Stop Trying to Get to the Last Page

I’ve often described life like a checklist.

School.
Marriage.
Kids.
House.
Retirement.

Check. Check. Check.

As if we’re racing to complete something.
As if life is a series of boxes to tick before we’re allowed to exhale.

Recently I heard it said a different way:

We’re always trying to get to the last page.

We want to know how it ends.
We want certainty.
We want the solved version of ourselves.

But in our rush to find the ending, we skip the story.

We miss the magic.
We miss the tiny moments.
We miss the high we experience with growth.

And the story — this one — was curated just for you.

Call it God.
Call it Source.
Call it the Universe.
Call it whatever language lets you breathe easier.

But this life?
It was not mass-produced.

It is uniquely yours.

What If You Stopped Trying to Solve It?

What if you stopped trying to fix the “problem” of your life?

What if instead of racing toward an answer, you made the next right choice — not the right choice for your parents, your partner, your church, your audience…

…but the one that feels right in your body?

Do you want the job?
Do you want the franchise?
Do you want your own business?
Do you want to go back to school?
Do you want to marry for money?

I’m not judging.

I’m asking:

What feels aligned for you?

What Feeling Alive Actually Feels Like

I’ve described aliveness like this:

You’re swimming.
You can’t see the shore.
You’re running out of breath.
You go under — frantic.

And then your feet hit the ground.

You stand.

You break through the surface.

Air fills your lungs.

I’m alive.

That’s the feeling.

That’s what I want for you — not once in a lifetime, but most mornings.

Not:
“It’s Tuesday. What do I have to get done?”

But:
“What do I get to experience today?”

We feel alive when we when we get it wrong and do better. 
We feel alive when we learn and share it.
We feel alive when we’re connected to something bigger.

A deep conversation with a friend.
A gentle touch from someone you love.
A quiet moment staring at a candle, remembering who you used to be — and who you’re becoming.

When It All Burns Down

You lose the job.
You don’t know how you’ll pay the bills.
But something in you knows:
I will land on my feet.

Your spouse cheats.
It crushes you.
But you survive.

You build a reliance on alcohol because it works — it numbs the mind and disconnects you from the ache of your soul.
Until one day you realize:

It’s also disconnecting you from your life.

You lose the house.
You rebuild with intention.
You set up your home the way you’ve always wanted.
You stop faking orgasms.
You stop faking smiles.
You stop faking being fine.

When it all burns down… does life die?

Or does something more honest begin?

What Does “Life” Look Like to You?

Not the checklist version.
Not the last-page version.

The lived version.

The shared joy of personal expression.
The courage to choose differently.
The willingness to feel deeply.

Do you know what that looks like for you?

Have you let yourself imagine it?

Or are you still trying to hurry to the ending?

You are not here to rush through your story.

You are here to live it.

And remember —
you are so loved.