Instincts are often a culmination of subtle cues and experiences that your conscious mind may not immediately process.

Listening to that inner voice can guide you toward better decisions and protect you from unnecessary risks.

Self-trust is a powerful tool — cultivate it.

While clarity and transparency build trust and respect, they may challenge comfort zones or expectations.

Striking a balance between authenticity and tact is key.

True communication fosters growth, even when it’s uncomfortable.

But they don’t have to hold us back.

By facing them directly, we cultivate resilience, gain clarity, and unlock new growth opportunities.

Every challenge is a chance to learn, adapt, and emerge stronger than before.

Reflecting on my journey, I’ve found that confronting uncertainty often leads to the most meaningful breakthroughs.

It magnifies risks and minimizes opportunities, holding you back from taking the steps that could lead to growth and success.

Most obstacles are smaller than they appear, and the cost of inaction often outweighs the risk of trying.

Courage isn’t the absence of fear — it’s moving forward despite it.

Break free from the illusion of giants and leap.

I’ve noticed the wisest folks are often the first to ask questions others might think are silly.

They understand that curiosity is the foundation of learning, and no question is too small when it leads to clarity or insight.

By setting aside ego and embracing humility, they create opportunities to grow and connect.

True wisdom isn’t about having all the answers — it’s about having the courage to seek them, even when it feels uncomfortable.

They’re built through small, consistent steps that compound over time.

Momentum isn’t about massive leaps; it’s about showing up daily, even when the effort feels minimal.

For example, writing 100 words a day turns into a book in a year.

Spending 15 minutes learning a new skill adds up to 90+ hours of growth annually.

Small actions, repeated consistently, create significant results.

The key is to focus on progress, not perfection. Break big goals into manageable steps and commit to taking them daily. Celebrate the small wins — they’re the foundation of long-term success.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but every brick laid was crucial.

Start small, stay consistent, and trust the process.

Momentum builds one tiny action at a time.

There have been a few instances recently where I’ve found myself increasingly frustrated. An interaction with someone, a text exchange, an Instagram comment — any sort of conversation that can be misconstrued.

This led to frustration on my part, likely due to intentions being lost in translation. Did this person really mean this? What did they mean by that? Why haven’t they reached out?

For years, I thought “bad taste in my mouth” was just a saying until I started to experience an actual bad taste before or during an unwanted interaction. Asking myself the questions above left me frustrated and with a bad taste in my mouth.

It wasn’t until I fought through the frustration or looked at it differently that it sparked an idea.

Approach these interactions with kindness.

Kindness towards yourself. Kindness towards the other person. Kindness towards the situation in general.

The fact is, I realized within myself that these people don’t likely realize they’re making me feel frustrated. It’s not their fault I’m frustrated. I’m making myself feel frustrated. Therefore, how do I spin it mentally and physically to get out of this rut? Do the exact opposite of how I’m feeling. Be happy, don’t be mad.

I’m not saying this will help in all situations, nor will it work for everyone. But I know I’ve reacted positively to this positive spin on a frustrating situation, so I know it’s a tool I can use for myself moving forward.

Give it a try the next time you feel frustrated about a situation.

Things could be so much worse. So you fucked up at work. You’ve fucked up before, and you’ll fuck up again.

Can you learn from it? Absolutely. Are you embarrassed? Do you feel shame? Do you feel like all that therapy work has been thrown out the window because of one mistake? No — but I’d be lying to you if I said my mind didn’t consider it.

Where does that shame come from? I can hear my therapist asking as the question echoes through my brain.

Kindergarten, Ms. Carlson’s class. The sub yelled at me because I didn’t know how to tie my shoe. I remember the sub having really awful hair, so the joke was on her.

Second grade, Ms. Greenman’s class. She chastised me in front of the entire class because I didn’t hand in my homework. We had those desks where the top opened to a cavern of pencils, papers, and markers. I wanted to hide in there. She also had awful hair and wore green a lot; green was NOT her color.

Seventh grade, Mr. Stokes's class. I did a book report on Joe Montana’s greatest Super Bowl comeback. We had to dress up as a character from the book and present it in front of the class. He said it was a “baby book”. He had an incredibly high-pitched voice for a grown man who taught a middle school English class.

So my shame comes from school. It comes from the outcome of work I had done (aside from tying my shoe) that was viewed as shitty by my teachers (bosses).

And that still rears its ugly head today.

I mute email chime notifications because I’ve convinced myself that if they go off, something is wrong — and I’m at fault.

I hide tabs that contain new client emails because if one comes through, I convince myself it’s bad news.

Yet — here I am. Stuck in a perpetual loop of needing to apologize if something is wrong. Going back, working on what I fucked up, until I fuck it all up again.

But hey, don’t worry, Andy. You get to go to bed soon, and you can do it again tomorrow.

Ain’t life grand.

Stop wallowing. It’ll all be okay.

Just look at the Pale Blue Dot photo and remind yourself:
1) You are not your work
2) Things could be much, much worse
3) No one died

The connection between travel, adventure, love, loss, and perseverance.

When I started my journey last November, I set out for a warmer climate. That brought me to Austin, Texas — a bustling city ripe with new experiences.

Before driving there, I jumped on some dating apps to meet some people to show me around the city, with a romantic spark being a "nice to have", not a "need to have."

Background and Story

Around this time last year, I met someone, and I fell — hard. Like, much harder than I have before.

We both did. Or so I had thought.

She was the first strong connection I had felt in a long time. Plus, I was embarking on a cross-country road trip with my dog, whom I adopted from my dying father 5 months before he died. There was a lot going on in my life, and I was eager to find someone with whom I could share feelings.

Fast-forward to the day I got to Austin. It was a hard, confusing day. My Airbnb was way smaller than I thought, and my dog started eating mystery acorns in the backyard, which I immediately thought were poisonous (they weren't). I called my mom in an anxious panic, wondering what I had just done.

After calming myself down a few hours later, this person and I went grocery shopping. It was a cute adventure!

But as soon as I returned to my place, something felt off. I had an idea of what was happening. I didn't want it to.

Remember how earlier I said I fell very hard for this person? Well, I wasn't kidding. She was beautiful, funny, thoughtful, interested. Why wouldn't I fall hard for this person? I wanted to do everything I could for her. I, too, wanted to be thoughtful, funny, and interested.

And I was those things — but I guess too much? She started saying, "You're so nice", "you're kind" — and I had heard those a few times in the past. In relationships that didn't last. You can see where this is going.

I've never understood this idea of someone not wanting a romantic relationship with someone labeled as nice. Like they want someone who is mean or seems disinterested. As if a relationship or someone's feelings are a game to be played. People have tried to explain that this is a thing, and it likely comes from relationships certain people have had in the past, or this sort of relationship is something they're used to.

But if they're still dating, isn't that a clear sign that a relationship built on a game doesn't work? Who am I kidding — apparently, the whole "nice guy" routine doesn't work either.

Anyway, that Friday — I got in on a Tuesday — she and I went to a concert. We held hands and danced, and she asked me to get dinner with her married friends later that week.

I was on top of the world — this was great!

Ultimately, after having asked a few times, dinner never panned out.

I asked if she wanted to get dinner — just her and I — but those plans never worked. I started to get fewer text responses. Voice messages even less.

The last time I saw her, we brought our dogs on a little hike to a river. The dogs got along great. It was a really fun, enjoyable day. I even wore shorts — I never wear shorts on dates! After we said our goodbyes, I knew that was the last time I'd see her.

I didn't want it to be, but it was. We would text occasionally afterward, but it eventually got too hard for me.

I built up this spite and animosity towards her, but that wasn't fair to her. What right do I have to be upset at her — it was all just bad timing for both of us. Admittedly, I was putting a ton of pressure on things working out when, in reality, I was resistant to letting things happen organically.

Since then, we've become better friends. I'm back in Minnesota — for now — and she is still in Austin. We've each dated other people and have kept in touch here and there.

I hoped some romantic spark would ignite this desire to try something long-distance, but that wasn't in the cards.

I like to think that things between us worked out differently in some alternate universe. There is some solace in that. Though the wound has healed, as it's been a year since she and I started talking, it's still healing.

What to learn from this?

Don't Fall So Hard?
It's hard to tell myself, "Don't fall for someone so hard," when in reality, it's sort of what I do. A lot of the love I give comes from a broken home — I don't want someone to leave like my mom left my dad.

That's a hard sentence to write, but it's true. It's a breakthrough I realized in therapy, and it's the root of my "love bombing". Do I need to reign in my feelings sometimes? I guess so, but maybe not. If I find someone receptive to how much I like them — the feelings I have for them — then why would I need to reign that in?

It's not so much not falling so hard but tempering my expectations. It is okay that feelings aren't sometimes reciprocated similarly, but know that going into a relationship.

Loosen Up More
I was very tightly wound, very wrapped up in what could've been with this person. Not so much as "the world is falling" if things didn't work out, but definitely a feeling of "now what?"

Going on year two of my adventure, I know now what to expect regarding timing and relationships. I'm very upfront with people I meet. "Hey, I'm only here for a month, so just know that" has been a message I'm letting people know upfront. I need to realize that saying it actually means it — and I need to be okay with that.

So when I say "loosen up more," it means not that these relationships are futile or stunted, but more so to 1) know they'll likely come to an end sooner rather than later and 2) have as much fun as you can in the limited amount of time you have.

Take Everything as It Comes
Don't try to force something, especially if your time is short. Not only is that a lesson for these various trips of mine, but also for life in general.

Why dedicate energy to something that isn't filling you up?

I write this mainly as a reminder to myself and anyone else in a similar situation, as mentioned above. I'll always think about her and what I went through — mostly my own doing — but with those memories will come the lessons learned.

I had a conversation with someone earlier today, and one thing came up when we were discussing a certain person —and how they would only interact with you if they thought you could benefit them somehow.

Now, there is a lot packed into that sentence. But, it’s a reminder to myself and anyone reading to be aware of people who try to use you to their advantage.

If you know someone who you think can help you, why not ask the question? I get that argument, but when that becomes a part of their personality. What they’re known for. It’s a red flag.

However, it's more than a red flag when it becomes a theme — or part of a personality. It’s a jolly roger.

How can you spot a person/friend who is only out to use you? I wish I knew the answer. Maybe it’s looking at how they got to where they are. Maybe it’s having a general interaction with them. Maybe you’ll never be able to pinpoint their motives beforehand.

But if you’re reading this and you know someone like this, you’re already one step ahead.

And if you’re someone who is reading this and asking, “Is this about me?” well, friend, you might need to revisit some things. But hey — maybe it’s not about you.

If you can’t relate to it, that’s okay. I’m jealous of you as someone has never tried to take advantage of you professionally.

But also makes you more aware that these people are out there and only ever selfishly need you if you can provide them with something.

I’m writing this as more of a reminder and less of a hit-piece. Just be aware of people like this.

These people are not your friends.