Here is a question worth sitting with: How much of your life right now is being quietly directed by something that already happened — a breakup, a rejection, a failed attempt, a dream that someone talked you out of?

For most people, the honest answer is: more than they would like to admit. Setbacks and failures carry a disproportionate weight. They do not just sting in the moment — they linger, shaping the stories we tell ourselves about who we are and what we are capable of. A bad breakup becomes evidence that love is not for you. A failed business becomes proof that entrepreneurship is not your lane. A harsh word from a boss or a parent plants a seed of doubt that grows quietly for years.

The problem is that when these things happen to us, they feel uniquely personal — as though we are the only person in human history to suffer this particular kind of defeat. We are not. Setbacks are not a flaw in the system. They are a feature of the human experience. Everyone has been through a breakup. Everyone has had a plan fall apart. Everyone who has achieved meaningful success has a collection of stories that would make you wince.

Tom Brady was the 199th pick in the NFL Draft. Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team and was not even the top pick when he entered the NBA. These are not footnotes — they are the foundation. Their setbacks did not disqualify them. They shaped them.

I know this reality personally. I have lived with a disability my entire life, and in the back of my mind, there has always been a quiet voice suggesting that success — real, visible, public success — is harder for someone like me. That voice offered me a perfectly reasonable off-ramp: I can't speak on a stage. I can't start a YouTube channel. No one would blame me for accepting that narrative.

But I refused to accept it. My desire for meaningful experiences — and honestly, my fear of boredom — pushed me forward. I found workarounds. I have Chris deliver my content on YouTube. I use an interpreter on stage. There is almost always a way through if you are willing to look for it.

That is the core truth: the past does not have to determine the future. But navigating that truth takes real work.

Every setback comes with an off-ramp, complete with flashing lights that read: Success is not for you. Get off here. The exits are easy to spot. They are lit up with technically true statements: All the bosses in my field are territorial. I do not have enough discipline. My family needs me during the only window I have. These statements are not always wrong. The problem is that we treat them as final answers instead of starting points.

Just because something is true does not mean you are powerless within it. No matter how busy your schedule is, there are ten minutes somewhere. You can walk around the block. You can stretch while dinner is on the stove. You can dictate three sentences into your phone on the way to pick up the kids. Movement and progress rarely require massive blocks of uninterrupted time. They require consistency applied to whatever space you actually have.

The deeper work is learning from the experiences that knocked you down — not just recovering from them, but genuinely extracting the lessons. If your business did not make it, what did you learn about your product, your customers, your processes, your team? If a relationship ended badly, what did it reveal about your patterns, your communication, your standards? If you keep talking about a goal but never starting, what is actually standing between you and the first step?

This kind of honest reflection is not natural. The natural move is to build a narrative that explains why things are harder than they should be — and then settle into it. The constructive move is to treat every experience, good or bad, as data that can inform your next chapter.

Your past setbacks and failures do not need to determine your future. Acknowledge what happened. Understand what went wrong. Identify what you can take forward. Then refuse to be haunted by what is already behind you.

The story is not over. You are still writing it.

Start there.