Why don’t I feel fulfilled? How do I find my purpose? Learning to live a life you’ll love to death in the modern world.

What if the reason you don’t feel satisfied or fulfilled isn’t that something’s wrong with you, or even with your life?
What if it’s because you’ve been handed the wrong instructions from the very beginning?

The Confusing Search for a Good Life

Most of us spend our lives searching for that elusive “good life.”
We try every strategy the world suggests:

• Find your purpose.

• Chase your dreams.

• Practice gratitude.

• Live in the now.

• Think positive.

We read the books, listen to the podcasts, pin the quotes, make the vision boards. We tell ourselves we just need to think differently, try harder, or finally discover that one missing piece.

Yet even with all these efforts, most people quietly wonder: Why does contentment always feel just out of reach? Why does life still feel like a problem to solve?

Why We Never Feel Like We Have Enough (Or Are Enough)

It’s not just about chasing achievements or accumulating stuff. Beneath it all, there’s a subtler hunger:

• The sense that we don’t quite have enough—of security, love, recognition, or meaning.

• The suspicion that we, ourselves, are not quite enough—never quite measuring up to the “someone” we’re supposed to be.

So we keep pushing, keep striving, keep fixing. Every accomplishment just shifts the bar a little higher. No matter how much you do, “enough” keeps moving further away.

The Treadmill of Chasing Outcomes

Why is it so exhausting? Because all those strategies—finding purpose, chasing dreams, practicing positivity—are usually aimed at producing specific outcomes:

• Feeling fulfilled.

• Feeling satisfied.

• Feeling at ease.

But outcomes, by their nature, are things we can’t fully control. They’re always a little bit outside our reach, always at the mercy of changing circumstances, shifting moods, or other people’s choices.

So we end up on a kind of emotional treadmill: always moving, never arriving.
It’s no wonder we feel tired, restless, or disappointed.

The Stacked Deck: Why Contentment Seems Impossible

If you’ve ever wondered why fulfillment and satisfaction seem so elusive, it’s not just you. The game is stacked from the start.

Let’s break down the rules you’ve been handed (but never agreed to):

• Fulfillment: You’re supposed to live in a way that’s truly “you.” But what does that mean, exactly? Who decides who you’re “meant” to be?

• Satisfaction: You’re supposed to have everything you “need.” But the world around you is always offering more, newer, better—and your sense of what you “need” keeps growing.

• Wellbeing: You’re supposed to feel that everything is “right.” But life is unpredictable, and “right” can change overnight.

Most advice out there tells you to chase all three, and then, finally, you’ll feel content.
But getting all of these to line up at the same time? That’s a tall order. It’s no wonder people feel frustrated, burned out, and always behind.

It sounds straightforward, but in practice, it’s like trying to win at a game where the rules keep changing. What you need today might not be what you need tomorrow. Who you want to be can shift with every experience. “Right” can look different every year, season, or even moment.

It’s a never ending, overwhelming, exhausting, and messy treadmill; one that we’ll stay on forever if we don’t make a change.

The Concept Hiding in Plain Sight

Here’s the turning point:
All those outcomes we’re chasing - fulfillment, satisfaction, wellbeing, contentment - are just that: outcomes. They’re effects, not causes.
And the more we try to control them directly, the more they slip away.

But there’s something you can always control:
How you choose to be, in each moment.

If you base your sense of contentment not on outcomes (which come and go), but on the way you choose to show up, suddenly you have your hands back on the steering wheel.

• You decide how you want to respond.

• You decide what kind of person you want to be, right now.

• You decide what you can appreciate in yourself, in this moment.

It’s a simple concept—but not always easy to practice. It asks you to shift your focus from controlling results to choosing your response.

The Path Forward

When you let your contentment depend on your own choices—how you show up, how you act, how you relate to yourself and the world—you discover a kind of quiet power. Suddenly, contentment isn’t locked behind perfect circumstances or a perfect version of you. It’s available, here and now, each time you choose.

This isn’t another “life hack.” It’s a new relationship with yourself.
If you want a down-to-earth way to actually walk this path, that’s what my process, Guided Self-Mentorship, is all about.

If you’re curious, visit my website to see how you can start this path for yourself.

You Don’t Need to Fall In Love With the Process—You Need to get Engaged With your Actions

We are obsessed with feeling good.

It’s built into our wiring. We seek pleasure, avoid pain, and chase the things that promise happiness. And for most of our lives, we’ve been fed the same formula:

Find something you love → Stay motivated → Achieve the goal → Be happy.

Sounds logical, right? And to be fair—this strategy actually works… in the short term.

When motivation is high, it feels amazing. When you achieve a goal, the rush is intoxicating. When the process excites you, it’s easy to stay consistent.

But then?

The excitement fades. You finally get to the end, and you realize that in order to feel good again, you now have to get to the next achievement. Motivation runs out. You start to question why you are on this endless treadmill of goal-pursuit, but if you don’t, you feel terrible.

So you chase more—more motivation, more progress, more achievement—convincing yourself that happiness lives just beyond the next milestone. But no matter how much you accomplish, the finish line keeps moving.

And if you keep playing this game? You don’t just burn out—you end up living in a constant state of "almost" happiness, where joy is always just one step away.

That’s why I’m done.

I’m calling for a divorce.

A divorce from the process.
A divorce from the outcome.

And a marriage—a lifelong commitment—to our actions.

Because that’s where we mobilize our fulfillment.

The Pitfalls of Focusing on the Process

So, if focusing on the outcome keeps you stuck in an endless chase, then focusing on the process must be the answer, right?

Not exactly.

Because here’s the uncomfortable truth: Sometimes, the process isn’t pleasurable.

Sure, there are moments when you get in a flow state. When you’re in the zone, enjoying the work itself. But sometimes? The process is boring, frustrating, exhausting, and downright painful.

And if you’ve convinced yourself that you must enjoy the process to stay committed, what happens when you don’t?

You start questioning everything.
You wonder if you’re on the wrong path.
You think, If I don’t love this, maybe I shouldn’t be doing it at all.

Focusing on the process can become just another outcome to chase—one where you’re constantly measuring how much you’re “enjoying” it and using that as a reason to keep going… or to quit.

So instead, let’s take a different approach.

Let’s stop tying our motivation to pleasure or progress.

Let’s focus on the only thing we can control—engaging fully in our actions.

Your Path to Happily Ever After: 4 Steps to Get Engaged With Your Actions

This isn’t about forcing joy. It’s not about feeling motivated. It’s about showing up, committing to what matters, and letting fulfillment happen naturally. For all who are willing to experiment with this new lifestyle, I invite you to an experiment.

Step 1: Choose Something That Aligns With a Life You Want

Ask yourself:

"What is one action that would make my life better—even if I don’t always enjoy it?"

For me, that’s going to the gym.

Step 2: Define One Small, Specific Action

The hardest part of any action? Starting.

So instead of overwhelming yourself with a massive commitment, break it down. What’s one small, specific step you can take?

For me, it’s walking to the gym and doing one rep. No extra credit for anything more.

Step 3: Identify a Core Value Tied to That Action

This is where everything shifts.

Instead of asking, Do I enjoy this? ask:

"Does this align with what I value?"

Here’s the truth: I hate the gym.

I’m tired. It’s painful. I don’t enjoy it.

But I do find fulfillment in it—because I value health, strength, and discipline.

That’s why I show up. Not because I love the process, but because I love what it represents in my life.

Step 4: Schedule It & Appreciate Taking Action

Pick a specific time to do it. Not “I’ll try”—a real commitment. Put it in your calendar. Set an alarm. Treat it like an appointment you can’t cancel.

Then, when you follow through? Take a moment to appreciate yourself for following through.

Not for how well you did it. Not for whether you enjoyed it. Just for the simple act of showing up.

Your New Wedding Vows

If you’re ready to stop waiting for motivation and start living in loving marriage alignment, here’s your vow:

"I commit to my actions, for better or worse, knowing full well that I don’t control the outcome.

To show up, regardless of motivation.

To engage fully, without demanding a feeling in return, or insisting that my worth and joy are the result of some future achievement.

And in that commitment, I will find myself fully engaged in the process—appreciative of how I’ve chosen to live, regardless of the outcome."

When you commit to the action, you naturally find yourself engaged with the process—appreciative of how you’ve chosen to live, regardless of the outcome.

Do you, dear reader, take actions towards your values as your new way of navigating your life?

I do.

Blame Creates a Chain—Here’s the Key to Breaking Free (In Just 2 Steps)

Blame isn’t just about pointing fingers, and it’s important to give blame the respect it deserves.

It’s about trying to make things right.

When something unfair happens—when someone hurts us, when life doesn’t go the way it should—our minds reach for blame like a reflex. It’s an attempt to restore order, to make sense of chaos, to assign responsibility where it belongs.

Because wouldn’t that be fair?

A world where people own their mistakes. Where apologies come when they should. Where the right people face consequences, and everything lands exactly as it ought to.

Who wouldn’t want an ideal world like that? And why wouldn’t our minds fight for it?

Blame is how we try to enforce the rules. It’s how we demand justice when reality doesn’t deliver. It’s how we attempt to make sure things don’t happen again.

And in some ways, that’s a good thing. It means we care about fairness. It means we want things to make sense. It means we see what should have been different.

But here’s the painful truth:

Blame doesn’t just try to shape the world.

It shapes us.

It shapes the way we think, the way we see people, and the way we show up in the world. And the more occupied we are with that, the more locked in we become.

Blame Creates a Chain

There’s an old Buddhist parable about a man who is struck by a poisoned arrow.

Instead of pulling it out, he becomes consumed with questions:

"Who shot it?"
"Why did they do it?"
"What was their motive?"

This is not a deep parable. The man dies.

Not because he was attacked—but because he was so focused on why it happened that he never took the action that could have saved his life.

As ridiculous as this parable may seem, this is what blame looks like in practice.

Not just some of the time.

Every time.

It ties us to what hurt us, keeping our minds locked on why it happened, who caused it, and what should have been different.

When we blame others, it convinces us that peace depends on something outside of us—on their apology, their change, their understanding.

When we blame ourselves, it keeps us stuck in regret, handing control to a past version of us—one who no longer exists to change the outcome.

Blame always begins with a good intention: to make the world right.

But the effect?

It leaves us struggling in a pool of everything we believe to be wrong.

We replay the moment, searching for the perfect explanation, the closure that never comes.

And while we’re gripping so hard—what else aren’t we holding?

Where else could we place that energy? That focus? That time?

When blame keeps us chained, responsibility is the key that sets us free.

Responsibility Is the Key

Taking responsibility doesn’t mean letting someone off the hook. It doesn’t mean pretending something was okay when it wasn’t.

It means refusing to let what happened own us.

It means shifting from looking backward to moving forward.

It means choosing action over waiting.

And it only takes two steps.

1. Notice the Blame

Blame isn’t bad. It’s just the mind’s way of trying to restore order.

So instead of pushing it away, get curious.

Ask yourself: Where am I placing control?

If the answer is **on someone else—or on a past version of yourself—**then you’re stuck in a waiting game you can’t win.

2. Ask: “Regardless of fault, what do I have the power to do next?”

This is the question that breaks the chain.

Because as long as blame is holding the power, we don’t have it.

And when we take that power back?

We get to decide what happens next.

We get to decide how we respond.

We get to decide who we become in the aftermath.

Freedom Begins Where Blame Ends

Blame tries to make the world right. It fights for how things should be. But in doing so, it keeps us tangled in the very things we wish were different.

When we let go of the struggle to force reality into submission, something powerful happens. We stop waiting for an apology that may never come. We stop handing our peace to the person who hurt us. We stop defining ourselves by the worst thing we’ve experienced.

And in that space—where blame once lived—we find something we didn’t expect.

Power.

Not power over the past. Not power over other people. But power over ourselves, over the choices we make, over how we carry forward.

We stop trying to make the world right, and instead, we start making right by the world.

We begin to live not in reaction to what’s happened, but in alignment with the person we want to be.

Because the moment we step out of the past, we step into possibility.

And that is where true freedom begins.

You Are Not Who You Think You Are—But You Can Be Who You Choose to Be

If you’ve ever felt stuck—trapped in patterns you don’t like, repeating habits you wish you could break—there’s a good chance you’ve told yourself a story about who you are.

I’m an anxious person.
I always overthink things.

Maybe you’ve carried this belief for so long that it feels like a fact. Like it’s woven into your DNA, part of the foundation of your being. You don’t just feel anxious—you are an anxious person.

But here’s where things get weird.

If you are what you think you are, then what happens in the moments you’re something else?

You say you’re an anxious person, but what are you in the moments when you feel calm? Do you disappear? Do you temporarily cease to exist?

If a label doesn’t always fit, could it possibly be true?

Identity Isn’t Found—It’s Created

We tend to believe that whatever we think ourselves to be is simply the truth. That however we’ve always been must be what we are—and what we’ll continue to be.

But in reality, it’s often not who we are—it’s who life shaped us to be.

We weren’t born anxious, insecure, or avoidant necessarily. We’re a cocktail of DNA, upbringing, and learned behaviors. We’ve adapted, developed coping mechanisms, and responded to the world in ways that helped us survive.

And if identity can be shaped by life, it can also be reshaped by us.

We are not who we think ourselves to be.

We are constantly becoming who we act to be.

And this is where things shift.

There are different ways we approach change. One approach is waiting for thoughts to change before taking action—believing that if we could just feel confident, we’d finally speak up. If we could just believe in our discipline, we’d start following through.

Another approach is recognizing that identity isn’t something to wait for—it’s something to practice.

Not by forcing thoughts to change first, but by taking actions that cast votes for a new version of self.

How to Vote Wisely

Every action we take is a vote for the person we are becoming. We are casting votes all the time—whether we realize it or not.

If we want to become someone different, we have to start voting differently.

Step 1: Name the person you want to become.

Write down one word that describes the version of yourself you want to move toward.
Compassionate. Confident. Patient. Creative. Disciplined.

Step 2: Choose one small, specific action that aligns with it.

If we want to be more compassionate, we start our day by offering support to someone.

Step 3: Practice that action daily for a week.

Not perfectly. Just intentionally. One small action, one vote at a time.

Step 4: At the end of each day, take a moment to acknowledge what you did.

It may seem small, but small is what turns the wheel.

Because here’s the thing: if you took seven steps in a new direction, you wouldn’t be where you started.

It might not feel dramatic in the moment. It might even feel insignificant. But if you turn just a few degrees and walk from there, you end up in an entirely different place—one much more aligned with where you actually want to be.

Want to be a more compassionate person? Speak compassionately, do it often, and compassionate you become.

The Safety You Seek Is Hidden in the Vulnerability You Fear

A few months ago, I stumbled upon a poem by Rumi, and before I even understood why, I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other—
doesn’t make any sense."

I didn’t even know who Rumi was (pardon my ignorance). I kept rereading the words over and over, feeling deeper and deeper awe.

For most of my life, I believed that finding the right answers was the key to security. That if I could just understand how the world worked—what was right, what was wrong, what was true—I could navigate life safely.

And if I’m honest, being right felt like safety. It felt like standing on solid ground, like knowing which way to go, like proof that I wasn’t lost.

But the more I clung to being right, the more I realized:

I wasn’t searching for truth. I was searching for protection.

The Safety We Think Being Right Gives Us

We don’t just argue for our beliefs. We grip them. We defend them. We build entire identities around them.

Because at its core, being right isn’t about truth. It’s about safety.

• It protects our identity. If I’m right, I’m competent, I’m good, I’m in control.

• It protects our certainty. If I’m right, I know how the world works and what to do.

And that makes sense.

Certainty feels like a shield. Being wrong feels like exposure.

So we double down.
We resist.
We fight to hold our ground.

But here’s the trap: if safety depends on being right, being wrong becomes a threat.

And the moment we start fearing the truth, we stop being able to see it.

Instead of discovering, we defend.
Instead of listening, we prove.
Instead of learning, we lock ourselves in.

We don’t find security in truth—we fight against it.

Truth Sets You Free

If being right is about protection, then letting go of it feels like vulnerability.

And it is.

But here’s the paradox: the vulnerability of truth is the only thing that actually makes you feel safe.

Because when you no longer need to be right, you no longer have to fear being wrong.

You don’t have to grip onto false certainty.
You don’t have to battle reality.
You don’t have to prove yourself just to feel okay.

Instead, you build confidence—not in always being right, but in your ability to handle whatever truth is in front of you.

And that’s what real safety is.

Not control. Not certainty.

Just knowing you can meet truth—whatever it is—and still be okay.

Truth Lives in Vulnerability

I think about that Rumi poem often. The image of a field beyond right and wrong, where truth doesn’t have to be fought over—just met, just understood, just lived.

A place where there is nothing to prove. Nothing to defend. Nothing to argue.

A place where you don’t have to make sense of everything—you can just be.

No winners. No losers. No debates to settle, no sides to choose. Just the quiet, open vastness of reality as it is.

And when we’re willing to be just as open, just as vulnerable—that’s where we land.

So the next time you feel yourself gripping tightly—when you feel the urgency to prove, defend, or resist—pause.

Ask yourself:

Would I rather be right, or would I rather understand what’s actually happening?

Because when safety is no longer tied to being right, you stop fearing what’s real.

And in that openness, you step into the field.

I’ll meet you there.

How To Hold People Accountable (And why You Would Be Wise Not To)

There’s a popular narrative that goes something like this:

“Set boundaries. Hold people accountable. Make sure they understand the impact of their actions.”

And at first glance, it makes sense. When someone crosses a line, we want them to see it. To take responsibility. To admit what they’ve done and correct it. We believe that if we explain clearly enough, push hard enough, or hold them to the standard we expect, they’ll step up.

And sometimes? They do.

But more often, you end up in the exact opposite position—carrying the emotional labor of their accountability while they… don’t. The more you try to make someone take responsibility, the more you take responsibility for them. And the result? Instead of them stepping up, you find yourself exhausted, resentful, and stuck in an ongoing battle over who’s actually to blame.

Because here’s the truth: you can’t make anyone accountable. And the more you try, the less they actually are.

The Accountability Backfire

The moment you try to make someone take responsibility, something shifts. Suddenly, they’re not focused on their actions anymore—they’re focused on you. Instead of reflecting, they’re defending. Instead of acknowledging the impact of their choices, they’re explaining why they’re not the problem. Instead of accountability, you’re left in a power struggle.

And if you’ve ever been in this dynamic, you know exactly how it plays out. You bring up an issue calmly, hoping for understanding, but they get defensive. You try to explain your feelings, thinking they’ll care, but they tell you you’re overreacting. You set a clear boundary, expecting respect, but suddenly, you’re the bad guy.

You were looking for accountability. Instead, you’ve got a battle.

And if you look closely, you’ll realize something even harder to swallow: you play a vital role in this dynamic. Because in order for someone to push, they need something to be pushing against.

The Accountability Paradox

The second you stop demanding someone take responsibility and focus on the responsibility that you have, you leave them to hold the weight of their own responsibility. Not in a passive-aggressive way. Not in a “let’s see if you notice how much I’m not talking to you” way. You just… stop carrying it.

You acknowledge the reality of what happened. You take accountability for your part—not theirs. And then? You step back. No forcing. No pleading. No managing their emotional process. Just letting the weight of their actions sit where it belongs.

And that’s the paradox: the only way to actually encourage accountability is to model it—by handling your own with honesty and integrity, while leaving the rest in their hands.

They may pick it up. They may not. Either way, you get to move forward knowing you’ve done right by yourself. And that’s what actually brings peace.

Acknowledging Reality While Choosing What’s Right for You

When we stop trying to force accountability, we stop needing people to be anything other than what they are. Instead of trying to change them, we can acknowledge reality and ask ourselves, Given who they are and how they show up, what choices do I want to make?

That might mean creating distance, but it doesn’t always have to. We have more options than just stay or go.

• Instead of "They need to admit they were wrong," we can recognize "I value relationships where people take accountability. If they aren’t able to do that, I can decide how much energy I want to invest."

• Instead of "They need to make this right," we can ask "How do I want to show up for myself in this relationship, regardless of what they choose?"

• Instead of "I can’t let them get away with this," we can remind ourselves "I can respond in ways that allow me to feel at peace, whether that means expressing how I feel, shifting my expectations, or adjusting the way I engage with them."

This isn’t about withdrawal as punishment. It’s about moving in the direction that feels true to you, without resentment, without hostility—just clarity.

Sometimes that means letting go. Sometimes that means choosing to interact differently. And sometimes, it simply means giving up the battle so you can meet the person in front of you as they are, rather than who you want them to be.

When you stop carrying their accountability, you make space to carry your own.

Letting Go of Their Accountability Frees You

When you stop holding someone else’s accountability, you get something back: your energy, your clarity, your time. You stop wasting effort trying to change someone who refuses to change. You get to move forward without waiting on them to catch up.

Your hands are free.

Free to take responsibility for the life you want. Free to be accountable to building, shaping, and living in the world you actually want to inhabit.

Don’t Forgive and Forget, Forget Forgiveness: Why Letting Go Keeps us Stuck

You don’t need to forgive yourself.

You need to give up the idea of forgiveness entirely.

That might sound ridiculous—maybe even impossible. We’ve been taught that forgiveness is the path to healing. That in order to move forward, we have to “let go” and “forgive ourselves.”

But what if I told you that’s exactly what’s keeping you stuck?

Because in order to forgive, you first have to blame. And as long as you believe you’re to blame, part of you will always be waiting for proof that you won’t make the same mistake again.

That’s why self-forgiveness often doesn’t work. Deep down, we don’t trust ourselves enough to believe we deserve it.

So we stay locked in guilt, calling it accountability.

We punish ourselves, calling it growth.

But guilt isn’t growth. Guilt is stagnation.

And real change? It doesn’t come from blame. It comes from something else entirely.

The Forgiveness Trap

Forgiveness and blame are two sides of the same coin.

They both require a fundamental belief: that you should have done better than you did.

And that belief? It’s the problem.

A mistake is, by definition, something you didn’t intend. If you had full awareness, full control, and could have done better in the moment, you would have.

But when we frame mistakes as moral failures, we trap ourselves in a broken system:

• We blame ourselves, believing we should have known better.

• That blame turns into guilt and shame.

• We try to forgive ourselves, but deep down, we don’t trust that we won’t do it again.

• So we keep punishing ourselves, hoping that guilt will somehow keep us in line.

And the worst part? None of this actually helps us grow.

We think guilt will hold us accountable. Instead, it keeps us stuck in the past.

We think self-punishment will keep us from making the same mistake again. Instead, it makes us so afraid of failure that we avoid the very experiences that could help us learn.

This isn’t accountability.

It’s self-inflicted suffering.

And if you want to actually change? You don’t need forgiveness.

You need a different framework altogether.

Screw Forgiveness. Try This Instead.

When you drop both blame and forgiveness, you make space for something much more useful:

• Compassion – Understanding why you made the mistake in the first place. What led to it? What were you struggling with? What did you not yet know?

• Accountability – Using that information to repair what you can now and prevent it in the future. Not because you’re punishing yourself, but because you care about your impact.

That’s it.

No shame spiral. No self-flagellation. No waiting to feel like you deserve to move forward.

Just honesty, repair, and real change.

When you let go of blame, you don’t need forgiveness. Because there’s nothing to be forgiven for.

The Shift That Changes Everything

Most people think healing looks like this:

"I was so selfish. I hate that I hurt them. I need to find a way to forgive myself."

But real growth looks like this:

"I didn’t show up the way I wanted to, and that’s hard to sit with. What caused me to act that way? What can I do now to make things right?"

Notice the difference?

One path keeps you locked in guilt and self-judgment. The other keeps you rooted in learning and forward movement.

Forgiveness is about proving you’re worthy of another chance.

Growth is about taking another chance and making it count.

No Blame. No Forgiveness. Just Growth.

You don’t need to “earn” your own forgiveness. You don’t need to punish yourself to prove you’ve learned.

You need to:

• Acknowledge what happened.

• Take responsibility.

• Make amends if you can.

• Use the experience to grow.

That’s real healing.

That’s real self-trust.

When you stop waiting for permission to move forward, you realize something:

You’ve already been moving forward all along.

Finding Wealth in 2025: In a World That Demands More, We Find Richness in Appreciating Less

We live in a world of abundance with minds wired for scarcity.

This was once an advantage—an instinct that kept our ancestors alive. More food, more shelter, more resources meant survival. Those who wanted more often got more, and those who didn’t… well, their genes didn’t make it this far.

But today, the survival game has changed.

We aren’t hunting for food or bracing for famine. And yet, our minds still behave as if we are.

So we equate wealth with having more—more money, more security, more status, more things. We chase “enough” like a finish line that keeps moving. We tie safety to accumulation. We fear contentment because we think it will make us complacent.

And to an extent, this makes sense.

Let’s be clear—having enough to survive is not a luxury. It’s a human right. Stability provides solid ground to stand on. No one should have to wonder where their next meal is coming from or whether they’ll have a roof over their head next month.

And beyond that?

The richest life isn’t found in owning more, earning more, and achieving more.

It’s found in appreciating less.

We Need a New Operating System

For the first time in human history, we are drowning in abundance.

There is more to consume than ever before. More entertainment, more knowledge, more opportunities, more stuff. More things to buy, more paths to take, more people to compare ourselves to.

And with every passing year, the speed of it all increases.

Knowing what will make you feel truly rich—what will give your life meaning—has never been harder to identify.

Your mind will default to the old operating system: chase more, avoid less, secure your future.

But in a world where there is always more, this strategy ensures that you will never feel like you have enough.

What’s the alternative?

Instead of letting your mind chase whatever feels safest, most pleasurable, or most impressive—you choose your values and walk toward them.

Instead of constantly scanning for more, you focus on what matters now.

Instead of tying happiness to what you get, you tie it to the way you live.

This is the new wealth.

A Moment of Seeing Clearly

A client of mine had lived with anxiety for most of his life—especially the fear of death. It was a quiet undercurrent in everything he did. A lingering thought that no matter how much he achieved or how much security he built, it could all be taken away.

One day, he came into session looking almost… confused.

He had just survived a near-death experience. And in the moment he thought he was going to die, something unexpected happened—he felt more alive than ever.

His senses sharpened. His mind became still. And in the face of what should have been overwhelming, he felt an unshakable clarity.

Then, he survived.

"I don’t understand it," he said. "I feel no anxiety at all. None."

It wasn’t relief in his voice. It was curiosity, almost disbelief. He had spent so long in a state of unease that the absence of it felt foreign, and he was worried that it meant he didn’t care about his life. At the same time, he knew that he was no longer filled with dread.

As the session unfolded, he began to piece together what had changed. And as he sat across from me, slowly realizing what had changed, he absolutely clocked me by sharing the simple truth he had realized:

"As long as I am alive, by definition, I must have everything I need to live. I must have enough. There’s nothing to worry about."

I saw the truth of it with him. He wasn’t ignoring the realities of life. He was living fully with them. As he unwound his new perspective further, he said something that stayed with me long after that session ended:

"Life is no longer about a struggle to make sure I have what I need. Now it's about living the way that I want."

This realization wasn’t just a thought. It was something he knew now, something he had seen—so deeply that it reshaped the way he viewed his life.

And yet, in spite of how simple this truth is, living this way isn’t easy. It’s a hard standard to hold. One that I aspire to live by to this day.

Because this is the foundation of a truly wealthy life.

The Path to True Wealth

If you want to live richly, you have to question your scarcity driven mind and teach it a new path forward.

It will constantly whisper:

• “You need more security.”

• “You’ll be happy when you get there.”

• “Once you have enough, then you can relax.”

It’s a trick.

Happiness isn’t waiting on the other side of some future outcome.

It’s in taking action toward your values now.

Here’s how:

1. Notice your conditions for happiness.

   • Make a list of all the things your mind says it needs in order to be happy. Maybe it’s more money, a promotion, more success, a partner, etc.

2. Question them.

   • Is it actually true that you need this in order to be happy? Have you been happy at other times without it?

   • You can still walk towards the things you desire. Would you prefer to be happy while you walk towards them, or wait for happiness until you get there?

3. Tie happiness to living your values, not reaching an outcome.

   • Instead of “I’ll be happy when I find the right relationship,” try “I value compassion and relationships. I will live in a loving way now.”

   • Instead of “I’ll feel free when I have enough money,” try “I value my autonomy. I will use my freedom to walk towards financial security.”

   • Instead of “I’ll rest when I’ve earned it,” try “I value productivity and leisure. I will be active when it’s helpful, I’ll rest when it suits me.”

When you do this—when you learn to want nothing more than what you have while still walking toward what matters—

You free yourself.

And in that freedom, you’re no longer waiting to be happy. You’re no longer living for the next milestone, the next purchase, the next security blanket.

You’re already living a life worth appreciating.

And that’s a wealth that can’t be taken from you.

"Should" Is an Act of Violence Against Truth; How Shame Keeps us Lost in Deception

Imagine this: You’re standing in the pouring rain, drenched head to toe, shaking your fists at the sky.

“Stop raining! This shouldn’t be happening! You’re ruining my day!”

Meanwhile, the clouds carry on, happily pouring down onto the earth, watering the trees, filling the rivers. And there you are—miserable, shivering—too busy protesting the weather to grab an umbrella.

Or picture yourself sitting across from your cat, utterly exasperated.

“Why can’t you just be more like a dog?”

Your cat blinks at you. Purring. Scratching up the sofa. Waiting for some other kind of stimulation.

That sounds like complete lunacy, doesn’t it?

And yet, we do this every day.

We tell ourselves we should be happier, more productive, more successful. (A war with ourselves.)

We demand that others be more understanding, more kind, more like we want them to be. (Asking the cat to be a dog.)

We look at the world and insist it shouldn’t be this way. (Demanding the clouds not to rain.)

There is never a problem with reality. The only problem is the way we believe reality should be.

The gap between our expectations and our reality is the battlefield where our suffering lives.

And as long as we believe “should” can change reality, we’ll keep swinging at thin air—exhausted, frustrated, and no closer to peace.

How “Should” Keeps Us Stuck

We don’t learn to “should” ourselves out of nowhere. It’s something we’re taught—woven into us by parents, teachers, and society. A strategy meant to control behavior, keep us safe, and push us toward self-improvement.

But what really happens?

Instead of motivating us, should becomes a weapon we turn against ourselves. A shame whip that keeps us in line.

• “I should be more productive” really means I am not enough unless I’m constantly achieving.

• “I should be a better friend/partner/parent” really means I don’t deserve love unless I perform perfectly.

• “I should just be grateful” really means I’m not allowed to struggle.

At first, this tactic seems to work. The shame whip gets us moving, striving, proving ourselves. But it runs on a hidden assumption: I am not enough as I am.

Which means the only way to stay motivated is to keep proving our unworthiness—so we’ll stay chasing, striving, trying harder.

It’s exhausting. It never ends. And worst of all? It doesn’t actually make us better.

A.S. Neill and the Power of Acceptance

A.S. Neill, founder of Summerhill, understood this better than anyone.

He worked with so-called “bad kids.” The troublemakers. The rebels. The ones other schools had given up on.

Instead of trying to fix them, Neill did something radical: he accepted them exactly as they were.

And what happened?

They changed.

Not because they were forced to, but because they were finally standing on solid ground. For the first time, they weren’t fighting to prove or defend themselves. They were free to actually be themselves. And from that place, growth happened naturally.

Neill put it best:

“Every child has a god in him. Our attempts to mold the child will turn the god into a devil.”

The same is true for us.

We don’t become better by being told we’re not enough.

We don’t whip ourselves into becoming who we want to be. We step into it once we stop fighting who we are.

The Truth That Changes Everything

Here’s the paradox: The more we believe something “should” be different, the less power we have to change it.

Because we’re starting from the false ground of how we wish things were, instead of the solid ground of how things actually are.

And when we start from false ground, every step forward is shaky.

Take something real—something that actually matters.

Many of us long for a more compassionate world. We see the political tensions, the division, the way people treat each other, and we feel it deep in our bones.

And that longing? That ache for kindness, for understanding, for something better?

That’s beautiful. That’s not something to suppress or ignore. It speaks to the kind of world we want to help create.

And—it’s not the world we’re living in. Not yet.

This is where we get stuck. We resist reality. We spend our energy wishing things were different instead of actually making them different.

But there’s another way.

How to Break Free from the “Should” War

It’s simple, but not easy.

Let’s apply this to something real—our wish for a more compassionate world.

1. Acknowledge reality exactly as it is.

No resistance, no denial. Just seeing things clearly:

Right now, people are angry.
They’re divided.
Political tensions are high.
I don’t like the president.
Many conversations are more about winning than understanding.

This is not about approval. It’s not about resignation. It’s about stepping onto solid ground.

Because we can’t build something new if we’re still trying to knock down what shouldn’t exist.

2. Notice what we would love to see instead.

This is the shift that matters. Instead of wishing things weren’t the way they are, we get clear on what we do want:

We want a world where people listen before they react
We want a world where kindness is prioritized
We want a world where people don’t see each other as enemies

When we shift from resisting what is to creating what could be, we stop fighting ghosts and start building something real.

3. Commit to taking real action.

Instead of waiting for the world to change, we become the change.

We ask: What’s one real thing I can do today that moves this forward?

Can I act justly to those that I think are being treated poorly? Can I speak honestly, and with compassion, refusing to add more hatred to the conversation? Can I listen, not just to respond, but to understand?

This is where power lives. Not in wishing things were different, but in choosing how we show up.

Because when we stop demanding reality be different and start creating something different, everything changes.

We move from war to creation. From exhaustion to impact.

And most importantly? We stop being prisoners to the shame whip, waiting for “enoughness” to arrive before we start living.

A Final Challenge

Want to test this for yourself? Take one of your biggest “shoulds” right now. Something you’ve been resisting, fighting against, or feeling hopeless about.

Instead of wrestling it, try this:

• Name it as it is. (“Right now, people are divided.”)

• Acknowledge what we wish were true. (“I’d love to see more compassion and understanding.”)

• Take one small step in that direction. (“I’ll have a conversation today where I listen before I react.”)

Notice what happens.

When we fight reality, we create a war.

When we meet reality where it is, we see the truth—it’s never been fighting us. It’s been waiting.

Waiting for us to stop resisting and start creating.

Because the more energy we spend demanding how things should be, the less energy we have to create what could be.

When we close the gap between reality and expectation, we can shake reality’s hand—working with it to build the world we actually want to live in.

Go create.

Being Busy is Bullshit: Why Productivity is a Terrible Waste of Time

The Illusion of Productivity

If you died tomorrow, would you want your eulogy to say, “They were really busy”?

Of course not.

And yet, so many of us live like that’s the goal—like the person who crams the most into their schedule wins some invisible prize. We glorify busyness. Wear it like a badge of honor. Someone asks how we’re doing? “Oh, you know, busy.” As if that means we’re doing something right.

But can I be honest with you? Being busy isn’t the same as being fulfilled. And deep down, I think you already know that.

You don’t need to prove yourself by doing more. You don’t need to be in a constant state of motion to be worthy. You don’t need to fill every moment just to convince yourself that you’re keeping up.

The truth? If you’re not careful, busyness becomes a distraction—a way to keep yourself too occupied to ask the real questions:

Am I actually enjoying my life?
Do I even care about the things I’m spending all my time on?
If I stopped being so busy… what would be left?

I’m not saying it’s easy to slow down. But I am saying that if you don’t, you might look back one day and realize you never really lived.

What I Learned from People at the End of Their Lives

In my early twenties, fresh out of school, I worked as a hospice social worker. It was an unusual position to be in—so young, sitting with people who were at the very end of their lives. And because of that, something interesting happened: they wanted to pass their wisdom on to me.

One of the greatest gifts of spending time with the dying is the honesty. There’s no more posturing, no more pretending. Just real, raw truth. And an eagerness to share what they’ve learned—what really mattered, what didn’t, and what they wish someone had told them sooner.

Some people—especially those who had spent their lives chasing busyness—realized too late that they had missed the point. They had worked hard, stayed productive, done all the “right” things… and yet, in those final moments, none of it seemed to matter.

“I wish I had been more present.”
“I wish I had spent more time with the people I love.”
“I wish I had stopped worrying so much about what I was supposed to be doing.”

It was heartbreaking to witness—not just because of the regret, but because they had been trying. They weren’t careless with their time. They weren’t lazy. They had spent years, sometimes entire lifetimes, believing they were doing what they should—working hard, staying productive, keeping up. They had convinced themselves that one day, all of that effort would pay off and they’d finally feel the fulfillment they were chasing.

But that day never came. They had spent their whole lives preparing to live, but never actually let themselves do it.

And yet, even in this situation, something incredible would often happen: many of them still found peace—right there, at the very end.

In their last days, they let go of all the noise. They laughed more. They spoke more freely. They forgave themselves. They spent those last moments fully alive, proving one of the most powerful lessons they passed on to me:

It’s never too late. The best time to start living fully was yesterday. The second-best time is now.

And then there were the others—the ones who had already figured this out long before the end. Some of them met death not just with peace, but with joy. They weren’t just accepting of it—they were consoling their loved ones through their anticipatory grief, reminding them that they had lived exactly the way they wanted.

They weren’t necessarily the ones who had accomplished the most. They weren’t the busiest, the most productive, or the most outwardly successful. But they had spent their time well.

They had slowed down enough to actually live their lives instead of just filling them. They had worked, yes, but they had also rested. They had pursued things not because they were expected to, but because they wanted to. They had made time for laughter, love, and the little things that make life beautiful.

And that’s the difference between a busy life and a full life.

Busy-ness vs. Fullness: What Are You Actually Building?

Busyness is a cheap substitute for meaning.

It’s the belief that if you just do more, you’ll be more. That productivity equals worth. That if you’re constantly moving, you must be going somewhere important. But the truth?

Busyness is often a smokescreen. A way to avoid discomfort. A way to feel like we’re making progress—even if we’re just running in circles.

A full life, on the other hand, isn’t about how much you do—it’s about what you choose to do. It’s about the things that actually matter to you.

Think about it:

• Do you want to fill your time just for the sake of filling it?

• Or do you want to spend your time well—on the things that bring depth, meaning, and joy?

The Fear That Keeps You Addicted to Busyness

Busyness often masks a deeper fear: the fear of stillness.

Because when you stop being busy, you’re left with yourself. Your thoughts. Your feelings. The big questions. And that can be terrifying.

So instead, you pile on more work. More commitments. More obligations. You convince yourself that you have to do it all, that you can’t slow down. But in reality, nothing bad happens when you stop running. The world doesn’t end. You just have to sit with yourself—which, ironically, is the very thing that will actually bring clarity and direction.

Breaking Free from the Busyness Trap

So how do you stop being busy and start living fully?

1. Question the Belief That More = Better

Who told you that doing more makes you a better person? That if you’re not constantly hustling, you’re falling behind? Challenge that belief. Ask yourself: Is this actually true?

2. Prioritize What Actually Matters

Busyness thrives on the lie that everything is equally important. But it’s not. Some things matter deeply. Some things really don’t. Be brutally honest about where your time is going. Are you spending it on things that truly move your life forward?

3. Create Space for Stillness

Slowing down doesn’t mean doing nothing—it means making room. Room for rest. Room for thinking. Room for deep, meaningful work instead of endless tasks that lead nowhere.

4. Get Comfortable with Doing Less (Try This Experiment)

The hardest part of quitting busyness is the fear that you’re not doing enough. But the irony? You’ll accomplish more—more of what truly matters—when you stop scattering your energy across a million meaningless tasks.

So let’s run an experiment.

Pick one day this week and make a rule: No tasks for the sake of busyness.

That means:

• No checking your email just because it’s there.

• No doing extra work just to feel productive.

• No mindless busywork to fill the gaps in your day.

Instead, use that time intentionally. Do something that actually fills you—something that brings joy, rest, or connection.

Live Fully, Not Just Busily

At the end of your life, you won’t care how many emails you answered or how many meetings you attended.

You’ll care about the moments that mattered. The work that meant something. The people you loved.

So stop glorifying busyness. Start prioritizing fullness.

Because if you spend your life being busy, you won’t have spent it living.

How Limits Set You Free: The Paradox of True Freedom

What If I Told You That You Can Be Free Right Now?

We often think freedom means doing whatever we want, whenever we want.

And yet—when we chase this kind of “freedom,” we often feel the most restricted.

We get stuck in cycles, trapped by our own desires, pulled by impulse instead of intention.

That’s because true freedom isn’t about doing whatever feels good in the moment.

It’s about being able to live in a way that actually aligns with what we value—no matter what emotions, cravings, or impulses arise.

And the key to that kind of freedom? Choosing your Limits.

Limits Aren’t Restrictions—They’re the Path to Freedom

I used to be in a battle with food.

I would bounce between restricting, binging, feeling shame, and at times, I would even throw up just to escape the shame.

The battle to control my eating was exhausting.

I told myself I just needed more willpower, more control—but the harder I tried, the worse it got.

Now? I have a completely different relationship with food.

Ironically, many people assume I’m restricting myself when they see how I eat now. But the truth is, I’m not restricting anything—I’m loving myself.

There is no control involved. No battle.

I’ve built a way of eating that actually works for me—not because I force myself to follow rules, but because those choices allow me to feel my best and live the way I want.

Without them, I’d be at the mercy of cravings, exhaustion, and regret.
With them, I get to move through life in a way that feels good to me.

It isn’t coming from restriction anymore. Cheesy and trite as it may be, it’s coming from love.

This is the paradox:

• We assume rules take away our freedom.

• In reality, consciously chosen limits and responses to life’s limits are what set us free.

Viktor Frankl & The Power of Choosing Our Response

No one understood this better than Viktor Frankl, author of Man’s Search for Meaning.

Frankl survived the concentration camps of World War II, where everything was stripped from him—his family, his home, his future. And yet, he discovered something life-changing:

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

Even in the most unimaginable suffering, he was free—not because he could do whatever he wanted, but because he chose how he responded.

His insight reveals something crucial:

• Freedom isn’t about external circumstances. It’s about our internal ability to choose how we live, no matter what.

• Without limits, we are controlled by impulses and circumstances. With chosen limits, we reclaim our power.

Freedom From Impulse Is Real Freedom

Most of us have felt the pull of impulse—whether it’s food, distractions, social media, drinking, or something else.

• We say, “I can do whatever I want.”

• We chase what feels good in the moment.

• We wake up feeling worse, more exhausted, and further from the life we want.

The irony? When we follow every impulse, we’re not free. We’re controlled by the impulse.

It’s like believing we’re free to drift in the ocean… only to realize we’re being carried wherever the waves take us.

Freedom isn’t in drifting.
It’s in knowing we can choose our direction.

And that only happens when we stop letting momentary desires be the decision-maker.

The Addiction Paradox: How Limits Lead to Real Freedom

People in substance use recovery understand this better than anyone.

Ask someone who has recovered from addiction, and they won’t say they found freedom by allowing themselves to do whatever they wanted.

They found freedom by realizing that what they truly wanted involved NOT doing what their mind craved.

They chose a way of being that no longer involved the substance, so they could finally be free of the constant battle with it.

That’s the shift.

• It’s not about restriction.

• It’s about choosing a life where the old struggle no longer controls us.

Choosing Our Limits = Choosing Our Life

This doesn’t just apply to food or addiction.

It applies to everything:

• Money – Spend impulsively, and we’ll always feel financially trapped. Set financial boundaries, and we buy our future freedom.

• Work – Say yes to everything, and we’ll burn out. Set limits on what actually matters, and we get to love our work again.

• Relationships – Have no boundaries, and we’ll feel exhausted. Choose limits, and we get to have deeper, healthier connections.

The reality is: Every life is limited by something.

Either we consciously choose the limits that align with our values, or we unconsciously live by limits imposed by impulse, exhaustion, or outside forces.

We don’t need to do whatever we want in the moment to be free.

We need to be able to live the way we truly want, regardless of the moment.

When you choose your limits, you choose your freedom.

You Don’t Struggle With Decisions—You Struggle With Certainty

You’re not bad at making decisions.

You’re just waiting for certainty.

The right answer.
The perfect choice.
The path with zero risk.

But here’s the truth:

There is no “right” decision.

You can’t predict the future.
You don’t control the outcome.
You won’t know how things play out until you live them.

And yet, we exhaust ourselves trying to find certainty where certainty doesn’t exist.

The Illusion of the “Right” Choice

We act like decisions are multiple-choice questions with one correct answer.

A fork in the road where one path leads to success and the other leads to disaster.

We believe if we just analyze things enough, think through every possible outcome, and get enough opinions, we’ll land on the right one.

But that’s not how life works.

There is no perfect choice.

Every path comes with unknowns. Every option has trade-offs. Every decision requires a leap.

The only way to know if a decision was the “right” one is to make it and see.

Which means the only real mistake is doing nothing at all.

What’s Actually Keeping You Stuck?

Not a lack of information.

Not an inability to choose.

But a fear of getting it wrong.

• If you pick the wrong career, does that mean you’ve failed?

• If you leave a relationship and regret it, does that mean you ruined your life?

• If you take a risk and fall flat, does that mean you were never capable to begin with?

No.

It means you made the best choice you could with the information you had.

And now?

You get to make another choice.

How I Learned That the “Right” Decision Doesn’t Exist

For years, I was obsessed with making the “right” choices.

I would spend weeks—or sometimes months—agonizing over decisions, terrified of making the wrong move.

Every choice felt like it had permanent consequences.

• If I chose the wrong job, I’d be miserable forever.

• If I made the wrong relationship decision, I’d ruin my life.

• If I pursued the wrong goal, I’d waste years.

I thought if I analyzed things enough, I’d eventually land on the right decision. The one that wouldn’t ruin my life.

But what actually happened?

I just stayed stuck, which ironically, was ruining my life.

And the moment I realized there was no certainty to wait for was the moment I actually started moving forward. In fact, I stopped believing in the idea that my life could be ruined.

Because every decision—good or bad—gives you the most valuable thing you can have:

Information.

What If There’s No Right Choice—Just a Series of Steps?

Most people approach decisions like they’re standing at a locked door.

If they choose the wrong key, they’re doomed.

But what if life isn’t a locked door?

What if it’s an open field?

What if, instead of one single right path, there were infinite ways forward?

What if your next choice didn’t need to be the decision that changes everything, but just the next step that gives you more information?

That’s how life actually works.

You make the best decision you can with the information you have.

Then, you take action.
You see what happens.
You use what you learn to make your next decision.

That’s it.

The only way forward is through.

How to Make Decisions Without Overthinking

If you’re waiting for certainty, stop.

Instead, ask yourself:

“What decision would I feel proud to make regardless of the outcome?”

Because that?

That’s the only thing you actually control.

Not the result.
Not how other people react.
Not whether it goes perfectly.

Just the simple act of showing up for your life in a way that feels aligned.

And here’s the best part:

You’re allowed to change your mind.

You’re allowed to take a path and realize it’s not for you.
You’re allowed to pivot, adjust, and try something new.
You’re allowed to figure it out as you go.

Life Isn’t a Test—It’s a Discovery

Most of us grew up thinking life was a series of right or wrong answers.

But it’s not.

It’s a series of experiments.

A constant unfolding of what works, what doesn’t, and what moves you closer to the life you want to live.

The people who move forward aren’t the ones who make perfect choices.

They’re the ones who make a choice and learn from it.

And when you stop trying to “get it right” and start letting yourself figure it out—

Life stops feeling like a test.

It starts feeling like a discovery.

How to Succeed by Not Trying

Most of us have been taught that success comes from effort.

Try harder. Push through. Force yourself to make it happen.

And yet, for some reason, the harder we try, the more stuck we feel.

We overthink every move. We grip so tightly to an outcome that we choke the life out of it. We try to force results, and in doing so, we ignore the reality in front of us.

What if the real key to success isn’t trying harder—but trying differently?

Let’s talk about how not trying can actually help you succeed.

Bukowski’s Advice: Don’t Try

Bukowski’s gravestone reads: "Don’t Try."

A bold life motto, especially from a guy who claimed that drinking alcohol was a necessity for his wellbeing.

Now, I’m not saying to take career advice from a man who lived off whiskey and cigarette smoke—
what I am saying this:

He spent his life doing exactly what he wanted.
He wrote poetry that still resonates decades later.
And whether you love or hate him, he lived a life that was truly his.

He once wrote: "Find what you love and let it kill you."

Maybe the goal isn’t struggling for success. Maybe the goal is living in a way that makes it inevitable.

The Problem With Trying So Hard

Let’s talk about job interviews.

You want the job. You really, really want the job.

So you prepare. You rehearse your answers. You make sure you sound competent, confident, and exactly like the candidate they’re looking for.

And when you walk into the room?

You’re performing. You’re so focused on winning the job that you don’t even notice whether you’d actually want it.

You become hyper-aware of how they see you, overanalyze their reactions, and start adjusting yourself to fit whatever you think they want.

By the end of the interview, you’re exhausted.

And worse? You have no idea if they actually liked you—because you weren’t really showing up as yourself.

This is what happens when we try to force an outcome.

Instead of focusing on who we want to be in a situation, we become obsessed with getting the right result.

And in doing so, we disconnect from reality and lose the very thing that could have helped us—presence.

You Don’t Control Outcomes—But You Do Control Who You Are

Here’s the paradox: The more you try to make something happen, the less control you actually have.

Because you don’t control outcomes.

You don’t control whether you get the job.
You don’t control how others react to you.
You don’t control if things go exactly as planned.

What you do control? How you show up.

• Do I want to lead with honesty or performance?

• Do I want to choose courage or self-doubt?

• Do I want to align with my values, no matter the result?

Because when you focus on being instead of forcing, something strange happens:

You actually see what’s in front of you.

You adapt. You adjust. You take the next step based on reality, not fear.

And that leads to better results than control ever could.

The "Not Trying" Approach to Success

This doesn’t mean doing nothing. It means letting go of forcing.

Take any situation where you feel stuck and shift your approach:

• Instead of trying to prove your worth in a job interview, focus on showing up in a way that reflects your actual skills and personality.

• Instead of trying to get someone to like you, focus on being the kind of person you’re proud of.

• Instead of trying to eliminate anxiety, focus on responding to it in a way that builds self-trust.

And then?

See what happens.

The outcome isn’t something to control—it’s data. It tells you what’s working, what isn’t, and what your next step should be.

When you stop trying to force things, you free yourself to actually respond to them.

And that’s what creates real progress.

Final Thoughts: Success Isn’t Forced, It’s Built

Bukowski was right—"Don’t try."

Not because effort isn’t important, but because effort without presence is wasted energy.

The most successful people aren’t the ones gripping the wheel with white knuckles, desperately trying to steer life in a specific direction.

They’re the ones who stay engaged with what’s actually happening, adjust when needed, and take the next step with clarity.

So if you feel stuck, ask yourself:

Are you trying to force an outcome—or are you focusing on who you want to be in this moment?

Because when you trust that, you won’t have to force success.

It will find you.

You’re Not an Overthinker; You’re a Certainty Maker. A guide to Overcoming Overthinking.

You don’t think too much. You’re not an overthinker.

You think just enough to create a sense of certainty in a very uncertain world. I love that about you.

At some point, you learned that if you could just analyze things enough—if you planned for every outcome, anticipated every risk—you could avoid mistakes, prevent pain, and create safety through certainty.

And that makes sense.

Because uncertainty can feel dangerous. If you don’t know what’s coming, how do you prepare? How do you make sure nothing goes wrong?

So you stay in your head. You run every scenario. You search for the "right" answer.

But here’s the truth:

Overthinking doesn’t create certainty.

It creates a constant fight against uncertainty—one where the only way to feel safe is to think through every possible thing that could happen and try to prevent it.

And the longer you do this, the more your brain learns:

"Uncertainty is bad. The only way to be okay is to eliminate it."

Except—you can’t.

So you stay stuck in an exhausting loop, battling a world that refuses to be predictable.

That’s why overthinking doesn’t bring peace. It brings exhaustion.

So how do you break the cycle?

The Counterintuitive Way Out of Overthinking

Most people think the solution to overthinking is to “stop thinking so much.”

But that doesn’t work. Because thinking isn’t actually the problem.

The problem is what you’re trying to do with it.

Overthinking is about controlling uncertainty.

So the real way out isn’t becoming certain that nothing bad will happen.

It’s becoming certain in your ability to handle uncertainty.

To take action. To allow for whatever happens. To respond in ways that keep you happy and well.

Because the deepest safety doesn’t come from controlling everything.

It comes from proving to yourself—again and again—that no matter what happens, you can take steps to keep yourself safe.

And the only way to do that?

You have to practice.

A Simple Way to Stop Overthinking in the Moment

Next time you catch yourself spiraling into overthinking, try this:

Step 1: Name It.

Say to yourself:
"I notice I’m trying to create certainty through thinking."

Just by naming it, you create a little space between yourself and the thought loop.

Step 2: Shift the Goal.

Instead of thinking to eliminate uncertainty, shift to:
"I can’t know what will happen, I can find out by doing what’s right for me now. What’s the next step I can take with what I know now?"

This helps your brain pivot from "figure everything out" to "move forward with what I know."

Step 3: Take Action and Learn.

Follow through on the step you chose. See what happens.

Then, instead of overanalyzing the outcome, respond to whatever you learn by using that information to take the next step toward peace.

Because clarity doesn’t come from thinking your way into safety.

It comes from doing the thing and proving to yourself that you already are.

Final Thoughts: Certainty Isn’t the Goal—Self-Trust Is

You’re not overthinking because you “think too much.”

You’re doing it because, at some point, you learned that certainty = safety.

And unlearning that isn’t about stopping thoughts. It’s about showing yourself that you don’t need certainty to be okay.

Because the goal isn’t to control life so nothing bad ever happens.

The goal is to know, deep down, that no matter what happens, you’ll have your own back.

Because when you stop looking for safety in certainty—
You find it in yourself.

And that?
That’s a kind of peace that no amount of overthinking can give you.

Trauma Recovery: How to use Awareness to Heal and Recover

This is something I learned the hard way:

Understanding your pain isn’t the same as healing it.

For years, I thought self-awareness was enough.

I believed that if I could just understand myself—my triggers, my patterns, my past—it would fix me.

And in some ways, it helped.

I used to feel like my struggles were random, like I was just fundamentally wired wrong. Gaining self-awareness made everything feel less chaotic. It softened the shame I carried. It gave me words for what I was going through.

But even though I understood myself better, I was still stuck.

For years, I thought that if I could explain why I was the way I was, it would somehow make it okay. I thought that if I could justify my struggles well enough—if I could make my pain **understandable, explainable, acceptable—**then maybe I would finally feel acceptable, too.

But the more I tried to prove my acceptability, the more unacceptable I felt. Because true acceptance doesn’t come from explaining your pain.

It comes from showing yourself—through action—that you were never broken to begin with.

And over time, I realized something:

You don’t heal just because you understand your pain.
You heal when you teach yourself that you’re not stuck there anymore.

Insight Helps You Understand the Wound—But It Doesn’t Close It

If you cut your hand on a piece of glass, the first step is figuring out what cut you.

And that’s important. You need to know where the wound came from so you can clean it, take care of it, and prevent it from happening again.

But if you stop there—if you never bandage it, never let it heal—the wound will continue to bleed, fester, and get worse.

Trauma works the same way.

Understanding what happened to you is an essential first step. But insight alone doesn’t close the wound.

Awareness Alone Doesn’t Create Change

Self-awareness is powerful. It gives you language for your pain. It helps you make sense of yourself.

…but awareness alone doesn’t create change.

Healing happens when you prove to yourself—through small, everyday actions—that you’re not trapped there anymore.

And that takes:

• Becoming aware of the automatic response you learned in order to stay safe.

• Responding differently, especially when it’s uncomfortable.

• Showing yourself, again and again, that despite what your past has told you, you can keep yourself safe now.

It’s not about thinking your way into healing.

It’s about teaching your body and brain that you are no longer living in the past.

You Can’t Just Know It—You Have to Show Yourself That It’s True

This doesn’t mean forcing yourself to “feel better.”

It means giving yourself new experiences—ones that show you, deep down, that you can trust yourself, that change is possible, that you are capable of something different.

Because here’s the thing:

You don’t wait to feel different before you act differently.
You act differently first—and the feelings follow.

Knowing is half the battle, doing brings us to victory and ultimately, peace.

Final Thoughts: The Breakthrough Isn’t in Knowing—It’s in Doing

Understanding your trauma is an important part of the process.

But it’s not where healing happens.

Healing happens when you:

• Take small, consistent actions that prove to yourself that you’re safe.

• Show up in ways that contradict the old story your trauma told you.

• Find a new story beyond the narrative of the old one

Because in the end?

The real breakthrough isn’t in knowing why you do what you do.
It’s in proving—one step at a time—that you can do something different.

And that’s where freedom lives.

Failure Won’t Ruin Your Life—Avoiding It Will

Most of us don’t actually fear failure.

We fear what we think failure means about us.

That we’re not good enough. That we’ll never get it right. That if we screw up once, we’re doomed forever.

And so, without even realizing it, we build our lives around avoiding failure at all costs.

We hesitate, overanalyze, and second-guess every decision. We chase perfection, hoping that if we just plan enough, work enough, and get it right the first time, we’ll never have to feel the sting of falling short.

And that makes sense.

Because at some point, we learned that failure isn’t just something that happens. We learned that it’s a reflection of who we are.

But here’s the paradox:

The people who succeed the most… are the ones who fail the most.

They’re not avoiding failure. They’re using it.

And that’s what no one tells you:

Failure isn’t the problem.
Believing you should never fail is.

I Was So Afraid of Failing That I Failed Anyway

I spent the first three years of my college career avoiding failure, which ironically, caused me to not pass a single semester. At the end of three years, I had a 1.6 GPA.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but unconsciously, I thought:

"If I don’t try, I can’t fail."

So I held myself back. I didn’t push too hard. I left room for the excuse, “I just didn’t put my all in.” Because as long as I had that, I could always tell myself that I could have succeeded—if I really wanted to.

It worked to keep me safe. Until it didn’t.

After three years of scraping by, I got kicked out of university.

Not because I wasn’t capable. But because I was so terrified of failing that I never got to see if I was able to succeed.

At the same time, whenever I actually put effort into something—like writing a paper—and saw it marked up in red ink, shame hit me like a truck.

Instead of reading the feedback, I’d shove the paper in my backpack or turn it in as quickly as possible.

Why?

Because I thought those red marks were proof that I wasn’t good enough. They were evidence that I would never be good enough.

At the same time, here’s what I didn’t see:

Those marks weren’t a verdict. They were a map. They weren’t telling me I wasn’t capable. They were telling me exactly what I needed to know to improve. I was so busy protecting myself from failure that I never looked at them long enough to learn.

And that? That was what really kept me stuck.

When I finally understood this—when I realized that failure wasn’t something to avoid, but something to work with—everything changed.

I returned to university. I stopped trying to look like I had it all together and started actually learning from my mistakes.

And I didn’t just graduate.

I graduated with a 4.0.

Failure Isn’t a Verdict—It’s Data

Failure has never been the problem.

What we’ve been told about failure is.

Somewhere along the way, we learned that failure is a verdict on our worth. That if we mess up, it means something about who we are. That failing once means we’re a failure, destined to fail forever.

But failure is never about who you are.

It’s about what you tried.

It’s just data.

It’s proof that one approach didn’t work—not proof that you don’t work.

And when you see it that way, everything changes.

Failure stops being a death sentence and starts being a stepping stone.

Because when failure is just information, you stop fearing it.
You start using it.

What Happens When You Stop Fearing Failure?

You take more risks.
You say yes to things that scare you.
You stop hesitating, overanalyzing, and waiting for the “perfect” moment.

You realize that failure is just a checkpoint, not a dead end.

You stop seeing failure as evidence of your limits and start seeing it as evidence that you’re growing.

You stop making failure mean something it doesn’t.

And suddenly?

It stops being an obstacle—
And starts being the reason you succeed.

Failure Only Works Against You If You Refuse to Work With It

Failure doesn’t stop you from succeeding.

But fearing failure? Avoiding it? That will.

Because when you refuse to engage with failure, you’re cutting yourself off from the very thing that would move you forward.

You’re rejecting the exact data that would lead you to where you want to go.

At some point, you have to make a choice:

Do you want to look like you’re not failing?

Or do you actually want to succeed?

Because the people who figure things out aren’t the ones who avoid failure.

They’re the ones who look at it long enough to learn from it.

And if you’re willing to do that?

Failure won’t be what holds you back.

It’ll be what gets you to where you want to go.

Feeling Stuck in Life? You’re Not Broken—The World Is Just Loud.

You keep telling yourself you don’t know what you want.

That you’re lost. Directionless. Stuck.

But what if the problem isn’t that you don’t know your path—
It’s that you can’t see it through all the noise of a very loud, messy world?

Because if the world has become one thing, it’s loud.

Where Did the Noise Come From?

Most of us didn’t lose ourselves overnight.

We lost ourselves gradually—through a lifetime of well-meaning voices telling us who to be.

Parents, teachers, cultures, systems.

"Be responsible."
"Work hard no matter what."
"Here’s what success looks like."
"Here’s what a good person does."
"Here’s what a good life should be."
"Here’s what you should be doing."

And here’s the thing—most of it wasn’t meant to harm us.

Most of it came from people who wanted the best for us.
Who wanted us to be safe, accepted, and successful.
Who, in many cases, were just passing down the rules they were given.

But what happens when those rules come at the cost of our own truth?

What happens when the pressure to be who we should be drowns out who we actually are?

For most of us, it leads to this:

We start looking outward for answers.

And before we know it, our life becomes a collection of expectations, losing the internal sense of what truly matters.

What we should do.
Who we should be.
How we should measure success.

And suddenly, we’re stuck.

Feeling Stuck Isn’t a Personal Failing—It’s a Symptom of Too Much Noise.

Most people assume that if they feel stuck, it must mean something is wrong with them.

That they’re indecisive. Unmotivated. Lazy.

But more often than not, feeling stuck isn’t about a lack of motivation—it’s about a lack of clarity.

When you’re surrounded by external expectations, it’s extremely difficult to hear your own voice clearly.

And if you can’t hear it, how are you supposed to follow it?

You don’t need more willpower.
You don’t need another productivity system.
You don’t need to "figure yourself out" in some grand existential way.

You just need to get quiet enough to hear what’s already there.

If You Stripped Away Every “Should,” What Would Be Left?

If you removed all the expectations—if no one was watching—what would you actually want?

Not what would impress people.
Not what would make your parents proud.
Not what would get you approval or validation.

But what would feel like yours?

If that question makes you panic a little, that’s normal.
If you have no idea what the answer is, that’s normal too.

Because when you’ve spent years—maybe even decades—listening to everything but yourself, it takes time to hear again.

Your Feelings Are the Map.

This is where most people get stuck.

They try to think their way to clarity.
They analyze, strategize, and search for the right answer.

But your brain isn’t where the answer is.

Your feelings are.

Whatever sparks curiosity, whatever brings you joy—these are pointing you toward what matters most.

Whatever brings you pain, frustration, or anguish—these are pointing at the same things, but in reverse.

For example:

• If you feel deeply frustrated by greed and inequality, it tells you that fairness, generosity, and people’s well-being matter to you.

• If you feel resentment every time you sit at your desk job, it might be telling you that stability isn’t enough—you crave meaning, autonomy, or creativity.

• If you feel a quiet pull toward something—a hobby, an idea, a type of work—it’s probably not random.

Your emotions aren’t obstacles.
They aren’t problems to manage or suppress.

They’re data.

And when you learn to listen, they become the compass that cuts through the noise and brings you back to your own path.

So What Now?

Most people are waiting for clarity.

For certainty.
For a moment where their life direction will reveal itself in full detail, perfectly mapped out.

But that moment doesn’t come.

Because clarity isn’t something you find.
It’s something you earn by moving forward.

You don’t need to see the whole path.
You just need to take one step.

One step toward what feels real.
One step toward what feels alive.
One step toward what feels yours.

Because once you stop listening to the noise—
You realize you were never actually lost.

You just couldn’t hear yourself think.

Takeaway Questions (for Reflection or Journaling):

• If no one had expectations of you, what would you want to do with your time?

• What are the things that spark curiosity, excitement, or joy—no matter how small?

• What consistently frustrates or angers you? What does that frustration say about what you value?

• Where in your life have you been following “shoulds” that don’t actually feel right for you?

• What’s one small action you could take today that aligns more with you and less with external expectations?

What Is Recovery? The Truth About Healing From Anxiety, Depression, and Trauma

When You Go to Therapy, What Do You Expect to Get Out of It?

Maybe you want relief. Maybe you want to stop feeling anxious all the time. Maybe you just want someone to finally explain why life feels so damn hard.

And therapy can help with that.

Traditional therapy is built around treating illness. It identifies symptoms, diagnoses conditions, and gives you tools to manage them. And for many people, that can bring great relief.

But what if we’re settling for relief when we could actually experience a completely new and joyful way of living?

What if therapy didn’t stop at symptom management?
What if, instead of learning to live with suffering, you could actually find a life you appreciate along with it?
What if there was a way to move forward—not by getting rid of struggle, but by learning how to live fully, no matter what shows up?

That’s where recovery comes in.

The strange thing? We talk a lot about mental illness, but we don’t talk about recovery.

Which is wild—because not only is recovery possible, many people experience full remission from depression and anxiety.

A study published in JAMA Psychiatry found that 38% of people with major depression achieve full symptomatic remission and 30% of those with generalized anxiety disorder recover completely (source).

Another long-term study found that 78% of individuals with anxiety disorders achieved remission within six years (source).

Yet, no one talks about this.

And when people believe recovery isn’t even an option—they have no reason to look for it.

What the Hell Is Recovery?

For a lot of people, the word recovery instantly brings to mind substance use.

And that’s because the community of people who have found their path out of addiction figured it out first. (Thank you for all that you've given yourself and the world through your recovery, and more on that later.)

As it turns out, recovery as a concept applies well beyond substances—we just haven’t been approaching it that way.

If you’ve ever struggled with anxiety, depression, trauma, or any other mental health challenge, recovery applies to you, too.

The problem? Most people don’t even know it’s an option.

We’re taught that mental health treatment is about coping—learning how to manage symptoms, handle stress, and function despite the struggle.

But recovery is something different.

Recovery isn’t about eliminating all difficult emotions.

It’s about learning how to live a life you actually appreciate—no matter what emotions show up.

And the substance use folks? They've been putting in the effort to understand what it's all about for a long, long time.

Because at its core, recovery isn’t about forcing yourself to feel better and make change. It’s not about endless restriction or white-knuckling your way through life.

It’s about expanding your life beyond your struggle—until it no longer becomes a power struggle for life. (Take it day by day, anyone?)

And that applies to so much more than substances.

Most people assume recovery means:

• Never feeling anxious again

• Never having intrusive thoughts

• Never struggling with emotions

Which sounds awesome, I would love that—and it’s also completely unrealistic.

That’s not recovery. That’s a fantasy.

When you stop trying to feel good all the time—when you stop seeing discomfort as proof that something is wrong with you and start responding to life in a way you feel good about—you actually start to feel better as a side effect.

Not because you forced yourself into happiness.
Not because you finally “fixed” yourself.
Because for the first time, you have a new path forward.

I Thought I Was Broken. I Was Wrong.

For most of my life, I was certain that there was something fundamentally wrong with me—something I would be dealing with for the rest of my life.

I was diagnosed with over five different conditions. I cycled through therapy and medication. I struggled with anxiety, panic attacks, and depression.

And then, there was that day.

I was sitting in class, listening to my professor talk about how likely it was that we were going to fail his course.

My heart started pounding. My stomach churned. I felt like I was about to die.

I left. Made it to the bathroom. Panicked. Threw up.

And as I sat there, hands shaking, one thought hit me:

"I don’t want to be dealing with this anymore."

Shortly after, I was kicked out of university. And for the first time, I started asking myself a different question:

What’s actually causing me to suffer?

It wasn’t just the anxiety. It wasn’t just the panic.

It was the beliefs I held about myself. The way I responded to those beliefs. The way I tried so hard to fix myself that I made everything worse.

I started to see how my own attempts to cope were deepening the struggle.

I wasn’t broken. I was stuck in a cycle that made suffering feel permanent.

And once I saw it? I could do something different.

It’s been over ten years since my last panic attack.

And yet—there is a world where I could have one again.

And I truly believe that this is a good thing.

Recovery Is a Muscle—And That Means You’ll Struggle Again.

Here’s the truth: your moment of struggle is your next opportunity to make your recovery stronger.

Recovery isn’t about never feeling anxious, never having intrusive thoughts, or never experiencing pain again.

It’s about building the ability to move through those moments without them defining you.

Because struggle isn’t the enemy.

It’s the weight that makes you stronger.

Think of recovery like strength training.

If you’ve ever lifted weights, you know that in order to get stronger, you actually need resistance. You need stress on the muscle.

And the same is true in recovery.

Every difficult moment gives you real evidence that you can handle this.

Not by avoiding struggle. Not by making it disappear.

But by showing yourself, over and over again, that you know what to do when it happens.

And that’s when everything changes.

Because when you trust your ability to recover, struggle stops feeling like a threat.

And when struggle stops feeling like a threat?

You stop fearing your own life and start living it fully. That’s where joy is found.

Recovery Is Possible—And It’s Already Happening

We talk so much about mental illness. It's time to start talking about recovery.

Because recovery is real. It’s already happening. And it’s available to you, too.

Your Feelings Aren’t the Problem—Fighting Them Is

Most of us have been taught that emotions exist on a scale of good and bad.

Happiness, excitement, love? Good. Chase more of those.
Sadness, anxiety, shame? Bad. Get rid of them as fast as possible.

And so, we try.

We suppress. We numb. We distract. We tell ourselves we shouldn’t feel this way, as if arguing with our own emotions will make them disappear.

But here’s the thing—your emotions aren’t random malfunctions.

They’re signals.

They don’t show up to ruin your day. They show up to get your attention.

Every feeling—especially the uncomfortable ones—is trying to tell you something.

And when you learn to listen, emotions stop feeling like something that’s happening to you.

They become something you can actually work with.

We Fear Emotions Because We Fear Suffering

Most of us aren’t actually afraid of our emotions—we’re afraid of the story we tell along with them. We’re terrified that the mean something awful about the core of us or our existence.

If I feel lonely, does that mean I’m unlovable?
If I feel ashamed, does that mean there’s something wrong with me?
If I feel anxious, does that mean the world will always feel dangerous?

This is where we get stuck.

Because instead of seeing emotions as signals, we see them as truth.

And when you believe your emotions are truth, you react to them like threats:

• You feel lonely, so you isolate yourself even more.

• You feel ashamed, so you shrink away from life.

• You feel anxious, so you avoid anything that might trigger discomfort.

This is how suffering becomes cyclical.

Not because the emotions are the problem.

But because we assume they’re realities to obey rather than messages to understand.

But what if suffering wasn’t something to be feared?

What if, instead, suffering was a portal?

Your Emotions Aren’t Random. They’re Data.

Your brain doesn’t send you hunger signals because it wants to annoy you—it does it to make sure you eat and stay alive.

Your emotions work the same way.

They exist to drive action toward what you need.

• Loneliness is hunger for connection.

• Sadness is hunger to feel good enough and honor what we’ve lost.

• Shame is hunger for acceptance and self-alignment.

• Worry is hunger for safety and security.

Instead of trying to get rid of your feelings, what if you actually listened to them?

Ask yourself:

"What does this feeling show that I care about and value? And am I living in line with that? If not, what’s one step I could take today to do so?"

This is how your emotions go from something that controls you to something that guides you.

It’s not about forcing yourself to feel good—it’s about using your emotions to build a life that actually works.

And when you do?

Your strongest, most overwhelming emotions stop being something you dread.

They become something you trust.

The Fear of Feeling Disconnects Us From Others

Here’s a strange thing about emotions: the less comfortable you are with your own, the less comfortable you are with other people’s.

When someone around you is hurting, do you immediately try to fix it?
Do you tell them “It’s not that bad” to make them feel better?
Do you avoid deep conversations because you don’t know what to say?

This isn’t because you’re unkind. It’s because you’re scared too.

If you’ve spent your whole life running from sadness, how could you possibly sit with someone else’s?
If you think anxiety is a problem to eliminate, how could you ever help someone navigate theirs?

This is why most people shut down, minimize, or try to distract from deep feelings.

Not because they don’t care.

But because they don’t know what to do with it.

The Gift of Embracing Discomfort

Most people assume that a "good life" means avoiding suffering.

No sadness, no anger, no fear.

But the people who are truly alive aren’t the ones who avoid suffering.

They’re the ones who have learned how to meet suffering with presence.

They don’t run from emotions—they lean into them.
They don’t avoid pain—they extract meaning from it.
They don’t see discomfort as a roadblock—they see it as part of the path.

This isn’t about glorifying suffering.

It’s about not being ruled by the fear of it.

Because when you stop fearing discomfort, you stop fearing life itself.

You’re no longer held hostage by the possibility of pain.
You don’t hesitate to love because you’re afraid of loss.
You don’t shrink away from challenge because you’re afraid of failure.

You live fully, knowing that whatever comes—joy, heartbreak, uncertainty, grief—you will meet it well.

And that? That is freedom.

When you’re Safe with your Emotions, You’re Safe for Others

Once you stop seeing emotions as problems, you stop panicking every time you feel one.

And once you stop panicking at your own emotions?

You stop panicking at other people’s emotions, too.

When someone around you is feeling deeply, you don’t rush to fix it.
You don’t minimize their pain or tell them to "just stay positive."
You don’t try to control their feelings because their feelings make you uncomfortable.

You simply show up.

Because emotions aren’t obstacles. They aren’t mistakes.

They’re the very thing that leads us where we need to go.

How to find Happiness? Stop Trying to Be Happy. I’m Serious.

We’ve been taught that happiness is the default state of a well-functioning human. That if you’re doing life correctly, you should feel good most of the time.

And if you don’t? Well, something must be wrong with you.

This is a lie.

Your brain didn’t evolve to make you happy. It evolved to keep you alive. To scan for threats, anticipate problems, and make sure you don’t get kicked out of the tribe and left for dead. It’s wired for survival, not satisfaction.

Which is why the harder you chase happiness, the more it slips through your fingers.

Because happiness was never meant to be the goal.

It’s a side effect.

The More You Chase It, the Further It Gets

If you sit in a chair and think really hard about being happy, nothing happens.

Try it.

Go ahead.

Sit there. Stare at the wall. Force yourself to feel good.

How’s that working?

Exactly.

Happiness works like peripheral vision. If you stare at it directly, it disappears. But when you focus on something else—something engaging, something meaningful—it shows up on its own.

Trying to be happy is like trying to fall asleep. You can’t force it. But you can create the conditions that make it inevitable.

Instead of asking, “How do I feel happy?” ask:

• How can I live well, no matter how I feel?

• What would I do today if happiness wasn’t the point?

• What’s worth showing up for, even when I don’t know the outcome?

Because here’s the paradox: When you stop chasing happiness, it stops running.

And in the stillness, you’ll find yourself actually doing the things you love, happily.

Not because you were trying.
But because you were living.

Living Well Is Always Within Your Control

Happiness is unpredictable.

You could wake up feeling amazing for no reason at all. Or you could do everything “right”—eat well, exercise, spend time with loved ones, accomplish a goal—and still feel off.

If your well-being depends on chasing a feeling, then you will always be at its mercy.

But living well? That’s always on the table.

You can be anxious and still act with courage.
You can be frustrated and still be kind.
You can be exhausted and still take a small step toward something that matters to you.

You can’t control emotions.
You can control the way you respond to them.

And that is what actually determines the quality of your life.

Happiness Isn’t Something You Get—It’s Something That Shows Up

Think about the happiest moments of your life.

Not the Instagrammable ones. The real ones.

A late-night conversation that made you forget about time.
The moment you lost yourself in creating something you loved.
Laughing so hard with a friend that you forgot why you were even laughing.

None of those moments happened because you were trying to be happy.
They happened because you were fully engaged in something worth doing.

When you stop making happiness the goal and start living a life you actually appreciate, something strange happens.

You stop chasing. Happiness stops running. Happiness finds you, living appreciably.