The Cask of Amontillado

I'm not a doctor. In fact, the one time I contemplated being a doctor back in high school I attended a week-long rotational program, I forced my mother to come and pick me up in the middle of it. Thanks, but no thanks. Here’s my disclaimer: Some of what I'm about to say might not (probably won't) make any factual sense. Proceed as you will.

I'm sore - walking like a duck sore. All because my trainer (you know who you are) kicked my ass a couple of days ago. He manages to find muscles that I've had my entire life but have somehow never really engage. It's nonsense in the best way. And I even though it's rough, I know it's for the best. That soreness lets me know I'm getting harder, better, faster, stronger (the only time I ever want to be like Kanye).

Essentially, it hurts so good. Hang in there, I’m about make a very heavy-handed metaphorically leap.

You use your heart muscle every day, all day. I mean, if your heart stopped working, you'd be dead. Or at least zombified. Duh. This is a given. Maybe I could be a doctor? … Anyway - I know enough about enough to know that cardio improves heart health - it maintains and strengthens. At least physically. So, how come it never gets sore?

Ah, but it does. If you’ve ever experienced happiness or sadness or longing or hopefulness - you know the heart can ache. Maybe the deepest ache of all.

Get to the point, Alex. I’m about to attend a program on Authentic Leadership (I’m literally clacking these keys in the airport). It’s a course I’ve been waiting and wanting to attend since 2019. But, to my surprise, when I got the course work two weeks ago I full on panicked. It’s very … personal. It’s clearly aiming to be emotional. These are things that I am not comfortable with. Que the panic. This blog may key you in to a few deeper levels of who I am but make no mistake - I am a careful and cautious curator.

Sitting here, sipping wine in the airport (why do we love this so much as humans is a topic for another time), I know that I head to get my mind right. I can attend this course and stand guard around my heart as I normally do. I can get people to think I’m being deeply authentic. It’s not hard for a Type 3 chameleon. I’m a mirrorball, you’ll find me on my tallest tiptoes, spinning in my highest heels, love, shining just for you.

I’m Alex Stuller. I’m witty with a big smile, an adventurer with endless stories of foreign lands and epic adventures. I love cats, sharks, and iced coffee. I’m close to my family. I’ve lived, and continue to live, a very privileged life. I’m a scuba instructor, (and will tell you that a few times, probably, because I think it’s really cool okay?). Tequila makes me happy and sake makes me crazy. I read tons of books and watch too many horror movies. I believe in horoscopes and celebrate Halloween like I’m an actual witch. I’m loyal and passionate, with a soft side for hand-written cards and flowers “just because.” My career is incredibly important to me and I’m good at what I do.

All of those things are true. But as my work-wife told me yesterday - that’s not my 360 view. And authenticity means giving people the 360 view - for better or for worse. Why is this so scary? Well, because, the more you give of yourself to someone, the easier and more brutally they can hurt you. I don’t like that. Careful and cautious, remember?

But you can’t truly connect to someone who isn’t authentic, can you? Or, at least, I’m assuming that’s what I’m going to be learning about this week. So sure, I can give the view of me above - none of it is a lie - but it’s shallow. A persona. A protection.

What’s a girl to do? Keep on keeping on, or work the main muscle I spend so much energy trying to protect? Avoid the ache? Avoid the growth?

Hm. No, what’s the point in that. I’ve said in many prior blogs that I’m actively trying to open back up the wall I bricked around my heart. The Cask of Amontillado - except I’ve done it to myself. “For the love of God, Montresor!” I am both Montresor and Fortunato.

I guess what I’m saying is I want to give this a real go. I want to make the most of it. I am going to be sore. I am going to ache. But maybe I’m also going to grow?

I’m Alex Stuller. I’m moody and sharp, the first to run & push if I think someone is getting ready to pull away. I’m independent to a fault, and it’s mostly just an act of protection. While I don’t feel it often, when I feel lonely it’s deeper than the ocean. I spend half my time saying I love my scars, and half my time wishing them away with my entire being. I overthink text-messages and overdramatize responses. I talk about scuba diving so much because I think it’s the only thing I’m truly good at. And I’m not even that good. I don’t think I’ve ever really been in love, and I sometimes wonder if there’s something wrong with me. I hide negative emotions because I’m worried people won’t stick around for them. My parents went through a divorce when I was young, and despite having gained the most incredibly step-father (whom I never label as such - he’s Dad), I long for a real connection with my father - despite my harsh insistence that I don’t. She doth protest too much. I almost swallowed the entire sea when I first rolled into the water in Costa Rica, my training almost failing me to fear. I do not think I am worthy of the opportunities I have.

There. A little give, a lot of ache. A brick removed.

Know that you are capable of letting people in.

Like really in.

Heart space in.

If there is a block, a disconnect,

look for the fear, and look at it closely.

Is it real?

Where can you soften?

Where can you break?

- i am her tribe