Dear L&A
Tim Bergling was an awkward teen — skinny, pimply, quick to avert his eyes. When he took his own life at 27 he was one of the best DJs in the world.
In the midst of his stardom he said, ruefully, “All I want is to be content.”
Avicci had loving, supportive parents. Stadiums of people surrendered to his melodies. The musicians he idealised sought him out. His net worth was ~$50 million.
According to mainstream measures of success, he should have been ecstatic about his life.
I’m no superstar. But compared to the median human experience, mine is also charmed. And yet I, too, find contentment slippery.
I’ve spent years trying to square that circle, burying myself in psychology, philosophy and self-help. I’m grateful for that journey. I know and like myself better. But it has not granted me that baseline peace I crave.
The missing piece
Yes, it’s important to get enough sleep, eat consciously, lift weights, raise your heart rate, read widely, journal daily, take walks, breathe deeply, be cold, go hungry, say no, slow down, stay present.
But it’s not the absence of those things that brings on my discontent — the primary source is a lack of connection, real or perceived, with other people. In a word, loneliness.
Loneliness is not to be confused with being alone. The latter is necessary and, I find, therapeutic; the former is being around others and feeling like you don’t belong, when you want to belong.
I’ve had enough of those experiences to justify liking my shell. But avoiding them means fewer chances for connection. And I think that makes me more fragile, more susceptible to episodes of discontent.
I’m self-centred?!
In part, my struggles with connection stem from having the wrong manual. I thought (still think) the onus was squarely on me to be someone that other people liked.
In pandering to the preferences of others, I’ve come to think of myself as selfless, not understanding that by constantly focusing on what I could do differently to make people like me, I’d actually become self-centred.
Not in a look-at-me kind of way. But in a my-worries-are-too-big-to-take-a-genuine-interest-in-your-life kind of way.
Maybe there’s a chicken and egg thing going on here. Maybe I needed to do the work on myself before I took on the demands of deeper relationships and their infinite complexities. Or maybe I’ve just been an enormous chicken.
Either way, my self-centredness is cosy. I could stay under it for life and I’d probably be fine. But I’m tired of being just fine.
If you only do one thing
Nothing is more important to me than you being able to move through life with a baseline feeling of being content; it’ll keep you open to the world and its wonders. And I’m convinced that will hinge on how connected you feel to the people in your life.
Life is short. Do not forget about the most important things in our life, living for other people and doing good for them - Marcus Aurelius
Relationships don’t develop or evolve in a straight line. But here’s a 3-point connection blueprint that works better than the one I grew up using:
Take the risk. When you see someone who you find interesting or admire, make a bid for connection. Send them a message. Ask them to do something together. Remember that all humans crave connection, even the grumpy looking ones. Be the person who initiates things. Yes, it’ll be scary.
Care deeply. Make a point of checking in regularly with people you want to get closer to. If you can help them, even in the smallest ways, take the time to do so. If there’s a silver bullet for inner peace, this is it.
Be vulnerable. Don’t pretend it’s all protein and 2-ply toilet paper when things are tough. Level with other people and they’ll do the same with you. Less pretence makes for deeper relationships.
One last thing. Relationships take time to reach the promised land. Be persistent but patient — many people believe they aren’t worthy of true friendship and so might push you away initially. But also, don’t be a stalker.
A hack for self-centredness
If you’re feeling down, there’s a good chance it’ll have something to do with a lack of connection to those around you.
It’s important to recognise that. And there’s no shame in admitting you feel lonely. Every human that has ever lived has experienced loneliness. And therein, ironically, lies a useful hack for escaping its grip.
In your state of discontent, remind yourself that you are not alone, that there are literally millions of other people, right this second, feeling lonely (or angry or sad or discombobulated) and that it’s just part of the human condition.
I find this not only makes me feel less alone, but also shifts my mind from a state of self-pity to one of empathy. Know what happens next? I usually find I have the mental space and awareness to check in on someone I care about. And I always feel better once I do.
PS: I know nothing about what motivated Avicci to take his own life. But I imagine that maintaining real human connections amidst the demands of fame must be incredibly difficult. And then there’s the guilt and shame of feeling discontent when you have everything that society puts on a pedestal. Let his tragic tale be a cautionary one. Make your relationships the most important thing.
Hi Warren , love that you’re so honest and can bare your soul and vulnerability to the world. This article brings all sorts of emotions to the surface and definitely from the Kemp camp how one’s childhood upbringing can alter and impact all these character traits that parents of that era did not comprehend or nurture. Thankfully our mother was a very caring and considerate soul . You write beautifully Warren and each article from your ever enquiring mind helps us to strive to be better humans, partners and parents ; we’re never too old to learn !
Beautifully written- and again - the vulnerability and authenticity and humanness’ of this article makes it especially relatable.
Beautifully written Warren! Your ability to be vulnerable (and to own that vulnerability) is incredibly special.
For most of my life I was that awkward gawky teenager, then young adult and even more mature adult - never quite fitting into the corporate mould (and mildew) but through select one-on-ones I found my tribe over the years.
Now I thrive on my aloneness, because I can dip into my tribe for nurturing when I need to. And I’ve come to accept that the feeling of isolation is there to remind me of who’s real, and who’s not. And the I’ll have that satisfying moment of perspective and gratitude for my little ‘tribe’. Some of that tribe are not humans, they’re my furry feline companions who get me through and through, and who are in tune with every facet of my flawed and perfectly fallible being. My protectors and companions and soulmates are mostly not the humans who make me like an outcast sometimes, who can’t handle my intensity and my warmth.
It’s all ok. You’re able to self- regulate and reflect and dissect what you’re feeling - what a powerful gift. You’ll never be truly lonely Warren. You have a tribe 💪