Month: March 2025

Crippled CEO Blog #188:

Have you ever had someone believe in you way more than you believe in yourself?

It’s a weird feeling. Like someone’s read the back of your book and decided it’s a best-seller before they’ve even cracked open the first chapter.

It used to happen to me a lot. Colleagues. Friends. Customers. Employees. Romantic interests. People would meet me, spend a little time with me, and then, inexplicably, start acting like I was that guy. You know the one. Visionary. Charismatic. Capable. Confident. Charming. A little mysterious. Definitely knows how to cook something exotic.

Meanwhile, I’m just sitting there like, “I hope this person never asks me to point out France on a map.”

But over time, I realized something. These people weren’t dumb. They weren’t naïve. They weren’t imagining some fantasy version of me. They were just… early.

They were seeing the potential version of me — the one I hadn’t fully stepped into yet. The me I could be if I believed it as much as they did.

And that’s when I decided to try an experiment.

I decided to be who they thought I was.

Not in a fake-it-til-you-make-it kind of way. Not in a “let me pretend to be impressive and hope no one notices I’m actually panicking over how to spell ‘judgment’ without spellcheck.”

But in a “what if I just became that person” kind of way. What if I acted like I was the kind of guy who could handle this? The kind of guy who deserved the admiration? The kind of guy who gets it done, figures it out, and makes it look good while doing it?

What if I became the version of myself they already saw?

Spoiler alert: It worked.

I started making braver decisions. Speaking more confidently. Writing these blog posts like someone who had something to say. Running my company like the guy I thought my employees deserved. Dating like I was someone worth dating (imagine that).

And slowly, over time, the gap between who I thought I was and who people believed I was started to shrink.

Until one day, I looked in the mirror and realized: I was that guy now.

Or at least… closer.

So here’s my point: We all have people who believe in us more than we believe in ourselves. And instead of brushing that off as misplaced praise, what if we took it seriously? What if we looked at the version of ourselves they’re rooting for and said, “Okay, let’s build that guy.”

Because here’s the real kicker: That version of you? That better, braver, bolder version? That’s not a lie. That’s not fantasy. That’s you — just with the fear peeled off.

It’s like Michelangelo said about sculpting David: “I just removed the parts that weren’t David.”

Be who they think you are.

Because they’re not wrong.

(Do you know who I really became last night? Your mom’s fantasy. And then again. And again. Your mom also gets a text from me every Sunday with a link to the latest blog post. Send a text to 561-726-1567 with the word CRIP as the message to get a link to the blog as soon as it’s up.)

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Crippled CEO Blog #187:

Today marks eight years since my dad passed away. Eight years since the phone call. Eight years since I last saw him, the larger-than-life man who had been a force of nature now reduced to stillness. Eight years since that surreal moment when the world kept moving forward without him in it.

Eight years is a long time. Long enough for a kid to go from kindergarten to high school. Long enough for an entire career shift. Long enough to build a company, tear it down, and rebuild it again. And yet, somehow, eight years is also nothing. Because it doesn’t feel like eight years. It feels like yesterday. It feels like forever. It feels like both at the same time.

Grief is weird like that. It doesn’t follow logic. You can be fine for weeks, and then some random thing—a song, a smell, a phrase someone says—hits you like a brick to the chest, and suddenly, you’re right back in it. Right back in the moment when you realized they were gone, reliving it like it’s fresh. I don’t know if that ever goes away.

But what I do know is this: My dad isn’t gone. Not really. I see him everywhere.

I see him when I make a tough decision at work, and I instinctively know what he would say. I see him in the way I organize things, the way I make checklists, the way I run my company. I hear his voice in my head when I double-check something “just to be sure.”

I see him when I push through something difficult because, without ever saying it, he taught me that’s what we do.

I see him in my successes—because they were built on the foundation he laid. The company I run, the life I live, the wisdom I (sometimes) pretend is my own—all of it has his fingerprints on it.

I see him when I look in the mirror. I have his eyes. His stubbornness. His ability to be right most of the time but still argue like his life depends on it even when he’s clearly wrong.

I see him when I hear myself give advice to a friend and realize, mid-sentence, that it’s something he once told me. Something I probably rolled my eyes at as a teenager but now find myself repeating like it’s gospel.

I see him in the way I treat people. My dad had a reputation for being honest to a fault. He was the guy who would tell you the truth even when you didn’t want to hear it. He was meticulous, thoughtful, and always did the right thing—even when it was the hard thing. If I can be half the man he was, I’ll consider that a win.

And I see him in the fact that, despite everything, he changed.

Because here’s the thing: My dad wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t always the man I just described. The first three and a half decades of his life were… rough. Addiction. Bad decisions. He screwed up a lot. But he turned it around. He became the man everyone remembers now.

That’s the part that gives me the most hope, even today. The idea that you can have 40 years of mistakes and still rewrite your story. That your past doesn’t define you—your choices today do. That change is always possible.

So yeah, it’s been eight years. And it still sucks. I still miss him. I’d give anything to have another conversation with him. But I know he’s not really gone.

Because I carry him with me.

And if you’ve lost someone, I hope you know—you carry them too.

(Do you know who left a lasting impression last night? Your mom. Your mom also gets a text from me every Sunday with a link to the latest blog post. Send a text to 561-726-1567 with the word CRIP as the message to get a link to the blog as soon as it’s up.)

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Crippled CEO Blog #186:

I had something important to do today. It was on my to-do list. It was actually the only thing on my to-do list. I made sure that was the case so I wouldn’t get distracted by other nonsense. Today, I was going to do the thing.

And instead, I spent an hour scrolling through Instagram Reels. Then I went down a Wikipedia rabbit hole about the history of ice cubes. Then I watched a 25-minute video on YouTube about why the McDonald’s ice cream machines are always broken (spoiler: it’s a conspiracy).

And by the time I looked up, it was almost dinner, and I hadn’t done the thing.

Oops.

We all have these days. The ones where we get nothing done. The days where we look back at bedtime and think, “What did I even do today?” and the answer is basically vibe in various locations.

And then, inevitably, the guilt creeps in. Because we have this deeply ingrained belief that wasting time is bad. That productivity is the ultimate goal. That every second should be spent working towards something. That if we’re not checking boxes, we’re failing.

I call bullshit.

The “Wasted” Time Wasn’t Wasted

Look, I’m not saying you should abandon all responsibilities, quit your job, and dedicate yourself full-time to mastering obscure facts about 18th-century shipbuilding techniques (although, honestly, sounds kind of fun). But the time you spent doing “nothing”? It wasn’t nothing.

Maybe your brain needed the break. Maybe you were absorbing ideas in the background. Maybe you were processing something. Or maybe—just maybe—rest is actually a requirement for doing good work and not just some optional side quest for the weak-willed.

And sure, if you spend every single day procrastinating, that’s a different conversation. But one “unproductive” day? That’s just life. Even machines need downtime, and you’re (probably) not a machine.

Productivity Is Overrated

Here’s the real kicker: the most productive people I know are the ones who aren’t grinding every second of every day. They take breaks. They mess around. They understand that inspiration isn’t something you can brute force.

I don’t know a single successful entrepreneur who schedules every second of their life in some military-grade productivity system and actually sticks to it. You know who does do that? People who are perpetually on the edge of burnout.

Sometimes, the best ideas come when you’re not trying. Ever had a brilliant thought in the shower? Or right before falling asleep? Or while aimlessly staring out a window like you’re in a moody indie film? Exactly.

The Secret Is Intentional “Wasting”

The key isn’t to eliminate “wasted” time. It’s to own it. Instead of feeling guilty about it, build it in. Let yourself have days where nothing gets done and know that’s part of the process, not a failure of it.

And if you really want to be sneaky about it, just redefine productivity. If you call lying on the couch watching a seven-part documentary on medieval bread-making “expanding your historical knowledge base,” suddenly you’re a scholar. You’re learning.

So the next time you “waste” a day, don’t beat yourself up. Maybe that day wasn’t wasted. Maybe it was just refueling. And if not, at least now you know way more about McDonald’s ice cream machines than you did before.

(Do you know who definitely didn’t waste her time last night? Your mom. Your mom also gets a text from me every Sunday with a link to the latest blog post. Send a text to 561-726-1567 with the word CRIP as the message to get a link to the blog as soon as it’s up.

Did you know that I have a YouTube channel now? I do! I am putting up two videos every single week. Go search for Crippled CEO and you’ll find me. I would appreciate it if you subscribed.)

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