1) “What’re your thoughts on Roe v. Wade being overturned?”
If you’ve been reading this blog for more than a few months, you probably noticed I don’t touch on anything sociopolitical.
That has less to do with fear and more to do with the fact that it just doesn’t interest me. I’ll talk about anything in person. But when it comes to what I write and publish, this is a space for me to type about what I love.
Major insights. Business. Mistakes I’ve made. Doubts and anxieties I’m having. The things I’m creating. Building better relationships. How to live a fuller life.
These are the things that keep bringing me back to the keyboard. I’m sure this list will change but for now, the system is: sit down and write about what you know.
I don’t know much about politics or anything in that realm.
For me, that means I wouldn’t enjoy writing about it. And for you, that would be a disservice because you’d be hearing my half-baked thoughts on meaningful and often radioactive topics.
Lastly, I get a lot of emails and messages now. People send me their thoughts and criticisms after certain blogs.
I love every single one of them. I even save my favorites.
Last week, I got an email with feedback on my last piece on dying. In the article, I said that since we all kick it one day, we have no choice but to be present and appreciative in the here and now.
But in this guy’s feedback, he asked why that was the only choice. He correctly posed that someone could also choose the path of nihilism and hopelessness, which I didn’t consider. How cool!
Someone read something I wrote, gave mental energy to think about it, and then articulated thoughts to send me to challenge me and improve my delivery. It’s quite rewarding.
But I don’t have the interest or bandwidth to do this several times a week with people who disagree with me politically. I love responding to reader emails. But I don’t want to start Facebook comment wars with people. I simply don’t have the space for it.
So for now, I’m happy to keep that stuff closer to my chest.
2) “Have you ever felt addicted to anything?”
Oh yes.
Some roll their eyes when they hear this. But for about a decade, I was severely addicted to video games.
I don’t mean I played them a lot. I mean, when I was into a game, it would consume my entire life.
In high school, I’d hide under my bed so my mom would think I left for school only to stay home and play Skyrim or Call of Duty. I skipped and failed college classes to stay in and play Xbox. I’ve racked up thousands of hours of Runescape.
I haven’t played any video games since 2018.
Here was my vicious cycle:
Discover a game I loved
Take Adderall so I could play that game better and longer
Come down from that Adderall around 4 or 5pm
Drink alcohol—the only way to combat the crash
Be wasted by 8pm
Wake up hungover
Repeat
I’ve gone through a few periods in my life where I’d live this cycle for months on end. It was terrible.
I would feel my physical and mental health slip. Daily drinking. Poor sleep. Avoiding friends. Barely eating.
And it would all start with a stupid video game. Once I threw away my Xbox and deleted my Runescape account, the cycle stopped. There hasn’t been a day where I’ve been interested in going back.
Last year, I was teaching my buddy from high school how to play chess. Seeing how into it I was, he said, “You know what chess is for you, right? You replaced your video game addiction with chess.”
He was right.
I don’t think we ever delete our addictions. We simply shift the ways in which we exert that energy. Now, I’m addicted to creating a great life, spending time with the people I love, and helping others do the same.
3) “What’s your biggest fear?”
It’s always been some version of: I’m a fraud.
All the success I’ve had and am having is just a fluke and people will eventually catch on that I have no idea what I’m doing. That’s the fear.
I’m afraid I’ll be 37 years old and on the verge of eviction. I have no evidence that that would ever happen, but that’s the root of my underlying anxiety. Anything to do with money. When I see my friends getting married and having kids.
While I know it’s not true, deep down I think: You’ll never have the skills to do that. You’re a manchild.
It’s strange how we can have worries that we know logically don’t make any sense. But emotionally, it’s a completely different story.
I’m doing great and I’ve never been more fulfilled by my life—my friends, family, health, and work. But buried deep in the vault, that fear still lingers.
Thanks for all your questions! Please keep sending me stuff you’d like me to dive into next month.