Last week, during a session with my peer coach, something unexpected happened:
I told him… I had nothing to be coached on.
Not because my life was perfect. Not because everything was easy.
But because, in that moment, I was fully here.
Content with where I was, who I was being, and what I was living.
All my worries and concerns?
They belonged to the future — that vague, unreachable space where nothing can really be done right now anyway.
My focus was the present. The road trip. My 9026.
Yes, the road still comes with highs and lows.
Triggers still show up.
But this is the way of being I’ve chosen for now.
This is my lifestyle — where every day I navigate real, practical decisions:
What to eat? Where to sleep? How to stay cool during a heat warning?
Do we use the Bluetti battery today for the fridge, or save it for lights and phones?
Can we kayak today or are the mosquitoes winning the war?
It’s not always easy. Some days drain me. Some decisions wear me out.
But I’m living every minute of it — fully immersed in the now.
And that’s why, when I sat across from my coach, I said:
“I don’t feel like there’s a problem — unless I start thinking about the future.”
Because that’s where the worry lives.
And truthfully, I’ve spent most of my life living for the future:
What’s next?
How can I do better?
How do I build a better life?
The endless striving for more. The constant hum of “not yet.”
On the outside, I may appear carefree — someone who “lives in the moment.”
But on the inside? There’s always been a quiet, unsettled search for safety, for security.
The inner me and the outer me… haven’t always matched.
And for a long time, I didn’t want to admit that.
But truth is: when we’re not aligned, there’s always tension. Always inner conflict.
And if we’re truly present, we might just find our way through it.
But if we live only in the future — in all the “what ifs” — we risk turning illusions into fears, and fears into truths.
Back to the session — even though it wasn’t “coaching” in the traditional sense, it was still deeply valuable.
We shared stories. Laughed. Reflected.
And in that space, I said something out loud that I’d just begun to realize:
I’m becoming more sensitive to my body.
It feels new. Raw. Almost vulnerable.
And honestly… I don’t know what to do with that yet, except to keep observing.
I’ve noticed myself being more irritable, more emotional, more easily overwhelmed.
I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or a sign of something else.
But what I do know is — I’m living more truthfully.
And I’m letting my emotions show, instead of pushing them down.
It’s strange.
But strangely… it feels right.
Maybe that’s what growth looks like —
Messy, tender, a little weird — but real.