I’m a huge fan of The Greatest Showman. The movie, the soundtrack, all of it. I’ve watched it more times than I’d like to admit, and I still put the album on regularly. Bet that’s not the kind of thing you expected from me 😅.

A few days ago, one of the songs from the soundtrack came on while we were grocery shopping. That same day, I stumbled on a Gary Vee short about people who never go after the life they want because they’re too worried about what others will think. Two nudges toward the same idea in one day, so here we are.

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My favorite song off that soundtrack is “This Is Me.” If you know it, you know. If you don’t, here’s the part that gets me every time:

“I am not a stranger to the dark.

Hide away, they say,

‘cause we don’t want your broken parts.”

We live in a world that teaches us to hide our broken parts. Keep up appearances. Always look like you have it together. Admitting you’re struggling, weird, different, or just not “normal” feels like a confession of weakness.

Except none of us are strangers to the dark. Not the rich, not the successful, not your boss, not your parents. Every single person you know has been broken at some point. It’s not the exception. It’s the human experience.

Knowing that doesn’t kill the instinct to hide though. I caught myself doing exactly that a few weeks ago. I’ve been sending this newsletter for almost two years now, but I rarely get to talk about it with readers in person. Then a new friend here in Bangkok subscribed, and next time we hung out he started asking me about something I’d written, how I was doing, all of it. My first reaction, for about two seconds, was pure panic. Oh shit, real people actually read this. Wait, what did I write? Is it okay?

I’m fully fine with anyone reading anything I put out. But there’s something different about someone bringing it up to your face versus a comment or DM online. It hits differently. And if I’m honest, that instinct to double check what I said says a lot about how deep this “don’t want your broken parts seen” thing runs, even in someone who writes about it every week.

Rosie almost didn’t become a YouTuber because of a dinner party

Back in 2011, before “YouTuber” was even a word people used, Rosie already wanted to make videos. She didn’t. Too worried about what people would think.

She finally posted her first videos in 2017 and 2018. Simple stuff, day trip vlogs, our first time in Miami, us exploring the city. She was having fun with it.

Then we had dinner with some friends in France. One of them, in front of more than ten people at the table, made a joke about how boring her videos were. She smiled and laughed it off. What she actually wanted to do was disappear under the table.

She stopped posting for a while after that. Her confidence took a real hit.

We haven’t seen that “friend” since. Honestly, good. That’s not what you want from someone close to you.

When we moved to Miami, she met people who were actually supportive. Slowly her confidence came back, and in 2020 she started posting again. She hasn’t stopped since. Throughout four years of full-time travel, she filmed vlogs in the street, in public, wherever. People stared, smiled, said things. She stopped caring a long time ago.

(Here is Rosie’s Youtube channel if you want to check it out: https://www.youtube.com/rosieandre).

She’s gone further than that, too. Rosie now talks openly on her channel about the pregnancy and infant losses we’ve been through. That’s not an easy thing to put out into the world. And it comes at a cost, she gets nasty comments on those videos regularly. Genuinely unkind stuff.

“I’ve learned to be ashamed of all my scars.

Run away, they say,

no one’ll love you as you are.”

That’s the part nobody warns you about. It’s not just that we hide our broken parts, we get taught to be ashamed of them too. Like they’re proof we don’t deserve support or love anymore.

You’ve probably heard “hurt people hurt people.” It’s a cliché because it’s true. Most of the judgment thrown your way isn’t really about you. It comes from people chasing the same dreams, frustrated they haven’t gotten there themselves, who end up (usually without realizing it) trying to bring someone else down instead.

Rosie has gotten to a place where she can see that clearly with those comments. She knows it’s not about her. That doesn’t make the worst comments okay, some of what people write is genuinely cruel. But it does help her not carry it home with her.

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This isn’t just a Rosie thing

Picture a woman somewhere in her 30s, 40s, 50s. She’s got a regular job, or she’s a stay-at-home mom. She’s got a passion on the side, gardening, knitting, gaming, doesn’t matter what. Part of her would love to start something with it. A blog, a TikTok, a YouTube channel. Share what she knows. Maybe even make some money from it one day, enough to fund more vacations, or eventually replace her job entirely.

Could she pull it off? Maybe. We’ll never know, because the odds are she never starts.

Not because she lacks the skills. Because of the voice in her head asking: what if my coworkers see this? What if people think we’re struggling for money? What if they think I’m having a midlife crisis, a 50 year old woman posting on TikTok? What if I fail and everyone sees it?

And that’s how a dream dies before it’s even born.

“I am brave, I am bruised,

I am who I’m meant to be, this is me.

[...]

I’m not scared to be seen, I make no apologies, this is me.”

That line right there is the whole thing. Not being scared to be seen as who you actually are. Not apologizing for it. People will look, comment, judge, walk away. Let them.

Here’s the part that actually changes things once you get it: none of that judgment is about you. It’s about them. People who feel stuck can’t stand watching someone else move. It reminds them of everything they’re not doing.

We live in a world where it’s easier to pull someone down to your level than to lift yourself up to theirs.

So the goal was never to grow thick skin, or build a wall so nothing gets to you. The goal is understanding that whatever gets thrown at you says everything about the person throwing it, and nothing about you. Once you actually believe that, ignoring it gets a lot easier. So does having a bit of compassion for the people doing the throwing.

If you’ve got a broken part you’ve been keeping under the carpet, or a dream you haven’t started because of what people might say, that’s exactly the kind of thing I work through with clients. If you want to talk it through, book a free call with me.

Let's chat!

J

PS: here is the song in case you don’t know it.

We’re down by 2 points. I’m sat in the stands, completely locked in. Rosie’s next to me, trying to make conversation. I can’t even look at her. I’m too stressed, too focused, too far gone.

We lose by those exact 2 points.

I’m devastated. Angry and sad at the same time. I don’t want to talk to anyone, not even Rosie. She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind: “WTH is wrong with you, it’s just a game.”

Yes. But also, no. 🤣

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In regular life, I’m pretty neutral. Measured. I don’t express much. Ask Rosie, ask anyone who’s known me a while - I’m the guy who keeps it together.

But put me in front of a sports game (or honestly, a board game, same energy) and I turn into a different person. I get loud. I trash talk. I shout, I jump, I get pumped, I get furious. I cry - happy tears, angry tears, doesn’t matter, they come out.

A week before that final, I was watching the semi-final alone on my laptop at Rosie’s parents’ place in England. We won. First Super League Grand Final in the club’s history. I was sobbing. Couldn’t stop it if I tried.

The intensity always matches how much I care - about the team, the player, the moment. But that level of intensity, every time, in a way nothing else in my life comes close to... that part used to confuse Rosie. Honestly, it used to confuse me too.

For a long time I just put it down to family. We always watched sports growing up - my grandad, my parents, me. TV, stadiums, didn’t matter. Two hours in the car for an F1 race, eight hours on a bus for a rugby tournament. I figured I just inherited the passion, simple as that.

Then last year, in couples therapy, this whole thing came up almost by accident.

Why do you love sports so much, I was asked. I gave my usual answers - the energy, the fact that it’s real and unscripted, how it connects total strangers (put on a jersey and suddenly people talk to you), how a World Cup makes entire countries forget their politics for a month and just cheer (Go France 🇫🇷). All true. All real reasons.

But then something else surfaced. Something I hadn’t connected before.

Sports was the one space where it was safe for me to feel things out loud.

I grew up in a loving home. I never doubted that. But it wasn’t a home that said it, or showed it much physically. And like a lot of guys, I got the classic lines growing up - don’t cry, don’t be a girl, all that BS I didn’t even know was BS at the time. So I did what kids do: I copied what I saw. I learned to keep things in.

Except with sports. Nobody ever told me to be quiet there. Nobody told me crying over a loss made me less of a man. Whatever I felt was just... allowed. So I felt it, all the way, every time.

That permission never went away. My body still remembers it.

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I spent years building a wall around my emotions in everyday life, then a program in Miami in 2019 (Gratitude Training) cracked it open and started teaching me that showing emotion isn’t weakness - it’s just true. Rosie spent even longer chipping away at that wall, patiently, long before I had the words for any of this.

But sports never needed any of that work. It was already the exception. The one place the wall was never built in the first place.

And when I look at my life now, it’s still my best release valve. In front of the TV, at a stadium, racket in hand on a padel court - it’s where I let everything out, clean and uncomplicated, no filter required.

I think most people have a version of this. Maybe you don’t even realize it yet - but there’s probably somewhere in your life where the emotions just come out, where you stop managing yourself, where nobody ever told you to keep it together. A place that became your outlet before you even understood you needed one.

So... where is that for you? And what does it say about all the other places where you’ve been holding back?

J

It stuck with me. Not because it was a new idea, but because it named something I’d been feeling for a while without being able to articulate it.

So I sat down and tried to dig into it. What follows is what came out.

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Settled, Comfortable… and Half as Productive

Since settling in Bangkok, I’ve been less productive than at any point in the past five years. By roughly half, if I’m being honest.

That’s a strange thing to admit when life looks great on paper. We have a beautiful apartment - a real one, with a standing desk, a big monitor, two couches, a swimming pool outside. After years of Airbnbs and hotel rooms, it feels luxurious. We have friends here, a social life, a city with something always going on.

And yet. I’m getting less done than I was when I was living out of a backpack.

For a while, I couldn’t understand why. Now I think I do.

The Constraints I Never Chose

When Rosie and I were traveling full-time, our days were essentially binary: work, or explore. That was it.

No couch to collapse on. No TV to flip on. No pool to drift into “just for 20 minutes.” We’d be in a simple studio or a basic Airbnb room - functional, but not comfortable in the way that pulls you away from things.

There was also real financial pressure. Work wasn’t optional. It funded the next leg. If the month went badly, it showed up quickly and concretely.

And there was something else - a kind of built-in intentionality that came from always being somewhere temporary. You’re in a city you might never return to. You don’t want to waste it. So you either work - seriously, productively - or you make the most of where you are. There’s no default third option of just... drifting.

We had what felt like total freedom. And in a real sense we did - no office, no fixed address, no boss, no routine we didn’t choose.

But looking back, we also had constraints we never consciously designed. They were just part of the structure of that life. And those constraints made us focused, efficient, intentional.

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What Bangkok Removed

The apartment changed things in ways I didn’t anticipate.

The physical comfort is the obvious part. There are now much better things to do than work. The couch is genuinely comfortable. The TV is big. The pool is right outside. Bangkok itself offers an endless feed of restaurants, friends, events, things to explore. At any given moment, there are a dozen more attractive options than opening my laptop.

But there’s also a subtler thing that happened. I set up a proper office - standing desk, big screen, dedicated space. Which is great. Except that now, in my head, “work” happens in the office. If I’m not in the office, I’m not working. And in the evenings, I want to be on the couch with Rosie, not alone at a desk.

So the thing I built to protect my work time ended up rigidifying it in a way that worked against me. There’s an irony there.

The financial pressure also changed. Earlier this year, I took on a part-time freelancing gig - 20 hours a week, afternoons only. It covers all our expenses, plus a bit more. Which is a genuine relief. But it also removed the urgency I used to feel to grow my own business. When you’re not under pressure to perform, you... don’t perform as urgently. I know this is short-term thinking. The gig will end eventually, and I’ll have to hustle again. But right now, the pressure isn’t there - and I can feel its absence.

It’s also interesting that this is coming at a moment where - once again - I find myself questioning my path. I wrote about a similar feeling last year, though the circumstances were different. That liminal space feeling is back, quieter this time, but familiar.

The point is: two forms of comfort arrived at the same time - physical and financial - and the combination hit harder than either would have alone.

The Invisible Architecture

I’ve spent most of my adult life chasing freedom. Freedom from a 9-to-5. Freedom from a fixed location. Freedom to decide how I spend my days.

And I got it. I genuinely have it.

What I didn’t realize until now is that during our nomad years, we had freedom AND structure - we just didn’t design the structure intentionally. It came built-in to the lifestyle. The bare rooms. The financial precarity. The temporariness of every place.

Remove the lifestyle, and the structure disappears too.

What I’m left with is freedom without constraints. And it turns out that combination is a recipe for drifting.

I work well under pressure, when my back is against the wall. Right now, there’s no wall. So I float.

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Where I’m At

I don’t have a clean resolution for this. I haven’t figured out exactly which constraints to reintroduce, or how.

But I’ve at least named the problem - which is more than I could do a few months ago. I knew something felt off. I knew I was moving slower than I wanted to. I knew the comfort was connected to it somehow. I just couldn’t articulate the mechanism.

Now I can: I removed the invisible architecture that was holding me up, and I haven’t replaced it with anything.

Nature has seasons. Some people will say a slower period is fine - even healthy, like hibernation. Maybe. But it doesn’t feel like a choice I made. It feels like something that happened to me while I was comfortable.

And the difference between choosing rest and sliding into stagnation is significant.

I’m not someone who wants to grind 60-hour weeks anymore. That drive is gone, and honestly, I’m okay with it. Quality of life matters to me. Bangkok gives me that.

But I do want to be moving. I crave growth and forward motion - it’s just part of how I’m wired.

So the work ahead is figuring out which constraints to put back in place. Not to punish myself. Not to recreate the pressure of precarity. But to rebuild the structure that lets me move.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

J

Three words. Said with a sigh, a disappointed look, maybe a little silence after. Not as a compliment. As an accusation.

I’ve heard it before. Maybe you have too. And every time, there’s an unspoken sentence that follows it: “... and I don’t really like it.”

It’s strange, when you think about it. We are the product of millions of years of evolution. Our species got here because of change - constant, relentless, often uncomfortable change. Our body is in a permanent state of renewal. We literally wouldn’t exist if the people before us hadn’t changed throughout their lives.

And yet, somewhere along the way, change became something to be suspicious of.

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When you change, it makes other people uncomfortable

I think the real reason people react badly to your change is not actually about you. It’s about them.

When someone close to you changes, it disrupts something. The dynamic they were used to. The role they assigned you. The comfort of knowing what to expect from you. Your change, in a way, forces them to look at their own life and ask questions they might not want to answer. Are they growing? Are they stuck? Is the version of you they knew still the one they want around?

That’s uncomfortable. And instead of sitting with that discomfort, it’s much easier to put it back on you. To make your growth the problem.

In relationships

This one is personal for me.

Rosie and I have been together since we were 22. We’ve both changed a lot over the years - I probably more than her, but I had some catching up to do. 😉 It’s one of the things I’m most grateful for: that we were able to grow as adults, sometimes in different directions, and still stay connected through all of it. That doesn’t happen by accident. It takes two people who see each other’s evolution as something to support, not something to fear.

But that’s not always how it goes. I’ve drifted from people I was once close to. Not because of a fight or a falling out - just because the version of me that clicked with them doesn’t really exist anymore. A past version of me was happy in those friendships. This version isn’t. And I’ve had to make peace with that.

Because there are really only two options when people around you change: you grow together, or you grow apart. Neither is wrong. But holding onto something that no longer fits - out of habit, guilt, or fear of the awkward conversation - doesn’t do either person any good.

A real friend, a real partner, shouldn’t be threatened by who you’re becoming. They should be curious about it.

In work

This one is harder, because the stakes feel higher.

Think about how our careers begin. At 17 or 18, barely out of adolescence, we’re asked to pick a path. Not with much life experience. Not with a clear sense of who we are. Usually surrounded by adults with their own ideas about what we should do - parents chasing their own unfulfilled dreams, teachers pointing toward “safe” options, friends making whatever decision their parents approve of.

So we pick. We go to university. We spend years building a skillset, a network, an identity around a career. And then one day, we wake up and realize it doesn’t feel like ours anymore. Maybe it never fully was.

Changing course at that point isn’t easy - financially, practically, emotionally. And the people around you will have opinions. You’ll hear about all the risks. About everything you’d be walking away from. About whether this new direction is even realistic.

I know this because when I first started thinking about quitting my job to work for myself, someone close to me called to tell me it was a bad idea. They asked why I would throw away years of work to venture into the unknown. Why I’d choose discomfort when I had a comfortable life right in front of me.

That conversation hurt at the time. It made me feel stupid for wanting something different.

But I went ahead anyway - in 2021. And that decision led to everything I value most about my life today.

In where you choose to live

Moving country comes with its own version of this. Some people are genuinely excited for you. Others immediately start listing all the reasons your new city isn’t what you think it is, pulling out statistics about crime or cost of living or whatever else they can find to talk you out of it.

It’s rarely about the city. It’s about your choice making them think about the choices they haven’t made.

When I moved from France to Miami, I heard plenty of it. When I left a stable salary to travel and build something of my own, I heard more. I lost some relationships. Others changed with time and distance. But every decision I made was in service of my own wellbeing. I don’t carry any regret about that.

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Why change gets such a bad reputation

Underneath all of it - the unsolicited opinions, the “you’ve changed” looks, the resistance from people who love you - is the same thing: fear.

Change signals the unknown. And the brain, wired for safety above all else, treats the unknown like a threat. What if I don’t recognize you anymore? What if this new version of you and I don’t get along? What if you fail and everything falls apart?

So when someone close to them changes, that discomfort gets dressed up as concern. As reason. As all the very sensible arguments for why you should stay exactly where you are.

It’s not malicious. Most of the time, people genuinely believe they’re helping. But it’s worth knowing what’s actually driving it.

You’re allowed to change your mind.

About your job. Your career. Where you live. What you want out of life.

We are evolving beings.

What used to feel like the right path may not feel aligned anymore, and that’s OK.

You’re not meant to stay the same forever.

Try. Shift. Experiment. Change.

You don’t owe anyone a lifetime of commitment to something that no longer brings you joy.

J

They know what they want. They know how to get it. Life seems to follow a logical order when you’re watching from the outside, innocent and naive.

Then we grow up... and the illusion starts to crack.

We realize we don’t have it all figured out. We have doubts. We have uncertainty. We have those quiet moments where we wonder what the hell we’re doing.

But nobody talks about it.

We’re so obsessed with keeping up appearances, with projecting the image that everything is fine and under control, that we all silently agree to pretend. And because everyone pretends, we each end up feeling like we’re the odd one. The only one who doesn’t have it together. The only one still figuring it out.

There are few things worse than feeling like the odd one out.

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I’ll give you a personal example.

From the outside, my situation looks pretty good. Since leaving my job in 2021, I’ve been working for myself - while traveling for the majority of that time. I’ve made enough money to sustain my lifestyle. What I do gives me a lot of freedom and agency over how I work and live. Plenty of good things.

But there’s an invisible side to it. An internal feeling that comes back regularly, asking: “WTF am I doing with my life?”

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Financial uncertainty is the default setting. When you say yes to entrepreneurship, you also say yes to uncertainty - it’s part of the deal. Some quarters are great financially, some are not. It has a real impact on how you live, on what you can plan, on how you see the year ahead. Overall I’ve always been fine, and I’m decent at managing money and cashflow... but there’s always a sliver of doubt lingering in the background.

Saving for the future is genuinely hard. A consequence of working for yourself is that retirement isn’t handed to you. A few years here, a few years there... there’s no pension system to fall back on. We have to build our own nest. Some days I think that’s smart - at least I have control over it. Some days I think it’s nuts, and wonder if going back to a regular job would be more sensible - for current stability, but also for the future.

I don’t belong in the traditional professional world anymore. I know this. I’d struggle to fit in and feel fulfilled. Once you’ve tasted the freedom of working for yourself, it’s hard to go back to being told what to do, when to do it, how to do it. But that awareness comes with its own weight.

I’m a generalist in a world that rewards specialists. Most companies want experts. People who stick to one domain. My brain doesn’t work that way. I get bored in the cruising phase. I need challenges. I love the dopamine of learning something new, building something from scratch. I know a good amount about a lot of different things, and I’m not afraid to pick up new skills - but in most traditional settings, that’s “jack of all trades, master of none.”

This is also a double-edged sword as an entrepreneur. I’m great at going from 0 to 1. Once everything is built though, I struggle to stay motivated doing the same thing on repeat: acquire clients, deliver, repeat. My brain starts looking for the next thing.

There’s a term for this now: building a portfolio career. Multiple income streams from sometimes completely different things. It fits my personality well. The downside is that spreading your focus across many things makes it much harder to build solid, reliable sources of income.

I’ve been doing coaching and web design for a year now. And as much as I genuinely love coaching people - through personal challenges or business ones - I’m bored of the constant client acquisition grind. My brain keeps getting pulled toward AI-related stuff those days. I know that itch won’t go away until I scratch it.

That’s where I’m at right now. From the outside, it’s all good. I work, I make money, I have freedom. But internally, I have those constant conversations with myself. Questioning. Doubting. Wondering.

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And I’ll bet you do too.

I’d be willing to bet that the majority of you reading this have some version of these conversations going on in your head. Questioning your current situation - professionally, personally, in relationships... wherever you are in life. Looking around and wondering how everyone else seems to have it all figured out.

When I was a young adult, I thought being in your 30s or 40s meant having cracked the code. I thought if you followed the right rules and principles, life would be a smooth ride. Easy peasy.

I don’t believe that anymore.

I think we’re all acting like we know what we’re doing... but to some extent, it’s all BS, it’s all a performance. We’re just riding the waves as they come, doing our best not to lose balance.

Maybe that’s the “curse” of stepping outside the traditional path. Of becoming aware of certain things. I didn’t have these thoughts much in my 20s when I had a normal job and treated it like a job - not worrying too much about whether I enjoyed it or not. But once you’ve been on the other side, you can’t unsee what you’ve seen.

The good news? I’ve stopped letting this tension bother me too much.

Those conversations in my head don’t stress me out the way they used to. Over the years, I’ve come to understand that this is just part of the human experience. I’m actually glad I question things. I’m glad to have the awareness to even have these thoughts. The tension is there, present... but it’s not holding me back. It’s something I sit with, knowing the answer will eventually come.

Now I’m curious about you.

What are the things that, from the outside, look like you have it all figured out... when in reality you’re still working through it?

Hit reply, I’d love to hear.

J

But I think about it sometimes. What did they picture when they had me? I’m an only child, so for them, it’s just me. No siblings to fill the gaps.

Most of my family lives within an hour of each other in the South of France. The “far” ones are maybe three hours away.

Then there’s me. Continents away.

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I left home at 14 for boarding school. University at 17, two hours away. Then Australia, England, Paris... back to the South of France but still three hours from home... and then I properly disappeared. North America. Four years of travel. Now Bangkok. My parents don’t have passports. They don’t fly much. They don’t visit.

I’m always the one missing things. Birthdays, Christmases, Sunday lunches, baby announcements, the random Saturday get-together that nobody planned but everyone showed up for. I don’t just pop by.

I imagine they pictured something different. Me living nearby, married to a French woman - they love Rosie, genuinely, but a French wife would have been more practical, more familiar. Close enough to visit a few times a month, to just show up for dinner without it being an event. And grandchildren, obviously. Kids they could look after for a weekend while we went away. Kids who’d come over after school, just because.

That’s what I had growing up. Both sets of grandparents nearby, always around. Sunday lunch at my paternal grandparents, every week, for years. It was just normal.

They won’t have that version. Not with me.

Rosie and I tried to have children. It didn’t work out, and that chapter is behind us now. So it’s not just the distance they’re dealing with - it’s a whole picture that won’t come together the way they imagined when they became parents. And beyond that, there’s another chapter ahead none of us have figured out yet. One day they’ll be older and might need me around. I have no intention of moving back to France right now... so that’s something future Jeremie will have to navigate. Another expectation, on both sides, that might not go the way anyone planned.

Rosie’s parents are in a similar spot. Three kids. All three married foreigners. Two living abroad for fifteen years. The one who stayed in England is four hours away. Not exactly the weekly Sunday roast.

And Rosie has her own version of those childhood memories - the family holidays, the birthdays, the time with her grandma. We both grew up surrounded by that. And neither of us is able to give it back to the people who gave it to us.

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I wrote about expectations a few months ago in The Expectation Trap. The short version: expectations are a double-edged sword. They help us dream and plan. But when life doesn’t match the picture, the gap becomes the source of all the frustration, the sadness, the quiet disappointment.

My parents couldn’t have predicted, back in the late 80s when they were dreaming about the future, that it would become this easy to live on the other side of the world. The world they imagined for me was the only world they knew. In that world, I would have stayed close.

But I didn’t. And I’m genuinely ok with that - I chose this life, and I’d choose it again. But I can also acknowledge it came at a cost, for them, and for us. And that more of those moments are still ahead.

The hard thing about building expectations around your children is that at some point, they grow up and make their own choices. Choices you can’t control. The life you pictured for them, or with them, isn’t yours to decide.

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At some point, most of us will have to grieve a version of our life that we thought would happen but didn’t.

For Rosie and me, that’s the version where we become parents. (Though even that is complicated - whether we are parents or not, given the losses we went through, including a TFMR, is actually a whole conversation in itself. Maybe the subject of a future newsletter.) We’ve had to sit with that. Accept what isn’t going to be. Make peace with experiences we won’t get to have. It doesn’t fully go away. But you learn to carry it differently over time.

Our parents are doing something similar. Grieving a version of family life that didn’t quite materialize. The grandchildren who didn’t come. The table that didn’t fill up. And the uncertainty of what’s ahead - how it’ll all look when they’re older, when they might need us around.

What do you do with that? You can spend a lot of time in the gap between what you expected and what is. Replaying it, wishing things had gone differently. But it doesn’t change anything. The past is the past.

What’s left is acceptance. Coming to peace with the life you actually have, not the one you planned. And learning to make the most of what is - not what you hoped it would be.

This isn’t just a thing that happens to people who made unconventional choices, by the way. It’s universal. The parent who imagined a daughter nearby. The couple who planned on children and it went another way. The person who pictured a career, a relationship, a version of themselves, that never arrived.

We all carry something like that. A life we imagined that didn’t happen.

The question is just what we do with it.

J

And yet... loneliness is at an all-time high. People can’t seem to enjoy dating anymore. Relationships feel disposable.

There’s a line from an Armin van Buuren song called Alone that I keep coming back to:

“Everyone’s connected, but no one is connecting. The human element has long been missing.”

That’s exactly where we are.

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We turned dating into HR

Two female friends of mine, from different parts of the world, recently shared almost identical experiences about dating.

Download a bunch of apps, set up the “perfect” profile. Lots of scrolling, lots of dumb messages. And at some point, frustration kicks in and the apps get deleted.

I find this fascinating. And I should be upfront: I haven’t dated since 2010. Rosie and I got together when we were 22, back when the closest thing to a dating app was becoming Facebook friends and messaging there. So everything I’m about to say is based on observation and listening to people talk about it, not lived experience.

Swiping through profiles looks a lot like an HR person browsing CVs. The first date is a job interview. And if you’re not the perfect candidate... you’re out. Next. Someone else will apply anyway.

In our world of consumerism, romantic partners have been commoditized. People flick through profiles like they flick through shoes or t-shirts. And because there seems to be an unlimited supply of potential dates, everyone has become extremely picky. They won’t settle for less than perfection.

It’s an endless cycle:

1. Swipe.

2. Match.

3. Message.

4. Date.

5. “They’re nice, but I’m not sure... there’s probably someone better out there.”

6. Back to step one.

And I think those two things are connected.

When you believe someone better is always one swipe away, why would you ever do the work to get through a rough patch?

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The stakes are too high from day one

When I was younger and met a girl I liked, things were simple. We spent time together, spoke, did stuff, learned to know each other. Most couples I knew started as friends. Things developed naturally.

That’s actually how Rosie and I started. We ended up sharing an apartment in Sydney - with 5 other people - just a few weeks apart. We shared meals, explored the city together, watched movies, went out. No agenda. Just two people getting to know each other.

From what I’m seeing now, people approach dating with a completely different frame: I’m on the hunt for the love of my life.

That puts so much pressure on every interaction. There’s no room for silly moments, awkward silences, the small oopsies. No room for being human with each other.

And when the first roadblock comes - as it always does with real people - the exit is right there. An infinite feed of new options. So people bail. Done. Moving on.

What I’ve been doing instead

I’m not looking for a romantic partner. But when Rosie and I arrived in Bangkok, we didn’t know anyone. I had one internet friend, Mark, that I’d met once for a couple of hours. That was it.

First thing we did: downloaded the Meetup app and looked for events we could attend. Not the underground parties advertising free alcohol - slow events, where you spend a few hours together, share a drink in a quiet cafe or a meal. Places where you actually talk to people.

I’ve also been going to every Futera United football game to build the friendship with Mark. Each trip is 1h45 there, 90 minutes of football, 1h45 back. It’s not easy. But I’m glad I do it - I met his wife, some of his mates, and we started playing padel together.

Then at a board game meetup in March, I met an Australian guy named Luke. I’d picked that event on purpose - a nerdy cafe, the kind of place where I knew I’d meet people with similar interests. Luke and his wife have since become really good friends of ours. Now there’s 8 of us playing padel on a weekly basis together.

I really got into padel here. What’s cool is that if you don’t have friends to play with, you can use a couple of apps to join other people’s matches. Great way to meet people with a similar hobby.

Are those people perfect? Probably not, but neither am I.

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What I would do if I was single

I’m still looking to make friends, and I’ll keep doing that.

But if I was alone and looking for more... I don’t think I would jump on those online dating apps. I’d have the exact same approach: go do things with other people, connect, have conversations, build connections. And I’m 100% sure the rest would follow naturally, if it’s supposed to happen.

No huge expectation about meeting The One. No massive pressure every time I open my mouth. Just basic human connections, from one person to another.

People are not profiles. We’re not objects. We’re humans, with feelings, with flaws. All of us.

In a world where feeds and algorithms are taking so much of our precious time and dictating so much of how things work... I’m certain of one thing. The best way to meet people - friends or lovers - is by being a good old-fashioned human being and talking to people in real life.

Everyone’s connected, but no one is connecting.

Maybe the answer was never another app.

J

But I knew she wasn’t happy. Not really.

In my head, the answer was obvious: end it, move on, enjoy life. Simple. (I was very wise back then, clearly. 😅)

She couldn’t do it though. And when I pushed her on why, she eventually admitted it: she was terrified of being single. Of being alone. Of not knowing what came next.

She knew she was unhappy. She just preferred a known unhappiness over an unknown future.

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Around 2021, I had what looked, on paper, like a pretty great job situation. Working from home, full trust and autonomy from my managers, a good salary, a role I could do with my eyes closed.

And I was miserable.

Not in a dramatic way. Just... bored. Stagnant. Completely uninspired. I felt like I was slowly fading. The thought of change was always there, nagging, but so was the fear. How do you walk away from something “perfect”? Who quits a comfortable, well-paying job to go backpack around the world at 30-something? It felt crazy.

So I stayed stuck. Until I didn’t. But more on that in a minute.

And if you’re reading this newsletter, I’d bet that some version of this is familiar. Maybe you don’t hate your job, you just don’t enjoy it. Everything feels a bit... meh. Or maybe you do hate it, and it’s bleeding into everything else: your mood, your relationships, the patience you have left at the end of the day. Yet you’re not making a move. Because what if the next thing is worse? What if you quit and struggle to find something new?

What if, what if, what if.

In 2016, my managers called me into the office with an offer: they were expanding to Miami and wanted me to help set things up. My immediate reaction was to mentally start packing my bags. Rosie’s reaction was... different.

We’d built a comfortable life in the South of France by then. Married, apartment, two cars, jobs, friends, plans to start a family. Life was good. Stable. Known.

Moving to a new country, a new continent, to a city with a reputation that wasn’t exactly reassuring? She wasn’t sure. The unknown was doing its thing, filling in the blanks with worst-case scenarios.

We talked it through. Decided to try it for a year, knowing we could always come back. And eventually, she said yes.

Three Stories, One Pattern

A relationship that felt safe but made her unhappy. A job that felt comfortable but was slowly draining me. A move that felt risky but turned out to change everything.

In all three cases, the same thing was happening: the fear of the unknown was winning over the possibility of something better.

And it’s not random. It’s not weakness. It’s actually just how the brain works.

The primitive part of our brain, the part wired for survival, doesn’t care about happiness, fulfillment, or growth. It cares about keeping us alive and safe. Back when “safe” meant not getting eaten, that instinct was useful. Today, it mostly just keeps us stuck in jobs we hate and situations we’ve outgrown.

When we imagine making a change, the brain doesn’t naturally wander toward the upside, how free she might feel, how energized we might be in a new role, how incredible Miami might turn out to be. It goes straight to the threat. The downside. The worst case.

We’re essentially making life decisions based on half the picture.

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Why We’re Wired This Way

I think a lot of it starts much earlier than we realize.

From the moment we enter the school system, we’re taught that following the rules leads to good grades, good grades lead to praise, praise leads to the next step. Any deviation from the path gets corrected. Punished. We learn fast.

By the time we become adults, most of us have become good sheep. We follow the script. We conform. We do what’s expected. And any time we’re tempted to color outside the lines, there’s usually someone around to remind us why that’s a bad idea.

The result? The brain, shaped by evolution and decades of conditioning, defaults to keeping us stuck.

The problem is that nothing grows in comfort. Things quietly fade there instead. And by the time we notice, a lot of time has passed.

That sense of security we feel in a familiar situation is also, in many cases, an illusion. Ask the people who spent years in “safe” corporate jobs and were let go anyway.

The One Thing That Helped

When I was stuck in that comfortable-but-miserable job situation, what eventually got me unstuck was a fear-setting exercise. The idea is simple: instead of letting your imagination run wild with vague worst-case scenarios, you write them down. You look at them clearly. You ask how bad they actually are, how likely they are, and what you’d do if they happened.

Then, and this is the part most people skip, you do the same for the upside. And for the cost of doing nothing.

I’ve written about it in detail here, and I have a free workbook you can use to walk through it yourself.

Get the Free Workbook

I won’t go deeper into it in this post, because that’s not really the point today. The point is: when I finally looked at the full picture instead of just the risks, the decision became obvious. I quit. And I have zero regrets.

How It All Turned Out

My friend eventually ended the relationship. Not long after, she met someone else. They’ve been married for years now and have kids. She built the life she was too scared to imagine.

Rosie said yes to Miami. We ended up staying three and a half years. It became one of the most defining chapters of both our lives, a place where we healed, grew, and changed in ways we hadn’t expected. Best decision we ever made.

And me? I’m writing this from Bangkok, working for myself, doing work I actually care about. No regrets either.

In all three cases, the fear of the unknown turned out to be exactly that: a fear. Not a prediction. Not a guarantee. Just the brain doing what it does, protecting us from a lion that wasn’t there.

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Most People Will Read This and Do Nothing

I say that with no judgment, because I was one of those people for a long time.

You’ll recognize yourself in one of these stories. You’ll nod. Maybe you’ll share it. And then you’ll go back to your day, and nothing will change. Because that’s what most people do. Not because they’re lazy or cowardly, but because the pull of the familiar is genuinely strong, and the brain is genuinely good at talking us out of discomfort.

The one thought that usually follows is: “Yeah, it worked out for them. But my situation is different.”

Maybe. But probably not as different as you think.

If you’re sitting with a change you’ve been avoiding and you want some help actually working through what’s keeping you stuck, that’s exactly what I do. Book a free call and let’s talk. No pitch, just an honest conversation.

Let's talk!

J

Then I left my job. Became my own boss. “I’m even more fucked. I’m basically unemployable at this point.”

Then we left Miami with our suitcases and no return ticket. “Yeah... I’m completely fucked. I can’t go back to a normal life.”

I was joking… Kind of….

What I didn’t realize at the time was that each one of those moments was a door opening. And once you walk through it, it doesn’t close behind you. It disappears.

You don’t know what you don’t know... until you do. And once you’ve opened Pandora’s box, you can’t close it.

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I’ve been living in Bangkok for about four months now.

Most of the time, I like it here. The food is incredible. I have a beautiful apartment, I can see the swimming pool from the windows as I’m typing this. The cost of living makes sense. The city has energy.

But some days… honestly most days for a while, I look at my life and feel... meh.

Not sad. Not miserable. Just flat. Like I’m going through the motions of a life that doesn’t quite fit.

I know how that sounds. I’m in Bangkok. I work for myself. I have freedom most people would trade a lot for. Trust me, I’m aware of the privilege here.

But it doesn’t make the feeling less real.

I think I’ve rewired myself in a way that made regular life almost incompatible with who I’ve become.

It started with loss. In 2017, after we lost our son, I made a promise, more to him than to myself honestly, that I would live the best life I could possibly live. That I would stop postponing happiness. Stop living on autopilot.

That promise set something in motion that I don’t think I fully understood at the time.

Years of intentional discomfort, growth, expansion... I became someone who only feels fully alive when being challenged. When things are new, unpredictable, hard. I started to understand that comfort makes you stagnant. That growth lives at the edges.

And now here I am, in a comfortable apartment, with a gym membership, a regular schedule, the same streets every day.

And I feel like I’m breaking that promise.

That’s the thing that actually bothers me. Not Bangkok. Not the routine. The feeling that I’m not living up to what I committed to. That somewhere, that little boy is watching, and I’m not delivering.

That’s the quiet anxiety underneath it all.

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There’s something no one talks about when it comes to personal growth: it raises your baseline.

You go through the work. You expand. You build a version of yourself that craves challenge, novelty, aliveness. And then one day, you find yourself in a season of life that doesn’t match that version, and normal life feels like wearing someone else’s clothes.

Where some people find comfort in anchors, a cozy apartment, familiar things, a place that feels like home, I find myself feeling weighed down by them. The gym membership, the lease, the fixed expenses. Each one a small reminder that I’m less free than I was.

Rosie is the opposite. She finds security in those things. She is genuinely happier here than she’s been in years, and I can see it clearly. That matters to me.

I want to say something about this, because it’s important.

No one forced me to settle in Bangkok. Rosie didn’t threaten me. She expressed what she needed, stability, a home, space to breathe, and I said yes. Freely. Because it’s the right thing to do, and because I love her.

We’ve been together a long time. For most of our relationship, “I called the shots.” We moved from Paris, a city she loved, to the south of France because I was done with Paris. Then to Miami for my job. She always had my back without hesitation.

So when she told me she needed this, I didn’t have to think long.

That’s what a real partnership looks like. Not two people always getting what they want. Two people taking turns holding the other one up.

But the discomfort I feel is my problem. Not Bangkok’s. Not Rosie’s. Mine.

Blaming her would be the easy route. A lot of people take that route. We live in a world where it’s always someone else’s fault, always someone else’s responsibility. Pointing fingers is comfortable. It gets you off the hook.

But it’s also a lie.

I chose this. I own it. And that means the work of figuring it out is mine to do.

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Things have been shifting a little over the past few weeks.

Work picked up, which helped more than I expected. There were a few months where things were really slow, not making enough, feeling unproductive, wondering if I was failing. That does something to you. It’s hard to feel good about life in general when work isn’t working. When business started moving again, some of that heaviness lifted.

We also made real friends here. Two couples we actually see regularly, play padel with weekly, text for no reason. Sometimes it’s couples hanging out, sometimes it’s the boys, sometimes Rosie goes off with the girls. That kind of easy, low-drama friendship... it helps.

And this past weekend, Rosie and I decided to book a trip to Japan. It’s been at the top of our list for years. Just sitting there planning it, staring at my phone for hours, looking at cities and temples and places to eat... something woke up. I’m so excited to see somewhere new, a place I’ve always been intrigued by.

I think that’s part of the answer: I need to find ways to get my “aliveness” fix without blowing up a life that’s working for Rosie. Weekend trips. New parts of the city to explore. A new country here and there when finances allow.

That last part matters. When we were traveling full time, traveling was our expense. Now we have fixed costs no matter where we are, the apartment, the gym, electricity, all of it. A trip on top of that is a holiday, not a lifestyle. With both of us self-employed, planning that far ahead financially isn’t always easy. So it depends. But things are better right now, and I have some visibility on the next few months. For now, that’s enough.

And there’s something the stability gave me that I genuinely couldn’t have had on the road. In January, I got a DEXA scan done, a quick test that measures bone density, muscle mass, body composition. I did it out of curiosity, mostly because for the first time I’d actually have consistent gym access. What was supposed to be fun data turned into something more serious: my muscle mass and bone density were low enough that the doctor told me, go lift weights, fix your nutrition, come back in 12 months. So now I go to the gym four times a week. I eat like I mean it. I’m building something for future-me that simply wouldn’t have been possible while living out of a backpack.

So even in the “meh,” something real is happening. I just haven’t made this chapter feel memorable yet. I’m working on it.

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Last week I wrote about Nietzsche’s eternal recurrence, the idea that you should be willing to live this exact life again, infinitely, in every detail.

My last three or four months? They wouldn’t pass the test. Not yet.

But I know that’s not permanent. I know I’m capable of turning this into something worth repeating. The question is just how. How to find joy and aliveness without constant movement. How to be someone who fits into this chapter without losing who I’ve become.

That’s the work. And I don’t have a clean answer yet.

Have you ever been in a season of life that didn’t feel like you?

Not a bad life. Just one that didn’t quite fit the person you’d become. I’d genuinely love to know how you moved through it. Reply and tell me.

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J

The idea: imagine you had to live this exact life again. Infinitely. Every moment, every decision, every mistake, every loss. Not a better version. Not a second chance. This one. Exactly as it happened.

Could you say yes?

I came across this idea a few days ago and haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Not because I have a clean answer, but because I don’t. And the more I sit with it, the more I think the discomfort is the whole point.

Why it’s a useful test

Before I get into my own mess, I think Nietzsche was onto something real here.

Most of us don’t consciously evaluate how we’re living. We drift. Days turn into weeks, weeks into years, and we wake up one morning wondering how we got here. The eternal recurrence cuts through that drift in a way most questions don’t. It forces a gut check.

If your first reaction is “God, no, I wish I had done things differently,” that’s telling you something important. Not to spiral in regret, but to pay attention. To ask whether you’re living in a way that, at the end, you could actually stand behind.

I’ve always had a similar question I ask myself: would I be okay with how I lived if it ended tomorrow? Nietzsche’s version is harsher, not just okay, but willing to do it all over again. Forever. But they’re pointing at the same thing.

I’d rather regret something I tried than something I never had the guts to attempt. When I put my life through this test, that’s the lens I’m using.

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My honest answer

Overall? Yes. I’m 38. I haven’t even hit the halfway point (I hope). But if I zoom out at my life so far, the French village I grew up in, Australia, Miami, four years on the road, landing in Bangkok, I can say yes. I’d do it again. The mistakes, the detours, the friendships that fell apart, the professional failures. All of it led somewhere worth being.

But there are a few moments where my brain just... stops.

And as always when I go deep on something like this, I come back to the infant losses.

Rosie and I went through four pregnancy losses. The hardest was the termination for medical reasons in 2017. I’ve written about it before, but I won’t pretend it gets easier to revisit. That experience was the most painful thing I’ve ever been through. The situation. The decision. The aftermath. Watching Rosie break, and breaking myself. Nearly losing her in the process. All of it.

Would I go through it again?

I have to be honest here, even though part of me, as a coach, feels like I should give you the growth narrative. You know the one: “It was awful, but it was necessary. It woke me up. Everything happens for a reason.”

That would be a lie.

That experience was a catalyst. It cracked me open in a way nothing else had. It’s the reason I started questioning how I was living, why I eventually “escaped the matrix” and built a life on my own terms. In this life, I can trace a direct line from that loss to everything I love about my life today.

But would I voluntarily go through it again, knowing how painful it would be, even knowing the outcome? I genuinely don’t know. I don’t think I could. It broke us individually. Rebuilding was hard. I don’t want to do it again. Ever.

Does that mean I’d choose to stay stuck in the matrix instead? That’s what this question feels like, being asked to choose between cutting off my left arm or my right. I’d like to believe that even without that experience, I would have found my own way to wake up eventually. Through other experiences, other breaking points, other moments of clarity. But I’ll never know that.

And I think that’s okay.

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The part nobody tells you

Nietzsche’s test isn’t really asking whether every moment was worth it. Some moments aren’t. Some things that happen to us are genuinely terrible and we’d be lying to ourselves if we dressed them up as gifts.

What the test is really asking is: in spite of those moments, do you stand behind the arc of your life?

And there, I can say yes.

I’m not at peace with everything that happened. I never fully will be. But I’m at peace with how I responded to it. With the choices I made in the wreckage. With the life I built on the other side of it.

That’s a different kind of yes. Not “I’d choose the pain again.” But “I’d choose who I became because of it.”

I think that’s the honest version of passing the test.

Where this leaves you

Most of us, when asked about our lives, give the surface-level answer. “I’m good. Things are fine.” It’s the socially acceptable response. The mask we wear without even noticing.

But deep down, we can feel the truth.

This question is uncomfortable for a reason. If something bubbles up when you sit with it, that’s worth paying attention to. Not to spiral, but to get honest with yourself, maybe for the first time in a while.

Nobody else is going to do this evaluation for you. And the sooner you do it, the more time you have to actually do something about it.

So one more time:

If you had to live your life exactly as it is, all of it, would you say yes?

And if not, what would need to change?

J

When the young elephant arrives, they don’t start with tricks. First, they put a collar around its neck and peg it to the ground with a rope. The peg is strong enough to hold a baby elephant. It can walk around, but if it pulls, it can’t escape.

After a while, the young elephant understands it’s not strong enough. So it stops pulling. It accepts the situation.

That’s when the training begins.

As the elephant grows, the collar stays on. The peg stays in the ground. And even when it becomes a fully grown adult - one of the most powerful animals on the planet - it never tries to escape.

Not because it can’t.

But because it still believes it can’t.

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I heard this story during a life coaching course I took last year. I don’t know if it’s true - but that doesn’t matter. It stuck with me, and I share it with my own students regularly.

Do you feel sorry for the elephant? I do a little.

What a shame. If only it knew how strong it had become. One pull - one single pull - and it would be free.

But it won’t try. The belief was formed too early, ran too deep, and never got updated.

That’s what conditioning does.

I had my own version of that peg for a long time.

Growing up, I was convinced there was only one way to live a good life: get a degree, find a stable job at a big company, climb the ladder. Get married, buy a house, have kids. That was the plan. That was success. I never questioned it - I just assumed it was the only path available to someone like me.

When Rosie and I graduated, she wanted to travel before settling down. I said no. We had to be responsible. We couldn’t just go off traveling - that was for rich people, not us.

I was a fully grown elephant, completely convinced the peg was still holding me.

It took years - new people, new environments, new experiences - before I finally understood there were other paths. That I could actually live differently. That the rope I thought was holding me down had never really been there.

And once I pulled? Everything changed.

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Now I’ll ask you the same question I ask myself.

Which beliefs did you form early on - in childhood, as a teenager, or even as an adult - that are still quietly running your life today? Beliefs that were real once, but are completely outdated now?

Which pegs are you still not pulling on... even though you absolutely could?

If you feel like your inner-young-elephant needs support finding the peg, reply to this email, I read every message. And if you want to work on it properly, here’s how we can do that together.

Email Me

J

Not fluently, not perfectly - just enough to communicate with locals who don’t speak English. Enough to order food without my phone, to have a basic conversation, to not feel like a complete tourist in the country I now live in.

I have two apps downloaded on my phone. I haven’t opened either of them in weeks. I have YouTube channels saved. Haven’t watched a single video.

I want to get the medal... but I just don’t want to run the race.

And honestly? I’m not about to pretend I’m going to fix that anytime soon. The truth is, I don’t want it enough right now. I can always find English-speaking people here. Google Translate does the job. I know hello and thank you in Thai, and somehow, life goes on just fine.

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I’m writing this not because I have a great success story to share, but because I think most of us can relate to this feeling.

Why We Never Actually Get There

We all have goals. Fitness goals, career goals, relationship goals, personal ones. Big ones, small ones.

But most of them? We never actually get there.

Not because we can’t. Because we don’t want to go through the process of getting there.

We love the destination. We just don’t want to go through the journey to get there.

I see this with myself, with my wife Rosie, with my coaching clients. It’s everywhere.

Getting fit. Meditating. Reading more. Earning more money. Starting a business. Having better relationships. We all want those things, or at least the idea of them. But they all require investing real time and energy. We love the outcome. We just don’t always love the process to get there.

One of the reasons this happens - and I’m sure you can relate - is how big the task feels. To learn Thai, I need to learn a full new alphabet (which is not easy when all the letters look like drawings to me at the moment), understand concepts I’ve never heard of like tones, and get comfortable being terrible for a very long time. When I compare where I am now (hello and thank you, basically) to where I want to be... the gap is so big it’s paralyzing.

So I don’t start.

And honestly? The real reason is simple: I’m not willing to make it a priority. Not with my time, and not financially either - I haven’t signed up for a class or hired a teacher. I’d rather spend that time and money on other things. That’s the truth.

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Why Our Brain Talks Us Out of It

There’s something psychological about this. We’re actually very good at doing things when we have no choice. When our back is against the wall, when the stakes are high. But when they’re not? When we feel like we have time? It’s very easy to procrastinate.

If I went to the doctor tomorrow and they told me “change your diet or you’ll likely have a heart attack next year”… I don’t know about you, but personally I’d change my diet. Fast.

But if my cholesterol is just a little high and I feel fine... I’ll probably keep eating the same way.

Same thing with work. If I was jobless with no money coming in, I’d dedicate hours every day to learning a new skill or finding clients. But if I already have a comfortable job, even one I hate, I’ll probably not do much about it. Because complaining is easier than spending your evenings developing new skills for 3 to 6 months to change careers. I see so many people stuck in that exact situation.

Our brain loves comfort. As long as it feels safe, it will keep sending us signals to stay comfortable. It will tell us: “why would we waste time and energy getting uncomfortable for something we don’t even need?” And we fall for that, every time.

That’s true for fitness goals, career goals, language learning. That’s why New Year’s resolutions don’t last.

Without a strong enough why, our brain will win that fight every time. And we’ll end up on the couch, scrolling our phones, while our goals stay goals.

I know this firsthand, in both directions.

Back in 2010, I moved to Australia for an internship. I barely spoke English. Almost nobody around me spoke French. I had to figure it out just to find an apartment, survive at work, buy groceries. I had no choice. I was so determined that I actively avoided making French friends so I had no way out but to speak English all the time. I struggled for weeks. And I pushed through it anyway - because I had to, and because I knew it was going to be a great investment for my future.

Right now, learning Thai? I don’t have that. I can always fall back on English or Google Translate. The discomfort of not speaking Thai is not painful enough to make me move.

So What Do You Actually Do About It?

I think it comes down to two questions.

1. Do you actually want this, or do you just like the idea of it?

Be honest with yourself. There’s a big difference between genuinely wanting something and just liking the version of yourself who has it.

Because if you don’t want it enough, no productivity hack is going to save you. You’ll just keep downloading apps and not opening them. (Ask me how I know.)

If the answer is yes, you do genuinely want it, then:

2. How can you make the process more enjoyable?

Because if the path to your goal feels like torture, you won’t stay on it for long.

That’s actually why apps like Duolingo work. Instead of sitting in a boring classroom memorizing grammar rules, they gamify the whole thing. Small wins, regular progress, just a few minutes a day. The content is the same, but the experience is different enough that people actually stick with it.

Having accountability partners does something similar. Going through the discomfort with someone else makes it much easier to keep showing up. I’ve written about this in the context of solo entrepreneurs, and the same logic applies here. Honestly, that’s a big part of why people hire me as a coach too. Most of the time they already know what they need to do… they just can’t make themselves do it alone. Having someone in their corner to support them, challenge them, and help them navigate the hard parts makes all the difference.

The goal isn’t to make the process easy. It’s to reduce the friction enough that you actually start, and keep going.

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And if you can’t honestly answer those two questions?

Maybe that goal just isn’t for you right now. And that’s okay.

Not every goal deserves to be chased. Some things look great on paper but don’t actually fit where you are or what you truly want at this point in your life. Letting go of them isn’t failure. It’s just being honest with yourself.

Right now, speaking Thai isn’t a real priority for me. Maybe it will be one day. But at least I’m not lying to myself about it anymore.

Is there a goal or ambition you’ve been holding onto that you don’t actually want enough to do the work for?

J

But before I get to that, I need to rewind a few years.

A club born from an NFT

In 2022, I purchased some NFTs. One of the projects I got involved in was Futera United, a Bangkok football club. The idea was simple: start a club at the lowest level of Thai amateur football and work our way up the leagues, one promotion at a time.

Being a holder gave you access to a private platform where, alongside the staff and other holders, you could actually help run the club. Choosing a logo. Picking the jersey kits. Deciding which players should start. A real-life version of Football Manager, a game I grew up loving.

So since 2022, I’ve been following Futera United’s journey, watching games online and staying engaged with the community.

Two years in the amateur leagues. Then two seasons at the semi-professional level. And this season (2025/2026), after just four years of existence, the club became fully professional, competing at the third tier of Thai football.

Last Saturday was the final home game of the season. It wasn’t an easy year, but the team survived and stayed up. That alone is a fantastic result.

After the game, I walked over to one of our players and asked if I could have his jersey. He kindly said yes.

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The symbol behind this jersey

His name is Phu.

Phu has been with Futera United since day one. Him and the goalkeeper are the only two players still here from the very beginning. Back in 2022, he was a teenager, our wonder kid. Now, he is a starter on a professional football team.

He became a professional footballer.

What was once just a dream for a kid is now his reality.

The journey wasn’t easy. Ups and downs. This season was especially tough for him. It took him nearly half the season to find his level at this new standard of play. But he got there, through hard work and sheer determination.

I don’t know Phu personally. The language barrier makes it difficult to communicate. But I wanted that jersey because of what it represents. It’s a reminder that dreams can become real. That if you work hard enough, believe in yourself, and have the right people around you, the impossible starts to look a lot more possible.

What happened to your dreams?

We all had them as kids. Those big, ridiculous, wonderful dreams.

I wanted to be an architect. Then a paleontologist. Then an astronaut.

At some point along the way, those dreams quietly disappeared. I don’t remember the exact moment, but somewhere between childhood and my teenage years, adults told me to be more realistic. To focus on school. To get a stable job that paid well. Nobody said my dreams were impossible outright, but that’s what was implied.

By the time I was a teenager, the astronaut and the paleontologist were long gone. I just wanted to work in tech because I heard it wasn’t too tiring and paid decently. Not exactly the stuff of childhood imagination.

I’m not blaming anyone. That’s just how it goes for most of us. The world is good at slowly convincing us to lower the bar.

Too many people give up on their dreams and settle for mediocre lives. I say that not to be harsh, but because I believe it, and I think deep down, a lot of people know it’s true about themselves.

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It’s not too late

I stopped dreaming for a long time. Into my twenties, into my thirties.

To be fair, I was still enjoying life. Still achieving things. But the dreams I was chasing weren’t really mine. They were the ones people had mapped out for me.

It took a personal tragedy (you can read about it here) to wake me up to that. Suddenly, the comfortable path I had been walking didn’t feel like safety anymore. It felt like a waste.

So I started dreaming again, but this time for myself.

I dreamed about an unconventional life. No regular job. No mortgage. Seeing as much of this world as I possibly could. It sounded unrealistic to a lot of people around me. It sounded impossible to part of me.

But I worked on it. I worked on my self-limiting beliefs, the fears that had been keeping me small. I got clear on what I actually wanted, built a plan, and eventually, one step at a time, I turned it into reality.

That’s why I live in Bangkok today. That’s why I’m at a professional football game on a Saturday afternoon, going home with a striker’s jersey under my arm.

If you’re reading this and thinking “yeah, cool story, but I’m not 19 anymore, those kinds of dreams don’t apply to me,” I hear you.

I thought the same thing.

But I don’t think the ability to dream ever leaves us. I think it just gets buried under years of practicality, responsibility, and other people’s expectations. Underneath all that, there’s still a version of you that knows what it actually wants.

I call it your inner child. And it doesn’t have to stay buried.

The dreams you reconnect with as an adult might look different from the ones you had at eight years old. They’ll probably be a bit more grounded, a bit more nuanced. But they’re still yours. And you still have the power to pursue them.

It starts with one thing: believing it’s possible.

In a world that can feel pretty heavy right now, I wanted to share this lighthearted story. Because Phu becoming a professional footballer at a club that didn’t exist four years ago is proof that good things still happen.

At the end of this strange, short life, you’re going to die either way. You might as well have gone for it.

I’ll leave you with two questions:

What did you dream about as a kid?

And which of those dreams, or a version of them, could you start moving toward today?

I’d love to read your answers in the comments.

J

I was enrolled in a self-development program near Miami called Gratitude Training. The goal was to shed our self-limiting beliefs, embrace who we are, and show up more fully in our lives. It was one of the most challenging and rewarding things I’ve ever done. I made friends for life.

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During one of the weekends, we walked into a room where chairs were lined up facing a small stage. Just a mic on the floor.

The exercise: get on stage, grab the mic, and answer a single question the room would ask you, over and over again.

“Who are you?”

If people didn’t feel you were really answering - if your words didn’t sound right - anyone could ask again. Any time.

I decided to go up.

Standing there with the mic, staring at 50+ people, I took a breath and started talking.

“I’m Jeremie. I’m a man. I’m a husband. I’m a son. I’m French. I’m caring. I’m kind...”

I kept going. Where I’m from. What I do. What I like.

The question kept coming back.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, I remember thinking: I don’t fucking know.

I walked off that stage more confused than when I got on it.

But something had been lit. A question I had never seriously asked myself before was now lodged in my head - and it’s never really left. That moment set me on a path of introspection and self-discovery that I’m still on today.

Years later, I still can’t answer it.

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So let’s explore it together.

Are we our bodies?

It’s the most obvious answer on the surface - our bodies are what make us physically present in the world. But something about it doesn’t sit right with me. Our bodies carry too much impermanence. I read somewhere that most of our cells are replaced every 7 to 10 years. We change physically throughout our entire lives in ways we don’t control. If what makes us up is constantly shifting... can we really say our body is what makes us us?

I don’t think so.

Are we our brains?

The nerdy, rational part of me really connects with this. Unlike most cells, many of our neurons last a lifetime. Our brain develops as we develop, ages as we age. It stores our memories. Our experiences, choices, and actions physically shape it over time. It’s the center of our awareness, our personality, our thinking.

Does our brain contain our soul? That’s where it gets murky for me. But as the one constant at the core of our physical existence, this theory feels the most plausible.

Are we the things we say about ourselves?

That’s essentially what I was doing on stage. Listing labels. Roles. Adjectives. The bundle of things I associate with myself at any given moment.

But that bundle has shifted enormously throughout my life. What defined me at 20 looks almost nothing like what defines me now. So if what I say about myself keeps changing... what does that mean for who I actually am?

Are we our thoughts and actions?

We often hear things like: “you are not your job” or “it’s not because you did a bad thing that you are a bad person.” I’ve said those things myself, and I believe them.

Our thoughts are incredibly fleeting, they come and go within seconds sometimes. Can something that temporary really be the foundation of who we are? That doesn’t feel right either.

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None of these answers fully hold up. And that’s what I keep coming back to.

Are we our identity - whatever that even means? The sum of our past experiences? A combination of body, mind, and something we loosely call a soul or consciousness?

We’ve solved extraordinarily complex problems as a species. We’ve unlocked scientific mysteries, explored the universe, built things that would look like magic to people 200 years ago.

And yet this question - the most personal one there is, the one every single human being could ask themselves - still has no clear, agreed-upon answer.

Maybe that’s because the answer looks different depending on where you’re standing. Culture, religion, personal belief, lived experience - they all shape how we respond to it. And none of us can really tell another person they’re wrong.

Maybe the answer isn’t even the point. Maybe asking the question is the point, because sitting with it is one of the deepest forms of self-exploration there is.

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I’m not sharing my own conclusion here - deliberately. I don’t want my take to color yours. This isn’t a post where I hand you an answer. It’s an open invitation to explore.

So here’s my question for you:

If you were standing on that stage right now, mic in hand, 50 people staring at you - what’s the first thing you’d say?

Drop it in the comments, or hit reply if you’re reading this by email. I’m super curious to read what you would say 😁

J

Not in a deep, felt way. Not in a way that actually changes how they show up every morning.

And I get it. It’s easy to be caught up in the daily grind, the complaints, the comparisons, the feeling that things aren’t where they should be.

But today I want to shake you a little. Because once you see this clearly, you can’t unsee it. And it changes everything.

The Odds of You Existing

Let’s start with the numbers, because they’re insane.

For the individual you to be alive, an incredible sequence of events had to happen perfectly:

• Your parents meeting: ~1 in 20,000

• Them having a child together: ~1 in 2,000

• The exact sperm + egg combo that made you: ~1 in 400 quadrillion

If you put all that probability into a single coin flip, you’d need to flip heads ~2.6 million times in a row.

That’s how crazy it is that you exist.

And even if we set aside the big math, roughly 1 in 3 pregnancies never makes it to birth. Miscarriages, stillbirths, complications. The fact that you got to breathe for even one day already makes you extraordinarily lucky.

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The Winning Streak That Made You

This one really gets me.

Every single one of your ancestors, going back 4 billion years, survived long enough to reproduce. Not one broke the chain. Through plagues, famines, wars, ice ages, predators - the chain held.

You are the result of an unbroken winning streak across all of life on Earth.

One bad winter. One wrong place at the wrong time. One plague that took out the wrong person. And you don’t exist.

We Are Alone in an Incomprehensibly Large Universe

Take a step back even further.

There are 2 trillion galaxies in the universe, each with hundreds of billions of stars, most with planets. And life as we know it - conscious, self-aware, meaning-seeking life - exists on exactly one of them. So far.

We are made of “space dust,” tiny atoms that somehow organized themselves into something capable of thinking about its own existence. That alone is mind-bending.

And out of 8.7 million species on Earth, you were born as a human being - the most evolved species that has ever lived on this planet. You could have been a fly with a 24-hour lifespan. A cow in a factory farm. A fish.

Instead, you got consciousness. Language. The ability to dream, create, and choose your life.

As far as we know, we are the only species in the entire known universe who can do that.

You Were Also Born at the Best Time in History

I know it doesn’t feel that way when you scroll social media or watch the news. But stay with me.

For 99% of human history, “a good day” meant not starving.

Until the industrial revolution, roughly 200 years ago, all of our focus, energy, and cognitive bandwidth served one single purpose: find food. There was no time to think about purpose, fulfillment, or legacy. Just survival. Hunter-gatherers spent their entire days searching for their next meal. When we settled, it was because we discovered agriculture. Growing food was a revolution.

For the vast majority of human history, food was the meaning of life.

And now? You can have food delivered to your door in 30 minutes. Your ancestors would have considered that magic.

Yet we’re still not satisfied. Still not present. Still not appreciating it.

(And let’s not forget, a lot of people on Earth today are still starving while we throw away mountains of food every single day.)

And You, Specifically, Won Even More Lotteries

If you’re reading this: you speak and read English, which gives you access to the vast majority of the world’s information and opportunities. You have internet. You have enough stability in your life to read a newsletter about personal growth.

You are in a very small percentage of all humans alive on Earth right now.

You have won more lotteries than you realize.

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I Learned This the Hard Way

It took me 29 years to truly understand this. Until I tried to conceive, to create a new life.

Until then, I thought it was just as easy as ordering something on Amazon.

In 2016, we experienced our first miscarriage. In 2017, we found out our baby boy had a very rare and complicated genetic disorder - we made the decision to terminate the pregnancy. In 2019, another miscarriage. In 2020, a missed miscarriage.

We tried 4 times to bring a healthy human life into the world. It didn’t work out.

Because it’s not easy. I saw firsthand how hard life is to create. How fragile it is. How it can be taken before it even starts - even today, at the most advanced point in our civilization.

Those were multiple punches in the face. But they woke me up. I see it clearly now.

I understood, the hard and painful way, how lucky I was to simply be alive and healthy.

So What Are You Doing With It?

We finally have the freedom to actually live, and most people are sleepwalking through it.

You are spending this astronomically rare gift on a job you hate, constantly worrying about what other people think, never satisfied with what you have, and just waiting for “someday” to do anything about it.

You were given a golden opportunity. The universe went through an absurd amount of trouble to get you here.

Are you living like it?

It Doesn’t Have to Stay This Way

I woke up. The hard way - through loss, through grief, through being forced to confront how fragile and precious life actually is.

But you don’t have to wait for a tragedy to shake you awake.

You can decide today to approach your life differently. To stop postponing happiness. To stop living by other people’s scripts. To actually build the life you want, on your terms.

I see it happen constantly with the people I work with. It doesn’t matter your age, your situation, where you’re starting from. When there’s a will, there’s a way. And once you wake up to how precious this life is, you can never go back to sleepwalking through it.

If that resonates with you - if you feel the itch, the discomfort, the sense that there’s more available to you - I’d love to talk.

Let’s have a conversation

Life is too short and too rare to wait.

Four moments where things didn’t go the way I wanted them to. Where I felt frustrated, annoyed, angry, or just... sad.

And in every single one of them, looking back, I see things differently now.

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Sydney, 2010

I arrived in Australia for a 6-month internship, fresh out of France, with broken English and one week of hostel accommodation booked. The plan was simple: find a flat during that first week.

I found a place I liked. Good location, good price. The landlord said there were more visits scheduled, but I could take my time. I messaged him that evening - excited, relieved - ready to say yes.

Too late. Someone else had said yes 5 minutes before me.

I was furious at myself. How could I not have decided faster?

A few days later, I found another spot. Better location, actually. And about 10 days after moving in, a cute blonde English girl walked through the door to move into the girls’ room.

That girl was Rosie. I married her 5 years later.

If I’d been 5 minutes faster that first time, we would have probably never met.

Aix-en-Provence, 2014

My current work contract was ending. My agency sent me to interview at a startup in Marseille, but the traffic getting there was a nightmare. We showed up an hour late. The interview went okay, but a few days later, I heard they went with someone else.

Fine. The daily commute would have been hell anyway.

Then, a week later, my agency called back. The person they hired didn’t work out. They wanted me.

I remember complaining to Rosie: the commute, the traffic, the uncertainty of a brand new startup... I was so unenthusiastic about it.

I started anyway. Sleepy and grumpy on my first day.

I ended up spending 6+ years there. It became the best professional experience of my life. The co-founders offered me the chance to move to Miami, which completely changed the trajectory of everything. I’m still friends with them to this day.

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France, 2017

This one is harder to write about.

Rosie and I had to make the most painful decision of our lives: we terminated our pregnancy at 6 months. The worst day of my life. I’ve written about it before, I won’t go into all the details again here.

What I know now, looking back:

If that pregnancy had gone as planned... we would not have moved to Miami. We would not have traveled the world for 4 years. We would have settled where we were, on autopilot, and life today would probably look almost exactly like it did in 2017… just with a child (or more by now).

I would not have become the person I am today.

2021 and 2022

After leaving Miami, Rosie and I were finally ready to start traveling full-time. We had a plan.

Then family situations came up. Twice. Things completely outside our control. We made the choice to be there, to delay our travels, to put our plans on hold - twice. It also cost us a significant amount of money.

Was I frustrated? Absolutely.

It’s during those months of being “stuck” that the opportunity to build my online yoga school appeared. And because I wasn’t on the road bouncing between cities, I could give it my full attention. I launched it properly.

The school is now closed, but it was a pivotal moment in my entrepreneurial journey. It gave me confidence, experience, and proof that I could build something from scratch. Without those delays, I’m not sure I would have done it at all.

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What All of This Has in Common

In every one of these moments, my first reaction was negative. Frustration. Sadness. Anger. Resentment.

Because I had expectations. And reality refused to match them.

Stoicism has a clear answer for this. Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus, Seneca - they all said it differently, but the message is the same: you do not control what happens to you. You only control how you respond.

Other people’s actions, external events, things that have already happened - none of that is within your control right now. Fighting against it doesn’t change it. It just makes you suffer more.

And yet, what my life has shown me goes a step further than acceptance.

I’m not saying everything happens for a reason in some neat, cosmic way. I don’t know that. What I know is that even that one tragic moment led somewhere I couldn’t have imagined at the time.

Maybe you call it the universe. Maybe God. Maybe coincidence. I don’t have the answer, and honestly, I don’t think it matters.

What matters is the posture. Letting go of what isn’t yours to control, and staying open to what comes next.

I just know that every time I’ve let go, really let go, something better showed up. And that’s enough for me.

Has there been a moment in your life where something going “wrong” actually led somewhere better? I’d love to hear it, hit reply and tell me.

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Sure, other people might get swayed by their friends, but not me. I made my own choices. I was my own person.

Turns out I was full of shit.

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I grew up in an environment where racist and homophobic comments were casual dinner table conversation. For years, I absorbed those beliefs without question - because everyone around me talked that way. It took leaving that environment and meeting the very people I’d been judging before I realized how ignorant I’d been.

That’s the thing about influence, it’s invisible until you step outside of it.

How My Environment Shaped Me (Without Me Realizing It)

I can see it so clearly now - how the people around me molded my beliefs, habits, and choices in ways I didn’t recognize at the time.

The racism and homophobia: When you hear adults casually making horrible comments about people with different skin colors, religions, or sexual orientations, you absorb it. Those beliefs became my beliefs for a long time. It wasn’t until I left that environment and actually met the people I’d been taught to judge that I realized how ignorant and stupid I was.

Nelson Mandela said it perfectly:

“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”

The drinking culture: In France, alcohol is just normal. It’s cultural. There’s always been a bottle of red wine at the table during meals. We always have an aperitif before dinner. A beer while watching sports. For years, this felt as natural as breathing.

Catching up with friends meant going to the pub for drinks. Having someone over for dinner meant a few drinks beforehand, wine during the meal, and digestifs after. Going out meant getting pissed, what’s the point otherwise?

And we never just drank. There was always food: nuts, saucisson, ham, olives, cheese, bread. Delicious, but not exactly health food.

When we moved to Miami, the people we met barely drank, and most were incredibly health-conscious. Without the social pressure, it’s crazy how quickly I adjusted. These days, I drink maybe 4 or 5 times a year - that used to be per week in France. And when I do drink now, it’s because I choose to, not because I feel pressure to look cool.

The health shift: In Miami, my friends were all pretty healthy. So I didn’t just clean up my diet, I got curious about other aspects of health too. Moving my body, taking care of it, mental health practices. That’s when I started meditating, reading self-development books, all that stuff.

The entrepreneurship bug: Guess what environment I needed to get interested in entrepreneurship? You got it: being surrounded by entrepreneurs. I coul√d see firsthand how rewarding it was for them and how they designed their lifestyle around their work instead of the other way around. It inspired me to do the same.

I wasn’t a victim of these influences, I had choices. But let’s be real: social pressure and environment are powerful forces. And most of us aren’t even aware of how much they’re shaping us.

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This Isn’t Just Me, It’s Science

We massively underestimate how much the people around us shape our lives. And I’m not talking about some woo-woo “energy” stuff - I’m talking about cold, hard data.

Health: A Harvard Medical School study found that when someone becomes obese, their friend’s chances of becoming obese increase by 57%. Their siblings? 40%. Their spouse? 37%. But their neighbor (if not part of their social network)? Zero effect. The behavior spreads through relationships, not proximity.

On the flip side, research from the National Institutes of Health shows that people who exercise with a friend are 45% more likely to report good mental health and have a higher likelihood of meeting physical activity guidelines.

Drinking: Students with friends who drink weekly are up to 7 times more likely to drink weekly themselves. Over 85% of people have experienced peer pressure to drink, and 60% of young adults report social pressure to consume alcohol.

Beliefs and values: Friends significantly shape our attitudes through social validation and peer influence. We tend to adopt the values of our inner circle, a phenomenon known as social contagion, which can either reinforce positive growth or encourage negative habits.

This isn’t just correlation. It’s cause and effect. Your friends influence your physical health, mental health, beliefs, values, and habits. Spend enough time with people who have poor health habits and questionable values, and it will affect you. It will shape your thoughts. Your thoughts shape your actions. Your actions become your habits.

Why Are Your Friends Your Friends?

Think about this for a minute:

Why are you spending time with the people around you? Did you actually choose them for who they are... or did you choose them because it was easy?

Most people’s friends fall into three buckets:

• Friends from youth/school

• Neighbors

• People they work with

Maybe a fourth bucket: people from hobby-related activities (gym, sports, music events, whatever).

These are “low-hanging fruit” friends. They were already there, easy to grab, required minimal effort. You went to the same school, worked at the same place, lived nearby - so you became friends.

But is convenience a good enough reason to build your inner circle?

There’s very little introspection in those friendships. No real thought about shared interests, values, or beliefs. No intentionality.

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What to Do About It

If who we spend time with matters this much, what should we actually do about it?

Step 1: Assess Your Current Circle

For each friend in your life, ask yourself:

• Do I feel drained or energized after spending time with them?

• What’s one word that defines our relationship?

• Why did we connect in the first place?

• What do we share right now: beliefs, interests, values?

• If we were meeting today for the first time, would we become friends again?

Be honest with yourself. Really honest.

Step 2: Don’t Be Afraid to Move On

The uncomfortable truth: we struggle to move on from friendships.

But let’s be real, we can be best friends with someone at one point in life and grow apart later. We all change. I did. You did. They did.

The “old us” might have been super compatible, but the new versions might not be anymore. And that’s okay.

It’s fine to change. It’s encouraged, even. It’s okay to grow apart. It doesn’t make you or them bad people, just different.

If necessary, move on. Sometimes that means “I’ll never see them again.” But sometimes it just means putting boundaries in place, seeing each other a few times a year instead of weekly.

Once I became aware of all this, I didn’t hesitate, I did what was best for me. I put physical distance between myself and certain people in France by moving and traveling. I let those relationships fade naturally. With people I couldn’t distance myself from - like family - I decided to spend less time with them and keep conversations surface-level, avoiding topics that could create tension.

It might sound selfish, but prioritizing your growth and wellbeing isn’t selfish, it’s necessary.

Step 3: Be Intentional About Building New Friendships

Building friendships as an adult is hard. It’s an investment of time and energy.

But just like romantic relationships, be mindful about where and how you connect with people. You probably wouldn’t look for your long-term partner, the love of your life, at a strip club (and if you would, no judgment) - so maybe don’t expect to find your healthy, wise, spiritual friend at the local dive bar.

What does it mean to be intentional about making friends?

Ask yourself what you want from friendship and what you have to offer. What are your non-negotiables? Based on that, ask yourself where you’re most likely to meet people with those qualities and values.

We tend to level up or down to match the people we spend time with. Spend time with people doing less than you, and you’ll drift backward. Spend time with people ahead of you, and you’ll get pulled forward. It’s not about judging anyone, it’s about recognizing that proximity shapes trajectory. If you want to grow, surround yourself with people who are already where you want to be.

Then put yourself out there, in those environments. Invest time and energy. Don’t settle for the first person who shows up.

You can also be strategic about this. And no, I don’t mean taking advantage of people, I mean being smart.

If you want to get into business or entrepreneurship, try to connect with people already doing it. If you want to get fit and build better health habits, find friends at the gym instead of the pub. If you want to get better with finances, maybe spend less time with the friend who lives life on a credit card.

Your environment shapes you. Your friends influence you. You might as well design that influence intentionally.

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Final Thought

I’m not saying you need to dump all your old friends and start fresh (though if that’s what you need, go for it).

What I am saying is this: pay attention to who you’re spending time with. Notice how they make you feel. Notice what behaviors, beliefs, and habits you’re absorbing from them.

And if you realize your circle isn’t serving the life you’re trying to build?

Change it.

The quickest way to change your life is to change your inner circle.

Fair point.

This system was established long before any of us were born. We didn’t vote for it... but somehow we all got enrolled into it anyway.

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The Reality (Whether We Like It or Not)

Let’s unpack a few things.

We live in a world where we need to pay for things. Being 100% self-sustainable is incredibly hard in our current world. It’s totally impossible and unrealistic for the majority of us. Yes, we can still trade and exchange things... but the opportunities are limited and can’t offer everything we want.

So we have expenses. And to pay them, we need money.

How do we earn money? We could steal it, I guess, but the ethical and accepted way to earn money is to work.

We work to earn enough to pay for our expenses and meet our needs.

Now that we agree on this basic principle, let’s talk about being financially free.

What Financial Freedom Actually Means

I was watching a podcast with Ali Abdaal the other day, and he gave a definition of financial freedom that finally made it click for me.

I’ve used the term “financial freedom” for years. But if you had asked me to define it before this podcast, I would’ve said something vague like “making and having enough money to pay for the lifestyle I want without having to worry or count dollars.”

Ali’s answer was much more accurate:

Reaching real financial freedom is when your passive income covers your expenses.

Simple. Clear. And the key word here is passive income. Otherwise, you’re not really free.

So how do you generate passive income? You need assets.

Assets can be:

• Financial assets - stocks, bonds, investments earning you monthly interest or dividends

• Physical assets - real estate you’re renting out, art, other tangible investments

• Business assets - a business earning you money without requiring your active presence (you created something once and automated or delegated it), royalties from a book you wrote, AdSense money from a YouTube channel

If those earnings cover your expenses... you’re good. No need to work and trade your time or knowledge for money anymore. Congrats.

From there, your lifestyle depends on the extra you have. If your passive income just covers your expenses with nothing left over, you might choose to live a simple life. If you make more than you spend, you can treat yourself however you please.

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The Catch-22

Okay, so now we know how to reach financial freedom! We need passive income, and therefore we need assets.

But wait. How do I get those assets?

Good question... seems like a catch-22, right?

There are only three ways:

1. Inherit them - If you’re lucky, you might inherit your assets. No effort required.

2. Buy them - Purchase an asset like a house and rent it out

3. Build them - Build an app, write a book, create a company

For the majority of us, buying is the most accessible option. But how do you buy an asset? With money. How do you get that money? With a job.

Back to square one 😅

This is why reaching financial freedom is hard as fuck, and only a few achieve it.

The wealthy already have the assets and just pass them down. Easy for them.

If you don’t have generational wealth or starting capital, you can rely on luck (play the lottery) or bet on yourself and build something. We’ve seen people build an audience and monetize it, publish a successful book, build an empire one video at a time (look at MrBeast), or create successful companies.

But that’s still only a minority of people. The majority don’t have the skills, knowledge, ambition, courage, or energy to build something like this.

That’s why most people just work.

The Actual Path Forward

The key is to work and be clever about your finances.

To get the asset, you need extra cash. Money left over after your expenses each month that you can invest in stocks or save for a property down payment.

To have more extra cash, there are two solutions:

1. Reduce Your Expenses

You can only reduce your expenses so much... but don’t underestimate this. Most people in our society buy dumb shit every day even if they can’t afford it. Be humble. Don’t try to keep up with the Joneses.

Ask yourself before buying something if you really need it. Like, really need it.

Moving cities or countries can have a big impact too. In Miami, my rent alone was $1,800 a month. Once we added everything else, we were spending about $3,000 a month on basics. When I decided to quit my job and build my business, we didn’t pick traveling around the world just for travel’s sake. It was also because traveling to certain parts of the world would massively reduce our expenses - making our savings last longer than if we were just living a regular life in our home countries.

By traveling, we actually reduced our expenses. On average, we spent $1,800 a month while traveling - less than just my Miami rent. That’s one of the reasons we didn’t have to tap into our savings. Even though our new business made little money at first, it was enough to cover our needs.

Living in Bangkok now? Still costs me less (everything included) than just my rent in Miami.

2. Increase Your Income

Reducing expenses is capped. The best way to have extra cash to get an asset is to increase your income.

There’s virtually no cap to how much money you can earn. And there are many ways to do it... ask for a raise, get a better job or switch companies. However, there’s only so much you can do here. Your employer probably won’t give you the 20% increase you ask for 😆

The less capped way to make money is by starting a business. Here, with the right product, the right market, and a real solution to a real problem, you can potentially make unlimited amounts of money.

It won’t be easy... but it’s a wide range. Building a six-figure business can already provide a nice cushion of extra cash which will get you assets quickly.

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My Personal Journey

I’ll be honest with you, I’m fairly early on this journey myself.

Like most of us, I wasn’t educated about the importance of investing when I was young. This is something I started learning about in my 30s by reading books and watching podcasts.

At the moment, Rosie and I use our savings to build our long-term wealth by investing in the S&P 500. We’re not optimizing for monthly income right now (like dividend stocks would). I personally like to keep my assets as liquid as possible because you never know what can happen in life. I’d rather invest in stocks than real estate, it can take months to sell a house if you need the cash quickly.

For now, we invest for the future, and I’m focused on building a business that allows me to increase my income. More income means a bigger “extra cash” pile to invest.

Eventually, I’d like to diversify assets to balance between income now (dividends) and long-term growth.

Here’s the thing though, I’m not obsessed with full financial freedom. I’m not the type of person who would sit around doing nothing. I’d be happy with partial freedom.

Why? Because I don’t want to sacrifice my time now working 80-hour weeks to make as much money as possible but not enjoy life, postponing happiness to a later time that’s not even guaranteed. It’s a personal balance.

The Real Investment

Now that we understand what financial freedom truly is and what it takes to get it... do you still want to reach it?

If so, here’s my advice: Invest.

Yes, invest your money from the start. I think it’s a great habit and skill to develop. I wish I had understood the power of investing and compounding over the years earlier. If you’re 20 years old reading this right now, start now. You won’t regret it.

But here’s what I really want you to hear: invest in yourself.

Why? Because as you’ve seen, to get assets, you need to either build them or buy them. To build them, you need skills. To buy them, you need extra cash... and the best way to get extra cash is to increase your income. And for that, you need skills - either for a high-paying job or to start your own business.

Investing in yourself - learning, getting educated - is the single best thing you can do to become financially free.

It doesn’t require capital to get started. We’re lucky to live in a time where information is widely available for free. Just time, dedication, energy, and focus. Nothing else.

I’ve invested heavily in my own growth. Financially, by joining courses, self-development programs, and hiring coaches. Time and energy-wise, by choosing how I spend my time. I’m intentional about what I do when I’m not working. I do my best to read as many educational books as fiction books. I try to watch more educational content than entertainment.

One of the best investments I ever made? Hiring a business coach in 2019. He was a friend who was just starting his coaching program, so Rosie and I got in early at $1,500. Back then, that felt like a LOT of money. Looking back, it was a bargain - worth many times that. I learned how to build an offer, how to run a sales call, and so many other foundational skills. I’ve paid that investment back many times over by applying what I learned.

I also went through a phase where I was ruthless about my content consumption. For a while, I didn’t watch or read anything apart from business content. I’m more balanced now, but that focused learning period was crucial.

Always learning. And I use what I learn in my own business, for myself, and through the support I provide to my clients.

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The Hard Truth

But let me be real with you about what this actually looks like.

It will not happen overnight. This is a process. A long one. It will be hard.

Why? If it was easy, everyone would be financially free.

If you want something that only a tiny percentage of the population has, expect it to be hard. But that’s okay. Hard is good. We learn from doing hard things.

I know what you’re thinking: “But I don’t have time.”

I don’t believe in “I don’t have time.” Time won’t magically appear. You’re going to have to find it. Make it. Make it a priority.

Ditch watching your evening movie and instead learn or build for 2 hours. Wake up 30 minutes earlier. Take a shorter lunch break and use the spare time.

If you think you don’t have time because “you’re so busy,” check your screen time on your phone. Look at how many hours you waste scrolling. Then be honest with yourself.

The best time to start was when you earned your first dollar. The second-best time is today.

Even Partial Freedom is Worth It

Even if you don’t reach full financial freedom, investing in yourself will never be a waste.

If you get 50% of the way there, good on you. You can work part-time.

And even if you don’t get there financially, you’ll have bettered yourself throughout your life. The impact of that on your life and the ones around you cannot be neglected, even if it’s invisible and not financial.

Oh, and one more thing: be careful who you listen to.

Don’t take financial advice from someone who’s broke. Don’t take business advice from someone who’s never had the courage to try.

Most people - especially family, friends, and neighbors - have bad advice. They mean well, but they’re speaking from their own fears and limitations, not from experience.

Listen to people who’ve actually done what you want to do.

Ready to start moving toward financial freedom, even if it’s just partial?

Start today. Be honest about where your time actually goes. Invest in yourself first.

The system might not be perfect, but it’s the one we’ve got. We can either complain about it or learn to win within it.

I’m choosing to win.

What about you? Where are you on this journey toward financial freedom?

If you want to take this discussion further or you’re seeking some support on your path, shoot me an email. I’m always happy to brainstorm and explore what’s possible for you.

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J

Why? Because that’s what everyone around me was doing.

Then I moved to Miami for three and a half years, and something shifted. I met people living completely different lives - people traveling the world while running businesses, solo entrepreneurs who were thriving while taking it easy, people openly pursuing “unconventional” passions. I remember meeting Sam, a 21-year-old “kid” whose goal was to open a university because he thought the current educational system sucked. I was blown away by his ambition. He was already an entrepreneur, and had a big exit a few years later.

Meeting these people opened my mind. It allowed me to think outside the box, to see that life could be lived in many ways... and that it was actually available to me too.

This transformation made me realize something: most of us aren’t becoming who we’re meant to be, but we don’t even know why.

I recently stumbled upon a fascinating framework while reading Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality (yes, I’m reading Harry Potter fan fiction, thank you for the recommendation 😉). In one chapter, Dumbledore explains from each House’s perspective why people fail to become who they’re meant to be.

Each House offers a different twist, but here’s what struck me: there’s truth in all four of them. So today, I want to share these perspectives with you and dive deeper into what might be holding you back.

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Hufflepuff: You’re Too Lazy to Do the Work

“People fail to become who they are meant to be because they are too lazy to put in all the work involved.”

Starting strong with the badger! Harsh answer, but... pretty true in my opinion.

I think we’re great at dreaming and setting goals for ourselves. We love to daydream about the outcome, what’s possible... but very often, this requires work, patience, effort, consistency, perseverance... and that’s when things crumble.

Here’s what I think: people want the finish line without running the race. They want the shiny object without doing the unglamorous work, without going through the process.

It can be laziness, sure. But it could also be that what people believe they’re meant to be isn’t THEIR true belief... it’s what they believe they should be based on societal expectations. Problem is, it’s hard to be truly motivated for a goal that isn’t truly yours at your core. Even if you might not see it... your subconscious is well aware of it.

The solution? Ask yourself who you’re meant to be, and why. Question it. Challenge it. Get crystal clear until you know this is what YOU want deep down.

Start here: Pick ONE goal you have right now and ask yourself “who told me this was important?” Is it truly yours, or did someone else plant it in your head?

From there, if it truly matters to you... you gotta accept that things don’t fall from the sky. You gotta work for it. Even if it’s uncomfortable… especially if it’s uncomfortable! That’s where growth is hiding. No one else can do this work for you. Take accountability for yourself, or future you might regret it.

Ravenclaw: You Lack Knowledge and Self-Awareness

“People fail to become who they are meant to be through ignorance and lack of thought.”

This one is very Ravenclaw! Let me break it down into two parts.

Lack of thought: I do think most people on the planet don’t spend enough time questioning who they are, how they became who they are, and who they want to be and become. Most humans roll through life, they sit in the passenger seat when they get to school, and they successively let others drive. Before it’s too late, they realize they hate most things in their lives and they wonder what happened.

So yes, lack of thought is dangerous. I think constantly asking WHY is a superpower. Question your beliefs, your thoughts, your actions, your choices... look at what you say vs what you do, what you think vs what you say out loud. The gap here is the gap between who you actually are and who you pretend to be.

Ignorance: I kind of agree with the raven here too. Adults don’t learn enough. The lack of knowledge can be a fatal blow, because it keeps you stuck in a situation which feels helpless. So many people live the same days, weeks, and months on repeat... they don’t actively look at what else is out there... what other options or possibilities could be available to them.

And it’s getting worse with social media algorithms. These days, if you show interest in something, you get fed more of it. You slowly build a bubble around you where you only see content aligned with your thoughts and beliefs - which were developed by this content in the first place. That’s why there’s so much hate in the world, so much “us against them” mentality.

This ignorance keeps too many people stuck: stuck in a career, in a relationship, or a location they don’t like anymore.

The solution? Be curious, open-minded, and proactive. Seek newness. Seek knowledge. Seek contrarian takes to challenge your current opinions.

Try this: Next time you catch yourself saying “I should...” stop and ask yourself “should according to who?” Most of our beliefs about what we “should” do aren’t even ours, they’re just narratives we’ve been fed.

Question and challenge what you believe, what you think, what you hear. It will offer new perspectives to you. And with new perspectives come new opportunities.

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Slytherin: You Won’t Do What’s Necessary

“People fail to become themselves because they refuse to do what is necessary to achieve their ambitions.”

This is probably the one I’m least aligned with. Maybe that’s because I don’t like snakes, I’m not evil, and don’t want to become a Dark Lord 😂

I understand this statement in a few ways. “Refusing to do what is necessary” can be seen as the Hufflepuff statement about not being willing to do the work. But Slytherin probably also implies here that people are not willing to “get their hands dirty” and do whatever it takes to get what they want.

Jokes aside, I often see in my coaching that people struggle to make hard choices or set boundaries. Sometimes for things to get better, they first need to get worse... and that can be a tough pill to swallow.

What does “doing what’s necessary” actually look like? It might be:

• Ending a relationship that’s holding you back (or at least setting firm boundaries)

• Having uncomfortable conversations with people you care about

• Relocating somewhere new and starting fresh, even when it feels scary

• Going against the pack in how you live your life

• Taking a risk in your career that might not work out

Many never dare go there and instead stay miserable in their situation... never chasing their dreams and achieving their ambitions. Why? Often it’s because they worry about what people might think of them. Fear of judgment. Fear of being seen as too ambitious, selfish, different.

The solution? My interpretation here would be that sometimes, you need to accept that to become yourself, your true self, you might have to put some things on the line. People will disagree with you, because our society doesn’t encourage and support outliers.

This is something I’ve experienced myself... when I told my family I was planning to become nomadic and quit my job... the news wasn’t welcomed very well. There was backlash, disagreement... some relationships haven’t been the same since. But I didn’t care... I followed my guts and conviction and “became evil” because that’s what I truly wanted. I don’t regret it.

Gryffindor: You’re Afraid

Hermione suggested: “People don’t become who they should be because they’re afraid.”

Dumbledore corrected: “People become who they are meant to be by doing what is right.”

Speaking of fear of judgment, let’s dive deeper into that, because this is where most people really get stuck.

I’m going to admit here, Hermione’s answer is my personal favorite and the one I agree with the most.

Fear paralyzes people. Fear stops people from taking action.

Why? It’s not the fear of the action, the fear of becoming who they should be that’s stopping them. It’s the fear of failing, the fear of the unknown... and the worst of all, the most dangerous one: the fear of what other people think of them.

This is the true virus. We live in a world where people do things not because they want them, they do it to impress people... sometimes people they don’t even like. They put their true desires on hold to fit in, to feel like they belong in the mold of society, to be good citizens.

No wonder the number one regret of people on their deathbed is “I wish I had lived a life true to myself, not the one others expected of me.” It’s the consequence of that.

The solution? Understand that no matter what you do, people will always have an opinion about you, they’ll always judge. Some will like you, some will dislike you. It’s just how human beings operate.

Accept that, and let go of the need to satisfy everyone, it’s an impossible task. And if you’re going to be judged and criticized by some anyway... you might as well do it while being your true self, doing your best to become who you’re meant to be, pursuing your ambitions and dreams.

Start small: Do one thing where you know you’ll be judged, but the consequences are minimal. Try a new hairstyle, wear something different, pick up an unusual hobby. You might get a laugh, but nothing strong enough to really hurt. It’s a great experiment to prove to yourself that people’s opinions aren’t so important, and if people laugh, it’s not such a big deal. Then take it up a notch.

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The Truth? It’s All Connected

Here’s what I’ve learned: most of us aren’t dealing with just one of these. We’re stuck in a loop where they all feed each other.

You’re ignorant of what’s possible (Ravenclaw), which makes the work feel pointless (Hufflepuff), which feeds your fear that maybe this is just how life is (Gryffindor), which stops you from making the hard choices that could change everything (Slytherin).

Breaking free means picking one thread and pulling. It doesn’t matter which house you start with, once you start questioning, learning, acting, or facing your fears, the whole web starts to unravel.

Question for you: What are your takes on those statements? Which one can you relate to the most from your personal experience (e.g., what is stopping you from becoming who you’re meant to be)?

PS: In which house do you think the Sorting Hat would have assigned you to? I think now-me would be a good Ravenclaw... but 11-year-old me might have ended up in Hufflepuff.

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Note: If you’re curious about the book I mentioned, it’s Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality by Eliezer Yudkowsky. It’s available free online and it’s absolutely brilliant.

Someone complains through a Michelin-star meal. Someone else is genuinely happy with a bowl of rice.

What’s the difference? It’s not what they have. It’s what they expected.

We all know people like this. Some seem perpetually dissatisfied no matter how much they have. Others radiate contentment with very little.

And if you’re honest, you’ve probably been both at different times in your life.

The pattern is always the same: the comparison game. We look around, see what others have, and automatically recalibrate what we think we should have. Social media has turned this into an always-on sport.

But here’s what we forget: the person you’re envying? They’re doing the exact same thing. Just about different stuff.

While you’re jealous of their lifestyle, they’re looking at your relationship and feeling empty. Or envying your health. Or wishing they had your family dynamic.

Very few people have it all. To gain something significant, we often have to sacrifice something else.

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What I’ve Learned About Contentment

I’ve seen this pattern everywhere, in wealthy countries and developing ones, in cities and villages. Contentment isn’t reserved for those who have the most. Sometimes it’s the opposite.

There are many paths to a satisfied life, and they don’t all look like the Western script of always wanting more.

The people who seem most content have mastered something most of us struggle with: focusing on what’s within their control and being grateful for what they have.

Part of what makes this easier for some? They’re not constantly exposed to what they’re “missing.”

Sometimes ignorance is bliss. If you’ve never experienced certain luxuries, you don’t know what you’re missing. You’re not trapped in the toxic comparison game that social media has amplified to absurd levels.

Humans have understood this for millennia, that our suffering comes more from our desires and expectations than from our actual circumstances. It’s not a new idea. But it’s one most of us forget in our day-to-day lives.

The Real Secret to Contentment

After years of observing this pattern - in myself, in others, across different cultures - I’ve distilled it down to one core truth:

Contentment isn’t about what you have. It’s about your expectations.

Contentment comes from your expectations being met. When they’re not, you feel disappointed, frustrated, angry.

Your expectations are the source of your satisfaction or dissatisfaction with life.

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My Own Journey With This

This concept of expectation management isn’t just theoretical for me. It’s shaped how I approach my business, and it’s the lesson I learned through the hardest moments of my personal life.

Starting Over With Zero Expectations

When I started my coaching practice this year after closing the yoga school, I was lost. I had no formal training as a coach or consultant. I went in with the best intentions, did my best to learn and prepare... but honestly, I had zero expectations because it felt like a long shot.

So when the first clients started coming in, I was over the moon 🎉

Terrified too, but mostly grateful. Even though I hoped and believed I could help people, I didn’t expect anyone to actually answer my call.

Do I wish I had more clients and was generating more income? Yes, because I need more money to live. But I keep my expectations measured because I know I’m running a marathon here, not a sprint.

That low-expectation mindset has kept me content through the ups and downs of building something new.

The Hardest Lesson

But the most brutal lesson about expectations came from loss itself.

Between 2016 and 2020, Rosie and I experienced four pregnancy and infant losses.

Why was I devastated by the first one? Because I expected that pregnancy meant having a healthy baby.

By the third and fourth losses, I was less emotionally destroyed - not because I cared less, but because I no longer held that expectation. We were pregnant, but I didn’t automatically expect a baby.

It’s a harsh example, but it illustrates the point clearly: our suffering comes from unmet expectations, not from the circumstances themselves.

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So What Do We Do With This?

Understanding this is one thing. Actually applying it is another.

The good news? This is entirely within your control. You can’t control what happens to you, but you can absolutely control your expectations about what should happen.

Instead of trying to control happiness directly, which is impossible, focus on the cause: expectation management.

Think about the last time you got frustrated, angry, or disappointed. It wasn’t the event itself. It was your expectation about how things should have gone.

Now, I know what you might be thinking: “If I lower my expectations, aren’t I just settling? Aren’t I giving up on wanting more from life?”

No. And this is crucial to understand.

You can absolutely be content with what you have and still desire growth, improvement, more. These aren’t contradictory. The difference is in how you hold those desires.

When you attach rigid expectations to outcomes, ”I MUST make $10K this month or I’m a failure”, you set yourself up for suffering. But when you work toward goals without demanding they happen on your timeline, you stay content regardless of the result.

It’s the difference between “I’m building something meaningful” and “I’m not successful unless X happens.”

Which brings me to the most practical tool I’ve found for doing this work...

The Practice That Changed Everything

For me, the most powerful tool has been gratitude.

Since August 1, 2023, I’ve used an app called Daylio every evening before bed. It’s technically a mood tracker (which is fascinating to look back on), but I added a journaling component. Every single day, I write down four things I’m grateful for.

The key? Don’t write the same things every day. Make it intentional.

This practice has transformed how I see my life. I’ve become genuinely grateful for things I completely took for granted: having eyes to see, having air to breathe, having a fridge with food in it, having access to the internet.

But here’s the bigger picture: I’m deeply grateful for my entire situation, whether I was traveling non-stop - even to less-than-ideal places - or now settling in Thailand 🇹🇭

The reason? I never expected to be lucky enough to live this life.

I came from a tiny village in the South of France. I don’t come from a wealthy family. My parents aren’t adventurers who instilled a love of travel or an open mind in me.

Which is why it feels insane that I’ve been able to experience everything I have since turning 30.

I had ZERO expectations this would even be an option for me. So I feel blessed and grateful to be here, for all that’s happened, even if it’s not perfect.

That’s the power of managing expectations through gratitude.

Learning to express gratitude for how your life is going helps you realize your expectations are being met - and more often than not, exceeded in what truly matters.

Here’s the thing: most of our frustration comes from expectations attached to things that are actually meaningless. Very often materialistic things, because that’s what society trains us to want. But gratitude helps you cut through that noise and see what’s real.

Be grateful you had a meal today instead of frustrated the meat was overcooked.

Be grateful you woke up alive this morning instead of envious of your friend’s new car.

Be grateful you have a job to go to instead of annoyed the bus is running late again.

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A Final Note

So for 2026, I’m not going to tell you to set resolutions that’ll be forgotten by January 21st.

This is the real work of building a life on your own terms. Not chasing more. Not comparing yourself to others. But learning to be content with what is while still moving toward what could be.

For 2026, here’s my challenge: Start a daily gratitude practice. Four things, every evening. Make them different each day. Do it for 30 days and see what shifts.

And if you find yourself stuck in the expectation trap - frustrated with your business, your relationships, or where you are in life - reach out.

This is exactly the kind of clarity work I do with my clients.

Here’s to a year of contentment ✨