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The Guy Who Got You Here Has A Ceiling

You want a bigger life and you’re trying to get there without changing anything about who you are. Doesn’t work. Never has. Every man wants the upgraded version of his circumstances. The bigger business, the better marriage, the body that doesn’t hurt when he gets out of bed. And almost nobody wants the part where the guy currently running the operation has to be retired. But that’s the trade. That’s always been the trade.

He Was Built For Different Problems

Here’s what nobody explains about the version of you that’s driving right now. He’s competent. He’s not a failure, and that’s exactly why this is hard. He got you out of whatever you came from. He handled the twenty-five year old problems, the thirty year old problems, the ones where you had nothing and had to be scrappy and paranoid and willing to take a shot at anything that moved. He was good at those. He should be. He was built for them. The trouble is he keeps solving those problems. He goes looking for them. When you hand him a forty-year-old situation that requires patience or delegation or an honest conversation, he reaches for the twenty-five-year-old tool, because that’s the tool that worked and he’s got a lot of evidence it works. So you end up running a bigger operation with a smaller man’s instincts, and you cannot figure out why the same effort keeps producing the same size result. Familiar and stuck feel almost identical from the inside. 

The Part Men Won’t Do

You have to let go of who you believe you are. Not adjust. Not optimize. Let go. And most men won’t, because that identity is comfortable and it’s known and other people have agreed to believe it. You’ve got a story about yourself that your friends will confirm. The guy who came up hard. The guy who doesn’t need anybody. The guy who works harder than everyone in the room. Those stories were true once. Some of them were even useful. But a story you’re defending is a story you’re stuck inside, and you’ll notice you spend a certain amount of energy every week proving it’s still accurate. That energy is the tax. You’re paying it to stay the same. I’ve had to do this more than once. The guy who built the first business was not the guy who could run it at scale, and the guy who came out of my divorce was not the guy who went into it. Both times it felt like loss for a while before it felt like anything else. That’s normal. Everybody rushes past that part when they tell the story, but there’s a stretch in the middle where you’ve set down the old version and the new one hasn’t shown up yet, and it’s genuinely uncomfortable. Go through it anyway. It’s a season, not a destination.

3 Tactical Ways To Retire The Old Version

  1. Name the story you’re defending. Write down the three things you say about yourself most often. The self-descriptions that come out automatically when someone asks. Then check each one against the last twelve months and ask whether it’s still true or whether you’re just maintaining it. At least one is a costume you’ve been wearing past its usefulness.
  2. Find the tool you keep reaching for. Everybody has a default move. Some men work harder. Some go quiet. Some blow it up and start over. Identify yours, then find one situation this month where you deliberately use a different one. It’ll feel wrong. Wrong is the correct feeling. It just means you’ve never done it.
  3. Ask what you’d have to stop being. For the next five years to look nothing like the last five, who would you have to stop being? Answer that honestly, in writing, and you’ll have named the actual obstacle. It’s rarely the market. It’s rarely the money. It’s usually a version of yourself you’re still protecting.

Final Thought

You can’t become the next version of yourself while defending the current one. Pick one. The old guy doesn’t get a gold watch and a send-off. He just gets set down, quietly, on a Tuesday, when you decide to handle something differently than you’ve handled it for the last fifteen years. Here’s the challenge. Sit down this week and write one page titled “who I have to stop being.” Not what you need to do. Who you need to stop being. Most men have never separated those two and it changes everything when you do. Write it, then send it to me. I want to see what you’re carrying. – Sean Whalen
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Your Sons Are Watching 

You know it. You feel it every time you promise your son you’ll be at the game and you’re not. Every time you say “next weekend,” and next weekend becomes next month. Every time you tell yourself you’re grinding for them while you barely see them. You already know they’re watching. The question is what they’re seeing.

The Lie Every Dad Tells Himself

The lie sounds responsible…  like a sacrifice. I’m building something for them. I’ll make it up when the business is stable. I’ll be there more when things slow down. You’ve said all three and honestly, so have I. But we both know that things don’t ever really slow down. The business continues to fluctuate. There is no version of your life where the calendar clears, and you can finally get to be the father you keep promising to become. There is only the man you are being today, in front of your son, whether you’re present or not. You think you have a time problem when you have a decision problem.

4AM in Monaco

Last month, I was on the balcony of a hotel room in Monaco at 4 a.m. Couldn’t sleep. So I did what I do. I picked up my phone and filmed a video for my son. Told him I love him, that I’m proud of him, and reminded him who he is. I do this all the time with all of my kids. I try to never go more than a day without sending them words of affirmation. Not because I’m a great dad but because I know exactly what it’s like to not have one. My father split when I was a freshman in high school. He wasn’t around at all and I didn’t have a man speaking life into me. I didn’t have someone pointing the way, so I had to build my own confidence, chart my own course, and figure this whole game out on my own. Some of you know what this is like and truly know the struggle of figuring something out you shouldn’t have to. So when I speak to my kids, I’m not performing,  I’m pro-actively rewriting a story I lived and giving my sons what I never got. This is why I speak life into them daily. This is why I invest in them heavily. This is why I never quit because I know they are watching. If I don’t ruthlessly speak life into them, who will? Who is speaking into your kid’s life right now?

3 Ways to Speak Life Into Your Sons This Week

Here’s where you begin.
  1. Text the words. Today.
Not tonight, not tomorrow, now. Pick up your phone and tell your son what you see in him. Not “love you, buddy.” Something specific. “I saw how you handled that at practice. That was a man’s move.” One text. Every day. No exceptions.
  1. Sit down face-to-face. Weekly.
No phones. No TV. No agenda. Twenty minutes. Ask him what he’s carrying, then shut up and listen. Your son needs to know he can come to you and just be heard without getting a lecture or critiques.
  1. Let him watch you fail and get back up.
This is the one nobody wants to do. Stop hiding your struggles from him. I’m serious, let him see you get knocked down at work, let him see you deal with it, and then let him see the fire in your eyes when you refuse to quit. That’s one of of those life lessons that sticks with them.

The Final Thought

We can’t tell them to dream while we live a chaotic nightmare. We cannot tell them to shoot for the stars while we chill in the streets. We cannot preach honor and integrity from behind a phone screen we hide behind. Our sons will become who we are. No amount of money you leave them when you die will compensate for you not being there today. No inheritance, trust fund, or business you built in their name. Nothing. I get that that’s a big hard pill, swallow it anyway. The greatest failure I can imagine is looking back and realizing I failed the thing I loved most. I refuse for that to be my son’s story, and you should too.