Waiting in Queue of Life

You ever sit on hold during a phone call or stuck in a drive-thru line and start thinking, this is taking way longer than it should?

You check the clock. You shift in your seat. You start debating… Do I hang up? Do I pull away? Or do I just keep waiting?

Lately, that’s exactly what my life feels like.

Like I’m in a queue. Waiting.

Waiting on answers about my health. Waiting on doctors to decide what comes next. Waiting on someone else to come up with a plan for my life.

I’ve done everything I’ve been asked to do… and I’m still here.bStill waiting.

And then there’s the bigger question that creeps in when things get quiet…

Where am I actually going? How long is it going to take to get there?

And the one that hits the hardest… Do I ever get there at all?

Because I don’t mind working. I never have. I love cooking. I love creating. I love giving people something they enjoy.

But right now? I don’t get to do that.

And maybe one day I will again. Maybe I’ll get back to doing what I’m good at, what I love.

But until then… I’m stuck in the queue.

And the longer I stand here, the more I start thinking about everything I’m missing.

Not just retirement, that fantasy we all chase like it’s guaranteed, but the simple things: Travel. Time with people who matter. Sitting in a chair with a book and no interruptions.

I see people my age doing those things… and yeah, there’s a little jealousy there. I won’t pretend there isn’t.

Because while they’re moving forward… I’m still waiting for my number to be called.

They say timing is everything. That everyone’s opportunity comes at a different moments.

Maybe that’s true. But waiting has a way of messing with your head.

It makes you compare timelines. It makes you question your path.

And if you sit there long enough… it starts to break your faith in the whole process.

People love to say, “Be patient. Trust the process.” But what if the process never calls your name?

So then you start asking different questions…

Is this time supposed to be preparation? Am I building something while I’m stuck here?

Because if I’m being honest… I don’t feel prepared for some peaceful, easy life down the road.

And that’s when the hardest truth shows up. We love to blame external factors, bad timing, bad luck, things outside our control.

And sure, some of that is real. But not all of it. Some of the reasons I’m still in this line?

They’re mine. Bad decisions. Wasted money. Choices that felt small at the time but stacked up over years.

Nothing intentional. But real, nonetheless. And those things? They don’t just disappear.

They stand right in front of you… holding your place in line.

So for now… I stay on hold. In the queue.

Not because I love it. Not because I believe in it.

But because I don’t know what happens if I step out of it. And maybe that’s the real question… How long do you stay in line before you finally decide… to hang up?

The Dangers of 2am….

When Everything Hits At Once

Today is one of the worst days since this neck issue started. Not because it’s getting worse… at least I don’t think it is. But because now I’ve got some kind of flu on top of it. And with it comes a cough, the kind that doesn’t just annoy you… it punishes you. Every time I cough, it feels like my head is going to fall off, like something inside my neck is failing.

The pain shoots from my neck into my shoulder, and then the pressure hits, followed by that intense pins and needles feeling flooding down my arm and into my hand. It’s violent. It’s immediate. And there’s no way to brace for it. And it’s going to be a long night.

I’m no closer to answers. No closer to a solution. Just stuck trying to figure out how to exist like this.

I tried to go into work today. That was a mistake. I can’t sit for more than a minute without the pain ramping up, which makes driving almost impossible. Honestly… today might’ve been the last time I try to drive anywhere for a while.

And that realization hits harder than I expected. Because now everything starts piling up.

The grass needs cut. The house needs attention. Coda needs walked, more than once. And then there’s work…. Where I’m useless. I walk around the building when it’s busy, unable to help the way I should. I can’t sit, I can’t focus, I can’t be who I’m supposed to be there. And that messes with you. Along with the fact that I’m killing my wife by making her go there every night to do my job… something doesn’t sit right about that!

I am not a religous person and I don’t believe in God or tests or blah blah blah, “He wouldn’t have given you this if you couldn’t handle it” shit! That doesn’t help. It doesn’t make this easier. It just sounds empty.

So I start wondering…. How is everyone else? Is life really working for you?

Are people actually out there sleeping, working just enough, taking care of their families, exercising, eating right, and then casually enjoying dessert like everything’s balanced and under control? Because that’s not what my life feels like.

This feels like falling behind in every area at once. And somewhere along the way… honestly, not until my fifties, I got hit with a realization I can’t shake: I don’t feel like I matter. I sit here and try to think of what I’ve actually done that’s meaningful… and I come up empty. No real accomplishments. No standout skills, other than cooking. And right now? I can’t even do that.

So what does that leave? I don’t see myself as someone people take seriously. I don’t see myself as a great friend, husband, or father. And yeah… maybe that’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s the constant pain. Maybe it’s the flu on top of everything else.

Or maybe this is just what the truth looks like when everything else is stripped away.

Either way… Right now, it’s winning. It’s 2am. No signs of sleep coming. I thought about going to the ER. But for what? Maybe they quiet the cough for a few hours… but the nerve pain? The neck? That’s mine to figure out. That’s mine to live with.

And I get it now… why people lose their minds from pain like this. Why they reach for anything that makes it stop, even for a little while. Chirst even Tiger Woods has an addiction problem. I get it. I won’t drive. So there’s one good decision in all of this.

But yeah… I’m rambling now. This is just where my head is tonight. This, writing, is about the only thing I can still do that doesn’t hurt. So, I’ve hung up the mountain biking for blogging.

So if you’re reading this… thanks for being here. And if you’re not Maybe you’re missing something. Or maybe you’re just one of the lucky ones.

Growth Over Ego

The moment you stop defending… is the moment you start improving

“I used to think being right meant I was winning. Turns out, it just meant I wasn’t learning.”

Back in the 90’s, my family owned a small dive bar in Follansbee, West Virginia. Behind the bar hung a simple sign:

“Politics, religion, and high school football are prohibited.”

Not because those topics weren’t important, but because they were guaranteed to turn a conversation into an argument, and an argument into something worse. Everyone had an opinion. More importantly, everyone believed theirs was the right one.

Looking back now, that sign wasn’t really about avoiding conflict.
It was about managing ego.

And ego shows up everywhere.

It shows up in business.
It shows up in leadership.
It definitely shows up when you’re dealing with people.

I’ve seen it firsthand with staff over the years. You can explain exactly how you want something done… clearly, repeatedly, and still watch people default back to their own way. It’s easy in those moments to think, “They’re not listening.”

But growth forces you to ask a harder question:
“Am I communicating this in a way that actually connects?”

Because leadership isn’t about being right. It’s about being understood.

Before owning a business, I spent time in law enforcement. And like a lot of people in that field, confidence comes with the territory. You have to trust your instincts and make decisions quickly.

But there’s a fine line between confidence and ego.

If I’m being honest, there were times I didn’t think I was wrong, often enough to cost me opportunities to learn. And I saw others take it even further, where being right wasn’t just a belief… it was their identity. And that’s a dangerous place to live.

Because the moment your identity is tied to being right, you stop being open to being better.

One of the best reminders I’ve come across didn’t come from business or law enforcement… it came from the mats.

At my jiu-jitsu gym, there’s a decal on the front door:

“Leave Your Ego At The Door.”

And inside one of my gis, it says:

“Flow without ego.”

You can’t learn if you’re trying to prove something. You can’t improve if you’re too busy defending yourself.

The mat has a way of humbling you real quick. It doesn’t care about your opinions, your past, or your excuses. It just shows you where you stand and where you need to grow.

That lesson applies everywhere.

In conversations.
In leadership.
In life.

There’s a quote from Charlie Kirk that fits this idea well:

“You should be constantly testing your beliefs against others. If your ideas are strong, they’ll hold up. If they’re not, you’ve just learned something.”

That’s the shift. Ego wants to win the argument. Growth wants to understand why it was wrong.

And the truth is, most of us walk around thinking we’re open-minded… until we’re challenged. That’s when ego shows up. That’s when we defend instead of listen. Someone once told me, “it’s hard to listen when your mouth is always open” They weren’t wrong.

But if you can pause in that moment, just long enough to ask, “What if I’m missing something?” That’s where real growth starts.

Not in proving a point. But in being willing to reconsider it. Because at the end of the day, being right doesn’t make you better.

Getting better does.

So the next time you feel the need to defend your position… ask yourself—are you protecting your ego, or pursuing growth?

The ABC’s of Baseball… and Life

For years, my son played travel baseball.

And during a few of those seasons, our travels took us to Aberdeen, Maryland.

What started as another stop on the travel-ball map turned into something much bigger. Not only did we face some seriously competitive baseball, but we also met a lot of great people along the way. One person, in particular, left a lasting impression on me, Billy Ripken.

Yes, that Ripken. Brother of Cal. But Billy wasn’t there to talk about stats, trophies, or highlight reels. He talked about something far more important: how to approach the game.

Billy introduced the players to what he called the ABC’s of Baseball… a simple framework, but one packed with lessons that went way beyond the diamond.

The ABC’s of Baseball

A – Abner Doubleday. The beginning. The game wouldn’t exist without him (1839).

B – Bunting. (1st learn how to hit)

C – Compete. Compete with yourself. Compete with teammates. Compete against the other team.

D – Drills. Do them right.

E – Errors. Make fewer errors than the other team and most of the time, you’ll win.

F – First pitch strike. Be ahead in the count.

G – Get better every day. Compete. Improve.

H – Hit… then hit some more.

I – Instincts. Pay attention. Learn the game.

J – Jump to the next level. Compete and get better—opportunity follows.

K – K’s. Don’t strike out. Stop swinging and missing.

L – Little things. Handle the little things and the big things take care of themselves.

M – Mistakes. Don’t make the same mistake twice. Learn from it.

N – Numbers. Play the game and have fun—don’t obsess over stats.

O – Outs. Make the routine outs.

P – Perfect practice makes perfect. Practice like a moron, you’ll play like one.

Q – Quick first step.

R – Runs. Score them or drive them in.

S – Simple. Keep it simple.

T – Thanks. Be thankful. You’re not entitled. Thank your parents, coaches, teachers.

U – Underhand flip.

V – Versatility. Learn as many positions as possible.

W – Walks. Be ready to hit, but take the bad pitches.

X – X-Factor. Give 100% honest effort. Work hard. Be thankful.

Y – Yell. Be loud. Communicate. Help your teammates.

Z – Zzzzz’s. Don’t fall asleep. Pay attention. Know what’s going on every inning.

During those long drives between tournaments, I’d go over these ABC’s with my son. Over and over. At the time, I thought I was helping him become a better baseball player.

What I didn’t realize was that these “rules” were teaching him how to be a complete competitor, on and off the field.

Then baseball ended.

High school wrapped up. Uniforms were hung up. And suddenly, real life was standing on the mound.

Fastballs came in the form of responsibility. Curveballs showed up as setbacks. And there was no coach calling time-out anymore.

But here’s the thing…

Just because baseball ends doesn’t mean the ABC’s stop applying.

Take a second look at Billy Ripken’s ABC’s, but this time, step out of the batter’s box and into the workforce. Into school. Into adulthood. Into life.

Compete.

Get better every day.

Do the little things right.

Be versatile.

Communicate.

Be thankful.

Give honest effort.

Don’t make the same mistake twice.

That’s how you earn a promotion.

That’s how you level up in school.

That’s how you grow as a person.

I relate these ABC’s to my life every single day. And my hope in sharing this is simple: maybe you take something from it. Maybe you apply it yourself. Or maybe you pass it on to someone who needs it.

Because after all—

life and baseball really do go hand in hand.

Why We Prepare for Everything Except Losing Each Other

I’ve experienced loss. And here’s the truth no one really wants to sit with: you can’t prepare for it.

That’s the part that still eats at me. From the moment we’re born until the final stretch of our lives, we’re taught to do.

Build something.

Be successful.

Provide.

Love deeply.

Chase adventure.

Live fully.

What we are never taught, what we actively avoid, is how to prepare for loss. Losing a pet is devastating. And for some people, the bond between human and animal is deeper than they’ll ever admit out loud. A pet isn’t “just a pet.” It’s routine. Comfort. Presence. It’s unconditional loyalty waiting for you at the door on your worst day.

As brutal as losing a pet is, it still doesn’t prepare you for losing a family member or a close friend.

I’ve lost all of it over the years…. family members, pets, and a best friend.

And every single loss felt eerily familiar. Different faces, same hollow feeling.

I always circle back to the same question: How did I manage to never be prepared for those moments?

The answer, unfortunately, is simple. You can’t prepare for sudden loss. The unexpected deaths. The accidents. The phone calls that permanently divide your life into before and after.

With those, we grieve however we can. We stumble forward. Eventually, somehow, we rejoin life… changed, but moving. And then, like experts at avoidance, we skip right past the bigger issue.

Our aging family members. The people who shaped us. The anchors of our lives.

We know the clock is ticking. We see it. We feel it. And yet we treat it like background noise… until illness shows up, or tragedy strikes, and suddenly we’re frozen. Motionless. Confused. Grief-stricken to the point where basic functionality shuts down.

So here’s the uncomfortable question: While we’re all out here “living our best lives,” why aren’t we preparing for the inevitable?

Why do we avoid preparing for the day we lose the person who matters most to us? I don’t think there’s a satisfying answer.

And I’m not convinced it’s even possible to truly prepare for that kind of loss, without it costing you your ability to live.

Because preparation would consume you.

Physically.

Mentally.

Emotionally.

If you lived every day bracing for loss, you wouldn’t be living, you’d be waiting.

So maybe the point isn’t preparation. Maybe the closest thing we get is presence. Calling more. Saying the things we usually save for “later.”

Showing up now instead of assuming time will handle it for us. Loss will come whether we’re ready or not. That part is unavoidable.

But regret? That one’s optional. And maybe, just maybe; that’s the only preparation that actually matters.

Do Not Confuse Problems With Inconveniences

Somewhere along the way, we started calling every minor disruption a problem. The coffee order was wrong? Problem. The Wi-Fi is slow? Problem. You had to wait five whole minutes? Crisis. No.

That’s not a problem. That’s an inconvenience, and your life will, in fact, continue.

A problem is something that genuinely impacts your health, safety, livelihood, or well-being. A problem changes the trajectory of your life. It demands action, adjustment, or resilience. It doesn’t disappear if you sigh loudly or complain to strangers on the internet.

An inconvenience is just life tapping you on the shoulder saying, “Hey, adapt real quick.”

Why We Get This Twisted

We live in an on-demand world. Everything is fast, instant, and customized. So when something doesn’t go exactly as planned, it feels personal. Like the universe looked at your day and chose violence.

But here’s the truth: Life isn’t attacking you. It’s just… being life.

When we treat inconveniences like problems, we waste emotional energy, patience, and perspective. We start reacting instead of responding. And suddenly, small stuff feels heavy, exhausting, and overwhelming.

That’s not strength, that’s burnout in yoga pants.

The Cost of Confusing the Two

When every inconvenience is labeled a problem: Stress levels skyrocket. Gratitude quietly exits the building. Perspective gets replaced by frustration. Real problems don’t get the attention they deserve.

You can’t solve real issues when you’re emotionally drained by things that don’t matter tomorrow…. like not getting your party of eight sat immediately at the restaurant during peak hours!

Reframing the Moment

Next time something goes sideways, ask yourself: Will this matter next week? Does this require a solution or just patience? Is this uncomfortable… or actually harmful?

If the answer is patience, congratulations, you’re not facing a problem. You’re being asked to grow up emotionally for about 10 minutes.

Real Problems Deserve Real Focus

Save your energy for the things that truly matter: Your health. Your relationships. Your integrity. Your future. Those are worth the stress, the planning, and the fight.

The rest? That’s just life being mildly annoying. And honestly… it’s kind of good practice.

Because if you can stay calm through inconveniences, you’ll be unstoppable when real problems show up.

Happy 2026.

I’ve never really been a “New Year’s resolutions” guy. I don’t love arbitrary deadlines or fake fresh starts wrapped in champagne and wishful thinking.

But this year feels different.

This year, I’m choosing to make healthier choices, not as a resolution, but as an act of survival. I want a life where my family and my friends still get me. Present. Functional. Here.

I took my chronic kidney disease seriously for almost a year. And then… I didn’t.

I got busy. I got lazy. I slipped back into old habits. Heavy habits. Unhealthy habits. The kind that quietly convince you that “later” is guaranteed.

It isn’t.

There are other layers too. The gym and jiu-jitsu, two things that keep me grounded, have been on hold thanks to neck and back injuries. No insurance means no easy fixes. Surgery without coverage feels like signing over a second mortgage, and that’s just not an option.

Mobility is everything to me. It’s tied directly to my mental health, my physical health, and honestly, my will to keep pushing forward.

As of today, January 1st, I am one day sober.

And that feels like a damn good place to start. Yeah, we’ve been here before… the addicts motto, right?

My kidney disease demands a better lifestyle, and that begins with cutting alcohol out of the equation completely. Next comes clean eating and fasting, something I know works for me. I used to do 20-hour fasts daily, with a 40-hour fast once a month. That routine brought me closer to my ideal weight and, more importantly, a clearer head and a happier place mentally.

The struggle will be real.

I work in a place where I’m surrounded by food….. food that absolutely does not appear on my nephrologist’s diet plan. Add to that the nonstop parade of sweets people generously bring in to share… and yeah, my discipline hasn’t always been stellar.

But I’ll do better.

Home has its own challenges. My family isn’t on a restrictive lifestyle diet, and they shouldn’t be. That’s on me, not them. I’ll eat when I need to eat, make better choices for myself, and stay out of the way of the foods my wife and kids enjoy.

One day at a time. That’s the goal.

Over the past few days, I’ve read and heard about several people passing away…. all my age. All seemingly living healthier lives than I have lately. It’s a reminder we never really know how much time we’re given. I can’t control the clock, but I can stop sprinting toward the finish line.

This isn’t a resolution. It’s a revelation.

Change is necessary. I know it. The people around me know it. But this is my responsibility, and I don’t expect anyone else to carry it for me.

Just know this, having water, coffee, or oatmeal doesn’t mean I can’t still laugh with you while you’re having a steak and a couple IPAs or bourbons.

Cheers to a new year.

And cheers to the uphill battle of resisting bad food, bad habits, and the lie that “I’ll start tomorrow.”

Tomorrow is today.

What Is Depression?

Depression is defined as a serious mood disorder marked by persistent sadness and loss of interest. It affects how we think, feel, and function. Fatigue. Sleep issues. Appetite changes. Hopelessness. Brain fog. Difficulty concentrating.

Cool. Clinical. Accurate.

And also? That definition describes a hell of a lot of us.

But here’s the real question:

Can you actually identify what depresses you?

For me, depression looks like losing a health battle I didn’t ask to fight. Kidney disease has a way of quietly rearranging your life while pretending it’s no big deal.

Change… yeah, change is depressing. Losing porch nights because life shifted. Losing control of my business while still being responsible for it. Teaching, explaining, demonstrating expectations over and over… only to watch nothing change.

Depression is living somewhere you hate.

It’s having a child who wants to live with you, and being powerless to change his current situation.

It’s making money you can’t enjoy or use.

It’s worrying about a future that keeps getting closer instead of clearer.

It’s going to bed at 5 a.m. and waking up at 7 a.m. like your brain hates you.

To most people, these things sound small.

To me, they stack up. They linger. They haunt.

Self-diagnosed? Sure.

Still real? Absolutely.

So how do you cure depression?

How do you shut down the brain activity that manufactures darkness no amount of light seems to touch? Is the answer the very thing that depresses me, change? Maybe. But where? How? How do you change things you don’t control?

Do you stop caring?

Stop showing up?

Stop listening?

I don’t have those answers. What I do know is this: I make micro changes. Probably the wrong ones sometimes. But they’re the ones that let me survive my days.

For years, I preached that mental health is no joke. That we all need to do better. Somewhere along the way while trying to be strong, helpful, responsible…. I lost sight of my own happiness.

Now I move through life like an invisible observer. Watching everyone else unfold while I hover quietly on the outside.

Depression is all of this. And more.

I don’t have control of it , but I tug at the shirt tails of the things I can reach.

So what depresses you?

Do you feel in control… or like it’s slipping through your fingers too?

Some days the fight feels heavy. Overwhelming. Endless.

When that happens, don’t aim for perfection. Aim for tomorrow.

Make micro changes.

Find small peace.

Push just far enough to get there.

And then do it again.

What Sparks My Admiration

What is something others do that sparks your admiration?

There are a few things people do that hit me right in the soft part of my heart…. the part I pretend I don’t have, but we all know is there.

1. Family-Oriented People

Whenever I see those families out at dinner, laughing, talking, kids half-behaving and half-wild, I can’t help but stop and watch for a moment. There’s something about that tight-knit family energy that sparks admiration in me. Maybe a little jealousy, sure, but mostly admiration.

It’s that classic, picture-perfect “white picket fence” vibe, not because it’s perfect, but because it’s together. And even if I’ll never have that exact version in my own life, I love seeing people who do. There’s beauty in the simplicity of showing up for each other.

2. Humble, Successful People

Then there are the quiet giants… the ones who’ve built something, achieved something, earned something… and still treat everyone with kindness. The “treat the janitor the same as the CEO” kind of people.

Those people have my full attention. They’re the kind of people who remind me the world doesn’t need more loud victories, it needs more quiet dignity. I try to model myself after them, and honestly? I treat people with respect pretty damn well. Sometimes better than I treat myself.

3. Focused and Disciplined People

And finally… the focused ones. The disciplined ones. The people who hold their goals like a compass and somehow balance work, family, life, stress, and dreams without dropping everything on the floor.

Watching someone stay committed, whether it’s to their career, their family, or their own personal growth is inspiring. It reminds me that staying locked in is a daily choice, not a personality trait.

The Life I Built… and the One I Lost in the Process

Today I woke up, and for the first time, I think I finally know what it feels like to lose your mind.

Could I actually be going crazy? Or am I just caught in a life rut so deep it swallowed me whole and now I can’t remember how to climb out?

Growing up, we’re told “life is short, don’t let it pass you by.”

Well, I didn’t. I lived a damn good life for a long time.

Maybe not by everyone’s standards, but by mine, it was wild, adventurous, unpredictable. Every weekend meant something new, somewhere new.

Now, it feels like I’m stuck in the movie Groundhog Day.

Every morning I wake up and live the same script. I order the same beer for the bar, pick up the same liquor order, and walk my dog through the same neighborhood…. three, sometimes six miles a day. That’s about forty miles a month of déjà vu.

People say your early years are for being reckless, for chasing things, failing at things, figuring out who you are. Then you’re supposed to build a life, settle down, start the family, take the vacations, eat the dinners together, and actually live.

I want that.

I want normalcy. I want family vacations and dinners around a table that isn’t covered in receipts or shift schedules. I want to see places I haven’t seen yet, and do it all with my wife.

But what I want feels galaxies away from what I have.

I figured out success in business….. it has its highs and lows, sure, but it’s good. What I didn’t figure out was how to make it self-sustaining. Someone always has to be there. The business can’t run without a heartbeat inside its walls.

And that someone is usually me.

So I’m trapped. Trapped in the world I built, the dream I chased, the thing I thought would bring me freedom, but instead holds me prisoner.

I watch other people with other careers, other lives, and they all seem to share something I don’t: time.

Time for long weekends. Time for family meals. Time to breathe.

My wife and I trade shifts like ships passing in night. One home, one at work, keeping the machine alive.

That sacrifice? It’s what’s slowly unspooling me. Because when you see others actually living, laughing at dinner, taking trips, making memories…. you start to wonder when you stopped doing the same.

And that’s what eats at me. That’s what drives me crazy.

I’ve got money in the bank, cash in my pocket, but I can’t spend it, because I can’t go anywhere. I have more cancelled trips this year due to work than I actually have planned.

So where do I go from here?

Because I sure as hell don’t feel like I’m living life to the fullest.

Most nights, I just sit in the garage watching hockey, surrounded by the ghosts of friends past. The ones who got out, who moved on, who somehow figured out how to make peace with the ticking clock.

And me? I’m still here.

Walking the same streets.

Buying the same beer.

Trying to remember how to feel alive again.