Life doesn't always give us a sign
~ there is no point to regret; it’s not about regret, it's about renewal
Life doesn't fix itself.
Growth and change occur slowly, growth isn’t obvious, but feels essential
I used to think I knew what I was doing.
Turns out, I was partly right …
Growth isn’t a lightning bolt of wisdom.
It’s slow, sometimes painful, always personal.
What I thought I knew has become a process of re-examining old struggles, which surprises me regularly with a new understanding of myself.
I doubt I’m alone in this experience, that others feel it too - that cringe factor that brings with it the fear of admitting every thought I’ve had before, ones I now realize were as wrong-headed as they could have been …
What I thought I knew has become a process of re-examining old struggles, each one handing me a new, sometimes uncomfortable, understanding of myself.
I doubt I’m alone in this feeling either; that moment when old assumptions crack wide open. When you flinch, realizing just how wrong you were. Not just a little off, but completely, unequivocally misguided.
I used to think I had things figured out about life, work, how to handle setbacks.
Fifteen years ago, a friend, mentor, and boss suggested a course. Four days of immersive, recalibrating sales training. He saw promise in me when I didn’t. I came back lit up, dialed in, moving fast and forward.
Four years ago, a different sort of shift. My daughter suggested I might be ADHD. She wasn’t wrong. A doctor confirmed it. Medication changed everything. Actually, it didn’t - but it seemed that way to me at the time. It was so load-lightening, stunning and exhilarating. I felt like a kid with a new toy at first. For the first time, my days had a sharper focus. I felt powerful. Capable. Finally, I thought, I’ve found the key.
But life doesn’t hand out permanent upgrades.
Real progress is messy.
Big problems, the deep, unsolved, long-avoided ones, don’t go away simply because I felt better, and felt transformed.
They wait. They circle back like birds coming home to roost, dragging all their old weight with them.
Because I wasn’t changed. I was helped immeasurably, in a way that felt great - but I think I mistook understanding and focus for change.
This June has tested me. July promises worse. Not in theory, in fact. It’s the second-toughest stretch of my life, and the hardest may still be ahead.
But I’m still here. Still showing up. Not pretending to be fine. Staying in motion. Eyes open. Hands steady. Checking the pulse of my work, my body, and my resolve.
If I’ve learned anything, it’s this: skills can transfer. Lessons from earlier battles feel like the lessons learned from every sales presentation that didn’t click, from failed relationships, mental pivots, health scares, and every false start of a great project ideal these become new tools.
They follow us.
They prepare us, even when we don’t realize it.
I’m aiming to reach August upright.
Tired?
Sure. But standing. That counts.
And this idea that “I used to think I knew what I was doing”?
It’s not regret.
It’s renewal.
The more I do, the more I know that I don't know what I'm doing. But I keep doing it anyway.
Knowing oneself is a lifelong endeavour, never completed.