I've been addicted to validation.

I've lost a little bit of myself in the roles and titles I've had over the last couple years.
I’ve been hooked to the way people have been impressed by what I do, and to the way it's held my chin up for me.

Being a Death Doula? The title alone scares people before they even know what it means.

Working in prison rehabilitation? The idea alone intimidates people before I get to explain what it is I do—or why I love doing it so much.

If I'm being brutally honest? At moments, I've cared more about how these titles have made me feel more than the actual impact I was making.

I teach the incarcerated men that I work with to "take the lesson and leave the story" when it comes to conflicts and opportunities for growth.

In many ways, I've done the exact opposite of that.

I've taken the story, but left the lesson.

I've allowed the "story" of David to become more important than the "life" of David.

I am the most insecure person I've ever met.

But I'm also the most curious, open-minded, accepting person I've ever met.

And for the first time, I extended towards myself the grace I so freely give others.

I get to accept myself—fully and unconditionally—without leaning on roles to validate my worth.

I thought I did this when I left sales three years ago, but I just traded "Account Manager" for "Poet."

I suppose this reckoning always arrives one way or another.

Will I still be involved in these spaces of poetry, mortality, and humanity?

Absolutely.

But I've learned that the place in which I approach my work is infinitely more important than the work itself.

This has been the biggest piece of humble pie I've served myself yet.

But I guess its a good thing I like pie too. 😁 

I dive a bit deeper into this recent breakthrough below:

I'm not a "death doula" or a "prison rehabilitation facilitator."

This was a hard pill to swallow.

Let me be clear—these roles are and will forever be a part of me, and I will continue to work in these spaces.

What I hadn't realized was how desperately I needed these titles.

I've been stuck for the past two years on how to introduce myself, because I thought it was always a mouthful and it didn't feel right.

"I'm a poet, death doula, and prison rehabilitation facilitator."

I asked ChatGPT more times than I can count about how to best condense my title, but nothing was ever good enough because I needed every damn title.

I needed that "you're goddamn right" Heisenberg Breaking Bad moment, taking in the feeling of being recognized and knowing that whoever I was introducing myself to would immediately respect me for my intensity.

Once I intentionally let go of my attachment to these identities, I immediately felt lighter.

For a couple of days, I released even the "poet" identity too.

It was scary. I felt naked.

But I was simply just David again—and I hadn't been David without being the "poet" or "sales rep" or "peace corps volunteer" or any other role I've had since I was a kid.

Now?

I get to wake up everyday and choose to be a poet without needing it.

Now that is power.

The Decision-Making Breakthrough

Part of the reason I've felt so stuck is because I've been a slave to every business idea these identities generated.

Before releasing my attachment, I was in constant flip-flop mode between whether I was more a poet or a death doula.

I couldn't decide if I should focus on getting gigs, creating a coaching group, or finishing my book. Each carried equal weight, so I made no progress on any of them.

But the other day, something shifted after shedding these identities.

I settled on two ideas and knew immediately which was the priority.

No angst. No anxiety. No inner turmoil on obsessing on whether or not I was making the right decision.

Just…peace.

I got so excited, laughed out loud, and said "oh fuck! I can make decisions clearly now!"

The takeaway was this:

Because I was so attached to the identities for self-worth, I was attached to every single idea these identities gave me.

None ever felt right because they were never authentically me.

I got sidetracked by side quests.

Several months after leaving my job three years ago, I attended a poetry retreat in Morocco, hosted by IN-Q, whose art and guidance has been the biggest influence in my life the past four yeas.

I shared with him that I wanted to do what he did—hold space for people to find and express their truest selves through poetry.

His advice?

"You'd be great at that. But if you want to do this, you've gotta learn how to hold space. You don't know what people are carrying with them, and when you bring poetry into the mix, people can bring up some pretty dark shit and you have to be able to handle whatever comes up, without taking their pain too seriously."

I took the homework and ran with it, maybe a little too far.

Five months later, I hosted my first poetry retreat. Then I started volunteering and sharing poetry in prison, which eventually turned into new roles.

But I got lost in the identity of being the student of death and humanity, because my ego got hooked on how impressive it sounded to others.

I hate to admit this, but at one point I got so attached to these new identities as a death doula and prison facilitator that I started denying the poet in me.

When students would ask if I could share a poem, I would tell them "later" or "next class"—and not do it.

What the actual fuck?

Poetry is what got me in the doors, and my ego didn't give a shit.

So when I sat with in the last couple of weeks to notice this, my house of cards came tumbling down.

I had completely forgotten about the advice I got from IN-Q.

When remembering it the other day, it all made clicked.

I became a student of death and humanity to be a better poet.

A poet who knew how to hold space for anything.

I know I’m not alone in this struggle.

If any part of this resonates, the validation addiction, the identity confusion, the paralysis when your voice matters most, you’re not alone either.

I’ve been quietly working on something for people like us in situations like these. People who are brilliant advocates for others but somehow lose their voice when it comes to their own truth…

It’s called The Voice Reclamation Starter Kit—a free, value-packed resource with a gentle introduction to the same process that helped me untangle from these patterns and find my way back to authentic expression.

It will be full of insights, contemplations, and reflection prompts—all interwoven with my own poems as primers.

In fact, if you're interested in testing it out before I offer it publicly, simply reply with “voice” and I’ll send you a copy of the first draft soon.

And if this confession sparked something in you, I’d love to hear about it.

Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is witness each other’s truth.

Much love ya'll,

David