From the Front Porch
You know what you're good at. The thing people pay you for. The thing you can guarantee.
Maybe it's your job. Your role. The expertise everyone expects from you.
You can deliver that in your sleep. You've proven it works. You have the track record.
But there's something else you want to do. Something that matters more. Something you can't guarantee will work.
And that's why you haven't started.
I get it. Because I almost didn't start this.
August 23rd. Two months ago. I wrote a post about grief and hit publish before I could talk myself out of it.
Then I stared at my phone for three hours waiting for someone to tell me I'd gone too far.
Instead, the messages started coming. Over 100 of them.
"I'm grieving the person I was before I became everyone's problem-solver."
"I walk around feeling lost. Not many understand this."
"You didn't even know it but this helped so much."
Every single one said: "Me too."
And I sat there thinking: "F*ck. Now I have to do something about this."
Because here's what I realized: I'd been hiding behind business for years.
I could help you build a six-figure funnel in my sleep. I could guarantee results. I could show you the metrics. I could prove it worked.
But helping someone rebuild their life after 40? Helping someone figure out who they are when nobody needs them? Helping someone grieve the version of themselves they'll never get back?
I can't guarantee that. I can't A/B test it. I can't refund it if it doesn't work.
Maybe you've been doing the same thing.
Hiding behind what you're good at. What's safe. What people expect from you.
You know there's something else you want to do. Something that matters more. But you can't guarantee it'll work, so you stay where you are.
What if someone takes your advice and it doesn't work out?
What if you step into this new thing and you're not qualified?
What if you admit what you want and it falls apart?
That would be on you.
I sat on those messages for weeks. Opened the draft for this newsletter a dozen times. Closed it every time.
I'd write a paragraph, then delete it. Start an outline, then convince myself I wasn't qualified. Tell myself people wanted business advice from me, not life advice.
But those 100+ messages kept sitting in my inbox. And every time I looked at them, I knew I was lying to myself.
You're probably lying to yourself too.
You know what you want. You're just terrified of being responsible for what happens if you admit it.
So here we are.
Two months after that post. A few weeks after I finally admitted what I wanted.
I still can't guarantee your life will work out.
But I can walk with you while you figure it out.
And maybe that's enough.
A Hard Truth
You know what you want.
You've known for months.
But you won't say it out loud because saying it makes it real. And if it's real, you have to do something about it. And if you do something about it, you might fail.
So you keep it vague. "I want to be happier." "I want more fulfillment." "I want things to be different."
Safe words. Words that don't require action. Words that let you stay exactly where you are.
I did that for weeks after that grief post.
100+ people told me they needed this. And I sat there opening and closing the draft for this newsletter, telling myself I wasn't qualified. That I was "just the business guy." That people wanted funnels from me, not life advice.
But I knew what I wanted. I wanted to help with the hard stuff. The identity crisis. The exhaustion. The rebuilding.
I just didn't want to be responsible if it didn't work.
Here's what those weeks cost me: Every day I waited was another day someone else sat alone with their grief, thinking they were the only one.
What's waiting costing you?
Every day you don't admit what you want is another day someone who needs YOUR version of this keeps searching. Keeps feeling alone. Keeps thinking no one gets it.
Not because you're not qualified. Because you're hiding.
Today's Shift
The Reckoning Framework:
Step 1: Name It
Stop with the vague bullsh*t.
Not "I want to be happier." What does that actually mean? Leaving your job? Starting over? Ending something? Admitting you want to help people with more than just the safe stuff?
Write down the specific, terrifying thing you want. The thing that makes your stomach drop.
I'll go first: "I want to help people rebuild their lives, not just their businesses. Even though I can't guarantee it'll work."
Your turn. Write it. Don't edit it. Don't make it sound better. Just write the truth.
Step 2: Face What You're Actually Afraid Of
You're not afraid it won't work. You're afraid you'll be responsible if it doesn't.
Finish this sentence: "If I admit what I want and it doesn't work, I'm afraid that..."
Mine was: "...people will blame me. They'll say I wasn't qualified. They'll say I should have stuck to what I was good at."
What's yours?
Write it down. Look at it. That's the fear keeping you stuck.
Step 3: Say It Out Loud
Tell one person today. Not tomorrow. Today.
Not the person who will fix it or talk you out of it. The person who will just listen and let it be real.
I told someone close to me. They said, "So do it." That was it. No pep talk. No guarantee. Just permission to stop hiding.
Who's your person? Text them right now.
By the Numbers
The Cost of Hiding:
- 67% of people over 40 say they know what they want to do next but haven't admitted it to anyone, not even themselves.
- The average person spends 18 months "thinking about" a major life change before taking action. That's 548 days of knowing and not doing.
- 83% of people who finally admitted what they wanted said the hardest part wasn't the change itself... it was saying it out loud the first time.
- People who name what they want (specifically, not vaguely) are 4x more likely to take action within 30 days than those who keep it abstract.
After I admitted what I wanted:
- Launched this newsletter 3 weeks later (after sitting on it for weeks)
- Got more engagement in the first week than any business post I'd ever written
- Had more "this is exactly what I needed" messages in one week than I'd gotten in two years of business content
The reckoning doesn't guarantee success. But hiding guarantees you'll never know.
What are you waiting for?
A Story
You've seen them too.
The people already doing what you want to do. Posting every day. Consistent. They have their sh*t together.
And you think: "Why would anyone need this from me?"
I was two weeks into staring at that draft when I saw someone in my space doing exactly what I wanted to do. And that thought hit me hard.
They're already saying this. Better than I could.
I closed the laptop. Walked away. Told myself I was being ridiculous. That I should stick to what I'm good at—funnels, automations, business stuff people actually pay me for.
But those 100+ messages were still sitting in my inbox.
And every time I tried to forget about them, another one would come in.
"I've been feeling this for years and thought I was the only one."
I kept thinking: If that other person is already doing this, why are people still telling me they feel alone?
Then it hit me.
They're not looking for the person who has it figured out. They're looking for the person who's willing to say "me too" and figure it out with them.
That other person's doing their thing. Good for them.
But those messages? Those were for me.
Just like the people who need YOUR version of this? They're waiting for you.
Not the polished expert. You. Messy, figuring-it-out-as-you-go you.
I opened the draft again. Hit publish three weeks later.
Your turn.
Tools for the Week
You've been sitting on what you want for how long now? Months? Years?
This week, that ends.
Two tools. Both in the member commons. Both designed to make you stop hiding.
The Truth Audit: Write down what you actually want. The specific thing. The terrifying thing. The thing you've been pretending you don't know.
I sat with mine for two weeks before I could write it down. Then another week before I could say it out loud.
How long have you been sitting on yours?
The Responsibility Reframe: Face what you're actually afraid of. Spoiler: It's not failure. It's being responsible for outcomes you can't control.
This one's what finally got me to hit publish. Didn't make it less scary. Just made it impossible to keep using "what if it doesn't work?" as an excuse.
What excuse are you using?
Use them this week. Or keep hiding. Your call.
Advanced Play
The "Room for More" Exercise:
You're not competing with everyone else doing similar work. You're finding the people who need to hear it from YOU.
This week, when you see someone else doing what you want to do, instead of thinking "they're already doing it," ask yourself:
"Whose voice is missing from this conversation?"
Not better. Not more qualified. Just different.
The person who needs the messy version, not the polished one.
The person who needs "I'm figuring this out too," not "I have all the answers."
The person who needs YOUR specific experience, YOUR specific scars, YOUR specific way of saying it.
There's room for more than one voice.
The question isn't "Is someone already doing this?"
The question is "Are the people who need MY version of this still feeling alone?"
If the answer is yes, you have work to do.
What's Coming Next
This week builds from admission to action:
Tuesday: The Cost of Waiting - Every day you wait is a day you don't get back. What is "someday" actually costing you?
Wednesday: The Fear of Wanting - Why admitting what you want feels more dangerous than staying stuck.
Thursday: The Compromise You Never Made - How you ended up in a life you didn't choose, and what it takes to choose differently.
Friday: The Line in the Sand - Go all in or stay comfortable. You can't do both.
Share The Collective
Know someone who's been hiding behind "I don't know what I want"? Someone who knows exactly what they want but won't say it out loud?
Forward this to them.
The reckoning is easier when you're not doing it alone.
Closing Thought
I still can't guarantee your life will work out.
But I can guarantee that hiding from what you want will cost you more than admitting it and failing.
Say it out loud. Today.
— Damien
