Ask a Man Who's Done Everything Wrong

Like DJ Khaled, “Another One!”

Ask a Man Who's Done Everything Wrong

Q: What do I do when I feel like everyone’s moving forward except me?
– Left Behind in Louisville

A: Pretend it’s a parade. That’s what I used to do. Back when I was still sleeping in my car and the only thing I had forward momentum in was spiraling, I thought everyone else had a map. Some kind of shared choreography they’d learned while I was out sick. They moved with direction. I moved mostly by accident. Turns out that’s enough to fool people if you keep going long enough.

But here’s the trick I eventually figured out: parades look organized only from a distance. Get close enough, and it’s just chaos. Frantic baton twirling, blisters, teenagers trying not to cry in mascot suits.

Progress isn’t graceful. It’s just noise and awkward timing. Sometimes, standing still is the only way to realize you’re not on their route at all. You’re building something different. You just haven’t seen the float yet.

Maybe there was never a parade. That would explain the looks. Either way, it’s gotten me this far. And hey, sometimes getting lost is the only way to find out you never really had a destination.

Q: How do I know if I’m making the right decision?
– Treading Water in Tacoma

A: You don’t. Not really. You just make it and see how much of a mess you’ve got to clean up afterward.

I used to think there’d be a feeling—some click, some cosmic signal. But mostly, it was just me staring at ceilings, running pros and cons like logic ever stopped me. I made the worst decisions of my life with certainty, and some of the best by accident. If there’s a system, no one shared it with me.

The truth is, I still don’t know what I’m doing half the time. But here’s what I’ve learned: mistakes are proof you’re doing anything at all. So, screw it. Make the decision and see what sticks. Just don’t expect it to stick the way you want. That’s the fun part.

Q: Is it normal to miss people who were bad for you?
– Sentimental and Stupid in Seattle

A: Yes. Missing them is the easy part. Not texting them—that’s the miracle.

I still miss people who chipped away at me, then wondered why there was so little left. And I let them. I told myself if I stayed still long enough, they'd run out of things to take.

Memory’s a liar. It skips the parts where you flinched and plays back the time they kissed your forehead like that made up for it.

Missing someone doesn’t mean they were good. It means something in you still wants the version of them that never existed.

You’re not stupid. Just slow to stop hoping. But maybe that’s the only way you get to feel anything real.

Q: What if I never become the person I was supposed to be?
– Running Out of Time in Reno

A: Then welcome to the club. We meet Thursdays. Bring snacks.

I used to think there was a final version of me—unlockable if I made the right choices, married the right girl, got the right job. I did that part. But the person I was “supposed” to be? Turns out he’s just the guy who lets the dog out and tries not to forget the groceries.

There is no gold star. No final form. Just you, getting less wrong over time.

And if you’re stuck with that version of you? Maybe that’s the only one you ever needed.

Q: What if I’m just not good enough?
– Doubtful in Denver

A: You might not be. I’m not, most days. But sometimes not being good enough is what makes you real.

You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to show up. And if all you can do is show up messy and uncertain and tired? That still counts.

Q: What if everyone else has it together and I’m the only one falling apart?
– Out of Sync in Albuquerque

A: They don’t. I promise you, they don’t.

Most people are just better at hiding the cracks.

Falling apart means you’re paying attention. That’s what scares everyone else: the truth that nothing holds together the way we pretend. But at least you’re honest enough to notice.

Q: What if I don’t know who I am anymore?
– Missing the Map in Madison

A: Then you’re right where you’re supposed to be.

I’ve felt like I was wearing a costume of my own life, waiting for someone to call my cue.

But the truth is, figuring out who you are is just a long series of guesses. You don’t need to “find” yourself. Just stop searching for what you think you should be.

And if you’re reading the map? You’ve had it upside down all along. Maybe that’s the only way to find your way.