Pause for Reflection: How Far You’ve Come

Most days, I live with my eyes fixed on the horizon—on the future I want to build, the version of life I hope is waiting if I just push a little harder. I tell myself I can’t afford to get comfortable. I can’t sit still. If I’m not nudging the needle forward, I’m convinced I’ll stay stuck right where I am… or worse—slide backward.

But sometimes progress isn’t about sprinting ahead. Sometimes it’s about stopping long enough to look over your shoulder and acknowledge everything you’ve already survived.

Because a lot can happen in 40-plus years.

I’m not a wise old man yet (still working on the “wise” part), but I’ve weathered my share of storms. I’ve built things I once thought were out of reach. I’ve been given gifts I never expected—by the universe, God, luck, or whatever force guides us when we’re not looking. I’ve loved deeply and been loved right back. I’ve hurt and I’ve been hurt. I’ve known grief that settled into my bones. I’ve faced rejection that carved me open, and acceptance that stitched me back together. I’ve been dismissed and disrespected, and I’ve also been offered grace, opportunity, and second chances.

Life has a strange way of balancing itself out like that. The good doesn’t always show up immediately. Sometimes it trails behind, slow, late, almost rude. But eventually it arrives.

The challenge is—our brains don’t hold onto the good nearly as tightly as they cling to the bad. When you’re in a hard season, it’s like trying to see daylight through mud. Those seasons can stretch far longer than we think they should. Days. Months. Years. They can break you down, wear you thin, leave you feeling like a fraction of who you once were.

Strength isn’t the absence of weakness; it’s moving anyway.
It’s surviving the blow and then choosing to stand back up.
It’s saying, “I’m not done yet,” even when life feels like a heavyweight champion and you’re the rookie bleeding on the mat.

We all have that fight inside us—but accessing it is another story. Taking control, changing the narrative, rewriting your future? That takes a different kind of power. A power we sometimes forget we have.

But here’s the magic: when you do tap into it, when you create even one small shift in the direction of your life, the impact is staggering. You look back and think…

Why didn’t I do this sooner?
Why did I doubt myself for so long?

That realization is fuel.
It’s proof.
It’s a reminder that you are not defined by where you’ve been—only by the direction you choose next.

So today, I’m offering you (and me) a gentle challenge:

Pause.

Take a breath.
Look back—not with shame, but with awe.

Look at everything you carried.
Everything you outlived.
Everything you rebuilt or are still rebuilding.

Then look forward again.

But this time, carry the evidence of your resilience with you.
You’ve already survived the things you once feared you couldn’t.
There is power in that story—your story.

And you’re only getting started.

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Until Next Time