A couple of years ago, I was participating in a course called Who Do You Think You Are. I was there with a group of other wonderful people, many of them Change Coaches, and we found ourselves engaging in conversation that plunged well below surface level. We were talking about the things that get in the way of living life from a place deeper than the ego. Living from being, from awareness, as opposed to living from some thought-based version of what we believe to be happening. We spoke about the characters we all put into place, the avatars we present to the world, and what the implications of all of that might be.
As the conversation unfolded over the course of several sessions, something shifted for me. One of the coaches used a phrase that immediately resonated: Fortress of Competence. And in that moment, I realized that I had built one of my own…
My fortress was built with bricks of intelligence and expertise. It looked like credentials, letters after my name, certifications, knowledge, learning, and skill. It looked like being the teacher, the speech pathologist, the weight loss coach, the caring friend… the person someone could go to for answers. All of that became a way to hide. To hide the scared-little-girl-part-of-me that feared being rejected, abandoned, or unwanted. The tender part of me that longed to be seen as I truly was, but did not know how to risk showing up unguarded.
Behind all of that competence, I was safe (or so I believed). If no one truly knew me beyond my well-crafted personas, then no one could reject me. No friend could get too close if I was always the one listening, always the one giving, always the safe space. It could be one-sided. It could be controlled (or so I believed). And in that controlled exchange, I did not have to reveal the wounded, vulnerable, messy self tucked away at the very heart of my fortress.
The fortress looked and felt necessary. It was built on deep-seated beliefs, somatic experiences of not feeling safe within my body, within relationships, within the world. And the walls were thick. They kept out light, and they also kept me in.
I sat there, protected, but utterly alone. I did not know myself at all:
Not what I liked,
Not what I needed,
Not what I wanted.
My own love, compassion, and acceptance of myself were locked behind and within the bricks of my competence. In the spaces between all of my roles and personas, my authentic self waited, completely hidden; especially from my own conscious awareness.
In my experience, lasting change does not happen through willpower or wallowing in old beliefs. It seems to naturally unravel through curiosity and openness. True change comes by inviting every event, every feeling, every thought, every pain, every joy, and everything (and NO THING) into my moment-to-moment experience. Over time, the walls that had been built by my very well-meaning but completely clueless ego, began to crack. They crumbled. They dissolved. They shattered. They exploded. They silently slipped away. They fell apart in ways big and small, brick by brick.
As I have emerged, tentatively stepping out from the heart of my fortress, I am beginning to notice what I like. Not what Angie the Expert likes; but what I like. I am being shown by Life itself what I really need. I am discovering that there is such nourishing warmth to be felt in the sunlight, that there is genuine safety in the open air. True safety can be experienced when the fortress is allowed, even encouraged, to collapse under its own weight. And this seems to occur when every experience is unconditionally invited, welcomed, accepted, and compassionately integrated.
So now I’ll ask you:
What does your fortress of competence look like?
How do you armor yourself, and what are you hiding behind?
What might you discover if you allowed your walls to soften, crack, or crumble?
What if you allowed a little light in?
If you’re interested in doing this work of discovery but you could use a supportive partner, please reach out to me.
Life has so much to offer beyond the walls of your competence.