I am the farthest thing from a “tough guy”. I don’t like pain, on any level, ever. Period. End of story.

Pain is painful…and it hurts.

Some types of pain I can tolerate more than others, but, for the most part, I prefer a catered, cushy life, made with beds of pudding and floors of marshmallow. I want soft edges, good news, participation trophies, and a lot of compliments, all while feeling only bliss. I want discomfort to be a foreign concept.

If I do have to experience pain, there are types I prefer more than others.

I can live with physical pain. I realize that there is a purpose for this. I need to know when something in my body is not functioning well. I can accept this type of pain as something that is better for me in the long run.

I can even tolerate emotional pain. I’m willing to classify the discomfort that comes with bad news and a broken heart in the category of “life” over and above “pain”. Yes, emotional pain can be terrible, but it is part of life. It is also a big contributor to all of my joy.

I will tell you what is the most painful thing in the world for me. The most excruciating and debilitating type of discomfort I can experience on this earth is centered around one word. It has plagued me for my entire life, and it hurts me like no other. My most acute discomfort stems from…


Complacency is a form of laziness. It is laziness, peppered with fear, and thrown in a bowl full of denial. It is then whisked, thrown in an oven of insecurity, and cooked until it is a cowardly yellow.

Hitting the snooze bar, when my competition is at the gym.

Losing the job to the individual who was more prepared.

Losing the starting position to the man who worked harder than me.

Being the second phone call when a friend is truly in need of an ear.

There is no pain in this world that compares to that of convincing myself that I am a victim. There is nothing more uncomfortable than spinning the web of denial that comes with the belief that I am being cheated, undervalued, or improperly viewed. There is no scenario that hurts me worse than to contort my brain into believing that I was overlooked, in any scenario, for any other reason, except I simply didn’t work hard enough for the job. There is nothing more exhausting than convincing the people around me that I was cheated, and someone else was less deserving. There is no pain as acute as selling the belief that I gave it my all, when the world around me, knows I could have done more.

My deepest pain is all self-inflected.

There is no misery more torturous than playing the role of the victim.

Peace, Love, and all things Beef related,