Sometimes You Miss the Comfort of Your Old Self

“I miss the comfort in being sad.”— Kurt Cobain

That lyric has always stuck with me.

Not because I miss being sad.
But because sometimes I miss being…certain.

When new things enter our lives, they almost always bring a little pain, annoyance, challenge, or discomfort. And when that happens, our instinct is to withdraw. We withdraw because humans need certainty.

That isn’t a bad thing.
We all need certainty.

But it’s also something you and I need to stay aware of because the very certainty we crave can become the thing that stops our much-needed growth.

If you know me at all, you know I love challenges and thrive on them. It’s become part of my identity. It’s another one of our human needs—uncertainty. I’m referring to what Tony Robbins calls the 6 Human Needs, and recently I’ve had one huge, uncertain, life-changing event enter my life:

My first baby.

Here’s the funny part…

I was never the guy walking around saying, “Man, I really want to have kids.”

Not even close.

The Old Tony

The old Tony was negative.

Cynical.
Angry.
Corrupted.

I was a negative creep (another Nirvana reference… still one of my favorite bands).

I used to proudly tell people,

“I’d never be selfish enough to bring a kid into this shitty world.”

I actually believed that.

I wore it like a badge of honor, and only a couple of fellow misfits would put up with me. Looking back, everyone else was probably thinking,Jesus Christ… this guy needs some sunlight.

For nearly a decade, I lived with that negative, nihilistic approach. Then one day I realized something.

For a guy who claimed to love uncertainty and adventure…

My life had become incredibly predictable.

The same thoughts.
The same emotions.
The same outcomes.

Loser feelings. Loser outcomes.

I was stuck in a rerun.

The Palm Reader

Long story short…

I was living in a sketchy warehouse in downtown Los Angeles when one of my 10 roommates, a palm reader named Pam Cash, read my hand one day.

She looked at me and said,

“Tony, you’re so afraid of the world not understanding you that you don’t let anyone in to even try.”

That one hit me.

Hard.

I decided right then that it was time for one of my first major Soul Cuts.

Spot the bad scene.
Cut out the crap.
Edit in better information and actions.

Then lock it all in through consistent behavior so you reach the next scene in your movie instead of becoming a rerun nobody asked for.

That conversation changed me.

I started letting people in and started questioning what I was so certain about.

Years later…

I’m married.
I’m a father.
And I’m holding the very child I once swore I’d never bring into this “horrible world.”

Life has a funny way of humbling you.

All I Wanted Was a Damn Haircut

Fast forward to today.

All I wanted to do was get my ridiculously overdue rockstar hair cut. My wife had finally made one too many “What’s going on with your hair?” comments, so I figured… alright, alright.

My plan was to get a haircut, stop by the grocery store to pick up a few things for our neighborhood block party, and be home in about an hour.

For once, I was actually creating a little certainty in my day.

Then my lovely wife texted me saying she needed some relief from baby duty so she could get ready for the party.

I got riled up.

Not because I don’t love my wife.
Not because I don’t adore my son.
But because I had already written today’s little script in my head.

I’ve actually been proud of how I’ve handled this whole fatherhood thing. The beauty. The chaos. The exhaustion. The complete madness.

But I still have moments where every cell in my body screams:

“Ahhhh… I don’t want to adult today!”

This was one of those moments.

I sat in my car. Still in the driveway. Trying to leave. Sending way too many texts.

Then I let out one of those dramatic sighs and little grunts that only you hear inside your own car.

Very mature.
Very evolved.
Father of the Year.

I threw on Nirvana’s Incesticide to calm my nerves.

Eventually, I decided to skip the haircut because I was already cutting it close. I headed to the grocery store instead to grab food for the block party.

Now I’m sitting here in the supermarket parking lot, typing this, searching for the lesson.

Because that’s what a good director has to do.

Lesson One: Communicate Before You Become Disappointed

As I sat there in the grocery store parking lot, I realized something.

I never clearly shared my plan with my wife.
I knew my schedule.
She didn’t.

I expected her to somehow know when I was leaving, how long I’d be gone, when I’d be back, and everything I wanted to accomplish.

That wasn’t fair.
Especially with a newborn.

When you’re living with someone—especially with a baby—don’t rely on them to ask or somehow magically know the schedule.

Be the action-taker.
Share it.
Set yourself up for success instead of random disappointment.

Looking back, it would’ve been best if I had simply said,

“Hey babybear, I’m going to get a haircut, stop by the store, and I’ll be back around this time.”

Simple.
Clear.
Done.

Instead, I left things vague.

Then I got frustrated when reality didn’t match the movie I had already directed in my own head.

Funny how often we do that.

Lesson Two: Don’t Forget Empathy

The second lesson came pretty quickly after that.

Empathy.

Yes… you need reminders.
I need reminders.
Because we’re human.
And humans become tired, self-absorbed, overwhelmed, and sleep deprived.

We’re only about two months into this parenting thing, and I swear both of us have some temporary brain deficiencies from the lack of sleep.

So give her a break.
And while you’re at it…
Give yourself one too.

Then remember this:

When we truly empathize and show up for each other, life gets lighter.

Not perfect.
Lighter.

It’s a challenge to get this right all the time.
But that’s not the goal.
The goal is simply to do it as often as possible.

Drift or Direct

At that point, I realized I had two choices.

Drift

I could let drift take over.

Be annoyed that she didn’t organize the schedule herself.

Stay frustrated.
Carry that energy back into the house.

After all, I really wanted that haircut.

Or Direct

I could recognize that I was the one who didn’t communicate clearly.
I could head home with fruit and food for the block party.

Relieve my wife.
Take the baby.
Let her breathe for a while before our friends and neighbors came over.

Even though I wanted the haircut…

I opted out today.
My hair will survive.
Actually… my wife will probably say it won’t.

But she’ll survive too.

I think I messed up the timing today.
I should’ve already been back home.

A Director does this—not because they’re perfect—but because they’re protecting the peace they’ll want later.

Sometimes directing your life means protecting the people around you more than protecting your own schedule.

Life has an ebb and flow.

You can’t always live according to your own plan.

It doesn’t matter who you are.
Unless, of course…
You want to slowly drift away from what actually matters.

“Set A Positive Trigger ”

Then something funny happened.

While I was writing this blog post, a reminder popped up on my phone—

“Flirt with my Precious KareBear.”

That’s my wife.

I laughed.

You see, I didn’t title it,

“Flirt with wife.”

That’s boring.
That sounds like another task to check off.

Instead, I made it playful.
Nearly every time I see that reminder, I smile.

Sometimes I send her a flirty text.
Sometimes I send her a picture.
Sometimes I call her and tell her something I appreciate about her.
Sometimes I simply walk over and smother her a little until she tells me to knock it off.

She appreciates it.

And guess what?
The next time I need a little grace…

I’ve usually already planted the seed.

Not because I’m trying to manipulate the outcome.
Because that’s what intentional relationships look like.

The Balance

Taking care of others has a funny way of taking care of ourselves.

When we show up for the people we love, we usually get something back—not because we’re keeping score, but because healthy relationships naturally create trust, appreciation, and reciprocity.

It reminds me of breathing.
You inhale.
You exhale.
You need both.

Relationships work the same way. Sometimes you’re the one receiving. Sometimes you’re the one giving. Both are necessary.

This is life.
Full of reflection.
Challenge.
Empathy.
Funny moments.
Annoying moments.
Baby madness.
Bad hair.

And constant opportunities to either drift… or direct.

The old version of me would’ve stayed annoyed.
The newer version of me chose to go home.

This is my practice and, practice makes progress.
And that’s really what directing your life is.

Not making perfect decisions.

Making better decisions.

Your Challenge

Where do you need to become a little more flexible?

Where are you expecting someone to understand something you never clearly communicated?

And could you set a reminder—like my little“Flirt with my Precious KareBear”reminder—to intentionally show more empathy and appreciation to someone you love?

I know that’s something I need to keep working on during this season of my life.

Balance certainty.
Balance uncertainty.
Keep growing.

Protect what matters.
Because your life is always moving.

The only question is…

Are you drifting through this scene…
…or directing it?

Keep directing,

Tony

P.S.

If this story resonated with you, you'll probably enjoy my book Direct Your Life or Someone Else Will, where I explore the decisions and mindset shifts that keep us from drifting through life.

📖 Get the book: https://directyourlifebook.com

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