Lately, I’ve been sitting with a deep sense of frustration.
A few things in my life aren’t unfolding the way I envisioned, and my instinctive response has been to look outward—to find someone or something to blame. That’s often the first reflex: externalize the discomfort, point the finger, and tell myself, “If only they did this differently…”
But if I’m being radically honest, I have to ask:
Am I truly showing up every day with full clarity, alignment, and consistency?
The answer, right now, is no.
It’s much easier to cast blame than to look within.
It’s far simpler to scroll through reasons outside myself than it is to face the inconvenient truth: I haven’t been doing the small, foundational things that I know—deep down—are required for me to succeed and thrive. The consistent, day-to-day alignment of thought, feeling, word, and action. The disciplined presence. The quiet, determined trust.
I’ve been putting a massive amount of pressure on myself. That pressure, I’ve come to realize, stems from a deeply rooted fear of failure—a subconscious belief I’ve carried for a long time.
I was conditioned from a young age to be so damn afraid of failing that I’d oftentimes self-sabotage, bringing about failure in ways that oddly felt under my control.
Because if I failed on my terms, at least it wasn’t a surprise. At least I could pretend it was a choice.
And ironically, that very fear has been causing me to fail in small ways: by freezing, by not showing up fully, by falling into patterns of avoidance masked as busyness or blame.
It’s a subtle form of self-sabotage.
A belief in inevitable failure creates conditions where that failure becomes self-fulfilling.
The fears creep up:
What if I fail to provide for my wife and three kids?
What if I fail to reach my potential?
What if my business isn’t successful?
And underneath all of it, I have to ask the deeper question:
Have I been creating out of fear and desperation?
Or have I been creating out of joy, authenticity, and trust?
Because that matters.
The energy I create from is the seed of what I’m creating.
But here’s the shift:
It’s no one else’s fault. Not the market. Not my team. Not my audience. Not the algorithm.
If I stay in blame, I stay in victimhood.
And if I stay in victimhood, I will continue to create circumstances where I feel powerless.
There’s power in taking full responsibility—not as a weapon to shame myself, but as a path to freedom. I have to remind myself that the fear of failure didn’t come out of nowhere. It was imprinted early. It’s been woven into layers of programming that I’m still working through. And that’s okay. It’s a process.
And most of the time, all it takes is that acknowledgment—
That awareness of where the fear is stemming from,
That honest look at why I feel frustrated,
And a moment of radical acceptance.
So what if you fail to provide in the exact ways you expected for your wife and kids?
So what if you don’t “reach your potential”?
So what if your business isn’t “successful”?
And then the weight is off.
Cry a bit. Yell a bit.
Then come back to trust.
Back to alignment.
Back to remembering: every moment in life where it looked like everything was going to crash—
God always provided.
Sometimes in ways that were totally unexpected.
But always in ways that were just right.
I’ve always been provided for—even in the lowest moments.
What matters most now is that I stop trying to solve everything from a frantic state of “Oh shit, my business isn’t doing well!”
That energy only breeds more misalignment.
Instead, I’m learning to walk into each day with trust.
Trust in God.
Trust in myself.
Trust that if I show up consistently—doing the little things, anchoring in the right energy, aligning my thoughts, feelings, and actions—results will come.
Not from desperation.
Not from fear.
But from devotion, alignment, and a steady return to faith.
And even if the results don’t come—or they come in ways I hadn’t imagined—I’m learning to release expectations.
To fall in love with the unfolding.
To meet each day with presence, not pressure.
