The Power of Completion Work

The Power of Radical Honesty Completion Work

This story illustrates the Radical Honesty Completion process. It’s the work of revisiting situations from the past and completing them by having honest, vulnerable conversations with the people involved. For me, having these difficult conversations was crucial for reclaiming my creative power and joy.

Enter Marvin:

I was around 3 years old.

We lived in a shared house in Oer-Erkenschwick, a small town in Western Germany as a family of four: me, my parents, and my brother. I just started to form my first memories at that time. For instance, I remember my brother and me chasing each other around the house while my mother was cleaning.

One day, my mother and I went on a small hike in the nearby forest.

We did that almost daily.

When we came back, my brother was gone. That means we found his room completely emptied out.

My mother was shocked. She did not know what was happening. I don’t have clear memories, but I can still feel tightness around my heart and shoulder as I think back. When my father came home, he was stunned and agitated. I remember my parents chain-smoking and arguing. It was unpleasant.

I was alone in my room, feeling sad. That became a theme for me.

Where is my brother?

I kept asking my parents.

They did not tell me. They did not know, I belief.

I do recall my mother's face – I’d describe it as sad. Pitiful. Hurt.

My father was more angry. He smoked a lot. My mom did too. She tried to be present with me. I could tell something was troubling her. Something was in the air: an unspoken tension; very thick air.

My brother never returned.

In fact, the next time I saw him was in a courthouse. He sued my parents. I was not allowed to greet him. My mom held me back. I feel pain in my shoulders as I write this. It must have been a terrible experience.

And then, I did not see him for 11 years.

I sometimes wondered what happened to him.

My parents would not tell me. At least I did not feel like they were telling me the truth.

And so, a person I loved and who was there for me was no longer there – for no apparent reason.

I continued living a brother-less life… Until I was fifteen years old.

He returned…

One afternoon, the phone rang.

I do remember this call, it was a very important one.

It was the first time my brother called; I haven’t seen him since the day in court.

My mom was euphoric and wanted me to do the same.

I was cold and indifferent. Honestly, I could not care less. So I thought.

Days later, he stood in our hallway. He carried a baby in his arm.

My parents pretended as if nothing ever happened, as if he was not gone for eleven years.

From that day, he was part of our family again.

He came to visit us more often. He brought the baby: my nephew.

I felt no connection to him.

Some years passed. I was in university. My brother had two more kids. I skipped most family meetings. I said I needed to study. Or meet friends. Which were all excuses in retrospect.

I felt guilty for that, and I kept doing it. I had no way out.

The Weight of Unfinished Business

I was not aware of how much this situation affected me for over twenty years.

I had build a thick character armour around this open wound to not see my pain.

In reality, brother leaving like he did weighted heavily of my being. I did not trust other humans, especially men. I never got too close to anyone, for they might abandon me. And sometimes, I unconsciously recreated situations of betrayal or abandonment to proof to myself that I’m better off alone. I also did not allow myself to fully love someone, for they might just split overnight and leave me broken hearted.

I did not know any of that consciously, until I actually learned about Radical Honesty.

Sadly, our unfinished emotional business holds us back more than we can be conscious of.

Most people’s lives are perfectly orchestrated to distract themselves from their pain.

We need to talk…

Some weeks after my first Radical Honesty workshop it dawned on me:

“I have to go and talk to my brother.”

I hesitated for a few days.

My mind came up with great excuses for not having the talk:

“Is this really necessary? I mean, he does not call you. You don’t need him in your life. He hurt you. He abandoned you. Why would you be vulnerable with someone like that?”

Luckily, I recognised these thoughts as mental manifestations of fear. And I knew that was a sign I really needed to have that conversation. Good for us, fear points the way towards blocked love in these cases.

After avoiding the call for a few more days, I had enough and could not fool anyone anymore.

I picked up the phone…

“I want to talk to you alone about something.” I said.

“I was waiting for the day you would say that,” he answered.

We agreed on a time and place to meet and talk.

Seeing a human being beyond my story

On the way, I was not sure how this would go.

My mind produced a thousand different scenarios of what might happen, including

• me being arrested by the police for being crazy.

• him just walking away.

• us getting into a fight.

• bla bla bla bla more fear bla bla

Nevertheless, I felt a sense of clarity and power in my body.

We met in a quiet cafe outside.

After some idle chit-chat, I took a deep breath and looked at him:

“I resent you for leaving home when I was three. I resent you for your absence.”

He looked at me. He did not speak. I said the same thing again. This time, with more anger in the expression. My vision went blurry. My body trembled. I said it a few more times with different words and also things like:

“I am sad that you left. I felt so alone without you.”

I kept feeling my body, trying to find the words that fit how I really felt inside.

After 7 minutes, I relaxed and sank back in my chair. My vision of him changed. For the first time, I saw him as a present-tense human being and not as the story I made of him. I appreciated him for a bunch of things. We talked for some more time, but the core body of the work happened for me within 5-10 minutes.

20 years of stories partly collapsed!

On my way home, I smelled new smells. I felt happy. And free.

A huge weight began to shift and partly fall off my shoulders, making space for new connections.

That story I had held on to for years gobbled up large parts of my creative potential. Once I went back in to experience the underlying feelings fully, I had more room for new creative acts. I started writing and publishing. I started my first business. I knew the value of Radical Honesty Completion Work.