Intentional Blindness

Sometimes I find myself wrapped up in these little games. I know that’s vague, but let me land for a second.

Lately, I’ve noticed I’m breaking promises to myself. I’ll tell myself one thing one day, and then break it the next. What a shitty thing to do. It feels like I’m letting myself down — repeatedly.

Even my manager noticed. She asked me, “Why are you so mopey?” She called me out, which I appreciate. It made me pause and really think. She was right — I am down on myself. I haven’t been sleeping well. I haven’t been keeping promises to myself. And I’ve developed tunnel vision — focused on the wrong thing. A girl, of all things. Shocker, I know.

Here’s the thing: I’m starting to realize she’s probably just in it for the attention. And honestly, I get it. I like attention too. It’s hard to resist — the flattery, the desire, the emotional charge. That game is addictive. Sometimes I try to stay out of it. I want to be above it. But even then, I end up as Player One. I tell myself I’m different, that I’m not like everyone else. But with this girl? I turn to putty. I fall back into old patterns. She’s intoxicating. And then I start questioning everything — is she flirting with me, or just being nice? We have great chemistry. Other people even say it: “You should date her.” So I wonder… what are they seeing that I’m not? What am I blind to?

What kind of blindness potion am I drinking?

And more importantly: What am I ignoring in myself that’s hurting me?

A few things come to mind. The Sauvignon Blanc I lean on. The endless chase for something — or someone — that won’t fill the void. I fall into these old habits too easily. And I’m trying to remind myself: repetition matters more than perfection.

That’s become a theme lately. For the past week, I’ve been in a workout competition with my dad. The guy works out way too much — I think it’s his vice. But I’ve been feeling that drive again. Even when I dread going to the gym — long drive, rainy weather, bad traffic — I go. And my dad was right: I always feel better after, even if it’s just a short session. At least I got the rep in.

And that’s what I’m learning: just get the rep in. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Write the blog. Knit the thing. Bake the loaf. Just do something. That consistency matters more than how it looks from the outside. I know people who are making more money than I’d even know what to do with. But honestly? I don’t want their life. Not right now. I’ll make that money someday — but at what cost? You have to live your life to have stories.

I texted a friend the other day about traveling. We found out it was cheap to go to Madrid, and I said, “What a story that would be.” Imagine taking someone with you. That’s a hell of a blog post. Which brings me back to this blog. I know I have to be careful with my words. I want to make sure I’m putting out the best version of myself. Sometimes I go off on rants or say things I shouldn’t. That’s not who I want to be. That’s just low-class behavior — lashing out in emotional chess matches.

I’d rather just go about my business. Sure, people give me shit. Call me weird. Sometimes it feels like hate, sometimes love. Maybe it’s even envy — or maybe that’s just me projecting again. But there’s something in me that wants better every day. And that drive? It’s a double-edged sword. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy — the goalpost just keeps moving. And suddenly, I’m on this hamster wheel, trying to figure out how to get off.

I rarely stop to smell the roses. And even when I do, they feel fleeting — like a breeze that’s gone before I can take it in. That’s why I’m excited for the next couple of months. I’m going on vacation. I want to slow down. Be intentional with the time I spend with my family. I want to enjoy those moments — even if I worry I’ll go stir crazy. So I’m lining up small projects. I might work on the backend of my website. Maybe start a content series called “My Stack” — like What’s in My Bag, but for tech.

I’m still working through things. Still crawling out of some dark places. Trying to find my footing.But I’m moving. And that counts for something.