Tag: Intentional Living

The Myth Of Falling Behind

Lately I’ve been feeling like I’m falling behind.

It’s that voice in the back of my head that whispers I’m not doing enough. The one that tells me if I just hit that all-too-comfortable reset button, I’d somehow find a way to do more.

The thing is…

I’m doing more now than I ever have before.

I’ve published a blog post for thirty-nine consecutive days, taken nearly half a million steps, been reading consistently, and spent meaningful time with my family, all while building this project in a way I’ve never been able to sustain before.

So what exactly am I behind on?

Well, I could make a list pretty easily.

I’m not working out as much as I hoped I would.

While the blog is thriving, the structure behind The Young Napoleon Project still feels unfinished.

I’m not spending as much time writing my book as I imagined.

There are always projects around the house waiting for attention.

And the list keeps growing.

Most nights I feel like I’m scrambling just to catch up before it’s time to go to bed.

So why do I feel so behind?

While researching the idea of falling behind, I came across an article from Verywell Mind about the psychology of feeling behind in life. One idea that resonated with me was that we often compare our present reality to an imagined timeline of where we think we “should” be. That struck me because I realized I wasn’t measuring my progress against where I started—I was measuring it against an ever-expanding vision of where I wanted to go.

Because the further I get into this project…

The bigger the project becomes.

At first, the goals were simple.

Get healthier.

Become more organized.

Be a better husband.

Be a better father.

Launch the blog.

But then the vision expanded.

Now I’m trying to write a novel.

Figure out how to grow the blog.

Build a social media presence.

Coach Little League again.

Volunteer at church.

Follow another San Diego State basketball season.

Every time I accomplish something, I discover something else worth pursuing.

Then I realized…

That’s not a project problem.

That’s a life problem.

There’s always another bill to pay.

Another room to organize.

Another home project.

Another responsibility at work.

Another dream waiting just beyond the one you finally achieved.

It’s something I explored in There Is Always One More Thing. The responsibilities never really disappear—they simply change shape as life moves forward.

The finish line doesn’t get closer.

It keeps moving.

Or maybe…

There was never a finish line at all.

Every night I go to bed carrying two thoughts that seem to contradict each other.

One says:

“I’m proud of what I accomplished today.”

The other whispers:

“You’re falling further behind.”

Maybe the lesson is that both feelings can exist at the same time.

I can be proud of the progress I’ve made while recognizing there is still more I want to do. It’s a realization that builds on A Masterpiece and a Work in Progress. We don’t have to choose between celebrating who we are today and continuing to grow into who we’re becoming.

I can celebrate today’s victories without pretending tomorrow won’t bring new responsibilities.

I’ll never finish everything.

I’ll probably never have an empty to-do list.

But that doesn’t mean I’m behind.

It simply means I’m living a life that’s still growing.

And maybe that’s exactly what The Young Napoleon Project was always supposed to be.

It was never meant to end.

It was never meant to become a completed checklist.

Like I wrote in A Life, Not a Collection of Parts, the project isn’t meant to consume my life. It’s meant to grow alongside it.

It was meant to be a lifelong pursuit of becoming healthier, wiser, more disciplined, more present, and more intentional.

I also came across an article from Big Think discussing the Japanese philosophy of Kaizen, or continuous improvement. One idea that resonated with me was that meaningful growth isn’t about reaching a final destination—it’s about committing to getting a little better over time. That feels much closer to what I want The Young Napoleon Project to become than a checklist I someday get to cross off.

Because if one day I truly became “caught up”…

There would be nothing left to dream about.

Nothing left to learn.

Nothing left to become.

When I really think about it, I still have weight to lose.

Books to write.

Projects to finish.

Habits to build.

Places to explore.

Memories to make with my family.

And I hope that list never disappears.

Because maybe I’m not falling behind at all.

Maybe I’m simply living in the messy middle.

And maybe that’s where all meaningful lives are lived.

Continue the Journey

Further Reading:

Verywell Mind — “How Do I Stop Feeling Like I’m Behind in Life?”

https://www.verywellmind.com/how-do-i-stop-feeling-like-im-behind-in-life-11729611

Big Think — “Kaizen: The Japanese Philosophy of Enduring Growth”

https://bigthink.com/smart-skills/kaizen-enduring-growth/

Don’t Let Your Storm Get Your Kids Wet

I was scrolling through social media the other night when I came across a quote that stopped me in my tracks:

“Don’t let your storm get your kids wet.”

I found that to be profound because it’s something I struggle with more often than I’d like to admit. After reading it, I sat with it for a while and decided that I needed to be more intentional about who I was showing up as in front of my boys.

Yesterday put that to the test.

I don’t talk about work much here because it’s not really relevant to what I’m trying to build, but yesterday was a frustrating day. Without going into detail, I just felt like I was destined for something more, and that feeling weighed on me heavily as the day went on. I ended up leaving work late and getting to Brooks’s karate class just in time.

He did great.

He has been practicing all week, and it showed. He was more confident, more focused, and had clearly improved.

But with where I was mentally, I found myself focusing on the things he could still be doing better instead of celebrating how far he’d already come.

On the drive home, I started talking about those things before I caught myself.

I was letting my storm get him wet.

I made the conscious decision to stop and instead praise the improvement, because that’s what he needed to hear.

When doing research for this post, I came across an article from Lead You First about praising effort instead of innate ability. It argued that recognizing persistence, improvement, and hard work encourages people to keep growing rather than fearing mistakes. That is what Brooks needed from me in that moment. He didn’t need another list of things to do better just because that what I had chosen to focus on. He needed to know that the work he’d already put in mattered. It reminded me of something I wrote in The Belt Isn’t Earned on Test Day. Progress isn’t measured by perfection—it’s measured by growth.

After dinner, my mind immediately shifted back to everything that still needed to be done. I was behind on my work for this project. I had skipped my daily reading during my breaks because of how frustrated I’d been at work. I hadn’t taken enough steps. The dishes still needed to be done. The trash cans needed to go out. I still had to get ready for tomorrow.

I could feel the storm clouds gathering.

The boys were in the living room, so I walked out and sat on the couch. Brooks climbed up beside me. I could tell he wasn’t there to cuddle.

He was there to create chaos.

And in that moment I had a decision to make.

Do I brush him off and leave him standing out in the rain, letting him get soaked too?

Or do I open an umbrella and keep us both dry for a little while?

For the next thirty minutes we wrestled across the couch as he tried to escape through fits of breathless laughter. Joseph eventually joined the fray until Jillian whisked him away for his bath.

The work was still waiting for me.

But so were my boys.

That moment reminded me of A Life, Not a Collection of Parts. Spending time with my boys wasn’t taking me away from the project—it was part of the life this project is supposed to help me build.

Later that evening, after the kids were in bed and the chores around the house were finished, I sat down to work on things here and came back to that quote.

“Don’t let your storm get your kids wet.”

My kids shouldn’t become collateral damage because I had a rough day.

That’s not fair to them.

I’m not saying that as dads—or moms—we should bottle up our emotions, because that isn’t healthy either. Our children should know that adults have hard days. They should see that it’s okay to be honest about how we’re feeling.

In doing some further reading I found an article from ReachLink about what it calls “dad rage.” One point that stood out to me was that anger is often a secondary emotion, masking things like stress, exhaustion, disappointment, or feeling overwhelmed. That resonated with me because, if I’m honest, the frustration I carry home usually isn’t about my kids at all. It’s about everything that happened before I walked through the front door. Recognizing that doesn’t excuse my reactions, but it does help me understand them—and gives me the opportunity to respond differently.

Our emotional responses to things outside our homes aren’t burdens our children should have to carry.

If I’m being honest, this isn’t something I’m naturally good at.

I wear frustration on my face.

When I’ve had a bad day, people can usually tell.

Whether it’s stress from work, my back hurting, frustration while coaching, or simply running out of patience as a dad, my storms have a way of becoming everyone else’s weather.

And that’s something I want to change.

We all have storms in our lives.

The question is…

Who are we allowing to get soaked by them?

It also made me think back to There Is Always One More Thing. The work is always waiting. The responsibilities never disappear. But that’s exactly why we have to be intentional about the people standing in front of us instead of carrying the weight of everything still left to do.

My boys are going to grow up, and one day they’ll understand just how difficult life can be. They’ll experience disappointment, stress, heartbreak, and frustration for themselves.

I want them to know it’s okay to be emotional.

I want them to know it’s okay to be honest.

I want them to know it’s okay to cry, to struggle, and to have hard days.

But I also want them to know that we can choose how much of those storms we allow to fall on the people we love.

I know I’ll get frustrated again.

I know there will be more difficult days.

That’s life.

But I hope I become better at recognizing the storm clouds over my own head and opening the umbrella before the rain reaches my boys.

Because my bad day doesn’t have to become theirs.

And maybe one day, when they’re fathers themselves, they’ll remember not that I never had difficult days, but that I tried my best not to let those days define our time together. In many ways, that’s the same lesson I hoped to pass along in Little Eyes Are Always Watching—our children are learning from far more than the words we say.

Continue the Journey:

Further Reading:

Lead You First — “How to Praise Your Kids and Team to Increase Effort, Persistence and Motivation”

https://leadyoufirst.com/how-to-praise-your-kids-and-team-to-increase-effort-persistence-and-motivation/

ReachLink — “Dad Rage: Understanding and Managing Anger as a Father”

https://www.reachlink.com/advice/anger/dad-rage/

A Life, Not A Collection Of Parts

Yesterday I got home from work and it was obvious that Brooks was tired. He had spent the day swimming with his cousins and didn’t have much left in the tank. I got changed, we sat down to dinner, and afterward, instead of diving into my usual evening routine, we decided to have a family movie night.

The work was still there.

The dishes.

The writing.

The project.

The chores.

They could all wait for two hours.

Instead, it was Trolls 3 and taking turns with kids in my lap as we watched, danced, and sang along with the movie.

To say that I wasn’t thinking about this project during the movie would be a lie. I’m always thinking about what I could be doing next. But for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I should have been doing something else. I didn’t feel guilty for sitting there. I didn’t feel like I was falling behind.

That’s different than it has been in the past.

During previous attempts to launch this project, every minute I wasn’t moving it forward felt like a minute I had wasted. The project slowly began to consume my life.

This time, I’ve realized something different.

The project needs to be integrated into my life, not consume my life.

In researching the idea of integration, I came across a Forbes article about how work-life integration being different than work-life balance. Rather than trying to divide life into perfectly equal compartments, the article argued for building a life where the different parts support one another. That stuck with me because I am not trying to choose between this project and my family—I am learning that the goal of this project is to make me better for my family. 

A few days ago I wrote There Is Always One More Thing, where I realized that the work is never really finished. Looking back, I think this is the next step in that lesson. If the work is never going to end, then I have to learn how to live while it’s still unfinished.

Because the purpose of this project was never to become someone who only works on the project.

The purpose is to become a healthier, happier, and more present husband, father, writer, and man.

Sometimes that means sitting on the couch with my boys, laughing through Trolls 3.

I’ve always tried to separate my life into categories: Family. Health. Marriage. Career. Writing. And I still think there’s value in that. Work should stay at work. Family time should be protected. You and your spouse need time together. It’s even how I built The Young Napoleon Project, dividing it into different departments that reflect the major areas of my life.

But that doesn’t mean those parts exist in isolation.

They overlap.

They influence one another.

Becoming healthier gives me more energy to be present with my family. Writing helps me think more clearly. A strong marriage makes me a better father. Spending time with my boys reminds me why I’m working so hard in the first place.

They’re not competing priorities.

They’re different pieces of the same life I’m trying to build.

That realization also reminded me of Adventure Is Closer Than You Think. The goal of that day wasn’t simply to visit Cabrillo National Monument. It was to spend meaningful time together as a family. The adventure wasn’t separate from the project—it was part of it all along.

My writing matters.

My health matters.

My marriage matters.

My boys matter.

None of those priorities are competing for my attention.

They’re all reasons I started this project in the first place.

While thinking about that, I also read an article from Becoming Minimalist about living intentionally. One of the ideas that stood out to me was that intentional living isn’t about doing more—it’s about making sure the things that matter most actually receive our attention. That felt like a good reminder that building a better life isn’t about perfectly balancing every responsibility each day. It’s about choosing to invest your time in the people and pursuits that align with the life you’re trying to create.

We only get twenty-four hours in a day, so naturally some days will lean more heavily toward work. Other days might be focused on family, health, or writing. The goal isn’t to give every part of your life equal time every single day. The goal is to make sure none of the parts that matter most are neglected for too long.

That doesn’t mean every day will feel perfectly balanced. As I wrote in I Finally Stopped Waiting to Feel Motivated, some days require discipline simply to keep moving forward. Other days require the discipline to recognize that your family deserves your full attention. Both are important.

Life isn’t lived in perfectly balanced twenty-four-hour blocks.

It’s lived in seasons.

Sometimes those seasons last a day.

Sometimes they last much longer.

When the movie ended, I still got my work done around the house. I put Brooks to bed. While Jillian went for a walk, I got ready for today. Then I sat down and worked on Beneath The Silt before finishing the night watching a show with Jillian.

Everything that mattered got some of my time.

Not equally.

But intentionally.

And that’s enough.

Because sometimes the most important work isn’t sitting at your desk.

Sometimes it’s sitting on the couch with your kids, laughing at Trolls 3 for the twelfth time.

That’s something I hope Brooks and Joseph remember long after they forget which movie we watched, just like I wrote in Why Ordinary Days Matter More Than Big Moments. The ordinary evenings are often the ones that quietly become the memories that last.

The Young Napoleon Project isn’t about building a better project.

It’s about building a better life.

Continue the Journey:

Further Reading:

Forbes — “Work-Life Integration Could Soon Replace Work-Life Balance”


https://www.forbes.com/sites/forbesbooksauthors/2023/11/27/worklife-integration-could-soon-replace-worklife-balance/

Becoming Minimalist — “Living Intentionally”

https://www.becomingminimalist.com/living-intentionally/

There Is Always One More Thing

Yesterday was a long day.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, I was tired, cranky, and ready to be home. On the way home I had to stop at the bank, then swing by my parents’ house because the tire pressure light had come on in the car and my dad has an air compressor.

By the time I finally walked through the front door, dinner was already on the table.

I didn’t get the chance to change clothes.

I didn’t get a chance to decompress.

I just walked straight from the car to the dinner table.

The kids weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

I was.

I was tired.

Sensitive to every noise.

Already frustrated before anything had actually gone wrong.

Before dinner I had promised the boys that we’d go for a walk around the neighborhood afterward, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

You could hear it in my voice as we walked out the door.

I didn’t want to go.

And before long…

Neither did the kids.

The walk was stressful. The boys weren’t listening. Joseph was all over the place, keeping me on edge every time we got close to the street. By the time we made it back home, I was completely drained.

Instead of doing what I needed to do, I collapsed into my chair until it was time to put Brooks to bed.

I managed a smile.

An “I love you.”

A hug.

A goodnight.

Then I walked back into the kitchen and remembered everything that was still waiting for me.

The dishes.

Taking out the trash.

Getting ready for tomorrow.

The evening chores.

Brooks woke up twice after I put him down, and by the time everything finally settled, it was after nine o’clock.

I collapsed back into my chair and mindlessly scrolled social media until it was time for bed.

It was, without question, my worst night since starting this project.

A few days ago I wrote Some Days Ask More of Us Than We Expected. At the time I was talking about panic attacks and life’s unexpected challenges. Looking back, I realize some days don’t overwhelm us because of one major event. Sometimes it’s simply the weight of one small responsibility after another until there’s nothing left in the tank.

Why is it that there is always one more thing to do when you don’t have the energy to do anything at all?

Another bill.

Another dish to wash. 

Another load of laundry.

Another chore.

Another conversation.

Another decision.

It never really ends.

When we’re kids, life feels simple.

There’s school.

Maybe homework.

A baseball practice.

A game.

Then tomorrow starts over.

As adults, we’re never really finished.

Because there isn’t a finish line.

We think…

If I could just get caught up…

If I could just finish everything…

Then I’d finally be able to rest.

But adulthood doesn’t work that way.

The list doesn’t end.

It simply continues to grow.

While reflecting on that idea, I came across an essay from The Growth Canvas titled “Why You Feel Like Your Work Is Never Done.” One of the things that resonated with me was the reminder that the feeling of being behind often has less to do with the amount of work in front of us than the expectations we place on ourselves. There will always be another task waiting. The challenge isn’t eliminating the list—it’s learning not to let the list define our stopping point.

That realization reminded me of something I wrote in I Finally Stopped Waiting to Feel Motivated. I spent years believing there would eventually be a perfect day to do all the work. But more often than not, the work simply asks us to show up with whatever energy we have left and that work is never going to be finished.

Success isn’t crossing ever to do item off the list.

Success is deciding what matters most today, doing that, and giving yourself permission to leave the rest for tomorrow.

As I continued thinking about this, I also read an article from LifeAt titled “Why Catching Up Keeps You Stuck (and What Actually Helps).” It challenged the idea that one day we’ll finally get caught up and everything will feel under control. Instead, it argues that constantly chasing “caught up” can keep us from being fully present in the life we’re already living. That idea felt especially relevant after yesterday because I realized I wasn’t looking for a free evening—I was waiting for a life that doesn’t really exist.

That doesn’t mean the unfinished work defines you any more than one bad day defines your progress. I came to that realization while writing Your Body of Work Is Bigger Than One Bad Day. The list may remain unfinished, but that doesn’t mean you’re failing. It simply means you’re living a full life.

Some things get finished today.

Some tomorrow.

Some next week.

And some…

Never.

Tomorrow there will still be dishes.

Bills.

Laundry.

Blog posts to write.

Kids to raise.

The list will still be there.

And we have to be okay with that. 

Because life isn’t what happens after the list is finished.

Life is what happens while we’re slowly working our way through it.

Maybe that’s why The Reset Never Came. Not because I finally reached the end of the list, but because I stopped believing there ever would be one. Instead of waiting for life to become manageable before living it, I’m learning to build a meaningful life right in the middle of the unfinished work.

Continue the Journey:

If today’s article resonated with you, you might also enjoy:

Further Reading:

The Growth Canvas — “Why You Feel Like Your Work Is Never Done”

https://thegrowthcanvas.substack.com/p/why-you-feel-like-your-work-is-never

LifeAt — “Why Catching Up Keeps You Stuck (and What Actually Helps)”

https://newsletter.lifeat.io/p/why-catching-up-keeps-you-stuck-and-what-actually-helps