Growth in the form of mistakes. It has been my path.

My life isn't as easy as it should be. Framed by a shortcut I took in my 20s. Fifteen years later, I am still handcuffed to that time in my life. The reality is this: all of our achievements are measured by our strengths but graded by our faults. And it’s infuriating how one singular fault can wipe out a lifetime of strengths, but that's why we have to fully appreciate just how far reaching our choices can be.

That’s where I stand. Talented, proven, resilient, and far removed from the person I was 20 years ago. Yet, by today's standards, I am judged not as the man I am now but as the man I was in my weakest moment. The irony doesn’t escape me. Because of this, I’ve had to work 10 times harder just to get by—and 100 times harder just to be told no.

Some people never falter, and I applaud that. Clear-headed decision-making from the start is admirable. But does that make them better? I don’t think so. Many of us are better because of our faults—because our mistakes shook us so deeply that they woke us up. I didn’t become the best version of myself because I started out that way. I became that way through experiences, failures, and a conscious decision to be better.

Sure, people pass me up. They give me the polite “It’s not you; we just need to be careful” line. But when I hear that, I know the truth: it is me. And I wish they’d just say that outright. This used to rattle me. Rejection was something I didn’t handle well. But recently, I’ve realized their decision is correct—for them. And for me, it’s a sign they’re not the right ones for me either.

The people who deserve my talents are the ones who give me a chance. The ones who ask about my life, my past, and give me the respect to explain. Those people—without fail—have offered me windows of opportunity, and I haven’t let them down.

Maybe there aren’t many people like me, and that’s okay. I’ve met tens of thousands of people in my 45 years. Most are not just amazing—they’re inherently good, kind, and thoughtful. They’ve lived lives I respect, free of the mistakes I’ve made. People often tell me I’m unique, and for a long time, I thought it was just about my boldness and quirks. But I’ve realized that my uniqueness also lies in my mistakes—and I’m proud of that, too.

No, this doesn’t mean I’m okay with screwing up, letting people down, or making bad choices. But it does mean I’ve taken account and accountability. And because of that, I’m comfortable with the growth that’s come from it all. I will never stop making mistakes. But the fun irony is this: I will also never stop learning, which means I will never stop growing.