📚 Summary:

“I Expect Failure in All Things I Do” is a deeply personal and powerfully practical book by entrepreneur, educator, and father Di Tran, published in 2024. Written for anyone navigating life, leadership, business, parenting, or personal growth, this book challenges the toxic pursuit of perfection and redefines failure as the essential path to success.

Across 12 heartfelt, motivational chapters, Di Tran shares stories, lessons, and honest reflections from his life—inviting readers to embrace failure not as defeat, but as fuel for becoming stronger, wiser, and more grounded.

This book isn’t just a read—it’s a companion.
For those who are tired, stuck, rebuilding, or rising again.
It speaks to you as you are, where you are—and invites you to keep going, always.

Why Read This Book

This is not a book about winning.

This is a book about continuing.

About what to do when things don’t go as planned.
When the plan breaks.
When you fall.
When the dream feels too far.
When you question your place in the world or your purpose inside it.

It’s a book written for people who:

Have failed and feel ashamed.
Are building something without a map.
Keep showing up—but wonder if they’re doing it wrong.
Want to become great, but feel stuck in the middle.
Are trying to balance family, business, healing, growth, and sanity—and sometimes drop the ball.

This is not a guidebook to avoid failure.
It’s a companion to help you expect it, learn from it, and rise with it.

Because the truth is:

Everything good in life—love, leadership, mastery, purpose—requires failure.

But not the kind that ends you.

The kind that forms you.

In these pages, I will not give you a polished version of success.
I will give you my honest story—as an immigrant, entrepreneur, father, husband, and human—falling again and again, and getting back up every single time.

If you’re tired of pretending, if you’re ready to live more boldly, if you want to grow with grace, fail without shame, and lead with realness—

This book is for you.

And by the end, I hope you walk away with this mindset stitched into your bones:

“I expect failure in all things I do. And I keep going anyway.”

Contents

Why Read This Book. 2

Introduction. 7

Chapter 1: The Expectation of Failure. 15

Chapter 2: Luck Is Not a Strategy. 24

Chapter 3: Perfect Is Never the Goal 32

Chapter 4: Fail by Design. 41

Chapter 5: The 10,000-Hour Lie (and Truth) 50

Chapter 6: Failing Forward, Always. 60

Chapter 7: Mastery Through Mistakes. 70

Chapter 8: The Power of “I Don’t Know Much”. 80

Chapter 9: Family, Failure, and Funny Judges. 89

Chapter 10: Broken Plans, Better Paths. 98

Chapter 11: Built to Fail, Wired to Rise. 107

Chapter 12: Keep Going. That’s the Whole Game. 117

The End. 125

Copyright © 2024 by Di Tran Enterprise

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

The information contained in this book is intended for educational and inspirational purposes only. It is sold with the understanding that the publisher and author are not engaged in rendering psychological, counseling, or other professional services. If expert assistance is required, the services of a competent professional should be sought.

This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in regard to the subject matter covered. It is presented with the understanding that the author and publisher are not engaged in rendering personal, professional, or any other kind of advice. The reader should consult his or her medical, legal, financial, or other competent professional before adopting any of the suggestions in this book or drawing inferences from it.

This publication reflects the author’s views, experiences, and opinions. It is intended to provide helpful and informative material on the subjects addressed in the publication. The author and publisher shall have neither liability nor responsibility to any person or entity with respect to any loss, damage, or injury caused, or alleged to be caused, directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

While the author has made every effort to ensure the accuracy and completeness of the information contained in this publication, we assume no responsibility for errors, inaccuracies, omissions, or any inconsistency herein. Any slights of people or organizations are unintentional.

Introduction

I Expect Failure in All Things I Do

My name is Di Tran, and I expect failure in all things I do.

If that sentence makes you uncomfortable, I understand. It made me uncomfortable once, too. But the longer I live, the more I build, and the more I reflect—the more I realize it’s not only true… it’s also freeing.

This book is not a sequel in the traditional sense, but it continues the journey I began in my last book, I Love Failing: Why I Fail and Cannot Stop Failing Any Longer. That book was a confession, a celebration, and a reclamation of a word that most people try to avoid. I took failure, flipped it over, shook it down, and found treasure in its pockets.

But this book?
This one is about what happens next.

It’s about how expecting failure in every effort has completely changed my life—for the better. It’s about how I wake up knowing I will mess something up today… and still give it my full heart. It’s about how I lead with a strange, gritty joy because I’m no longer chasing perfection—I’m chasing better. Always better. Never done.

Failing On Purpose

You see, failure isn’t just a possibility. It’s part of the process.

We’ve all been told to “learn from our mistakes.” But what if we stopped waiting until mistakes just happen… and started expecting them, even designing around them?

I’ve spent decades doing just that. As an immigrant, a husband, a father, a business owner, a builder of community, and most importantly—a man who loves deeply and leads openly—I’ve come to realize this: The greatest enemy of growth is the illusion that we must get it right the first time.

No one gets it right the first time. And if they do, they probably didn’t know what they were doing well enough to notice what went wrong.

So, I build in a way that expects failure. I build schools, nonprofits, companies, and dreams with plenty of room to stumble, to course-correct, to adapt. Because if it’s good, it’s going to be hard. And if it’s hard, it’s going to hurt a little before it starts to work.

Back to School—Again

Recently, I returned to the University of Louisville, where I earned both my Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in engineering from the Speed School. This time, I wasn’t there as a student. I was there as a CEO, invited to speak on a panel called Building Tomorrow’s Brands.

It was surreal to walk into a room where I once sat in silence, absorbing everything I could from people I thought had it all figured out. Now I was one of those people—the ones in the front of the room, holding a mic, expected to share wisdom.

And still, all I could think was: I don’t know much.

In fact, I probably know less now than I thought I did when I was younger. But I see more now. I listen better. I recover faster. I ask better questions.

One student asked me something I’ll never forget. I had just said, offhand, “I expect failure in all things I do.”
They raised their hand and asked, “Why? Isn’t that kind of discouraging?”

It was such a good question. A brave question. And it deserved an honest answer.

“Because Everything Good Takes Time.”

That’s what I told them.

Everything good in life requires hard work, persistence, and time. You don’t build strong relationships, successful businesses, or even good habits on the first try. You build them in pieces—by getting it wrong, by learning what not to do, by tweaking, adjusting, falling, standing, trying again.

If something works perfectly the first time, that’s not skill. That’s luck. And luck doesn’t last. But skill? Skill is earned. It’s practiced. It’s painful. And it’s real.

That’s why I expect failure.
Not because I like falling short. But because I know it means I’m pushing into new territory—into areas where I still have something to learn, something to earn.

I told that student: “Expecting failure is not pessimism. It’s preparation. It’s the only honest mindset for someone who wants to keep growing forever.”

Two CEOs, One Home

At that same panel, I sat beside my wife—also a CEO. We run entirely different businesses. I’m in the business of education, personal development, beauty, and community empowerment. She’s in the world of medicine and pharmacy. But we are side by side, building legacies from two different directions.

That day, we were on the same stage, answering questions about growth, leadership, and brand-building—and I couldn’t help but glance over and think:
Wow. We built this life, not from success after success… but from failure after failure. Together.

Our kids—Skylar, Jayden, and Dylan—are still young, but they are already deeply observant. They are always watching, always grading us. Skylar would probably give me a B+ for the panel. Jayden might say, “Why do you always talk about failure so much, Dad?” Dylan would probably just ask if there were snacks and if I was famous yet.

But what I hope they’re really learning is this:
That their mom and dad are always trying. That we don’t pretend to be perfect. That we work hard, mess up, say sorry, and get back to it. That we never stop learning. Never stop showing up.

That’s the lesson I want them to take into their own lives: Be brave enough to try. Be wise enough to fail. Be strong enough to try again.

This Book Is for the Builders

This book isn’t a manual. It’s not a “12-step success plan” or a guide to avoid pain.

It’s a collection of the most honest things I’ve learned by expecting failure—and continuing anyway.

It’s for the builders.
The small business owners. The students. The dreamers. The parents. The teachers. The immigrants. The misfits. The quiet ones who think they have to “figure it all out” before they begin.

It’s for anyone who’s afraid they’re behind, broken, or not good enough.

Let me say this as clearly as I can:
You’re doing just fine. The failures don’t disqualify you—they build you.

This book will walk through the mindset, the philosophy, and the real-life stories behind what it means to live with purpose in the face of constant friction. What it means to fall in love with the process more than the result. What it means to fail with your eyes open and your heart still invested.

You’ll read about the 10,000-hour concept—and how most people misinterpret it. You’ll explore why perfection is a myth, and how broken plans often lead to better paths. You’ll see how I’ve learned to say, “I don’t know much,” not as weakness, but as a signal of strength and openness.

You’ll meet me at my lowest moments, and you’ll walk with me through how I got up. Again and again.

Why I Keep Writing About Failure

People sometimes ask me, “Why do you keep writing about failure?”

Because no one else wants to.

Because failure is still treated like something shameful—even though everyone goes through it.

Because someone out there is thinking about quitting—not just a project, but maybe on themselves.
And maybe, if they read this book and realize they’re not alone, they’ll decide to keep going.

Because failure isn’t the end of your story—it’s the start of a real one.

What You Can Expect

Each chapter of this book will dig into a different layer of what it means to expect failure and keep striving. We’ll talk about planning for failure, building businesses with resilience, raising children with honesty, and leading without pretending to have all the answers.

You’ll hear about broken plans that led to better paths. You’ll see how I view feedback, setbacks, and criticism. You’ll understand why I believe the best version of you is still ahead—and why you don’t need to rush to find it.

And most of all, I’ll remind you over and over again:
You don’t have to be perfect to be impactful. You don’t have to succeed today to be valuable. You just have to keep showing up.

Final Thought Before We Begin

As I write this, I’m still learning. Still trying. Still failing in some areas, growing in others. I know a little more today than I did yesterday. And I hope, tomorrow, I’ll know even more.

But one thing remains solid:
I expect failure in all things I do.
And because of that, I keep doing. I keep building. I keep becoming.

Let’s walk this journey together.

Welcome to the book.

— Di Tran

Chapter 1: The Expectation of Failure

Let’s start with a moment of honesty. Right now, wherever you are reading this—from your kitchen table, from your phone in bed, from a break room at work—pause and ask yourself one thing:

What are you trying to do right now in your life that you’re afraid you might fail at?

Go ahead. Name it.

Is it a business idea?
A relationship?
Going back to school?
Breaking a bad habit?
Becoming a better parent, partner, leader, or simply a better version of yourself?

Whatever it is, bring it to the front of your mind. This chapter is for that version of you—the one who wants to grow, but doesn’t yet believe that failure might be the best possible sign that you’re on the right path.

Let me tell you something that sounds strange at first:
If you’re not failing, you’re not even trying.

I’m Di Tran. I’m a CEO, author, speaker, engineer, father, husband, community builder… and I fail constantly.

Not occasionally.
Constantly.
And the wildest part? I’ve come to love it.

But I wasn’t born with this mindset. Like most people, I was raised with the idea that failure was something to avoid. Something to hide. Something that made you less than those who appeared to always win.

And let’s be real—none of us like losing. Failing stings. It embarrasses. It shakes our confidence. Especially when people are watching. Especially when we care.

But something shifted for me over the years. Somewhere between falling and standing back up a hundred times, I began to see failure not as a sign of weakness—but as a sign that I was in the arena. That I was building something real. That I was still becoming.

So now, I expect failure. Not because I plan for disaster. But because I know that anything worth building will test me.

Why I Expect Failure in All Things I Do

Let me say it clearly:
I expect failure because I aim to grow. And growth never happens without friction.

I expect failure because if something is meaningful, it’s going to stretch me past what I already know how to do.

I expect failure because I now know that perfection is a lie.
You won’t be perfect.
I won’t be perfect.
No one will.

So why waste your energy pretending?

Instead, what if you used that energy to build resilience instead of a mask?
What if you got comfortable being imperfect—yet still unstoppable?

That’s what this mindset gives you. Freedom. Permission. Courage. Direction.

The Lie of Getting It Right the First Time

Let me ask you: where did we get the idea that success happens on the first try?

Is it because social media shows us the highlight reels?
Because schools and workplaces reward perfection instead of effort?
Because we’re scared of being judged?

Let me break this down from personal experience.

When I started Louisville Beauty Academy, I had no roadmap. I wasn’t from the beauty industry. I didn’t have a perfect model to copy. I had a vision: to make beauty education debt-free, affordable, and accessible, especially for immigrants, single moms, and underserved people like the one I used to be.

Was it easy? No.
Did it work on the first try? Definitely not.

We hit walls. Licensing delays. Facility issues. Financial strain. Misunderstandings. Doubt. Fear.

But we kept going.
Every mistake gave us clearer insight into what we were really building.

And today, that school is changing lives—not because we got it right immediately, but because we expected to struggle, and we kept going anyway.

You Are Not Behind

Let me speak to your heart right now, wherever you are in life:

You are not behind.

Not because of your age.
Not because of your bank account.
Not because you failed before.
Not because you’ve made mistakes you don’t talk about.

You’re not behind—you’re becoming. And that path is different for everyone.

When you expect failure, you stop trying to race anyone else. You stop comparing your middle to someone else’s ending. You give yourself the time and space to do the thing right—by first doing it wrong.

Yes, wrong. Because no one learns to ride a bike without falling.
No one learns to lead without messing up.
No one learns to love without hurting or getting hurt.

So the next time you feel behind, remind yourself:
This is the process. I’m exactly where I need to be.

How I See Failure Now

I no longer fear failure.
I fear staying the same.
I fear stopping short.
I fear success that comes too easily—because I know it won’t last.

When I expect failure, I build things differently. I give myself permission to test, to improve, to revise.

That’s how real builders work.

Think about software companies. They launch “beta versions” that are expected to have bugs. They push them out anyway. And every bug report becomes part of the improvement. That’s what we need to become: walking betas. In-progress humans.

You don’t need to be finished.
You need to keep pushing updates.

You, Right Now, Are Enough To Begin

You don’t need to be perfect to start.
You don’t need more certifications.
You don’t need more confidence.
You don’t need permission.

You just need to start—knowing full well that your first few steps will likely be awkward, messy, even painful.

But you know what else they’ll be?

Real.
Brave.
Necessary.

I want you to say this out loud to yourself right now:

“I expect failure—and I’m still going to try.”

Say it again.

Now imagine what kind of life opens up when that becomes your default.

You take more risks.
You try again faster.
You forgive yourself easier.
You learn deeper.
You connect better.

Because now you’re not playing a performance game. You’re playing a growth game. And in the growth game, failure isn’t the enemy—it’s the entrance fee.

Let’s Rewire the Way You See It

Let me make this personal.

If you are afraid of failing, I understand you.
If you’ve failed before and it crushed you, I’ve been there.
If you’re building something now and it’s not going as planned, you’re in good company.

But I want you to stop seeing failure as the opposite of success.

Failure is not the opposite of success. It is the path to success.

Let me repeat that, because it changes lives:

Failure is not the opposite of success. It is the path to it.

And if you learn how to expect it, welcome it, and learn from it—you’ll never waste another hard moment again.

This Chapter Is the Door

This chapter is your invitation.

Not to fail just for the sake of it.
Not to be reckless.
Not to pretend it doesn’t hurt when things go wrong.

But to shift your entire mindset.

From: “I hope this goes right or I’ll feel ashamed.”
To: “I expect this to challenge me—and that’s exactly how I’ll grow.”

That’s the mindset of people who do big things.
Not because they’re special.
Not because they never doubt themselves.
But because they’re committed to becoming something better—through everything.

And you?
You’re one of those people.

You wouldn’t be holding this book if you weren’t.

Let’s Get to Work

The next 11 chapters will take you deep into the mindset and mechanics of failing forward:

Why perfection is a myth
What the 10,000-hour rule really means
How to raise kids with the courage to fall and get back up
How I lead teams, companies, and myself through seasons of struggle
Why the best moments in life often come after the plans fall apart

But for now, I’ll leave you with this:

You don’t have to be fearless.
You just have to be willing.

Start messy.
Start scared.
Start tired.
Just start.

And expect failure.
Because that’s how you know you’re on to something real.

Chapter 2: Luck Is Not a Strategy

Let’s get something clear right from the start:

If you succeed on your first try, congratulations—but don’t make the mistake of thinking it was because you had it all figured out.

It might’ve just been luck.

And luck is not a strategy.
It doesn’t teach you.
It doesn’t make you stronger.
It doesn’t repeat.
It doesn’t scale.

That’s not to say luck is bad. We all love a lucky break. I’ve had a few. But I’ve learned not to depend on them. Because when luck runs out—and it always does—you’ll need skills, not stars.

What Happens After the First Win?

Here’s the trap no one talks about:
When you win too early, too easily, you often don’t know what to do next.

I’ve seen it in business. I’ve seen it in relationships. I’ve seen it in students, in parents, in people who hit early success and then freeze when the second challenge shows up.

Why?

Because they thought winning meant they knew.
They didn’t realize they were just lucky.

Luck doesn’t prepare you for failure.
Luck doesn’t build resilience.
Luck doesn’t show you what to do when the cracks appear.

But failure?
Failure teaches everything.

When you fail—when you fall flat, and your pride stings, and your plans crumble—what happens next is where you become someone real.

The Lie We Were Sold

Somewhere along the way, we were told that success is a straight line.

That if you work hard, keep your head down, and do things “the right way,” the universe will reward you. And sometimes, it does. But more often than not, success shows up sideways—unexpected, messy, and after more failures than you can count.

And in the middle of that? You’re going to question everything.

You’re going to think:

“Why is it working for them and not for me?”
“Why does it feel like I’m always running into walls?”
“Am I doing something wrong?”

Here’s the truth:
You’re not doing something wrong. You’re just doing something real.

Real things—like building a business, healing from trauma, raising a child, developing a skill—don’t reward you with instant wins. They reward you with capacity, over time.

The First Time I Got “Lucky”

Let me tell you about the first business I started that took off quickly.

It wasn’t LBA. It wasn’t a nonprofit. It wasn’t even something I deeply loved. It was a tech-related project early in my career that generated fast interest and revenue.

At the time, I thought:

“Wow, this is it. I cracked the code.”

I didn’t.
I just got lucky with timing, opportunity, and market demand.

And when the market shifted? I wasn’t prepared. I hadn’t built the foundation. I had built something that could not weather a storm.

That experience taught me the most important lesson:
If I want something to last, it has to be built—not discovered.

What I Build Now Is Meant to Break

It sounds weird, but I now design everything I do with failure in mind.

That’s right. I build to break.
Because if something breaks under pressure, I don’t want to find out too late.

So I plan for resistance. I prepare for obstacles. I listen for the weak points.

If a system in my school doesn’t work when there are five students, it definitely won’t work with fifty.
If a communication style breaks trust with one person, it won’t hold up with a team.
If a schedule collapses under a little pressure, it’s not sustainable for the long haul.

So now, I stress-test everything.

And most importantly—I stress-test myself.

Can I handle late nights and early mornings?
Can I stay kind when I’m tired?
Can I stay focused when I lose momentum?

If I can’t, I train.
That’s not negativity. That’s strategy.

Because luck won’t hold me up—but character will.

You Can’t Copy Someone Else’s Results

This one is going to sting a little:
You can’t just follow someone else’s blueprint and expect the same results.

I’ve had students and entrepreneurs come to me and ask, “How did you make LBA successful? What steps did you follow? What were the secrets?”

And I always pause. Because yes, there were tactics. There were strategies. But the real answer is this:

I expected it to go wrong. And I kept going anyway.

I didn’t follow a clean list. I followed chaos with intention. I expected resistance and adjusted in real time.

And most of all—I didn’t try to copy anyone else.

Why?

Because their timing is different. Their story is different. Their failures are different.

If you try to replicate someone else’s success without building your own resilience, you won’t make it through the first storm. But if you expect failure, and you plan to learn, you don’t need someone else’s playbook—you’ll write your own.

What Happens When You Stop Depending on Luck

When you shift from “I hope this works” to “I’ll build this until it does,” everything changes.

You stop hoping for shortcuts.
You stop waiting for permission.
You stop comparing.

You start working.
You start testing.
You start owning the process.

You stop looking for applause—and you start listening for feedback.

You stop dreaming of easy—and start preparing for excellent.

And you become unstoppable. Not because everything goes your way—but because you’re no longer surprised when it doesn’t.

The Builder’s Blueprint

So here’s what I want you to try this week—wherever you are:

Pick something you’ve been waiting on. Something you’ve been hesitant to start or take to the next level because you’re afraid you’ll mess it up.
Write down how you expect it to go wrong. Don’t hold back. List the possible failures—missed deadlines, awkward feedback, confusion, overwhelm.
Now write your response plan.
Not how you’ll avoid those things—but how you’ll respond when they happen.

You’ll be shocked how much power this gives you.

It removes the sting from failure.
It makes you feel in control again.
It puts the focus back where it belongs—not on outcomes, but on effort with intention.

You’re Not Lucky—You’re Learning

If you’ve ever thought, “I just need a lucky break,” I get it.

But here’s what I want to offer instead:
You don’t need luck. You need process. You need patience. You need grit.

And the most powerful thing? Those are things you can build.

Every mistake you’ve made was part of your training.
Every delay you’ve faced was an opportunity to develop resilience.
Every time you’ve had to start over—you started stronger.

So no, you’re not behind. You’re not cursed. You’re not unlucky.

You’re learning.

And when you finally succeed—because you will—you’ll know that it wasn’t luck that got you there. It was you. The real you. The one who stuck it out. Who fell, adjusted, and stood back up.

That’s the kind of success no one can take from you.
That’s the kind of life no one can copy.

And it all begins with expecting failure—and choosing to build anyway.

Chapter 3: Perfect Is Never the Goal

Let me ask you something that might sound simple, but it cuts deep:

Who told you that you had to be perfect?

Really. Who told you that everything you do has to be flawless?
That you shouldn’t make mistakes?
That your first draft needs to be publish-ready?
That your first business has to boom?
That your first attempt at anything needs to impress someone?

Was it school? Was it your parents? Your boss? Your own expectations?

I don’t know your answer.
But I know my truth:
I’ve spent years unlearning the lie that perfection is the goal.

Because I’ve learned—perfection is not real. Progress is.

Perfection Is the Great Paralyzer

The most dangerous thing about perfection is that it stops people before they even start.

Think about it.

How many ideas die in notebooks because someone says, “It’s not ready yet”?
How many dreams never get launched because someone is scared of how it will look?
How many people live stuck in the same routine because they’re afraid to try and be bad at it?

It’s not failure that kills dreams. It’s waiting to be perfect first.

Here’s a secret:
No one doing great work is doing it perfectly.
They’re doing it imperfectly, consistently.
They’re showing up messy. They’re refining in public.
They’re learning while moving. They’re building while bleeding.
And because of that, they’re growing.

If you’re waiting to be perfect—you’re going to wait forever.
And if you’re waiting forever, you’re not growing.

The People You Admire Aren’t Perfect Either

We often see people at their highlight.
We see the award speech, not the years of anonymous struggle.
We see the beautiful website, not the failed launches before it.
We see the book on the shelf, not the 17 versions that didn’t make the cut.

Let me tell you the truth about every “successful” person you’ve ever seen:
They failed more times than they’ll ever post about.

Their work isn’t perfect.
It’s polished by time and effort.
It’s shaped by criticism and correction.
It’s real.

You don’t need to be perfect to be respected.
You need to be honest. Consistent. Willing.

Why I Stopped Aiming for Perfect

I used to obsess over doing everything exactly right.
The first version of every business plan had to look “professional.”
Every school launch had to go off without a hitch.
Every step had to be thought through, triple-checked, cleaned up for the world.

And guess what?

I was exhausted.
And I wasn’t moving.

One day, I had to face a truth that changed my life:

Trying to be perfect was actually keeping me from being effective.

So I stopped.
I started sending things out before I was “ready.”
I started building while learning.
I started showing up, even when I wasn’t confident yet.
And the world didn’t fall apart.

In fact, things started to take off.
Not because they were perfect.
But because they were real—and people can feel real.

The Myth of the “Perfect Timing”

Can I tell you something that might sting a little?

There’s no such thing as perfect timing.

If you’re waiting for:

The right moment
The right mindset
The right money
The right support
The perfect conditions…

You’ll still be waiting 10 years from now.

Perfect timing is a myth we tell ourselves to stay safe.
Because action is risky. Action means exposure.
It means you might fail. People might laugh. You might have to start over.

But here’s the truth: there is only right now.
And you are enough to start something with what you already have.

Your first step won’t be perfect.
But it’ll be yours.
And it’ll teach you something no amount of planning ever could.

Let the Rough Version Exist

When I wrote I Love Failing, I didn’t have a big publishing team.
I didn’t have 20 editors or a perfect marketing plan.

But I had a story.
A message I believed people needed to hear.
A truth I had lived and couldn’t hold back anymore.

So I wrote. I edited. I released it.
Was it perfect? No.
Was it powerful? Yes.

Because it was honest.
Because it helped someone feel seen.
Because it connected in a human way.

And that’s what your work is meant to do, too.
It’s not meant to be flawless—it’s meant to be felt.

Progress Over Perfection

Here’s a mindset I live by now:

Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can. Repeat.

That’s it.
That’s how schools are built.
That’s how movements grow.
That’s how people change.

Progress is boring on the outside—tiny changes, small tweaks, regular rhythm.
But inside? It’s where transformation happens.

Every chapter in this book you’re reading now was written, deleted, re-written, revised. None of it was perfect on the first try. But every sentence brought me closer to clarity.

That’s progress.
That’s the goal.

For the One Who’s Tired of Failing

Maybe you’re reading this thinking,

“I’ve tried that. I have started. And I’ve failed. A lot.”

Let me say this clearly:
That does not mean you’re broken.
That does not mean you’re not good enough.
That means you are in the process.

You’re doing something that matters.
And things that matter take time.

They take revision.
They take risk.
They take letting go of perfection so you can hold onto persistence.

This Is Your Permission Slip

So here it is.

Your permission to:

Launch something unfinished.
Speak before you feel ready.
Show up messy.
Write the rough draft.
Build the first version.
Apologize awkwardly.
Learn out loud.
Love imperfectly.
Try again.

Because you don’t need to be perfect.
You need to be present.
You need to be in motion.
You need to be awake enough to notice what’s working and brave enough to fix what’s not.

Perfect was never the goal.
Growth is.
Impact is.
Movement is.

Let Me Remind You

You are not here to impress.
You are here to express.
You are here to become.
You are here to try, fail, adjust, and rise again.

This book is not perfect.
My life is not perfect.
My businesses are not perfect.
My family is not perfect.

But we are real.
We are learning.
We are loving.
We are building.

And I wouldn’t trade that for anyone’s highlight reel.

One Last Thought

If you walk away from this chapter with only one sentence in your heart, let it be this:

Perfect is never the goal. Progress is.

So go ahead.
Be bold.
Be messy.
Be in motion.

And if you fail—good. You’re doing it right.

Chapter 4: Fail by Design

Failure is often seen as something to survive.
But what if I told you that the most successful people you know plan to fail?

Not just accept it. Not just recover from it.
They design for it.

They build their systems, their businesses, their lives in a way that makes room for missteps, setbacks, redirections—and even welcomes them.

Because when you fail by design, failure isn’t a crisis.
It’s a checkpoint.
A calibration.
A signal that says, “Good. You’ve reached the edge of what you know. Time to expand.”

Let me show you how that works.

I Don’t Build to Avoid Failure—I Build to Learn Faster

We’re taught from a young age to “avoid mistakes.”
But in entrepreneurship, leadership, parenting, relationships—avoiding mistakes is the fastest way to avoid growth.

If everything you build must be flawless, you’ll build less. You’ll test less. You’ll stretch less.

But if you build with failure in mind, you move differently.

When I launched Louisville Beauty Academy, I didn’t try to make the perfect school. I didn’t try to create a mistake-proof system. I tried to create something flexible—something that could bend without breaking.

Because I expected hiccups. I expected regulation surprises. I expected confusion. And because I expected those things, we could respond with strategy, not panic.

That’s how real builders operate.
They don’t just say “I’ll handle failure when it comes.”
They ask: “How can I design failure into my learning curve, so I can grow faster?”

The Best Systems Expect Mistakes

Think about it: even the smartest companies in the world don’t trust their ideas until they’ve been stress-tested.

Engineers build failure simulations into their systems.
Pilots use flight simulators to practice failure scenarios.
Medical students train on artificial patients so they can make mistakes before ever touching a real person.

That’s not weakness. That’s intelligence.
That’s design thinking.

What if you did that in your own life?

What if you planned for:

Days when your motivation disappears?
Moments when your plan doesn’t work?
Conversations that go sideways?
Business decisions that don’t deliver?

That doesn’t make you paranoid—it makes you prepared.

Because when failure isn’t a surprise, it doesn’t scare you.
It becomes part of the process. A step in the system.

What Does It Mean to Fail By Design?

To fail by design means:

You test small before scaling big.
You create systems that allow for trial and feedback, not rigid expectations.
You collect failure like data—not judgment.
You stop trying to avoid discomfort and start studying it.

When I write books, I don’t aim for the perfect first draft.
I write knowing I’ll delete pages. I write expecting edits.
I don’t take that personally. I take it professionally.

When my kids are learning something new, I don’t expect perfection—I expect noise, mess, breakdowns, and breakthroughs.
Because that’s how people grow. That’s how families strengthen. That’s how confidence is built—not from avoiding failure, but from surviving it with grace.

The Difference Between Chaos and Design

Let’s be clear: failing by design is not the same as failing by accident.

Failing by accident is what happens when you:

Wing it.
Hope for the best.
Don’t prepare for obstacles.
Panic when things go wrong.

Failing by design, on the other hand, is intentional.
It’s controlled.
It’s part of your development system.

You expect things to go wrong.
You leave space for adjustment.
You keep moving because failure doesn’t knock you off course—it is the course.

This is the difference between being reactive and being resilient.

Lessons From My Early Failures

When I first started building my businesses, I thought I had to present perfection.

I believed:

“If I look like I don’t know what I’m doing, people won’t trust me.”
“If this launch doesn’t go smoothly, it means I’m not good enough.”
“If I mess up, people will lose respect.”

But the opposite was true.

The more honest I became, the more people trusted me.
The more open I was about testing and adjusting, the more people respected the process.
And the more transparent I was about my failures, the more relatable—and real—my leadership became.

Now, I lead differently.
I tell my teams: “We are going to mess up. That’s the plan. What matters is how fast we learn and adapt.”

Fail Small, Learn Big

When you fail by design, you also fail small.

You test things before committing all your resources.
You experiment before you launch.
You give yourself the gift of learning in motion, rather than waiting for a “perfect time” that doesn’t exist.

One example: before opening a new location or program, I test the idea with my students, staff, and community. I ask for feedback. I launch on a small scale and let the failures happen there—where they’re manageable. Where the stakes are low. Where the learning is high.

That’s how I build smarter, not just harder.

And you can do the same.
You don’t have to jump off cliffs—you can build bridges as you go.
Test. Learn. Adjust. Repeat.

The Ego Hates This

Let me be honest: your ego will fight this.

Your ego wants to get it right on the first try.
Your ego wants applause.
Your ego wants to prove it already knows.
Your ego doesn’t want to look like it’s still learning.

But your growth depends on doing what your ego fears most:
Trying. Failing. Adapting.

You are not your failures.
You are not your first draft.
You are not your missteps.
You are what you do after.

So tell your ego to step aside.
You’ve got learning to do.

What If Your Life Had Room for Failure?

Really think about that.

What if you gave yourself permission to try something—even knowing you might stumble?

What if your business plan had space for pivots?
What if your marriage had space for honest mistakes and forgiveness?
What if your parenting allowed for real conversations, not perfect performances?
What if your dreams allowed for mess—and not just a polished outcome?

You would be freer.
You would be braver.
You would move more often.
You would learn so much faster.

Because you’d stop waiting for perfection.
And you’d start living.

Try This: Design Your Failures

Here’s your challenge after this chapter:

Pick one thing you’ve been avoiding because you’re afraid to fail.
Ask yourself: “What would failing small look like?”
- Can you test it with just one client?
- Can you post one video instead of launching a channel?
- Can you try one honest conversation instead of fixing everything?
Write down what you’ll learn if it doesn’t go right.
- What would you adjust?
- What feedback could you collect?
- What skill would you build?
Then do it. Not perfectly. But on purpose.

Fail by Design = Grow by Intention

At this point, I don’t just expect failure—I build for it.

Because I’m not afraid of failing anymore.
I’m afraid of staying the same.
I’m afraid of getting too comfortable.
I’m afraid of building something so fragile that one mistake breaks it all.

So I build strong.
And strong things bend.
Strong systems adjust.
Strong people grow in public.
Strong families talk through tension.
Strong businesses evolve with their communities.

And all of that strength begins when you stop trying to look right—and start trying to do right. Even if that means failing… by design.

Chapter 5: The 10,000-Hour Lie (and Truth)

We’ve all heard it.

It’s quoted in TED talks, books, interviews, and Instagram posts:

“It takes 10,000 hours to become a master.”

And sure—it sounds cool. Clean. Motivational.
But for most people, it’s also incredibly misleading.

Because here’s the part they don’t tell you:

You can spend 10,000 hours doing the same thing the wrong way—and never get better.

You can spend 10,000 hours practicing without awareness—and never grow.

You can reach 10,000 hours and still feel like you’re just getting started.

So let’s break it down.
Not just the lie people believe about the 10,000-hour rule… but also the truth underneath it that actually matters.

The Lie: Time Alone = Mastery

People hear “10,000 hours” and think:

“If I just keep doing this long enough, I’ll become world-class.”

But time is not the only factor.
Time + focused effort + feedback + intentional correction = mastery.

You can’t just clock hours. You have to engage the hours.

Let me put it this way:

You can type for 10,000 hours and still write mediocre books.
You can cut hair for 10,000 hours and still miss finesse.
You can speak for 10,000 hours and still struggle to move hearts.

But if you add reflection to those hours…
If you study your missteps…
If you ask how to improve…
If you get feedback and adjust in real-time…

Now you’re building toward something lasting.

My Personal 10,000-Hour Reality

I didn’t wake up one day knowing how to build schools.
I didn’t become a leader overnight.
I didn’t write clean sentences, run strong teams, or communicate with confidence from the jump.

What I did do was:

Show up tired.
Ask dumb questions.
Fail in front of people.
Take notes.
Apply lessons.
Repeat.

I’ve logged more than 10,000 hours building my businesses, serving students, writing, speaking, leading, parenting, falling short, and getting up.

But those hours only mattered because I stayed awake inside them.

Some of the longest hours of my life were the ones I spent failing and choosing to not give up.

That’s where the real work happens.
Not in the number of hours, but in the quality of who you are while living them.

Why Most People Quit at Hour 100

Most people never make it to 10,000 hours—not because they’re not capable, but because they expect mastery to feel easier.

They believe:

“If I was good at this, it wouldn’t be this hard.”
“If this was my purpose, it wouldn’t be this messy.”
“If I was meant to do this, I’d be better by now.”

Let me say this loud and clear:

Feeling behind is not a sign you’re failing—it’s a sign you’re in it.

It’s supposed to be hard.
It’s supposed to be confusing.
You’re not doing something wrong. You’re doing something real.

The people who win?
They keep showing up.
Even when they feel like they’re moving slow.
Even when the hours stretch.
Even when no one is watching.
Even when it looks like nothing’s working.

Because what they know is this: the compound effect of effort is invisible… until it isn’t.

Practice Doesn’t Make Perfect—It Makes Progress

You’ve probably heard the phrase:

“Practice makes perfect.”

Let’s fix that right now.

Practice makes permanent.

Perfect practice—corrected, guided, intentional—makes progress.

And progress, over time, creates excellence. Not perfection. Excellence.

When I coach students and entrepreneurs, I don’t ask, “How long have you been doing this?”
I ask, “How have you been doing this?”

Are you refining your technique?
Are you open to coaching?
Are you collecting real feedback from real people?
Are you learning from failures or hiding them?

Because you can put in hours without evolving.
But you can’t reflect and refine without improving.

And the most powerful workers, leaders, and creatives are the ones who build their identity around ongoing mastery, not one-time success.

Why You’ll Always Feel Like a Beginner

Here’s the secret that even masters don’t tell you:

The deeper your skill grows, the more you realize how much more there is to learn.

It’s a beautiful, humbling loop.

When you’re just starting out, you think, “Give me a few years, I’ll be amazing.”
Then you reach year three, and you think, “I still don’t know anything.”
Then you hit year ten and think, “I’m proud of how far I’ve come… but wow, there’s still so much more.”

That’s not failure. That’s awareness.

And if you can fall in love with that feeling—of never being “done,” but always being in process—you will grow faster, deeper, and truer than most.

That’s how I feel even now.
I’ve taught thousands, led teams, written books, built real impact.
And yet… I still wake up some mornings thinking:

“I don’t know much.”

And I smile—because it means I’m still becoming.

Don’t Chase Hours—Chase Depth

The 10,000-hour rule made people chase quantity.
But quantity doesn’t guarantee depth.

Let me ask you:

Are you going through the motions, or leaning in?
Are you refining, or just repeating?
Are you actively building yourself, or just surviving your schedule?

You don’t need to count hours.
You need to count awareness.

Every hour you spend actively refining your mindset, your heart, your skill, your connection—that’s worth a hundred hours of distracted work.

So start where you are.
Slow it down.
Listen deeper.
Feel your growth.
Own your process.

Because it’s not the hours that change you.
It’s how you live inside them.

You’re Closer Than You Think

Most people give up right before their compound effort begins to pay off.

I’ve seen it too many times:

The entrepreneur who closes shop just before breaking through.
The student who changes majors one semester before a breakthrough.
The parent who gives up believing they’re a good influence because they’re tired and overwhelmed.

If that’s you—don’t stop.
Please, don’t stop.

You are closer than you think.

The hours you’ve already invested are not wasted.
They’ve shaped you.
They’ve prepared you.
They’ve made you strong in ways you don’t even see yet.

You’re not starting from scratch—you’re starting from experience.

And that matters. More than you know.

Your Mastery Is in Motion

If there’s one thing I hope you take from this chapter, it’s this:

You don’t have to log 10,000 perfect hours. You have to log 1 honest hour, 10,000 times.

Show up.
Reflect.
Adjust.
Repeat.

Mastery isn’t about becoming untouchable.
It’s about becoming unchangeable in your dedication.
Rooted in growth.
Committed to learning.
Willing to stay on the path, even when the timeline doesn’t go your way.

So keep going.

Even when it feels slow.
Even when it feels small.
Even when it feels like you’re failing.

Because if you’re learning with intention, if you’re refining with love, and if you’re still moving with honesty—you’re becoming a master.

Hour by hour.
Step by step.
Mistake by beautiful mistake.

Chapter 6: Failing Forward, Always

I want to tell you something that took me years to learn and even longer to believe:

Momentum is more important than mastery.

Yes—read that again.

People chase perfection. They chase the title. The moment they’ll finally feel like “I’ve made it.” But what really changes your life isn’t the end result. It’s that you keep going—no matter how many times you fall.

Because failure isn’t what stops you.

Stopping stops you.

If you’ve made it this far into this book, I know something about you:
You’ve failed before.
You’ve felt doubt.
You’ve tried and things didn’t go as planned.
You’ve questioned whether you’re good enough, smart enough, or strong enough.

But guess what?
You’re still here.
Reading. Thinking. Wanting to grow.

That means you’ve already failed forward.
Now let’s learn how to do it on purpose.

What It Means to Fail Forward

Failing forward is simple in theory, difficult in practice.

It means this:

When something doesn’t work, you use the experience as momentum—not as a reason to quit.

It doesn’t mean you enjoy failure.
It doesn’t mean you act like everything’s fine.
It means you move anyway.

Let me give you an example.

In the early days of building Louisville Beauty Academy, we had licensing delays that nearly shut us down before we even opened. People told me to wait. To press pause. To stop until it was “safe.”

But stopping would have killed the vision. So we kept going. We built curriculum. We educated small groups. We stayed connected to our mission—even before the green light.

And when the moment came? We were already moving.

That’s failing forward.

It’s stumbling and still stretching.
It’s messing up and still building.
It’s saying, “Yes, that went wrong. And no, I’m not done.”

The Fall Isn’t the Problem—Staying Down Is

Here’s a question I ask myself after every setback:

“Did this stop me—or shape me?”

Most of the time, the only thing that stops us is ourselves.
Not the rejection.
Not the loss.
Not the comment, the setback, the delay.

What really stops us is the meaning we attach to the failure.

We say:

“This means I’m not good enough.”
“This means it wasn’t meant to be.”
“This means I’ll never make it.”

But that’s a lie your fear tells you.

Failure doesn’t mean “stop.”
Failure means “study this.”

Every great story has a breakdown before the breakthrough.

If you get back up, if you adjust, if you move again—then the fall didn’t end you.
It elevated you.

That’s the mindset we’re choosing:
Failing forward, always.

Why Some People Never Recover From Failure

Let’s talk about the people who get stuck.

We all know them—people who had a great idea, a big vision, a spark of passion… but then something went wrong.

And that one moment defined their next decade.

It became their identity.
Their caution tape.
Their invisible ceiling.

Why?

Because they let the failure harden into fear.

But fear doesn’t have to be a wall.
Fear can be a compass.

If something scares you because it went badly last time, take a closer look:

Did you learn something from that?
Could you try again with better insight?
What do you know now that you didn’t know then?

If the answer is yes—you’re better positioned now than ever.

But only if you move.

Forward.

Failing Forward Is a Lifestyle, Not a Moment

Here’s the difference between failing forward and just failing:

Just failing: You fall, feel ashamed, and give up.
Failing forward: You fall, feel everything, and figure out how to keep going.

This applies to everything in life:

In business, it means pivoting when your first offer flops.
In relationships, it means apologizing and repairing after missteps.
In health, it means eating the donut and still going for a walk.
In parenting, it means losing your temper and coming back to model humility and growth.

You don’t get better by being flawless.
You get better by being real—and moving again.

The Science Behind Failing Forward

Let’s step into some truth backed by psychology.

Dr. Carol Dweck’s research on growth mindset shows that people who see failure as part of learning are more resilient, more curious, and more likely to reach long-term success.

Why?

Because failure becomes data, not drama.

It becomes a teacher—not a threat.

And here’s the best part:
Failing forward rewires your brain.
Literally.

Every time you mess up and respond with adjustment instead of avoidance, your brain grows stronger.
You build new neural pathways that make you more adaptable, more creative, and more courageous.

In other words: every time you fail forward, you become better equipped to succeed next time.

That’s not motivation. That’s biology.

Let Momentum Carry You

You don’t have to go fast.
You just have to keep going.

This is how I live now:

I don’t wake up every day feeling confident.
I don’t always know the next right move.
I don’t always have clarity, certainty, or motivation.

But I do have motion.

I’ve trained myself to move, no matter what.

To ask, “What’s one small step I can take forward today?”
To focus less on being impressive, and more on being consistent.
To treat progress like a rhythm, not a race.

Because momentum builds belief.
And belief builds results.

You don’t have to wait for motivation to show up.
Let motion create it.

A Personal Reminder From Me to You

If you’re tired—keep going.
If you feel behind—keep going.
If something big just failed—take a breath… and keep going.

You’re not behind.
You’re becoming.

You’re not broken.
You’re building.

And every single setback has something to teach you, if you’re willing to listen and keep walking.

The difference between people who grow and people who get stuck isn’t what happens to them. It’s how they respond.

Respond forward.
Always forward.

Even if it’s slow.
Even if it’s hard.
Even if it’s scary.

Because one day, you’ll look back and realize that every mistake, every misstep, every messy moment—was a step forward in disguise.

Your Homework: A Failing Forward Plan

This week, I want you to do this:

Write down one recent failure. Something that didn’t go as planned.
Now ask: What did I learn?
- About myself?
- About the process?
- About what to do differently?
Finally, write one thing you’ll do this week to move forward.
- Make the call.
- Launch the thing.
- Apologize and reconnect.
- Try again.

That’s your failing forward plan.
Use your failure.
Let it move you.

You’re Closer Than You Think

I’ll end this chapter the same way I remind myself every time I want to stop:

“You’ve come this far.

You’ve survived worse.

You’ve grown through pain before.

Why stop now?”

Failure is not your end.

It’s just proof you’re still moving.
Still becoming.
Still building something real.

And if you keep failing forward…
There’s no limit to where you can go.

Chapter 7: Mastery Through Mistakes

Let me tell you something I wish someone had told me much earlier in life:

You cannot master anything without first misunderstanding it.

You won’t be a great leader without first being a flawed one.
You won’t be a great communicator without first saying the wrong thing.
You won’t be a great parent without days where you question if you’re doing anything right.
You won’t build a strong marriage, a powerful business, or a meaningful life without screwing up—a lot.

We want so badly to get it right.
But the truth is: we get it wrong first.

And it’s through those mistakes that real mastery is forged—not in the glow of applause, but in the grit of reflection.

My Mistakes Made Me

I could fill a book with the mistakes I’ve made.

Actually, I am.

I’ve failed students.
I’ve let people down.
I’ve overpromised and underdelivered.
I’ve ignored red flags.
I’ve spoken too quickly and apologized too late.
I’ve made business decisions that cost time, money, and sometimes trust.

But if you asked me today:

“Would you take any of it back?”

My honest answer is: No.

Because every single mistake shaped me.

It hurt. It humbled me. But it also made me:

Slower to speak.
Faster to apologize.
More aware of my blind spots.
More strategic in business.
More emotionally available in relationships.
More compassionate with others—and myself.

That is mastery. Not perfection.
Wisdom earned through wounds.

The Greatest Leaders Are Forged in Fire

When you look at someone who leads with grace, humility, and calm authority, don’t be fooled:

They didn’t get there by always being right.
They got there by being wrong—and learning everything they could from it.

Mastery is not about being above mistakes.
It’s about being shaped by them.

I’ve had employees cry in my office. Not because of something I did wrong—but because of something I once did wrong… that I later learned how to do right.

Mistakes taught me to listen.
They taught me to check in more often.
They taught me to slow down and see the human before the task.
They taught me to be a better father, husband, boss, and friend.

And every time I messed up and came back with more intention—I leveled up.

That’s mastery.
And it can’t be rushed.

Why Some People Don’t Reach Mastery

Let me tell you why many people never reach their full potential.

It’s not because they’re not talented.
It’s not because they don’t care.
It’s not because the path is too hard.

It’s because they don’t want to be wrong.

They’d rather stay safe, stay comfortable, stay average—than risk the embarrassment, the pain, the stretch of making mistakes.

But here’s the problem: growth and comfort cannot exist in the same space.

If you want to grow, you must become comfortable being uncomfortable.

You must:

Say, “I was wrong.”
Hear feedback without getting defensive.
Try again after it didn’t work.
Let go of needing to look perfect.

Only then does growth begin.
And over time, that growth turns into grounded confidence.
Not confidence built on ego—but on earned understanding.

What My Children Teach Me About Mastery

If you want a crash course in failing forward and learning through mistakes, raise children.

My kids—Skylar, Jayden, and Dylan—are some of my greatest teachers.
Not because they have all the answers, but because they force me to confront all the things I still don’t know.

Every day, I mess up as a parent.

I say “no” too fast.
I get frustrated.
I miss a moment.
I forget to listen fully.

And then I feel that pang…
That thought: “Did I fail them today?”

But here’s the beauty:
Kids don’t expect you to be perfect.
They expect you to show up.

When I apologize to my children, when I explain my mistakes, when I own it and grow—they don’t lose respect for me.

They gain it.

And more importantly, they learn how to do the same.

That’s mastery.
Raising people by being a person. Not a perfect parent. A learning one.

Mastery Looks Like This

You want to know what real mastery looks like?

It’s not loud. It doesn’t show off.
It’s not about having the most money, titles, or followers.

It looks like:

Quiet confidence built over time.
Deep awareness of your strengths and limits.
A willingness to be coached, corrected, and called in.
Leading from experience, not just theory.
Failing without fear because your identity isn’t tied to being right.

It’s not that you stop making mistakes.
It’s that you become faster at recovering, repairing, and refocusing.

And that? That’s where the real power lies.

Mistakes = Mirrors

Mistakes are mirrors.
They show you what’s really going on.

If you’re brave enough to look, you’ll see:

Your unspoken fears.
Your unconscious patterns.
Your ego trying to protect your image.
Your pain points—and where they came from.
Your deepest desires for love, safety, connection, and purpose.

That’s why many people avoid mistakes.
They don’t want to see themselves that clearly.

But I’ll tell you this:
Once you stop running from what mistakes reveal, you’ll grow faster than you ever thought possible.

Because now? You’re not guessing anymore.
You’re responding with clarity.

How to Use Mistakes for Mastery

Let me give you a simple framework I’ve used in my own life. When you mess up, walk through this:

Pause the reaction.
Don’t hide. Don’t justify. Just pause.
Feel it fully.
What’s the emotion? Shame? Embarrassment? Fear? Let it rise. Then release it.
Ask the deeper question:
What really happened here? What need wasn’t met? What skill was missing? What belief was unhelpful?
Choose one lesson.
Don’t try to fix everything. Choose one thing to carry forward.
Try again—with new awareness.
Apply what you’ve learned. This is where transformation lives.

Repeat that process often, and you will become unshakable.

The Only Way to Become a Master… Is to Stay a Student

You know what’s true of every person I admire?

They never stop learning.

They don’t pretend to know everything.
They don’t let their titles, degrees, or followers keep them from asking better questions.

They stay curious.
They stay teachable.
They stay flexible.

Because they know that the moment you think you’ve “arrived,” you’ve actually stopped moving.

Mastery isn’t a destination.
It’s a rhythm.
A lifelong dance with trial and error.

And the people who rise highest are the ones who never stop going back to the basics with deeper wisdom every time.

Let Your Mistakes Teach You Something Beautiful

If you walk away from this chapter with one message, let it be this:

Your mistakes are not proof that you’re failing.
They are proof that you are trying.
And trying is what leads to mastery.

Mastery isn’t about doing it right.
It’s about doing it again, better, and more aware than the last time.

So don’t run from mistakes.
Lean into them.
Learn from them.
Let them shape you into someone the world can trust, learn from, and follow.

Because in the end, your mastery will not be measured by how few mistakes you made.

It will be measured by how deeply you grew through each one.

Chapter 8: The Power of “I Don’t Know Much”

Let me tell you something that surprises people when I say it out loud:

“I don’t know much.”

And I don’t mean it to be cute. Or modest. Or polite.

I mean it fully.
With intention.
With honesty.
With relief.

Because the older I get, the more I build, the more I lead, and the more I parent, the more I realize:
There’s so much I don’t know.

And for a long time, that truth scared me.

But now?
It frees me.

Because I’ve learned that the most dangerous person in any room isn’t the one who knows the least.

It’s the one who thinks they know everything.

Confidence Isn’t Knowing Everything—It’s Knowing You’ll Figure It Out

There was a time when I thought confidence came from having all the answers.
From being the smartest one in the room.
From never looking confused.
From always knowing what to say.

But that kind of confidence is fragile.

Because the moment you don’t have an answer, your whole identity cracks.

Real confidence—the kind that lasts—comes from this belief:

“Even if I don’t know right now, I trust myself to learn.”

That’s where strength lives.
Not in your answers, but in your willingness to stay open.
To ask better questions.
To admit what you don’t know—and be curious enough to go find it.

How “I Don’t Know” Made Me a Better Leader

When I first started managing people, I thought I had to lead from certainty.
I thought I had to have the plan. The fix. The vision. The how.

And sometimes, I did.

But other times? I didn’t.
And instead of being honest, I faked it.
I avoided eye contact.
I delayed decisions.
I said what I thought they wanted to hear.

And it didn’t work.

People can feel when you’re not being real.
They don’t expect perfection—they expect presence.
They don’t need you to know everything—they need to know you’re not hiding.

So I started saying, “I don’t know—but I’m going to find out.”
Or, “What do you think?”
Or, “Let’s figure it out together.”

And something shifted.

People didn’t lose respect for me.
They trusted me more.
Because honesty builds connection.
And connection builds teams.

How It Changed My Family, Too

It’s not just at work. It’s at home.

My kids ask hard questions.
About life. About people. About why things happen the way they do.

And sometimes… I have no idea.

So I say, “I don’t know, baby. But let’s talk about it. Let’s learn together.”

And you know what?
They don’t think less of me.
They feel safer.

Because I’m not pretending.
I’m not performing.
I’m just being present.

And they see that it’s okay to not know.
That what matters is the willingness to understand.

That’s a lesson I want them to carry forever.

The Strongest People Are the Most Teachable

We all know someone who talks like they know everything.

Every topic. Every situation. Every answer.
They don’t listen. They correct. They dominate.
But underneath that noise is usually one thing: insecurity.

Because people who are truly strong?
They don’t have to prove it.

They ask questions.
They pause before responding.
They admit mistakes.
They welcome input.

Because they know their power isn’t in being right—it’s in getting it right.
And that requires being teachable.

The moment you stop learning, you stop leading.
You stop growing.
You start recycling old ideas and calling it wisdom.

But real wisdom?
That comes from saying, “I don’t know—but I’m ready to learn.”

Why Admitting “I Don’t Know” Builds Deeper Relationships

You want to get closer to your partner, your kids, your colleagues?

Try this:

Admit when you don’t know what they’re feeling.
Ask questions you’re afraid might sound dumb.
Be quiet long enough to hear what’s underneath their words.
Say, “Teach me.”

It sounds simple.
But it’s rare.

Most people are so busy trying to be right, they miss the chance to be real.

And real connection only happens in honesty.

So if you’re willing to say, “I don’t know much, but I want to understand you more…”
That humility will go further than any clever answer ever could.

The Most Dangerous Words in Growth

“I already know that.”

Those words are a growth-killer.
They shut the door.
They block learning.
They stop you from seeing what’s new, even in familiar spaces.

There’s a saying I love:

“Beginner’s mind. Always.”

It means you stay open—even when you’ve heard the lesson before.

You show up curious.
You assume there’s always more to learn.
Because there is.

You could read this same chapter a year from now and notice something you missed.
Why? Because you will have changed.
You’ll be ready for a deeper layer.

That’s how growth works.

It doesn’t come from hearing something once.
It comes from revisiting truth with a new heart.

Try This: A Daily Practice of “I Don’t Know”

Here’s something I practice—and you can try too:

At the end of each day, ask:

What’s something I thought I knew… but today reminded me I don’t?
What did I learn today that surprised me?
Who taught me something—even if they didn’t know they did?
What’s one thing I want to understand more deeply?

It’s not about judging yourself.
It’s about staying awake.

Staying curious.
Staying grounded.
Staying ready.

Because when you believe you don’t know much, you open the door to know so much more.

What “I Don’t Know Much” Really Means

It doesn’t mean you’re lost.
It doesn’t mean you’re not capable.
It doesn’t mean you’re weak.

It means:

You’ve let go of ego.
You’ve embraced humility.
You’ve made room for wonder, surprise, growth, and truth.

It means you’re ready.

Ready to become something more than you’ve been.
Ready to receive wisdom from unexpected places.
Ready to evolve, again and again and again.

Because that’s what this book is about.
Not arriving.
Becoming.

Final Thought: Be a Student Forever

If you remember nothing else from this chapter, remember this:

Be a student forever.

Not because you lack value.
But because your value expands with every lesson.

Not because you’re behind.
But because there’s always more light ahead.

So say it with me:
“I don’t know much. But I’m learning.”

Say it to your team.
Say it to your family.
Say it to yourself.

And then?
Lean in.

Your next breakthrough is waiting inside your next question.

Chapter 9: Family, Failure, and Funny Judges

There’s a different kind of failure that doesn’t make the headlines.

It doesn’t come from the boardroom, the launch, the pitch, or the public eye.

It happens in kitchens. In car rides. In living rooms, right after dinner.
It sounds like sighs, missed moments, raised voices, forgotten promises.
And if you’re like me, it sometimes sounds like three young voices—funny, blunt, brutally honest—offering commentary on everything you do.

Welcome to family life.

And if you’re also someone building businesses, leading others, or simply trying to improve yourself, you already know…

The hardest place to practice what you preach is at home.

The Panel I’ll Never Forget

Let me take you back to the University of Louisville. I had the honor of speaking on a panel—Building Tomorrow’s Brands. It was a powerful moment for me. I sat there as a founder, a leader, a community builder. And right next to me? My wife, also a CEO in her own right, in the medical and pharmacy world.

Two leaders. Two journeys. One life together.

But all I could think about after the event was…

“What would our kids say if they were in that room?”

Would they be proud?
Would they be inspired?
Or would they say something like:

“Dad, you talk a lot.”
“Mom’s answers were way better.”
“Did you even smile?”
“Where’s the snacks?”

And honestly? They wouldn’t be wrong.

Our kids—Skylar, Jayden, and Dylan—are our toughest audience. Not because they’re mean. But because they’re unfiltered.
They don’t care about our titles.
They care about presence. Energy. Honesty. Playfulness.

And they remind me every single day that how I show up at home matters more than how I show up anywhere else.

The Real-Time Feedback Loop

Children are the greatest feedback system in the world.

They don’t send you long emails or quarterly evaluations.
They don’t wait for meetings.
They give it to you live—in the moment.

If you’re distracted, they know.
If you’re short-tempered, they feel it.
If you break a promise, they remember.
And if you apologize, they forgive. Instantly.

There’s no scoreboard.
But you always know where you stand.

And while it’s humbling, it’s also beautiful.

Because in their eyes, you’re not expected to be perfect.
You’re just expected to keep showing up and try again.

That’s the parenting version of failing forward.

The Balance That Doesn’t Exist

People ask all the time:

“How do you balance being a CEO and a father?”
“How do you keep your business from affecting your family?”

Let me say this clearly:

There is no balance. There is only intentional imbalance.

Some days, your family will need more.
Some days, your business will demand everything.
Some days, you will be the one who needs time.

The trick isn’t perfection. It’s presence.

If I’m with my kids, I want to be with them. Not just in the room, but in the moment.
If I’m at work, I want to give it focus—but I don’t pretend I’m a different person.
If I make a mistake in either world, I acknowledge it and fix it.

That’s the rhythm. It’s not clean. But it’s real.

And your kids don’t need perfection. They need authenticity.

The Day I Yelled, Then Cried

There was a day—I’ll never forget it—when everything felt like it was collapsing.

Deadlines. Emails. Staff problems. Financial pressure. Meetings.
And then, after hours of mental tension, I came home… and one of my kids spilled something. Something small. Not a big deal.

But I snapped. Loud. Unnecessary. Sharp.

The room went quiet. My child looked up, startled. No words. Just silence.

And in that silence, I heard it: I failed this moment.

Not because I yelled. But because I let my pressure bleed into their space.

So I sat down, took a breath, and apologized.
I didn’t justify. I didn’t explain. I said:

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I’m really stressed, but that’s not your fault.”

They forgave me immediately. Like always.
But I didn’t forget it. Because that’s the moment I remembered:

You can’t be two different people.
Who you are at home is who you are.

Kids Learn How to Fail by Watching Us Fail

We want to teach our children how to succeed.
But the more powerful lesson?

Teach them how to fail. With grace. With reflection. With recovery.

When they see us:

Own our mistakes…
Say “I don’t know”…
Try again after messing up…
Treat others with kindness even when we’re tired…

They learn that failure isn’t the end.
It’s part of the rhythm.
It’s the real classroom.

And it gives them permission to be learners too—not just performers.

Funny Judges, Eternal Students

My kids may joke about my presentations.
They may grade my performance.
They may laugh when I try to be serious, or raise an eyebrow when I give a motivational speech at dinner.

But what they’re really doing?
They’re watching how I live.

Do I model patience when it’s hard?
Do I laugh when I mess up?
Do I make time when I say I will?
Do I apologize when I miss the mark?
Do I include them in the journey?

That’s the test.
That’s the legacy.

And they are not just my judges.
They are my greatest teachers.

Because they remind me:

If your success doesn’t work at home, it’s not real success.

What I Hope They Remember

I don’t need my kids to remember my titles.
I don’t need them to quote my books or list my awards.

I hope they remember:

Dad worked hard—but never let work replace us.
Dad messed up—but always came back with love.
Dad was serious—but also danced like a goofball in the kitchen.
Dad was strong—but not afraid to cry.
Dad failed a lot—but never stopped showing up.

That’s enough for me.
That’s everything.

For the Builders with Families

If you’re building something big while raising a family—hear this:

You don’t have to choose between your dreams and your children.
You just have to stay awake inside both.

Bring your whole self to each.

Let your kids watch you build—not just the business, but your character.
Let them hear you say “I don’t know,” “I’m sorry,” “That was hard,” and “I’ll do better.”

Let them laugh at your speeches, poke fun at your routines, and hug you when you don’t even ask.

That’s the good stuff. That’s the gold.

Final Thought: Let Them Judge, Lovingly

Yes, my kids judge me.
They grade me.
They tease me.
They keep me grounded.

But they also remind me why I do this.
Why I grow. Why I lead. Why I write these words.

Because one day, I won’t be on this earth.
But my love? My lessons? My failures and recoveries?

Those will live in them.

And if I’ve done it right…
They’ll walk through life with a mindset that says:

“I don’t need to be perfect. I just need to keep trying. And that will always be enough.”

Chapter 10: Broken Plans, Better Paths

We all love a good plan.

Plans give us structure.
They make us feel secure.
They make us believe we’re in control.

But let me ask you something:

What happens when the plan doesn’t work?

What happens when life doesn’t follow the script?

What happens when the door you prayed would open… slams shut?
When the relationship you thought would last… ends?
When the job you trained for… disappears?
When everything you worked for doesn’t turn out the way you imagined?

I’ll tell you what happens—if you’re willing:

You find a better path.

Not easier.
Not prettier.
Not always faster.

But better—because it grows you in ways the original plan never could.

The Plan Was Perfect—Until It Wasn’t

I used to obsess over timelines.

By this year, I’ll have this.
By this age, I’ll be here.
By this milestone, I’ll feel “successful.”

And sometimes, it worked.

But more often than not, life had other ideas.

Doors closed. Money ran out. Partnerships dissolved. Opportunities didn’t call back.
And for a while, each broken plan felt like failure.

I’d think:

“I must’ve missed it.”
“Maybe I’m not as good as I thought.”
“Why does this keep happening?”

But then something strange began to unfold…

Each time a plan collapsed—something better showed up.
Something I didn’t see before.
Something I hadn’t even considered.
Something that required a version of me I hadn’t become yet.

And I started to realize:

The plan isn’t the point. Growth is.

What You Can’t See From Here

You can only plan based on what you know today.
But the best parts of your future exist beyond your current view.

That means your plan—no matter how well-designed—is limited by your perspective.

And sometimes, failure is the only way life can expand that view.

Think about it:

The business that didn’t launch led you to the one that actually fits your calling.
The relationship that ended made room for healing and partnership you didn’t know was possible.
The “wrong” job showed you what kind of leader you never want to become.
The “missed” opportunity protected you from something you couldn’t see.

I don’t believe everything happens for a reason.
But I do believe that we can find purpose in everything—if we’re paying attention.

The Pivot You Didn’t Plan

There was a moment where I thought I had found the thing.

It wasn’t LBA yet. It was another path, another vision, a business idea I was deeply passionate about. I had invested time, money, energy, and a whole lot of heart.

But the road got rocky.
The numbers didn’t line up.
The partners weren’t aligned.
And every time I tried to force it forward, it pushed back harder.

It felt like failure.
It felt like personal rejection.

But eventually, I did the thing I feared most:

I let it go.

And weeks later, Louisville Beauty Academy began to take shape.

Not in a lightning bolt moment. Not with fanfare. But with clarity.
With peace. With the quiet realization that the redirection had led me somewhere far more impactful.

That was never part of my plan.
But it was absolutely part of my path.

You’re Not Lost—You’re Being Rerouted

If you’re reading this in the middle of your own “what now?” moment—let me speak directly to you.

You are not lost.
You are not behind.
You are not broken.

You are being rerouted.

You are learning things the plan couldn’t teach you.
You are developing resilience the blueprint didn’t mention.
You are being equipped for something bigger than what you originally imagined.

And yes, it’s frustrating.
Yes, it’s confusing.
Yes, it can feel like failure.

But trust me—you are still on your way.

Surrender Isn’t Quitting

Here’s where most people get stuck.

They think if they let go of the plan, they’re giving up.
That surrender means they’ve failed.
That changing course means they weren’t committed enough.

But surrender isn’t quitting.

Surrender is wisdom.

It’s the courage to say:
“This no longer fits. I’m ready for what does.”

“This door closed. I’m going to stop banging on it and look for a window.”

“I’m not the same person who made this plan. And that’s okay.”

Surrender isn’t weak. It’s brave.
It says: “I’m open.”
And that’s when better paths can finally appear.

Let the Path Lead You

What if the most powerful moments of your life haven’t happened yet… because you’re still clinging to a version of life that no longer fits?

What if the thing that looks like failure is just the start of your evolution?

What if the delay isn’t a punishment—it’s preparation?

What if you released the plan… and trusted the process?

Because here’s what I know:

You’ll still arrive.
You’ll still make an impact.
You’ll still grow into the person you’re meant to be.

But it might not happen the way you drew it up.
And that’s not a flaw.
That’s the adventure.

Try This: Reflect on Your Redirections

Take a moment today and ask yourself:

What was a plan I had that didn’t work out?
What did that redirection eventually lead to?
Who did I become in the process?
What would I have missed if everything had gone according to plan?

Chances are… the redirection held more value than you realized at the time.

Let that reminder shape how you face your current challenges.
Let it remind you that broken plans don’t mean a broken life.

They often mean you’re on the edge of something better.

You Can Grieve the Plan and Still Embrace the Path

This isn’t about pretending it doesn’t hurt.

Some dreams die painfully.
Some plans collapse slowly, while you’re still holding them.

So grieve.
Cry.
Scream.
Feel the disappointment.
Mourn the version of life you expected.

And then?

Breathe.
Get up.
Look around.

Because when you finally stop staring at the closed door…
You’ll start to see the open ones.

And when you walk through those?
You’ll realize: you didn’t fail.

You evolved.

Final Thought: What If This Is the Better Path?

The life I live today—the people I serve, the businesses I lead, the family I love—is the result of so many broken plans.

And every time I thought I had failed…
I was actually being guided.

So if things feel uncertain right now…
If your path is full of detours and your vision feels unclear…

Take heart.

Because sometimes, the best way forward isn’t the one you planned.
It’s the one life shows you once you’re strong enough to walk it.

Let go of the map.
Trust the road.
Keep going.

The destination is still waiting.
It just might look better than you imagined.

Chapter 11: Built to Fail, Wired to Rise

You were not made to be perfect.

You were made to adapt.

Let that sink in.

You weren’t built to avoid every mistake.
You weren’t designed to get everything right on the first try.
You weren’t wired to float through life untouched by pain or failure.

You were built to learn, to fall, to adjust, to heal, and—most of all—to rise.

That’s not a flaw in the system.

That is the system.

We Are Not Machines—We Are Movers

Somewhere along the line, we began to treat ourselves like machines.

Output. Efficiency. Optimization. No errors allowed.

But we’re not machines.
We’re human.

We break.
We bend.
We bleed.
We doubt.
We stall.
We fall behind.

But unlike machines, when we break—we grow back differently.
Stronger. Wiser. More aware.

We don’t reboot.
We rebuild.

And the best part?

We are designed to do this again and again and again.

Resilience Isn’t a Bonus—It’s a Birthright

There’s a myth that some people are just more resilient than others. That they’re born with it.

But resilience is not a rare trait.
It’s not luck.
It’s not something you get by avoiding hard things.

Resilience is activated when life knocks you down—and you choose to get back up.

Every human has this potential inside them.
It’s not about how tough you look.
It’s about how you move when everything feels uncertain.

And it grows stronger the more you use it.

You don’t need to be the strongest person in the room.
You just need to be the one who refuses to stay down.

Your Nervous System Is a Survival System

Let’s talk biology for a second.

Your nervous system was built to respond to failure.
To threats. To change. To danger. To pain.

It was designed to learn through feedback loops.

You touch something hot → You pull back → You remember.
You say something hurtful → You see the reaction → You adjust next time.
You take a risk → It doesn’t work → You reflect → You try again differently.

Every mistake sends signals.
Every setback recalibrates you.
Every fall becomes data.

This is not failure.
This is learning in motion.

And no matter how many times you fall, your body, mind, and heart were built to recover.

Spiritual Design: There’s a Deeper Intelligence at Work

Even if you’re not religious, most people feel that some deeper intelligence runs through all of us.

Call it Spirit. God. Life. Source. Grace.

Whatever you name it, this energy isn’t demanding perfection.

It’s calling for participation.

For presence. For growth.

And what’s the universal pattern across all spiritual and transformative journeys?

Descent → Reflection → Resurrection

We fall.
We lose.
We break.
We sit in the dark.
We rise again—new. Open. Changed.

This isn’t just your story.
It’s the story.

It’s written into every faith, every myth, every comeback tale ever told.

And it’s written into you.

The Most Successful People You Know… Fail More Often

Look closely at anyone you admire:

An innovator.
A community builder.
A teacher.
A parent.
An artist.
A survivor.

You’ll notice something:

They’ve failed more than most.
And they’ve recovered better than most.

They don’t avoid mistakes—they expect them.
They don’t hide breakdowns—they learn from them.
They don’t let a fall define them—they let it refine them.

That’s not luck. That’s wiring. That’s willingness.

They’re not superhuman.
They’re just in tune with how humans actually grow.

Failing Is Training

Let’s reframe what failure really is:

Failure is training.

Every time something doesn’t work, you’re training your mind to adapt.
Every time you keep going, you’re building emotional stamina.
Every time you fall and choose not to quit, you’re strengthening your identity.

You’re not just solving problems.
You’re becoming a person who can solve anything.

That’s what this book has been about from the beginning.

Not how to avoid failure.
But how to live in a way where failure becomes part of your evolution.

Let the Fall Teach You to Fly

There’s a beautiful paradox in all this:

The more comfortable you become with falling, the freer you become to soar.

Because once you know you can survive failure, you’re no longer afraid to take the leap.

You’re no longer stuck trying to control every outcome.
You’re no longer paralyzed by “what if.”
You’re no longer pretending to be someone you’re not.

You become bold.
You become agile.
You become real.

And people feel it. They trust it.
Because they’re not drawn to your perfection.
They’re drawn to your resilience.

You Were Made For This

You may not feel strong right now.
You may be tired.
You may be questioning if all the effort is worth it.

Let me remind you:

You were made for this.

Every cell in your body is part of a system that regenerates.
Every bone that breaks heals stronger at the fracture line.
Every lesson you live through becomes someone else’s survival map.
Every scar becomes part of your wisdom.

You are not behind.
You are not too late.
You are not too broken.

You are becoming.

And the road you’re walking—however messy—is leading you somewhere far more powerful than you can see from here.

Try This: A Resilience Inventory

Take a few minutes to write down:

Three failures that shaped who you are today.
What each one taught you.
How each one helped you become more flexible, wiser, or grounded.

Then ask yourself:

“If I survived that… what else am I capable of?”
“Where else might I rise—if I gave myself permission to fall first?”

You’ll be amazed by what you’ve already made it through.

And you’ll start to see that you’re not only built to fail.

You’re wired to rise.

Final Thought: The Story You’re Writing

The story of your life won’t be written in victories alone.

It will be written in:

The courage to keep going.
The honesty to admit when you’re lost.
The faith to take the next step without a map.
The strength to begin again—one more time than you thought you could.

That’s who you are.
That’s who you’ve always been.

Not perfect.

Powerful.

Not flawless.

Forming.

Not immune to failure.

Resilient beyond reason.

And if you keep rising,
Keep learning,
Keep loving through it all—

There will come a day when you look back, smile, and say:

“I was built for this. And I never stopped rising.”

Chapter 12: Keep Going. That’s the Whole Game

If you’ve made it this far, I want you to pause for a moment.

Breathe.

Look at where you are.
What you’ve already been through.
What you’ve survived.
What you’ve learned—not just from this book, but from life.

And hear me now, from one imperfect, constantly-learning human to another:

Keep going.
That’s the whole game.

It’s not about never falling.
It’s not about having the perfect plan.
It’s not about knowing all the answers.
It’s not even about winning.

It’s about continuing.

Continuing when it’s hard.
Continuing when it’s boring.
Continuing when no one is watching.
Continuing when it feels like nothing is changing.

Because something is changing.

You.

Everything You Want Lives on the Other Side of “Keep Going”

You want mastery? Keep going.

You want clarity? Keep going.

You want healing? Keep going.

You want to raise good kids, build meaningful work, be proud of the person in the mirror?

Keep. Going.

Because here’s what I’ve learned:

The people who change the world aren’t the smartest.
They’re not the fastest.
They’re not even the most talented.

They’re the ones who don’t stop.

They expect failure.
They welcome feedback.
They slow down, pivot, cry, rest, adapt.

But they never walk away from the thing that matters.

That’s what makes the difference.

There Is No Final Version of You

You’re not a project with a deadline.

You’re not a business plan that needs to scale in 12 months.

You’re not a house that needs to be finished before people come over.

You are a process. A becoming. A living, breathing, failing, learning being.

There is no “final” version of you.

There’s only the next step.
The next draft.
The next level.
The next layer.

And every single time you choose to keep going, you shed something old… and step into something new.

That’s the real success.
Not what the world can see.

But what only you can feel:
That quiet, holy sense of becoming.

Keep Going Even When It’s Not Clean

This journey won’t always be neat.

Your growth won’t always show up in tidy wins or picture-perfect results.

Sometimes, it looks like:

Breaking down in the car before walking into work.
Starting over at 42.
Launching something with shaky hands.
Ending something that was supposed to last forever.
Saying “I don’t know” for the hundredth time.
Getting up at 5 a.m. when you don’t feel motivated.
Texting someone you hurt, even if they don’t respond.
Going to bed disappointed—but not defeated.

These moments don’t look like success.

But they are.

They are the bricks in your foundation.
The proof that you’re still in the arena.
The reason your future self will say,

“I’m so glad I didn’t quit.”

To the One Who’s Tired: This Is for You

Maybe you’re reading this at a low point.

Maybe your business is struggling.
Maybe your relationship is strained.
Maybe your confidence is cracked.
Maybe you feel like nothing’s working.

So hear this with your whole heart:

You’re doing better than you think.

It’s okay to be tired.
It’s okay to slow down.
It’s okay to take breaks, reset boundaries, and revisit your why.

But don’t quit on yourself.

Don’t give up because the picture looks different than what you expected.

Don’t walk away because it’s hard.

Hard is how you grow.

And this season—however confusing—is not the end of your story.
It’s just a stretching chapter.

Keep going.

What You Build Will Outlive You

Every time you keep going, you’re building something beyond yourself.

You’re building:

A legacy of resilience.
A culture of honesty.
A model for your children.
A ripple of impact that reaches people you’ll never even meet.

You don’t have to be famous to leave something lasting.

You just have to live truthfully.
With effort.
With humility.
With the courage to fail and the commitment to rise again.

You’ll never know all the people who are watching you—quietly inspired because you didn’t stop.

And that? That’s legacy.

Write Your Own Definition of Winning

In the end, here’s the only scoreboard that matters:

Are you still learning?
Are you still open?
Are you still showing up?
Are you still loving?
Are you still becoming?

If the answer is yes—
You’re winning.

Forget the numbers.
Forget the titles.
Forget the image.

Your life is not a performance.
It’s a process.

And the only rule that matters is this:
Keep going.

The Book Is Ending, But Your Story Isn’t

This book is almost over.

But your story?

It’s still being written.

And I hope this book hasn’t given you a formula.

I hope it’s given you permission.

Permission to expect failure.
Permission to move anyway.
Permission to love yourself in the middle of your mess.
Permission to trust the broken road.
Permission to become your truest self—without needing to be perfect.

Because you don’t need to get it all right.

You just need to stay in the game.

Keep going.

One Final Whisper From Me to You

Wherever you are—right now, in this moment—I want you to hear my voice saying this:

“You’ve got this.”

“Not because it’s easy.”

“But because you were built for this.”

“You were born to fall and rise and grow and rise again.”

“And you haven’t seen the best of yourself yet.”

So get back in motion.
Take the next step.
Take the next breath.

And whatever you do—keep going.

That’s the whole game.

The End

Thank You

“I have failed more times than I can count—and each time, I became someone stronger, kinder, and more complete. I don’t chase perfection. I chase progress. And I’ll keep going, because rising after the fall is not just what I do—it’s who I am.” —

Di Tran

Founder, Di Tran Enterprise