Now there’s nothing wrong with having a sense of morality and with wanting a good time. But when these beasts are allowed to run unchecked without a skilled driver, they’ll trample over everything in your life.

That’s why you need your Ego.

We’ve all had that moment where we just had to scratch an itch that wouldn’t go away. And more than quelling a mosquito bite, we just had to scratch the itch of our pleasures, immediately, and without any regard for the consequences.

And when we do that, we often find that we’ve scratched that impulse so much, that it leaves us relationally, emotionally, or even spiritually bleeding.

• You text someone you swore you were done with, just to feel wanted again.

• You buy something expensive you didn’t need, because it felt good in the moment.

• You take one more drink, one more hit, one more scroll, knowing it’ll mess with your sleep, your mood, or your resolve.

That impulse is the Id. And when it’s unregulated it’s capable of inflicting a lot of pain on you, and others.

The Super Ego is your internal judge, jury, and critic. It tells you what’s “right,” what’s “wrong,” and how to stay in line.

It’s voice was built early—by your parents, religion, school, culture, and society. And when your ego lets go of the reins, the Super Ego becomes a perfectionist with a megaphone, keeping your mind running wild in mental circles of guilt and shame.

No one?

Good. Me neither.

So grab my hand as we jump into the deep end together.

We live in a time that shrinks things.

A concise culture with an unwritten understanding that we all need “to make a long story short”. Our thoughts are put into captions. Our days into 90 second videos. And things we really want (or need) to say are reduced to a text bubble.

Even people get shortened—especially their names. And I’ve never liked doing that.

You know that moment when someone makes a decision that has you raising an eyebrow, clenching your jaw, or wondering, “What the hell are they thinking?”

Maybe your coworker told your boss how much you hate your job.

Or your friend got back together with their ex the morning after you spent hours consoling them through the breakup.

Or your partner shut down during an argument and left the house for hours without saying a word—while you were ready to talk it through, face it, and find resolution together.

Cue the confusion, the annoyance—and the judgment.

We’ve all had front-row seats to the perceived folly of others, only to let it plant a seed of frustration that we keep on watering. But no one wants a garden of WTFs growing in their mind.

For months, I’d felt this pull to hike Car Wreck. Honestly, it felt like an unending nudge. But with my upcoming book launch and other major projects on my plate, it kept getting pushed aside.

Still, the feeling stuck around.

"I think I'm supposed to hike Car Wreck."

So, last week, I finally listened. And what unfolded felt like a conversation with the natural world that I might have missed if I hadn’t slowed down. 

What would you fight harder for? Rescuing something you love? Or chasing something you want?

Hands down, rescuing something you love. Because we’ll do anything to save and protect what we cherish most.

Which is why I’m tired of people telling you to “chase your dreams”. I know it’s well intended but your dreams aren’t running from you like they’re playing hard to get. They’re buried beneath insecurities, doubts, and head trash—waiting for you to rescue them.

We need more people who go beyond reading something and saying, “THIS!” to actually doing, “THIS!”

So I wanted to share this with you because understanding the difference between shame and guilt can create small shifts that change how you talk to yourself and move forward in life.

In the first newsletter of 2025, I told you that 80% of people abandon their New Year’s resolutions by February. Well, here we are.

So… how are you doing? If you’re in the 20% still pushing forward, nice job. Celebrate your tenacity. Keep going. Keep putting in the work. You’ve proven to yourself that what you want matters.

But if you’re in the 80% who let their resolutions slip?Snap out of it. Recommit. Get up. Stop making excuses. And no, I’m not asking you to. I’m telling you to.

At first, I didn’t understand the difference between pain and suffering. Pain is the heartbreak, the loss, the feeling of the ground shifting beneath your feet. Suffering is what we create when we hold on to what we can’t control, replaying the pain in our minds over and over.

And for a while, I was doing exactly that—wallowing in self-pity, ruminating on every detail, replaying every conversation, and constantly hoping for an explanation that never came. I stayed stuck in my suffering far longer than I needed to, clinging to what I couldn’t change.

Eventually, I realized I had a choice: I could stay there, trapped in that cycle, or I could take a step forward and start living my life again.

Have you ever wanted something so badly, so deeply that you felt it with every fiber of your being, and you swore you’d do whatever it took to get it?

That is, of course, until the climb got steeper, the obstacles grew tougher, and the glitter of something easier caught your eye. Maybe you told yourself, this is good enough, even though deep down, you knew it wasn’t.

In the last newsletter, we talked about becoming resolute—about standing firm when the storms hit. But staying resolute requires more than determination in the moment; it requires vision for the long game.

Studies show that 80% of New Year’s resolutions fail by February.

Why? Because a resolution is just a decision. A wish.

But change doesn’t come from wishing. It comes from doing. And most people don’t want to keep doing the work necessary to make their dreams, their wish, come true.

See, resolve is your ability to keep at it with the same firm determination you started with—because the race is that important to you.

And when you practice resolve consistently, you’ll notice something powerful.

Let’s talk about the things we’ve all been taught to be scared of:

Fear. Jealousy. Ego. Vulnerability. Attention. Anger.

We’ve been told they’re not healthy, that we’re bad for engaging in them, and that they need to be avoided or suppressed. But here’s the thing: they’re not inherently bad.

They’re just misunderstood. Like all of us.

You can tell a lot about someone by how they respond to truth.

You shine a light into their life through honest feedback, well-meaning advice, or even just an honest observation about someone’s blind spots, and what happens next tells you everything.

Sure, we’re valuable. No matter the heartbreaks, betrayals, lies, and letdowns, our core worth doesn’t just disappear.

But we’re not like a $20 bill. We’re not something that can be crumpled up, traded, tossed aside, or forgotten about. We’re not paper that can just be flattened out again and thrown back into circulation.

We’re something way more valuable.