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A friend once told me he was going to try to run a marathon. I asked what his plan was.   "Well," he said, "I'm going to try running farther and faster every time I go out."   That one word, try, stood out to me. It was soft, uncommitted, and unclear.   I asked another friend who was training  for a marathon. She had a daily plan that included distances, paces, nutrition, and rest. She tracked every week. And when race day came, she didn't "try," she ran and finished strong.   The difference? Training is intentional. Trying is hopeful.   Words matter.   When I say, "I'll try to eat better" or "I'll try to get a new job," I often give myself unconscious permission to fail. Trying keeps my goals vague and my effort optional. It's like saying, "I'll dabble and see what happens."   But training sets me up for progress. It involves planning, action, review, and adjustment. It's less dramatic, but far more effective. It means choosing routines that support my goals and measuring them regularly. When I miss the mark, I don't beat myself up; I adjust and keep going.   Years ago, I trained for the Dallas White Rock Marathon. It wasn't glamorous. It was slow, steady, and full of early mornings and aching legs. But I had a pace chart, a mileage calendar, and weekly checkpoints. I certainly didn't win on race day; it was my training that allowed me to accomplish my personal best.   Now, I use the same approach in my daily life with what I call "The Weekly Display." I set clear intentions and create small daily tasks that build toward long-term goals. These routines become my training ground for a better life.   My words shape my mindset, and my mindset shapes my results.   Try gives me an exit.   Train gives me a path.   Which one are you choosing today?   Watch for the blind spots. Download "Weekly Display": https://tinyurl.com/4xekre8w   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

When I was a boy, my mom shopped at stores that gave out S&H Green Stamps, tiny rewards based on the amount of money spent. We collected those stamps in little books, and once we had enough, we could “cash them in”  for something you wanted: a toaster, a football, or even camping gear. It was a game of accumulation, spending, saving, and redeeming.   I’ve come to realize it is easy to do something very similar with emotions.   In my relationships, whether at home, at work, or in the world, it was easy to get hurt, feel disappointed, or be offended. But instead of dealing with the pain right away, too many times I have “saved”  it. I collected emotional stamps:  minor offenses, irritations, and moments of feeling overlooked or unappreciated. And like the stamp books of my childhood, I held onto them until one day, I had enough, and “cashed them in,”  often in an outburst or breakdown that surprises even me.   Emotional maturity teaches me to notice those moments before  they accumulate and become overwhelming. It helps me release pressure little by little, rather than letting it build up like a clogged pressure cooker that eventually explodes. Just like a pressure cooker has a release valve to prevent disaster, I also need emotional release valves.   One simple but powerful tool I use is the word “ouch.”  It’s a way to say, “Something just hurt,”  without blaming or attacking. It opens the door to resolution instead of resentment. When someone cares about the relationship, they’ll lean in and listen. If they don’t, I know to step back with awareness, not anger.   Emotional intelligence is not about never getting hurt;  it’s about learning how to express hurt in ways that build connection, not destroy it. The more I speak up early and honestly, the fewer emotional stamps I carry, and the more peace and self-control I experience in my life.   How about you? Sometimes it is easy to collect these emotional stamps without even realizing we are doing it.   Watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

As we fire up the grill, enjoy watermelon, and gather with family under the summer sun, let’s pause to remember what we’re truly celebrating on the 4th of July.   On July 4, 1776, a brave declaration was made, thirteen American colonies claimed independence from British rule, and gave birth to a new nation. But freedom wasn’t just declared, it was fought  for. From 1775 to 1783, through mud, hunger, snow, and fear, ordinary people, farmers, blacksmiths, and shopkeepers stepped forward to defend that dream. Most had no uniforms, no shoes, and little training. But they had conviction. And they paid a high price: over 25,000 Americans lost their lives in the Revolutionary War.   Freedom didn’t come cheap. And it doesn’t stay free.   We often take for granted the very things our forefathers sacrificed for: the right to speak our minds, to worship, as we choose, to assemble and protest, to bear arms, to vote, and to disagree, sometimes fiercely. That’s the thing about freedom: it allows space for all voices, not just the ones we agree with. That’s not weakness, that’s the strength of a free person.   These rights don’t cancel each other out; they challenge us to listen more attentively, speak more kindly, and carry our freedom with greater responsibility. If we only defend the rights we like, we dishonor those who died to protect them all.   So yes, enjoy your day off. Laugh. Eat. Celebrate. But also take a quiet moment to honor those who walked barefoot into battle so you could walk freely today. Let your gratitude show not just in waving a flag, but in using our freedoms wisely, with humility, courage, and respect.   Let’s not just remember history, let’s be worthy of it.   Happy Independence Day.   Remember the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

It’s a simple question, yet a powerful one. Take a moment to reflect on your life. How old are you today? How long might you live? None of us knows the exact expiration date. Still, we can examine family history and life expectancy to get a general idea, assuming there are no unexpected events that may alter the picture. Now consider the gap between where you are today and that possible endpoint. What will you do with that time?   Too often, we drift through life without ever answering this question. We stay busy, take care of our responsibilities, and manage the day-to-day tasks. However, without identifying what we truly want and what truly matters, we risk ending up in places we never intended. If you don’t set your direction, life will choose one for you.   This question matters in every area of life: your work, your health, your relationships, your impact. Do you want to lead a team? Start a business? Heal a relationship? Travel more? Cultivate peace within yourself?  What you want may take many forms, and the more you identify those desires, the richer your life becomes.   Some things on my list may never happen, but they stay there because they remind me of what matters. If you haven’t named what you want, how will you know you’re getting closer to it?   Setting your sights on something meaningful doesn’t mean locking yourself into rigid goals; it means living with intention. It means defining success on your terms. When you know what you want, your decisions become more transparent and more informed. Your time becomes more precious. Your “yes”  has a purpose, and your “no”  carries confidence.   I’ve learned that naming what I want isn’t selfish, it’s responsible. It helps me live deliberately, not just reactively. It creates a filter for what belongs in my life and what doesn’t.   So, I’ll ask again: What do you want?   Write it down. Say it aloud. Revisit it often.   And watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

I don’t know about you, but in my past, I’ve carried insecurity like an invisible weight, sometimes without even realizing it. Self-doubt, fear of not being enough, wondering if I belonged… all of it crept in and shaped how I showed up in relationships, both personally and professionally. I know what imposter syndrome feels like. In my close relationships, insecurity often looked like needing constant reassurance. I would overanalyze a comment or text, wondering if something was wrong. A delayed response could feel like rejection. I’ve caught myself comparing my journey to a friend’s success, and instead of celebrating them, I felt smaller. In my work life, it wasn’t much different. I sometimes held back ideas because I feared they weren’t good enough. I avoided asking for help because I didn’t want to seem weak. And I’ve taken feedback far too personally, even when it was meant to help me grow. The hardest part? The more I tried to hide these insecurities, the more power they had. They distorted how I saw others, and how I assumed others saw me. I became guarded when I needed to be open, defensive when I longed to connect. The result was tension, misunderstanding, and missed opportunities for closeness. But here’s the shift: I started noticing the blind spots. I began asking myself, Is this fear or fact?  I leaned into self-awareness, reached for tools like coaching and honest conversations, and slowly began to loosen insecurity’s grip. I’ve learned I don’t need to be perfect; I just need to be real. Facing my insecurities has brought more peace, more trust, and more genuine connection than pretending ever could. Maybe you’ve been there too. If so, you’re not alone. Insecurity doesn’t have to define us. We can see it, name it, and grow through it. Watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

As a child, learning to ride a bike with training wheels was a significant milestone. I felt safe and wobbly but supported, like I had a backup plan if I tipped too far one way. My parents, bless them, stood nearby shouting encouragement and occasionally offering unsolicited advice that I mostly ignored.   Eventually, those training wheels had to come off. At first, I crashed like the rest of them. But that’s how I learned. And a funny thing: those same wheels that helped me in the beginning would have become a real hindrance if I had never let them go.   Life works the same way.   My emotional training wheels: those early years of support, protection, and influence, set the course for how I learned to steer through life, whether they steadied me or not. For others, they were bent, missing bolts, or weren't there at all. But regardless of how I started, it eventually became my bike to ride.   Sure, I could blame my parents for some of the potholes I’ve hit. I could say, “If they’d taught me better, I’d be cruising by now,” and that story might get a few sympathetic nods. But sympathy wouldn't get me down the road any faster.   At some point, I had to say: “Enough with the excuses.”  Even if my parents forgot or refused to take the training wheels off, it’s my job to do it now.   Do I want to keep riding in circles at five miles per hour, clanking along with those little side wheels scraping the pavement? Or do I want to go fast, take some risks, and feel the wind in my face?   I’m not a victim of my past. I am the one steering now, and if I want to grow up, I’ve got to stop leaning on old supports that don’t serve me. I can thank them, learn from them, and move forward. No more blaming. No more wobbling or poor me.   Just me and my grown-up bike on the open road.   Let’s go ride.   Watch for the blind spots.     👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

Have you ever found yourself falling into the same pattern, approaching a familiar problem with familiar tactics? If things don't change, we'll double down or get louder, push harder, or justify more. I am guilty of this also. On paper, this makes no sense. But at the moment, it feels like doing something is better than doing nothing. And so, I repeat what's comfortable, even when it doesn't work.   But what if I were to invert my thinking?   What if, instead of blaming, I took responsibility for my part, no more, no less?   What if, instead of raising my voice, I softened it?   Instead of showing anger, I showed self-control.   Instead of hiding behind deception, I stood in honest clarity.   What if my default reactions could shift?   React → Reflect   Judge → Stay curious   Control → Influence through trust   Criticize → Encourage   Withdraw → Engage thoughtfully   Rush → Pause and breathe   Interrupt → Listen fully   Defend → Understand   Pretend → Be authentic   Demand → Request respectfully   When I look at that list, I see a roadmap for maturity. For connection. For peace. These are not just behavioral flips; they are invitations to grow.   It takes courage to be different than my normal. Resisting old instincts and trusting that a softer, more mindful response might bring a better result. It also means accepting that I have more influence than I think, not through force but through presence.   If I invert my thinking, I open the door to something new: new outcomes, new relationships, new peace within myself.   I don't need to become a different person; I need to choose a different way to show up.   And the beauty is I can start with just one shift. One moment of reflection. One pause before I react. One honest word in place of a protective mask.   Would this be easy? Absolutely not. It's not easy, but life-changing.   Invert the thinking. Change the result. And build a better me.   Watch for the blind spots. 👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

The more I focus on the past, the less of the future I can see. I recently spoke with a man who had spent nearly four years in a painful, on-again, off-again relationship. He described the highs as magical and the lows as emotionally devastating. What stood out most was how often both partners kept revisiting old wounds, analyzing past arguments, questioning each other’s motives, and trying to rewrite history by proving who was “right”. The couple was trapped in a cycle. Every disagreement followed the same worn path until one of them would say something deeply hurtful, what I call an “Achilles Heel” comment, to end the fight. It became a predictable script. They weren’t moving forward; they were circling the same old pain. Watching this, it became clear to me: when I live in the rearview mirror, I am bound to crash. It’s like trying to walk down the road of life with my head turned backward. I don’t see where I am going; I trip over possibilities, and the future becomes something to survive, not something to build. Yes, “let the past be the past” sounds simple, but in practice, it requires courage. Courage to stop rehashing. Courage to release the need to be right. And courage to believe that the future holds something better. When I begin to look ahead with clarity and intention, relationships shift, and planning for the future invites collaboration. It creates space for hope, creativity, and anticipation. It transforms being stuck into action. I can’t rewrite yesterday, but I can design tomorrow. The question is: will I keep looking over my shoulder, or will I finally face forward and walk into something new? The more I focus on the past, the less future I can see. The future can’t start until I stop living in the past. Watch for the blind spots. Think you’ve got it all figured out? 🤔 Your blind spots might have other plans. Get copy today. 📚 http:// tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

Pride shows up in many forms. I'm not talking about being proud of family or achievements. I mean the kind of pride that says, I'm better than you , more important than you , or step aside—I'm in control . Grace, on the other hand, is its opposite: calm, courteous, and kind even when it's not easy.   Picture this: you're driving in traffic. Someone wants into your lane. Do you let them in (grace)  or tighten your grip on control (pride) ? Often, it depends on how your day is going.   A friend recently shared her story. She was rushing home and stuck behind a slow driver. When she tried to pass, the driver sped up. She tried again, with the same result. Frustrated, she floored it, passed, and turned into her neighborhood. To her surprise, the other car followed her. They both exchanged ugly words. My friend threatened to call the police, then went inside, ashamed.   Later, still feeling guilty, she saw the car parked a few houses down. Wanting to make peace, she decided to show grace and offer an apology. But when she knocked, the woman's husband answered. He said his wife had just received a serious cancer diagnosis and was resting before the kids got home. She had told him about the incident.   My friend walked back to her car, devastated.   Isn't it remarkable how pride can close our eyes to others' pain? When we feel anxious or rushed, pride often takes the wheel. But when we slow down, grace has a chance to lead.   That day reminded her and me that we always have a choice. I've had moments where I've acted out of pride, only to wonder later what someone else might have been going through. It's humbling.   In every interaction, we can choose pride or grace. One will isolate. The other heals.   Watch for the blind spots.   Think you’ve got it all figured out? 🤔 Your blind spots might have other plans. Get copy today. 📚 http:// tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

I recently spoke with a gentleman caught in a painful conflict with his wife. She was upset over something he felt was harmless, a misunderstanding, in his view, with no malicious intent. But when she confronted him, he exploded. His anger was sharp, relentless, and justified in his mind. He believed she had lied, and no matter how she explained, he wouldn't listen. He needed to be right.   When he called me afterward, he was still furious. I listened as he repeated the story, still convinced of betrayal. But beneath his fury, I could hear something else: pain. And when we revisited the conversation the next day, the storm had settled enough for him to admit that maybe he had misunderstood her.   But sadness? That was still off-limits.   He shared that the argument stirred memories of his father, memories rooted in rejection and emotional pain. As a teenager, sadness had no place. Crying was a weakness. Anger, on the other hand, gave him power. It let him strike out rather than feel struck. Sadness made him feel vulnerable; anger made him feel strong.   That's when we discussed a truth that has changed many lives, including mine: anger is a secondary emotion. It doesn't arise on its own. Deeper emotions, such as fear, hurt, shame, guilt, or sadness, fuel it. However, those emotions are often suppressed, especially when we've learned early on that they're dangerous to express.   It's easy to react to someone's anger with defensiveness or judgment. What's harder and far more healing is to pause and ask, where is the pain?   Whenever I feel anger rise in me or witness it in someone else, I now slow things down and look past the words, past the heat, and ask: What is the pain that's hiding beneath this?   More often than not, in my past, I would choose anger, not sadness.   Now, I recognize the danger of anger and want to react from the primary emotion, not the secondary one.   Watch for the blind spots. Think you’ve got it all figured out? 🤔 Your blind spots might have other plans. Get copy today. 📚 http:// tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

Yesterday was Father’s Day. You’ve been gone now for over 30 years, and I still miss you. The ache has softened over time, but the love and gratitude remain as strong as ever. Some of my fondest memories are of us when I was small. We were inseparable. I remember curling up in your lap, it was the safest place in the world. I used to wonder how I would ever survive if I lost you. I wasn’t sure life could go on without you in it. I loved it when I got to go to work with you. You gave me the best work ethic which has carried me into many successful careers. Though your education was limited, your wisdom ran deep. You often denied me what I thought I wanted, and only now do I realize how frequently you were right. You emphasized the importance of education, and I’m grateful you did. I know it hurt you when I joined the Marines. Before I left, you said, “Jerry, we don’t want no heroes, we just want you back.” I carried those words with me every single day of those 13 months. Later, I learned how hard that season was for you and Mom. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but I came to understand what you expected of me and, more importantly, why. You weren’t always easy, but you were fair, and you were constant. You gave everything to our family. I’ll never fully know the sacrifices you made. I hope I have told you enough, but in case I haven’t, thank you. I could never have become the man I am without your quiet strength and steady love. We didn’t say “I love you” in words, but I always felt it. It was there, woven into your actions, hidden but true. Your legacy lives on, primarily through the laughter of my boys as we recall the silly games you made up with them. You were their hero, too. What an incredible dad you were. “Thank you” will never be enough. I love you, and I miss you more than words can say. Happy Father’s Day,   Think you’ve got it all figured out? 🤔 Your blind spots might have other plans. Get copy today. 📚 http:// tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp

Poverty in relationships isn't about money; it's about the absence of trust, empathy, and meaningful connection. It manifests as emotional distance, a lack of vulnerability, and unspoken resentment. True relational wealth doesn't come from perfection but from honesty, care, and consistent effort.   I've often asked parents, spouses, employees, friends, and leaders to evaluate how well they're doing in their relationship roles. I often ask, "Could you be better?"  Everyone says yes. Isn't it fascinating that even knowing this, we often live in relationship poverty without planning to improve?   We track our finances, upgrade our homes, and plan for the future. However, when it comes to relationships, the most essential part of our lives—it is easy to overlook them. Initially we start by putting our best foot forward. But over time, old habits and emotional fatigue creep in. It becomes easier to blame others and point out their flaws, letting ourselves off the hook. But blame is just a way to avoid the real work of growth and change.   If your relationship feels stuck in poverty or just “ ordinary ,” what small shift could move it one step closer to something extraordinary? I’ve walked through seasons where I settled for silence and disconnection, where quiet frustration became my norm. I survived, but I wasn’t growing. That’s a chapter I’m not willing to repeat.   I have found the best place to start is with myself. I can examine my blind spots and ask: What would a better version of me bring to this relationship?  If I want to be a better spouse, parent, friend, or coworker, what am I willing to change or improve in myself?   One question I often ask myself is: What do I want others to say about how I showed up in their lives? That answer points me forward. Because whether I like it or not, I am the author of the story others tell about me.   I choose to stop living in relational poverty and start building something I am proud to be a part of.   Watch for the blind spots.   👀 Don’t wait to uncover what you don’t know you don’t know! 💡 Blind Spots in Relationships,  get your copy today,  http://tinyurl.com/yc3usfsp