I didn’t know what my purpose was, but I wanted to be a billionaire.
I believed that title would give me freedom. This idea had been placed
unintentionally in my mind by a fast-talking, awe-inspiring entrepreneur I
worked for. He was, in all intents and purposes, my mentor. And even though I never
once asked him to be one, what I did was observe his addiction to making money.
He inspired us; he felt like the big brother I never had.
And in a room full of like-minded young people coming straight from university,
he was an all-knowing oracle who hired us.
I wanted to amount to something. And carried a deep desire
that drove me to pursue numerous certifications in my line of work. Culminating
in one exam that required me to travel to Dubai, the nearest location besides Johannesburg.
I remember saving up for that exam and knowing that if I
failed, I would have lost six months of my hard-earned savings that went into flight,
accommodation, and examination fees. Those were the days I would wake up early
to study, and after work study till late.
Our boss had found a way to host us in some lush apartments near
our office, and I remember the routine that repeated itself over the years I
worked for him. Wake up, study, shower, go to the office, lunch, go home, take
a shower, take a meal prepped by the house help, back to the office, study, and
walk back home at 11 pm. The cold breeze would always refresh me and remind me
that I had a dream, to be free. I would always walk into the house, and find my
colleagues talking or watching something, or resting. I would jump into bed
with a smile.
In those three years working for my first employer, the
thing that gave me peace was the growth, the desire to be respected, and to be seen
by my colleagues. My boss was exceptional at finding talent, and he had attracted
the best minds from the top universities in Kenya. He sold us audacious goals
and a vision that made us believe there was nothing we couldn’t do.
We were a close-knit team that spent most of our living days
together. Fresh from university, we were untainted. We were naïve to the limitations
of business; in our minds, anything was possible. We wanted to win and prove to
our eccentric and charismatic boss that he could trust us.
Our enemy was the big technology companies in Kenya; they
were our competition, and we were going to outcompete them in projects. What
they had in money and experience, we would gain in chutzpah and boldness. What
we needed was knowledge, and thank God we had the curiosity. We studied
extensively and grew exponentially. The more we grew, the bolder we became.
The opportunities came, and with the drive and passion of our
boss, we executed projects that would have scared a company of our size.
I noticed then that stress was handled differently. We had
exceptional minds in the company, some borderline geniuses. We coped
differently and were addicted to different things. The close-knit setup saved
many lives. Unfortunately, depression took a toll on one of us, who later took
his own life.
When I look back, he was well-loved despite his abrasive nature.
But I also got to understand that there are masks people put on that convey one
message when they are drowning. When he needed someone to walk with as a friend,
he was alone. He always said he needed nobody; hence, nobody was around when he
needed someone.
I had left that job long before this tragic incident,
precisely because at one point, after repeated successes that felt empty and failures
that were publicly derided by our boss, a burnout crept onto my back, and it promised
to stay with me until I found something better.
I thought a better-paying job, with triple my salary, would
make a difference. It didn’t. The new job was in a stiff office, where we wore
suits, and generated reports that nobody ever read.
“I am grateful,” I told myself. “I deserve this job,” I
convinced myself. This narrative kept me going for close to seven months. But
when a partner started a new company. I was one of the first people to be hired
as an employee.
I remember loving the teamwork that followed, a small nimble
team that worked out of Karen, delivering consulting services to blue-chip
companies. That didn’t last. I was fired after exactly one year.
After being fired, I remember looking at my CV, which ran
into several pages, and between the tears, I promised I was going to prove to ‘them’
that I was worth something. 40 CVs printed and sent out to CEOs of blue-chip
companies in Nairobi, and four months later, a phone call got me to sit before
a director at a prestigious global audit firm.
His narrative was simple: “We loved your CV; you have
specific skills we need to cater to a very specific need.” He then said
something my heart was craving to hear: “You will manage nine countries in the
area of your specialization.”
I remember an intense feeling of exhilaration when he said
this. I was desperate to prove to myself that I was worthy. That Edwin was
good enough. That I was exceptional.
In my final interview with a senior partner at the prestigious
audit firm, I remember he said. “Edwin, you are not meant to be employed. You will
probably leave this job after a while.”
At that moment, as he spoke, I was grateful he had said
those words. I would latch on to them later. Ladies and gentlemen, that job
paid me quite well. If I earned that amount today, 16 years later. I would be
living like a king. (Sic!).
Ladies and gentlemen. I had a big ego. Let me take a moment
and define what the ego is before you start to assume things.
Every person has an ego.
Thoughts and emotions are meant to be fleeting; they come
and pass. An emotion is our body's response to the mind’s narrative. When we
hold certain thoughts and emotions for longer than normal and begin to identify
with them, we form an ego. Your ego builds
an identity by associating with external factors such as social status,
possessions, beliefs, and personal history, leading to a false self-image
rooted in thought and memory. We all have egos. The ego loves to be separate
and distinct from others. It wants control and supremacy. It thrives when it
sees itself as better than another.
“There is no ego apart from thoughts; the
identification with thoughts is ego.”
The ego will always want to be identified and respected.
It is the man at church showing how much he has contributed to the cause. It’s
the woman dressed impressively to be seen. The man who demands to be respected
at home. Many of the things we do are to be seen, heard, and appreciated.
The ego is important for us to be distinct from others.
But it is also an illusion.
There is our ‘individual’ ego, and then the ‘collective’
ego of a community or a nation. The collective ego is the reason we have war,
conflict, and pestilence between groups of people and nations. The us vs them
perpetrates racism, religious divide, classism, and so on the list goes.
The more we dig in and want strongly to identify with our
thoughts and emotions, the more we are likely to reduce and demean others and
consider them less than us.
My ego wanted to find me, to prove me, to elevate me. I was
sad, lonely, and felt unseen. Yet I had one of the most customized, best-suited
jobs for me at that time. They had created a new role that fitted me like a
glove. I never had time to be grateful. I was too busy striving to be perfect
and exceptional, with negative thoughts driving me.
In my quest to prove, I worked long hours, and made many
relationships across those nine countries, and in one year, we had achieved the
target that had been set for me; the reason for my employment.
I remember celebrating and patting my back privately. An inner
voice saying, “You are exceptional to have done this. You have worked with men
and women from many countries across Africa. You have been able to bring agreement
between people of different cultures.” That joy lasted exactly two weeks.
Replaced by another voice, “So what are you doing now?” which evolved into, “What
next!” And this voice became louder and more urgent every single day after. In
a quest to prove my worth.
“What else can excite me and make me happy?” My ego asked like
a spoiled brat, demanding constant nourishment and attention.
When things started slowing down. My ego started demanding
its dues. “You have done well. You deserve a promotion. They don’t appreciate
your hard work. Why are you still here?”
I oscillated between working myself tired, being unhappy,
and feeding my ego. I travelled to some nice places, but was never present or in
the moment to appreciate how beautiful the places and people were.
The agitation led me to start asking, “What is my purpose?” “I
have a really good job, but now it's slowing down. What really am I meant to do?”
I love to write. And that’s how I started on the journey to give
space and room for the voices in my head. I wrote copious notes on what I
intended to do. I studied purpose. But unfortunately, I was a blind man led by my
ego. I didn’t take the time to understand myself. I got to know about myself, but
not my essence.
After four years, I quit the job in a huff. I reasoned that I
had done so much, but had not gotten a promotion. My ego wanted a new title. I was
asked to wait; besides, there were annual increments I had received. The
complaining and resentment that the ego breeds were something that I became
accustomed to. I defended myself with lofty ideas and inspirational quips. But
it was my ego trying to flourish. I remember after quitting, promising I would
never be hired again, and that I would run my own business and become very
successful. I wasn’t out to solve a problem or do anything of merit;
I simply wanted to boost my ego.
No one knew me outside the realms of the audit firm. I was an
unknown. I had neither built a community nor a social network outside of work.
It was a very lonely place. A wilderness my ego was unaccustomed to. I fell
into depression, which was painful and humbling at the same time.
My journey into self-awareness had officially been flagged
off. I had wrongly assumed that self-development was more professional and
technical. Nothing to do with being more astute in handling emotions.
It took me years, a failed marriage, and the death of my
father to bring me to the table to humbly ask a counsellor to help me. And then,
I started becoming aware of my ego. I had been too invested in my emotions and thoughts;
they defined my identity. Releasing them and not being attached to them changed
everything.
Being aware of my ego was the first step; realizing that
there are very few things that are mine, if any, was the next step. That doesn’t
mean living like a monk or hermit. But rather not being possessive or attached
to them. Just like Job in the bible, when he lost everything.
To be honest, this is one of the hardest things to embrace,
but I live every day learning how to be less attached. The humility that this
stance brings comes over time.
We hold on to so many things: past emotions, thoughts, and beliefs,
because we seek to strongly identify.
Peace came with realizing that I didn’t own the emotions and
thoughts that I held strongly to. Some were about complaining and blaming, some
about being a victim. And many of me proving that I was worth something.
The journey of finding peace called for me to start being
comfortable being around myself, and having conversations with myself about who
I was and what I believed in. The more I questioned my beliefs, the more I
stumbled on many assumptions I had created about myself and the world. A
false reality that was full of negative thoughts and emotions. Letting
go of these was paramount; the more I did, the more the chaos and torrents in
the mind disappeared. The calmer I became, the clearer the sky and the horizon
became.
Initially, I would be in a state of peace for a moment, and
then go into another rabbit hole of thoughts, and disappear until I
intentionally brought myself back to the serenity of being an observer.
When I discovered the power of habits, I realized that what
you want to do unconsciously, you have to first repeatedly train your mind to
do consciously. I thus started with meditation, a daily journal of gratitude,
and writing my thoughts and feelings. Progressively, I would take a day to go
away and think, and journal.
These habits reinforced my ability to become aware of the thoughts and feelings I experienced. Meaning I would observe and see the emotions and thoughts I was having, like a third party, and process them better. This was profound, and I wanted more of it. And it came with constant practice. With time, the peace I felt would last longer and longer, and I became happier most days.
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