I recently read my book again, which has become an annual tradition. I do it as a barometer to see how far I’ve come—and how far I still have to go.
What struck me most this year (outside of all the edits I’d make today) is how different a person I am now than the person I was when I wrote it just three years ago.
For those who haven’t read the book, back in 2015 I was in a bad spot professionally and financially. So I hatched a plan and proceeded to manifest it. I joined an early-stage startup, effectively reinvented myself, and went on a run for the ages. At the end of it all, I had completely changed the trajectory of my career and reversed our financial fortunes.
But the journey ended abruptly, and I was unceremoniously spit out the other side. It was an emotional gut punch that took me a while to process. I wrote the book during that period, which is why it feels like an emotional snapshot in time.
The lessons I learned during those eight wonderful and terrible years absolutely hold up, but I am not the same person I was back then. That guy had tunnel vision born out of necessity, which led to an unbalanced life. The mountain I was climbing became my obsession, so I missed out on many wonderful things during the ascent.
When I eventually reached the top, the air was thin, and there was no satisfaction or delight. I only felt emptiness for all the things I’d sacrificed along the way.
I took a full year off from work under the guise of “early retirement.” After too much golf and a hip replacement surgery, I decided to get back in the game—but with a very different approach.
I now make a conscious effort to enjoy the present, rather than always looking forward to the next thing. The good stuff in life is happening all around us every day. Choosing to enjoy it is simply a matter of perspective.
This notion was reinforced with the birth of my first grandchild fourteen months ago (and I have another on the way!). Simple things can become core memories if you lean into the moment and embrace them fully.
I suppose the lesson here is that we can change who we are at any point in time. It’s simply a matter of making the choice and controlling the internal dialogue in your head.
Simply put: we are who we choose to be.
Five months ago, I decided it was time to climb another mountain—this one even steeper than the last. I joined a pre-seed startup as the founding head of sales. Some think I’m crazy for taking this on at this point in my career. Early-stage building is brutal, and it can be a dark, lonely place without strong internal motivation. Plus, I already solved my financial crisis, so I should be professionally satisfied.
Unfortunately, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I feel a strong desire to validate my past success with future success. I’ve also learned along the way that the best things in life are waiting on the other side of hard. So, I’m leaning in again.
But this journey will be far different from the last.
I will still apply a life-force effort to the success of the mission, but not at the expense of balance and harmony at home. Instead of always obsessing about reaching the peak, I’m going to find joy in the journey and embrace all the little victories along the way.
I know now that I’m not nearly as important as I think I am. So instead of just playing the game, I’m choosing happiness—and I’ll let the chips fall where they may.
JQ Rising 