No matter how much my life improves objectively or how much I try and run, I still find myself discontent.

I have moved quite a bit in the last few years. From different parts of Utah, to Mexico, to Oregon, and now good ol' hot, dry, dusty Tucson. One could say that each move was a carefully crafted escape plan, a new and shiny solution to my problems.

In Utah, the sprawling suburbs felt like they were suffocating us with their perfect lawns and identical houses. Oregon, with its permanent state of moldy wetness and grey gloom, slowly doused our spirits in endless darkness. And Mexico... let’s just say Mexico was everything all at once: too much, too fast, and too foreign.

Now I’m here in Tucson, and the cycle continues. Emma (my wife) and I find ourselves doing what we always do: dreaming of somewhere else. We lose ourselves in fantasies of returning to the PNW, of having a fireplace, of feeling that bitter coldness that makes blankets and movies feel as festive as the time of year.

I'm snapped back into my 75-degree and incredibly sunny reality by the sound of a soul-crushingly loud car speeding down the road (third one today). It’s that awful time of Saturday at 1 p.m. We drank coffee in hopes of motivating ourselves to take on the day, but instead, we’re just anxious, wishing that the weather reflected the December festivities so we could excuse being inside, cozy, and "lazy." Alas... this is the desert. We don’t know what to do, so we do what we do best: go on a walk.

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Despite being marginally better than staying inside, if it weren’t for our daily walks, I don’t know where I’d be. They provide just enough relief to keep me from going insane and are the backdrop for some pretty awesome conversations and problem-solving.

Every time I think I’ve solved a problem, another pops up. It’s easy to point fingers when you’re stressed about money or work. But when those stresses are taken away and life objectively gets better, why is it I still feel this way?

I do the usual mental gymnastics: "Maybe I need more supplements," or "If only I had even MORE money, then I could buy things that would make me happier." It’s the same cycle over and over, and I’m sick of it.

In this world of endless rings and dings, I’ve become a stranger to myself. My inner temple remains neglected, and I only catch glimpses of it’s mess when my phone dies or our favorite show ends.

Honestly, my discontentment doesn’t stem from the fact my apartment is suffocating or that the nearest "forest," if you can call it that, is an hour and a half away. No... it’s just me. I try to reason with myself: "Nah, surely my unhappiness is because of things out there. If I just had X, or lived in Y, or had Z amount of money, then I’d be better equipped to be happy." But why can’t I just be happy now?

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It’s crazy to watch myself get back on the treadmill of distraction, chasing the next high or low, anything to avoid facing my inner world. I’ll grasp at half-assed plans, side hustle ideas, YouTube, and comfort food like a lost man at sea clinging to his raft, trying to stay afloat in the ocean of my own discomfort.

It’s moments like these when it hits me: I’m a full-blown addict... with my favorite drug being avoidance.

Avoidance can be dosed in so many ways, like a drug with infinite forms. It can come as a move to a new city, the thrill of a shiny new object, or the endless scroll on social media. Each dose offers a momentary high, a brief escape from the discomfort of the now... from the gnawing feeling that something isn’t right. But like any drug, the relief is temporary…A lid on the deeper issues that quietly stew beneath the surface.

I’ve fallen into this trap more times than I can count. Each time, I convince myself: surely this time will be different. But no... the cycle stays the same. The thrill of the new fades, the shine wears off, and I’m left staring down the same restless emptiness as before.

After several breaking points, I finally sat myself down and asked: what exactly have I been avoiding? A flood of unresolved things bubbled up, things I thought I’d buried long ago. And then there it was... this glaring realization staring back at me. You hear so many stories of people who "made it." They got the car, the partner, the house... everything they ever thought they wanted. And yet, they still spiraled into despair or total self-destruction. It was like the very act of achieving their dreams had robbed them of their purpose. A sobering reminder that external successes can’t guarantee internal peace.

I thought about this... like I REALLY big-brain thought about it... and it spooked me. No matter how much I gained, no matter what milestones I reached, if I didn’t get a grip and deal with this, I was doomed to live in the same unhappy loop forever. I don’t know about you, but personally, I’d rather not.

So, I’ve been trying to figure it out. Why does this happen? Where does it come from? The hard, and slightly uncomfortable truth is that the real work lies within. It’s about turning inward, facing the fears and unresolved emotions I’ve been dodging for years. More than that, it’s about accepting that, as cliché as it sounds, life’s meaning isn’t in the destination. It’s in the journey. It’s in the work of striving for something, of setting goals and navigating the mess of wins and losses along the way.

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Here’s the absurd part in my opinion... Now that I know what’s going on, are there cool action items I can take now? The answer is no. The solutions aren’t exciting. They’re not quick fixes, flashy epiphanies, or grand revelations. It’s much simpler and boring... and that’s to just take it one day at a time. I can only worry about what’s in front of me right here, right now.

The future doesn’t exist, and the past is already gone. Any attempt at planning for the future or reminiscing about the past takes me out of the present, which I feel is slipping by faster and faster as I age. I’ve spent the last four years in a state of past or future, and very little in the present. It’s not easy, though. It’s messy, uncomfortable, and often feels absurd... but maybe that’s the point.

I find comfort in reminding myself: how often do things go exactly as planned anyway? Almost never. Goals and intentions might be achieved, sure, but the path to get there is rarely the one we imagine. Life has this habit of throwing curveballs, and learning to roll with them, to let go of the need for everything to go exactly our way... I think that’s where growth happens.

Let me be clear, though... this isn’t about giving up on dreams. It’s about holding them lightly, with grace, instead of choke-holding them with desperation. It’s about setting intentions and trusting that life will unfold the way it needs to. What’s for me will come to me, and what’s not doesn’t matter because it’s not for me. And that’s okay.

Maybe this is what surrender really means. Letting go of the illusion of control, embracing life as it is... messy, beautiful, unpredictable. And maybe, just maybe, in that surrender, there’s a kind of peace that’s been waiting for me all along.

Subscribe now

No matter how much my life improves objectively or how much I try and run, I still find myself discontent.

I have moved quite a bit in the last few years. From different parts of Utah, to Mexico, to Oregon, and now good ol' hot, dry, dusty Tucson. One could say that each move was a carefully crafted escape plan, a new and shiny solution to my problems.

In Utah, the sprawling suburbs felt like they were suffocating us with their perfect lawns and identical houses. Oregon, with its permanent state of moldy wetness and grey gloom, slowly doused our spirits in endless darkness. And Mexico... let’s just say Mexico was everything all at once: too much, too fast, and too foreign.

Now I’m here in Tucson, and the cycle continues. Emma (my wife) and I find ourselves doing what we always do: dreaming of somewhere else. We lose ourselves in fantasies of returning to the PNW, of having a fireplace, of feeling that bitter coldness that makes blankets and movies feel as festive as the time of year.

I'm snapped back into my 75-degree and incredibly sunny reality by the sound of a soul-crushingly loud car speeding down the road (third one today). It’s that awful time of Saturday at 1 p.m. We drank coffee in hopes of motivating ourselves to take on the day, but instead, we’re just anxious, wishing that the weather reflected the December festivities so we could excuse being inside, cozy, and "lazy." Alas... this is the desert. We don’t know what to do, so we do what we do best: go on a walk.

Subscribe now

Despite being marginally better than staying inside, if it weren’t for our daily walks, I don’t know where I’d be. They provide just enough relief to keep me from going insane and are the backdrop for some pretty awesome conversations and problem-solving.

Every time I think I’ve solved a problem, another pops up. It’s easy to point fingers when you’re stressed about money or work. But when those stresses are taken away and life objectively gets better, why is it I still feel this way?

I do the usual mental gymnastics: "Maybe I need more supplements," or "If only I had even MORE money, then I could buy things that would make me happier." It’s the same cycle over and over, and I’m sick of it.

In this world of endless rings and dings, I’ve become a stranger to myself. My inner temple remains neglected, and I only catch glimpses of it’s mess when my phone dies or our favorite show ends.

Honestly, my discontentment doesn’t stem from the fact my apartment is suffocating or that the nearest "forest," if you can call it that, is an hour and a half away. No... it’s just me. I try to reason with myself: "Nah, surely my unhappiness is because of things out there. If I just had X, or lived in Y, or had Z amount of money, then I’d be better equipped to be happy." But why can’t I just be happy now?

Subscribe now

It’s crazy to watch myself get back on the treadmill of distraction, chasing the next high or low, anything to avoid facing my inner world. I’ll grasp at half-assed plans, side hustle ideas, YouTube, and comfort food like a lost man at sea clinging to his raft, trying to stay afloat in the ocean of my own discomfort.

It’s moments like these when it hits me: I’m a full-blown addict... with my favorite drug being avoidance.

Avoidance can be dosed in so many ways, like a drug with infinite forms. It can come as a move to a new city, the thrill of a shiny new object, or the endless scroll on social media. Each dose offers a momentary high, a brief escape from the discomfort of the now... from the gnawing feeling that something isn’t right. But like any drug, the relief is temporary…A lid on the deeper issues that quietly stew beneath the surface.

I’ve fallen into this trap more times than I can count. Each time, I convince myself: surely this time will be different. But no... the cycle stays the same. The thrill of the new fades, the shine wears off, and I’m left staring down the same restless emptiness as before.

After several breaking points, I finally sat myself down and asked: what exactly have I been avoiding? A flood of unresolved things bubbled up, things I thought I’d buried long ago. And then there it was... this glaring realization staring back at me. You hear so many stories of people who "made it." They got the car, the partner, the house... everything they ever thought they wanted. And yet, they still spiraled into despair or total self-destruction. It was like the very act of achieving their dreams had robbed them of their purpose. A sobering reminder that external successes can’t guarantee internal peace.

I thought about this... like I REALLY big-brain thought about it... and it spooked me. No matter how much I gained, no matter what milestones I reached, if I didn’t get a grip and deal with this, I was doomed to live in the same unhappy loop forever. I don’t know about you, but personally, I’d rather not.

So, I’ve been trying to figure it out. Why does this happen? Where does it come from? The hard, and slightly uncomfortable truth is that the real work lies within. It’s about turning inward, facing the fears and unresolved emotions I’ve been dodging for years. More than that, it’s about accepting that, as cliché as it sounds, life’s meaning isn’t in the destination. It’s in the journey. It’s in the work of striving for something, of setting goals and navigating the mess of wins and losses along the way.

Share

Here’s the absurd part in my opinion... Now that I know what’s going on, are there cool action items I can take now? The answer is no. The solutions aren’t exciting. They’re not quick fixes, flashy epiphanies, or grand revelations. It’s much simpler and boring... and that’s to just take it one day at a time. I can only worry about what’s in front of me right here, right now.

The future doesn’t exist, and the past is already gone. Any attempt at planning for the future or reminiscing about the past takes me out of the present, which I feel is slipping by faster and faster as I age. I’ve spent the last four years in a state of past or future, and very little in the present. It’s not easy, though. It’s messy, uncomfortable, and often feels absurd... but maybe that’s the point.

I find comfort in reminding myself: how often do things go exactly as planned anyway? Almost never. Goals and intentions might be achieved, sure, but the path to get there is rarely the one we imagine. Life has this habit of throwing curveballs, and learning to roll with them, to let go of the need for everything to go exactly our way... I think that’s where growth happens.

Let me be clear, though... this isn’t about giving up on dreams. It’s about holding them lightly, with grace, instead of choke-holding them with desperation. It’s about setting intentions and trusting that life will unfold the way it needs to. What’s for me will come to me, and what’s not doesn’t matter because it’s not for me. And that’s okay.

Maybe this is what surrender really means. Letting go of the illusion of control, embracing life as it is... messy, beautiful, unpredictable. And maybe, just maybe, in that surrender, there’s a kind of peace that’s been waiting for me all along.

Subscribe now