Keanu Reeves was my fantasy go-to back in the day…I oscillated between living on a houseboat or in a beach house, but one fact remained true.
I was a surf god, taking out Bell’s and Keanu and all in some naff black wetsuit – cos 90s fashion was seriously behind the eight ball.
The point is…I was the hero because I have post-traumatic stress disorder. The only person who can and will ever save me, is me.
Poor old Dad so destroyed after Vietnam War, advised – ‘kids, when gunmen break into house, crawl under your bed and pull the doona with you.’ Nevermind the rest of shit I saw and heard.
No biggie. One toughens up: becomes skilled in hand-to-hand combat and weapons, scan faces for threats, avoids dark alleys and looks for exit points in new environments.
Because men are always foe before friend. Until I determine your calibre, you won’t it…but you’re on notice.
So, when I meet an actual male hero, akin to my old man; my faith is restored. Because trust is my number one hurdle – good ole neural wiring. Something about working for and against…
Talking with new mate Sharpie this week was another mental teardown and refit – because it’s not my inherent distrust of men that proves the overriding issue. My life’s work is self-trust.
Why? I have a family of scientists – all three of them, through and through – so I’m an evidenced-based operator.
Give me qualitative and quantitative research, but only if undertaken with a sufficient sample size and a suitable line of questioning in neutral environment – baseless assertions confound my type.
And yet, ask me if I make decisions with my head or my gut…and it’s instinct; every, single, time.
In fact, it’s saved my life: once hitching a ride in Mexico when my motorbike broke down, and another time, as a povo student desperate for rent.
So the story goes…I was showing computer guy through place, and weirdly, simply could not turn my back on him the whole tour.
But it wasn’t until I’d slept with Kung Fu short staff next to bed for the next three nights, that I asked him to move out. Dude’s like, why – me: I don’t know; bye!
Because I do frontal cortex mechanics bloody well – but my instinct is superior. Right here, right now – how many times will you go-with-gut, over your head; or vice versa to avoid cognitive bias, your head over gut?
And here’s the kicker – no one’s talking about it. However, the evidence is in. How many times where you told growing up during exams – your first multiple choice response is usually correct?
If students are being taught to follow instinct, when did intuition stop applying as an employee?
The answer is; it didn’t. And people who use their gut instinct get better at identifying instant discord.
The problem is – if you don’t react ‘and respond’, then prepare for anxiety and mental stress.
I know when I don’t listen to me – I’ve conducted a personal bowline. A knot is the weakest part of any rope structure; you gotta untie that shit to move forward.
But self-trust isn’t just my issue – I know it yours too; because, the unassailable truth is…females are taught to worry that they are ‘too much’. And conversely, males are only ever concerned that they ‘aren’t enough’.
Women: don’t show too much emotion – it’s wrong. Men: how can I ever be enough to support my family?
The thing is: hopefully you’ve surrounded yourself with people who love you, no matter how you go about learning life lessons.
We should all be in space that is safe enough to self-level before refabrication: mentally, physically, emotionally, you name it…
And if you’re not; until you get there, you take the hits until you become your own hero. Because, the only person who can look after you, is you.
Leadership is not the sole domain of managers and CEOs – everyone must be their own leader.
If you cannot be the leader of your clan, or for example, self-empower in a job designed to disempower: then your back is always to the wall.
And one can research leadership till blue-in-face – but a single fact remains true ‘o’ subject. Leaders know when to break the rules.
Like the recent state versus federal government ringside event regards the polled two-third populist Australian move to renewable energy.
In one corner weighing in at 350 pounds: South Australian Premier Jay Weatherill eyeballed featherweight SmarmyMacSmarmson Josh Frydenberg at crashed press conference, interjecting at will.
It was like being a prisoner of war: and in rides Steve McQueen on his TT Special 650 Triumph, pulling an epic motorcycle jump to escape Nazi capture. And the crowd roars.
So, while it’s true, I’m always on the lookout for people who have the courage of conviction to bring about social justice, which is my ‘hero’ definition…I’m still the leader of my pack. Are you feeling me?