Subscribe
Share
Share
Embed
Conversations With Thomas is a podcast where humor, heart, and a touch of sass collide. Hosted by Thomas Kevin Dolan, each episode explores raw, real topics like self-compassion, healing, and the delightful mess of being human. As the seventh of ten kids, Thomas didn’t always have a voice—now he’s sharing it with you, and trust us, you’ll want to hear this.
Expect vulnerability, laughs, and thought-provoking questions that dive into subjects most people avoid (because, let's face it, some topics just need to be tackled). With a mix of wit and wisdom, Thomas takes you on a journey where you might cry, you might laugh, and you’ll definitely feel a little more connected to yourself and the world.
New episodes drop every 2nd and 4th Monday. Tune in for a dose of honesty, heart, and just the right amount of quirky.
Ever had your life fall apart so hard
you thought, "Well, I guess I'm the
universe's little renovation project
now. Yeah, that's what I call a life
quake. They're not here to destroy you.
They're here actually to rebuild you,
truthfully."
Welcome to Conversations with Thomas.
I'm your host, Thomas Kevin Dolan.
Pronouns he and him. I'm blessed to be
recording this podcast from the island
of Oahu, the ancestral home of the
Kanakamali, whose wisdom and aloha still
pulse through every wave, breeze, and
sunset.
Today, we're talking about those seismic
events that rattle your foundation so
completely that the only thing left
standing is who you really are. What
What happens when the ground gives way?
A life quake begins the moment your soul
says
enough frigin pretending.
It's not always dramatic. Sometimes it's
a breakup,
a burnout, a diagnosis,
or simply the quiet reflection. This
isn't it anymore.
Every life quake starts when your soul
refuses to keep paying rent on someone
else's version of you. When your soul
refuses to keep paying rent on someone
else's version to you. Sound familiar?
It sure does to me. Here's an example of
a game literally. I'm going to use a
sports analogy that broke me open. It
came wrapped in shoulder pads and
Catholic guilt. As a kid, I live for
those moments of approval, especially on
the football field.
One day in junior high school, my gym
teacher asked me to explain an an
offensive formation to the whole class.
For a second, I felt seen, respected,
like I'd made the Dolan lineup of quote
unquote real men. Then came the banttom
football game that changed everything.
My dear mom stayed up late cutting
cardboard footballs that said, "Go
Saints, go." She wanted every parent in
the stands wearing one. Love apparently
came with crepe paper and glue sticks.
But after we lost, she tore off her
badge and shouted, "That's the last
Friday.
That's the last Oh, it's still painful
to say it. That's the last Friday night
I'll ever waste." Those words hit harder
than any linebacker ever could. Because
what I heard was, "If I win, I'll be
loved. So, I kept chasing that love
through trophies, scholarships, and
grit.
But the laughter disappeared. Fear took
its place. When I finally sustained a
serious head injury playing university
football, I didn't know it yet. But the
universe had blown the whistle. My bump
on the head became a wakeup call. I'd
been playing for approval, not love.
That hit didn't destroy me. It destroyed
who I wasn't.
And let's talk about the science of
shaking. Full full disclosure. I really
had no idea there was science behind
this. I actually thought I coined the
phrase lifequakes. I thought I was being
pretty special.
Not that I'm not, but I didn't know that
somebody else had done some work with
lifequakes. Good for them. His name is
Bruce Feler. He's an author and he calls
these moments lifequakes.
He
says that the disruptions that force
reinvention,
his research found most of us experience
three to five of them in a lifetime,
each lasting about 5 years. That's half
our adult lives spent becoming new
versions of ourselves.
So if you're in one now, you're not
lost. You're under renovation.
And neuroscience backs this up. When
your world tilts, your amygdala in your
brain lights up like a freaking disco
ball. It can't tell the difference
between losing your job and being chased
by a tiger. Except the tiger's name is
change.
Dr. Lisa Feldman Barrett says, "Emotions
are your brain's best guesses about
what's happening. Life quakes blow up
the old guesses and literally demand an
upgrade. Authenticity, it turns out, is
the software that runs after the crash.
Now, now this one is my term. Soul
seismology. It's like reading the
tremors. I like to think of authenticity
as soul seismology. Reading the tremors
before your next awakening.
Life always whispers before it shouts.
Ignore the whispers and eventually
the chandelier
comes down.
Yeah, life
always whispers before it shouts. And
yes, the universe has a wicked sense of
humor. I once told my therapist, "I feel
like the ground's being pulled out from
under me." They smiled, which pissed me
off, and said, "Good. The universe is
redecorating." I said, "I just hope it's
not doing open concept again."
If transformation had a Google review,
we'd all give it a one star for timing
and five stars for results. But laughter
is a survival skill. Stanford research
shows humor rewires how your nervous
system processes stress. It turns
cortisol into dopamine,
fear into relief. So, if you can laugh
at your mess, you're already reclaiming
your power. Here's what lifequakes teach
us about authenticity.
Every life quake that I've endured
stripped away any illusion I had about
who I was or what I was being.
They reveal your truth, your voice, your
values, your backbone.
So, Lifequake is about stripping away
illusion.
Certainly, football taught me that
courage isn't taking hits on the field.
It's telling the truth off the field.
that that fear isn't failure. It's an
invitation to intimacy with yourself.
Because when the ground gives way,
it's not punishment. It's permission to
build something real on what remains.
Authenticity is sure as hell not born in
calm seas. Mine never was. It's forged
in aftershocks when you stop performing
and start belonging. And before I read
these words first to yourself again, I
had to be true to me first and foremost
before anybody in the world could be
true to me. So I'm going to invite you
to see if you can invoke this practice
this week. I call I call them
aftershocks of kindness
because healing starts when gentleness
follows the quake. Number one, name your
quake.
the moment life split into before and
after. And don't edit, just name it.
Mine was coming out. Not a surprise. The
second thing f find a fault line. Not
not in whose fault was it? That's not
what I'm going for here. The fault line
is this. What belief cracked in you? For
instance, I have to earn love. Um I I
might stay small. I must stay small to
stay safe. Write whatever it is. Write
it down. Mine was they won't love me if
they know I'm gay. Number three, kind of
mine the gift in the rubble in the
quake. What truth did this lifequake
teach you that comfort never could? Mine
was mine was authenticity to be the real
me regardless of being loved or liked.
And number four,
send yourself one aftershock of
kindness.
A small radical act of self-respect that
actually honors your becoming.
I looked for one person who would accept
me when an entire world disappeared
overnight. And I was blessed to find my
sister.
And the and the rest and the rest
happens without guilt. Speak without
apology. Tell the truth without shame.
Because when life shakes you,
when you create, listen to this, when
you create a life quake, don't ask why
me. Ask what's trying to wake me.
And then answer that question. What's
trying to wake me with kindness?
Embiide me for a moment. Time for a
quick promo. Maybe this conversation
stirred something in you. Maybe that's
your own life quake whispering, "Hey,
hey, it's time. Time to stop managing
the cracks and start listening to what's
breaking open." When my world fell
apart, I didn't rebuild it with logic or
hustle.
I rebuilt it with courage and honesty.
That story became my book, Little a
journey of self-acceptance and healing.
It really is a love letter to every
version of me that thought survival
meant pretending.
It's not just a memoir. It's literally a
road map through the rubble. Proof that
what shatters can actually also shine.
If you've ever felt your own ground was
giving away, I'm going to suggest that
this book may just be the book for you.
You can find Little at amazon.ca.
amazon.com. And as you read the book,
please remember
the quake isn't the end of your story.
It's the truth beginning to breathe.
Isn't that cool? Now, back to the
podcast. When your soul hits the RTOR
scale, and I would lie to you and say
it's not going to, here's the truth, and
I know it's already happened for you.
When your soul hits the RTOR scale
again,
remember it's not because you're broken.
It's because you've outgrown the
structure that used to contain you.
Authenticity isn't the aftershock of
honesty. It's the moment you stop
performing
and start belonging
that's not falling apart,
that's falling true.
Thank you for listening. If this episode
made you laugh, a cry maybe pissed you
off, or
maybe had a quiet whisper come to you
that was, "Damn, that's me." Share with
someone whose grounds a little shaky
right now. Because when we share our
quakes, we remind each other we're not
alone in the rebuilding. Also, I'd be so
grateful if you subscribe to this
podcast wherever you listen or even
leave a five-star review. Conversations
with Thomas is brought to you by me,
Thomas Kevin Dolan, and brilliantly
executive produced by my amazing
husband, Adam Ma.
I'm all for tending your mental health
garden with help from actual pros like
therapists, counselors, certified
coaches, or doctors. What I share here
is food for thought, not a substitute
for professional care.
So until next time, I want to invite you
to remember even earthquakes
settle into new ground.