growth and success.

One striking realization is how this consciousness can create a superiority complex. It's paradoxical but true. The belief that we're not good enough, not lovable, or incapable can be a way of placing ourselves above others—untouchable in our perceived inadequacy. It’s a strange way of shielding ourselves from failure by never attempting to succeed in the first place.

For instance, I've noticed how I sabotage opportunities to engage in consulting or public speaking. The internal dialogue goes something like this: "You're dyslexic, not academic enough, not good at presentations." These thoughts build a case against me, creating a protective barrier that keeps me from stepping into situations where I might fail. It's a classic case of avoiding competition by convincing myself that I don't need to compete.

The irony is that this very mindset creates the circumstances I fear the most—stagnation and a lack of growth. By not trying, I prevent myself from failing, but I also prevent myself from succeeding. It's a lazy logic, a trap that keeps one from truly living. I've often reflected on my relationship with competition. While some advocate for community over competition, I believe there's value in healthy competition. It pushes us, tests our skills, and helps us grow.

The recent Olympic Games are a perfect illustration of this. Watching athletes push their limits, support one another, and celebrate each other's achievements is inspiring. It highlights the beauty of competition—not as a destructive force but as a catalyst for growth. In my journey, avoiding competition has been a way to maintain a sense of superiority. It’s a form of self-protection, a way to avoid being judged or criticized.

But this mindset has consequences. It limits my potential, keeps me from making meaningful contributions, and prevents me from experiencing the vulnerability that comes with truly putting oneself out there. True vulnerability is not just about emotional openness; it's about risking failure, putting our ego on the line, and challenging our self-constructed narratives.

As I reflect on these ideas, I recognize the need to transcend these limiting beliefs. It's about letting go of the narratives that keep us stuck and embracing the discomfort that comes with growth. It's about stepping into situations that challenge us, even if it means risking failure. Because, ultimately, the real failure is not trying at all.

This journey is not just about overcoming victim consciousness; it's about embracing a healthier relationship with ourselves and the world. It's about recognizing the value of competition, the importance of vulnerability, and the necessity of challenging our internal narratives. Only by doing so can we truly grow and live a life of purpose and fulfillment.