PostmodernMan

“A child that is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.”

— African Proverb

That one landed in the gut the first time I heard it.

It shows up in session when someone describes acting out in ways that hurt—others, themselves—but it’s the only move left to get noticed.

To feel heat. To feel anything.

The need for connection doesn’t vanish when the world fails to meet it. It just gets... creative.

I know this...not just professionally. Let’s just say there’s been time spent at the edge of the village—fist full of matches, lump in the throat, waiting for someone to notice the cold.

The fire doesn’t want destruction. It wants to be witnessed.

Warmth without collapse. Truth without exile.

So yeah, I joke about bringing the matches and marshmallows. Because if the fire isn’t named, it tends to eat us quietly.

This is how warmth gets closer—without burning down the whole damn village.

-—

📍 From the therapy room and the margins of my own story. Part of the Parting Shots series.

✍️ @[email protected]

🌐 [writing.postmodernman.life](https://writing.postmodernman.life)

#PartingShots #Healing #Trauma #EmotionalRegulation #Attachment #TherapyThoughts #Masculinity #IdentityWork

This isn’t a blog in the traditional sense.

It’s a place for the stuff that doesn’t quite fit anywhere else.

Not polished. Not packaged. Not pretending to be profound.

Just the kind of thoughts that show up after a session, in the middle of the night, or halfway through a hike when the nervous system finally unclenches.

Some of what ends up here might get folded into a therapy framework.

Some might evolve into group work.

Some of it might just be for me—and maybe for you, if you’ve ever stared at a motivational poster and thought: “Yeah… but how?” (Looking at you cat telling me to “Hang in There”)

This is a space for trying things out. A place to hold complexity without needing to wrap it in a bow.

No branding. No hustle. Just whatever shows up when I slow down enough to notice.

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We’re going to try a few experiments here. The first is called Parting Shots.

In my therapy office, there are two picture frames near the door—the last thing people see on their way out.

One frame holds something true. Poetic, sharp, maybe even a punch to the gut.

The other holds a line of humor, irreverence, or unexpected warmth. Usually my voice. Always honest.

Together, I hope they land somewhere between a meme and a mantra. Between what hurts and what heals.

This series is about what those frames hold—and what sits behind them.

Each post pairs an image with a deeper reflection. Each one is something I’m still living.

If you’re coming from @[email protected], welcome.

If you’re just passing through, I’m glad you stopped.

Let’s see where this goes.