Recently, I watched an interesting conversation between Gregory Garretson, a previous guest on Foreign Radio, and Dan Keane about American identity abroad. Their discussion prompted me to revisit an idea I’d been jotting down notes on earlier in the month: America's peculiar relationship with chaos.

A client meeting caused me to miss the question period at the end of their talk, but while I was watching, I considered asking this question:

Do Americans love chaos? Is it a defining characteristic of their presence at home and abroad?

Now, before I get too far, I want to point out that this essay is more of a ‘devil’s advocate’ piece and less my actual opinion1. I would also like to say that I’ve met many peaceful and kindhearted Americans while living in Belize, and I don’t think all Americans are like this. I’m also aware that the global US presence hasn’t been all bad. Nevertheless, I‘m fully aware that the following probably won’t sit well with everyone2.

The Architecture of Chaos

Throughout American history, chaos has underpinned the nation's character. Through wars, scandals, economic calamities, and social upheavals, a web of chaos was woven into the nation's fabric—a tendency to want more, impose, and disrupt. This isn’t just the byproduct of external events or political systems; it reflects something deeper, something fundamental.

Beneath the surface of policy and power lies a cultural psychology shaped by restlessness and contradiction: a powerful blend of cognitive bias and human weakness, where one wants something different but is unable, or unwilling, to act upon it. This tension—between dissatisfaction and inertia—fuels the very chaos that defines the American psyche, reinforcing a cycle where disruption becomes both the problem and the aspiration.

Conflict as Identity

Consider this: the US was born out of chaos. The national anthem sings about rockets and bombs3. There’s a peculiar national tendency toward crisis, upheaval, and conflict, at home or abroad—slavery, civil war, Jim Crow, racial violence, wars in Asia, wars in the Middle East, systemic police brutality, identity politics, doxing, the far right, the far left, record-breaking domestic gun violence culminating in memetic schools shootings—just to name a few.

Chaos even appears in the American financial system through deeply ingrained speculation, inflated evaluations, and market swings hinged on the tweets of billionaires. Or, you know, that worldwide recession caused by a corrupted American mortgage lending system.

Other countries, like Norway, Sweden, and Denmark4, for example, have managed to uphold civil rights and personal freedoms, maintain relatively stable economies, and foster more constructive political discourse without succumbing to the same level of division and volatility. While not without flaws, their governance models offer an example of how freedom and stability can coexist, a stark contrast to the American experiment, where freedom is often entangled with chaos.

But this chaos doesn’t stay confined within US borders—it travels. It infiltrates global systems, spreading itself through culture, media, and markets, and manifests in expat enclaves worldwide; Americans arrive in new countries and demand changes that cater to their preferences rather than adapting to the local culture, making demands and destabilizing local systems5. I don’t think I’m exaggerating either; there is literally a word for this: “Americanization.” The American sphere of influence encompasses the globe, leaving virtually no place immune to its reach and impact.

When Chaos Crosses Borders

Throughout the Cold War and beyond, the United States played a direct role in destabilizing numerous countries by overthrowing elected leaders, funding rebel groups, and propping up authoritarian regimes. From Iran, Congo, and Guatemala in the 1950s and 1960s to Chile and Nicaragua in the 1970s and 1980s, these actions were often driven by fanatical fears of communism or a self-interested global outlook. The long-term consequences included civil wars, authoritarian rule, and widespread human rights crises and suffering.

Before people have a conniption, I’ll acknowledge that the global US presence hasn’t been all bad; ridding the world of vile dictators like Muammar Gaddafi and Saddam Hussein was a good thing6.

I can’t help but feel that the chaos abroad is a symptom of an ingrained trait on American soil. 24-hour news cycles feed the chaos. Developed in the US and adopted worldwide, 24/7 news is characterized by constant coverage, prioritizing speed and sensationalism over depth and accuracy. It thrives on breaking news, pundit commentary, and emotionally charged stories with a penchant for high drama, conflict, and fear. This feed creates a continuous loop of urgency that overwhelms context and nuance, leaving the public dazed—but hooked.

All of this—foreign entanglements, media loops, public hysteria—points to something more profound than policy missteps. It points to chaos as an identity. As something the nation has learned to live with, depend on, and even crave.

Personified Mayhem

Trump's return to power for a second time is a clear indication of this. He is a personification of the chaotic American psyche, a caricature of it even. He does and says whatever he wants without conscious awareness of global repercussions. Or if he is aware, he doesn’t care. He has an inflated sense of self and will stop at nothing to act on his compulsive egomania.

The acceptance of chaos has become a fundamental principle propping up the nation. It’s everywhere. Even in the American business world, the word “disrupter” has come to take on a positive connotation, reflecting this cultural fixation with upheaval. Disruption is glorified. The louder, the faster, the newer. But all that equates to is stress, overwhelm, and disorder.

It’s fuckin’ bonkers. Reading that last sentence during the editing process nearly gave me an anxiety attack. It’s exhausting. The world needs a break. The chaos is insidious, though. And it’s drug-like; highly addictive.

The High of the Hysteria

Chaos has become a regular part of everyday life to the point that people unconsciously crave it. It's what psychologists might call an emotional or drama addiction.

In this tendency, individuals become so habituated to the neurochemical patterns of emotions (even negative ones like anger, anxiety, or sadness) that they unconsciously seek them out. Over time, emotional intensity itself becomes the fix. Therapists refer to this as negative emotional reinforcement or self-defeating patterns, where the emotional high—no matter how painful—feels more familiar than calm or contentment.

According to the peer-reviewed article The Dark Side of Emotion: The Addiction Perspective, strong emotional states can activate the brain’s reward system in ways similar to addictive substances, framing intense emotional experiences as potentially addictive in themselves.

In this view, chaos isn’t just cultural; it’s chemical. The brain learns to chase the adrenaline, the cortisol, and the dopamine, even when those chemicals are tied to distress. The chaos feels necessary, even when it’s destructive. And it creeps into policy at home and abroad.

For me, it is an explanation of the deeper psychology behind the American obsession with chaos. It's not just in the media, politics, or financial swings; it’s in the emotional landscape. People learn to live in a heightened state of activation, and eventually, anything outside of that—quiet, stillness, nuance—feels like a void. So they create more conflict, seek out more drama, or cling to outrage to feel alive.

Wired for Whiplash

The psychological roots of this run deep, triggering cognitive biases.

The first is the gambler’s fallacy: the belief that just one more election cycle, one more protest, one more viral thinkpiece will turn things around. You’ve invested so much of your life in your home country that you think the solution is to spend more time waiting for things to get better. But the chaos abounds.

Millions flock to political pundits to soak in the next distaster, the most recent destruction, or the impending violence. They search for their daily dose of finger-pointing. No one is untouched. My wife recently witnessed the chastising of artists and creators on social media for promoting their work “while democracy burns.” Seriously? Yet, the accusers have no problem attending their jobs and supporting the systems they claim to fight against.

Irrationalism and chaos apparently go hand in hand.

Then, cognitive dissonance creeps in, the mental discomfort experienced when holding two or more conflicting beliefs, values, or attitudes, which often leads people to justify, ignore, or rationalize away the conflict to reduce that discomfort. Everyone knows what's going on around them isn’t right, yet they’ve been so deeply conditioned into normalizing chaos that they uphold the status quo.

The accumulation of cognitive biases leads to akrasia, the human tendency to desire something but fail to act on it. Yes, I know there are lots of protests going on in the States, but let’s get real for a second: how many people return to “business as usual” after a day out on the picket line? Practically everyone.

If you want to make a real impact and hit the President where it hurts, focus on his wallet. Do something with bite, like not paying taxes next April. Or perhaps cease to feed the corporations that cozy up to El Capitán Naranja. But how many can truly live without their Amazon boxes, their low-fat caramel macchiatos, or some other deeply conditioned consumable? In the end, nothing changes. Because no one has actually changed their behaviour or state of mind. Most people accept it, adjust, and then complain about it until the next tragedy, war, market fluctuation, or whatever. Repeat ad infinitum.

An Intensity Economy

So, do Americans love chaos?

I’m not sure 'love' is the right word, but they’re certainly accustomed to it. Raised in it. Addicted to it. Chaos is stitched into the cultural DNA; from the fireworks of the national anthem to the dopamine hits of disaster news, from market bubbles and crashes to wars. It’s not only tolerated but glorified, politicized, commodified, and exported.

What began as a revolution has mutated into a lifestyle brand.

And yet, the scariest part isn’t necessarily the chaos but the attachment to it. The way people cling to drama as a form of meaning, the way disruption gets framed as progress, and the way the nervous system recalibrates to stress until it becomes the default state.

Maybe that’s the most American thing of all: mistaking intensity for purpose.

From Reaction to Regulation

So what’s the answer? To be honest, I’m not sure. The American obsession with chaos isn’t just a political issue; it’s a psychological one. And psychological problems require psychological solutions. Perhaps the path forward begins not with resistance but with regulation, with people learning to sit in stillness, recognizing the emotional loops they’ve internalized, and interrupting the cycle.

Simply put, Americans need to exercise that demon. That could mean therapy on a cultural level. It could mean mindfulness practices for the nation. It could mean spending less time consumed by panic and more time re-anchoring the nervous system through movement, art, or even just being present in the moment. It could mean some form of unity conditioning—a recalibration of a kind that makes space for something other than conflict7.

Or, it could mean leaving. People like me and others have left less volatile nations for fewer transgressions.

Still, it doesn’t have to be the way it is. Addiction isn’t destiny; it’s a pattern. And patterns can be interrupted. But that requires more than just marching, posting, consuming news feeds, or finger-pointing. It involves something profoundly un-American: stillness. A refusal to feed the machine. It means taking bold, meaningful action. To stop pandering to the powers that be. To refuse to be triggered. The courage to stop, unplug, and demand calm over chaos. And not just for a weekend, but as a way of being.

But that’s the hard part. Chaos is easy. Peace takes effort.

If you enjoy my writing, you might also like the Belize Foreigner Blog, the Lili Art Blog, or my award-winning book Home in Good Hands. If you'd like to support this Substack and help me keep creating stories and essays like this one, consider subscribing, sharing, or buying me a coffee. And to those who already have—thank you. Your support means the world.

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When did ‘just take your shoes off’ become a $200 lifestyle product?

I recently watched a great 'Diary of a CEO' episode. At the end of the podcast, host Steve Bartlett advertised an interesting product that I was unaware of: barefoot shoes. The ad copy immediately highlighted the benefits of being barefoot, including increased foot strength, improved mobility and balance, injury prevention, and an overall boost in well-being.

While I knew that wearing shoes disrupts our natural connection to the Earth’s electrical field—what’s known as grounding or earthing1—listening to the popular podcast host list off other drawbacks (weakens foot muscles, affects balance, potentially causes injuries), piqued my interest in the consequences of regular shoe use.

I did some searching and discovered that there are several more. Turns out, wearing shoes can do quite a number on you. They reduce proprioception by altering sensory feedback, change natural gait2, and restrict toe splay, causing toe deformities in women. They also inhibit natural arch function—turns out this commonly promoted shoe attribute isn't as beneficial as claimed—contribute to poor posture, promote dependency, encourage joint misalignment, and inhibit circulation. And then, of course, there is "shoeaholism" and all of its financial consequences, emotional dependency, and consumeristic overtones.

So, what’s the solution? Apparently, it’s shoes designed to mimic bare feet. But what about actual bare feet? After all, it’s clear that shoes aren't all they’re cracked up to be; they're a very unnatural addition to our daily lives. So much so that research surrounding footwear suggests that its early use led to changes in human anatomy during our species’ evolution. After years of use, they can twist, weaken, and warp the very body parts they’re supposed to support.

Ask Yourself This

Why are humans the only animal on the planet that feels the need to wrap our feet in layers of rubber, leather, and foam? No other creature avoids direct contact with the ground it walks on; just us, hobbling around in foot prisons we convinced ourselves are necessary and proper.

A Time and a Place

Now, I understand the benefit of shoes for particular applications. I worked in construction for nearly two decades, and I probably wouldn't have feet left if I hadn't worn safety shoes. They protected my feet—more times than I can remember—from being crushed, smashed, pierced, and cut. But they also gave me intense morning foot pain and a nasty toenail fungus that lingered for nearly a decade.

Why Do Humans Even Wear Shoes?

Basic Protection

Similarly to modern construction workers, ancient humans likely began wearing shoes for protection: from the elements, during hunts, or when traveling over rough terrain. Early footwear was simple: bark sandals, leather wraps, plant fibers, just enough to shield the foot from cold, cuts, or abrasion in specific instances. But, they weren’t intended to be a permanent adornment or something that would alter our physiology.

However, somewhere along the way, shoes evolved from a temporary protective layer to an ornament. They became a marker of status, wealth, and cultural identity. The higher the platform, the more ornate the design, the more elevated (literally and figuratively) the wearer appeared.

A Demonstration of Status

Shoe-wearing has a long history of symbolizing social status and prestige. In cultures worldwide, height indicated one's place in society—think of the elongated necks of the Kayan people of Southeast Asia as a symbol of beauty and social status—and footwear became a primary means of adding height and signaling one's social standing.

An interesting BBC video I came across describes how 16th-century Ottomans donned funky-looking stilt-like clogs in bathhouses as a means to maintain social hierarchy. Since you were naked in the bath house, clothing couldn’t show off your wealth and power, so the affluent wore decorative wooden sandals to raise themselves above the water level; and everyone else who couldn't afford them. That clunky, awkward footwear became increasingly higher and more decorative in a vain effort to maintain the status quo. The modern high heel is a vestige of this status signaling, one that is equally bad for the wearer's posture and anatomy.

Unnecessary Problem Solving

After watching the ad, I couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the prospect of paying nearly USD 200 for a product that claims to solve a problem that shouldn’t exist in the first place3. The mere existence of this product seems odd to me when you consider that Mother Nature has equipped us with a completely free solution to the proposed problem of modern footwear: bare fuckin’ feet!

I have experienced the benefits of barefootness firsthand. Those who follow me know that I love being barefoot and the sense of freedom that comes with it. That nasty toenail fungus I mentioned earlier? All but gone after spending three years sans-shoes on the Belizean coast. Foot pain? None, except for the odd bruise I receive after stepping on a particularly jagged stone during my barefoot wanderings. Toughening up your feet takes time, after all.

However, I realize that not wearing shoes poses problems for many because it is frowned upon in the Western world. Beyond fears of being rejected for not abiding by societal norms when walking around barefoot, people may also think that you are being rebellious or are just eccentric. Others may perceive you as unhygienic, inconsiderate, or inappropriate. Going shoeless opens you up to criticism and possible ostracism. But quite frankly, that's all bullshit, considering that forcing people to wear shoes in public may be detrimental to their health.

The Dirty Myth of Bare Feet

I used to think that being barefoot in stores and restaurants was strictly prohibited for cleanliness reasons. That somehow, bare feet were unhygienic or dirty. This, of course, isn't true, but we are led to believe this through enforced policies like “no shoes, no shirt, no service.”

Those six words are a standard storefront fixture—especially in the U.S. and Canada—which dates back to the late 1960s and early 1970s, when they emerged in response to the hippie movement. At that time, many young people began going barefoot or shirtless as an expression of freedom and countercultural identity.

Some business owners and communities didn’t like this, viewing the barefoot hippies as a threat to “decency” or an unwanted type of customer. So the NSNSNS signs were posted as a subtle way to exclude people without running afoul of civil rights laws (which by that point made it illegal to discriminate overtly based on race, religion, etc.). Instead, businesses used dress codes, targeting appearance rather than explicit identity.

Therefore, the ubiquitous signage is about social and cultural policing, not hygiene. However, over time, it has been reframed as a “health and safety” issue, even though there is no actual legal or health code requiring customers to wear shoes in most places.

If you think about it, it's ironic that people would even be concerned about bare feet being unhygienic. I wash my feet regularly on account of roaming around shoesless. How often do you clean your footwear? Once, twice a year, maybe?

Dirty Foot Coverings

Shoes are fuckin’ filthy; that's not an anecdotal claim. A University of Arizona study found that the outside of shoes can harbor over 421,000 bacterial units, and the inside can have 2,887 units. To put this in perspective, money, which is known to be quite dirty, contains a mere 209. Shoe bacteria include things like E. coli and other fecal bacteria, which can be transferred to indoor surfaces. So, for all you Americans out there who don’t take your shoes off when you enter your home or someone else’s, I ask you to reconsider that practice.

Now for the anecdotal. I have two dogs and I always walk around my property without shoes, even when performing yard work. On occasion, I’ll step in some dog dooky. Gross, yes, but the ability to rid my feet of the smushed poop is far easier than if I were wearing shoes, where it gets stuck in the creases of the sole and the treads. I've walked around stores and eaten in restaurants wearing shoes with dog doo-doo residue on them, but this issue is nonexistent with bare feet. So, in this regard, perhaps being barefoot is actually cleaner!

Barefoot Life: It’s a Movement

If you're feeling drawn to au naturel footwear—that is, just your feet—you're not alone. In researching this essay, I discovered a 30K member Facebook group dedicated to barefoot living; I promptly joined. I also came across a list of barefoot running clubs on the platform Meet Up. So, know that you aren’t alone in your desire to don your virgin feet more often. If you do, remember that it isn’t unhygienic or unhealthy, as our modern culture leads you to believe. On the contrary, there are numerous benefits to living barefoot.

No doubt you will be hesitant. I understand. It can be scary to stand out in public, to make yourself a spectacle. Yet, my advice is to start, even if it's just in selective settings. Take your shoes off in the park. Walk around your neighbourhood barefoot. Sneak a shoeless moment at the movies, although I won’t lie, those floors are nasty; maybe skip that one.

Making incremental changes will also allow feet to decompress from decades of shoe jail. Becoming barefoot over time will allow your two plodders to gradually toughen up, strengthening muscles and ligaments, improving balance, and connecting you to the earth as they were always meant to. Just remember: be your authentic self, and it doesn’t matter what others think.

CAVEAT: It’s also important to be discerning in your barefoot adventures. Avoid high-risk areas, such as public showers and locker rooms, as they are breeding grounds for bacteria and fungi.

When you do start, do it gradually, as it takes time to build up toughness in your soles. You will also need a tough spirit to stand up for your rights and fight for your health.

Barefoot Shoes or Just Bare Feet?

We began as wild, barefoot foragers needing some basic foot protection for specific tasks, and now, in 2025, we have an entire industry convincing us to buy increasingly elaborate footwear, even if they are detrimental to our physical health.

But what’s really wild is this: instead of questioning why we’re so conditioned to wear shoes all the time, the market now sells us an expensive workaround. 'Barefoot shoes,’ a product that exists because walking around barefoot, nature’s original design, is seen as unsanitary, weird, or rebellious.

Somehow, we’ve created a problem, then convinced ourselves to buy the solution. It's remarkable how the shoe industry has come full circle yet still fails to address the critical issue. We can now recognize the pitfalls of modern footwear, but instead of saying, “limit shoe use,” the solution is to buy a product that simulates what nature already gave us for free, for $200 a pair.

That’s just stupid.

—

If you enjoy my writing, you might also like the Belize Foreigner Blog, the Lili Art Blog, or my award-receiving book Home in Good Hands. If you'd like to support this Substack and help me keep creating stories and essays about life abroad, consider subscribing, sharing, or making a small donation. And to those who already have—thank you. Your support means the world.

The other day, I was completing some backend tasks for my podcast when I stumbled upon a family on YouTube with a story parallel to mine. In the spring of 2022, they packed up their seemingly perfect lives in Southern Ontario—a place I know well—and moved to Mexico. At the same time, my family and I left Canada for Belize.

In their early videos, they describe a restlessness; a sense that something was off or missing. I knew that feeling well. Their disquiet echoed something I'd felt for years:

We'd been sold a lie about what makes a good life.

Furthermore, their story, like mine, wasn't about chasing palm trees and sunsets; it was about breaking free from a system that no longer made sense.

But what exactly is that uneasiness, that "something" that is off? Is it a disillusionment with the modern "work-life balance"? A subconscious pull toward something more primal, adventurous, or free? Or is it a reaction to a collapsing system, one we've grown up believing in, despite the evidence that it no longer serves us?

Realistically, it's all of the above.

The Feeling That Something's Off

You don't need a PhD in economics, politics or sociology to know when a system isn't working. But mentioning it stirs a reaction. When I promoted a recent podcast episode with the pseudonymous , a few Facebook group members came out swinging:

"Stop listening to this BS, there is no mass relocation happening out of the US…This article is just propaganda to get clicks and likes so they can make money off YouTube."

And,

"There is no 'American exodus"! And Belize is no cheaper than living in America."1

When I asked them for evidence to the contrary, there was silence. No data. Not even a reply.

So, let's talk data.

According to a Harris Poll from February 2025, titled the American Expat Survey, "Roughly four in 10 Americans have considered or plan to move abroad and believe that by doing so, it could lead to greater happiness." The report also revealed that 52% of participants believe they can live a higher quality of life abroad, with 49% citing "lower costs as the primary reason for making the jump, and a further 86% expressing the search for "a more affordable cost of living as the most important factor." Those aren't fringe numbers. And it's not just America. It's worldwide. Belize, for example, has become home to a diverse range of foreigners, including not just Canadians and Americans, but also South Africans, Brits, Taiwanese, and others.2

While this was an American survey, I don't doubt that the numbers would reflect a similar trend in Canada. For people like me and the couple on YouTube, our desire to leave is a direct result of realizing that the tailor-made life in North America, which our parents were able to optimize, has thoroughly eroded.

A System Built for a Different Generation

The pushback I've received stems from a fundamental misunderstanding of the current system. Many, especially those of the Boomer generation, can't fathom why anyone would want to leave. While my mom has been understanding and accepting of my decision, my dad is thoroughly dumbfounded, and I can understand it. He came of age during a post-war economic boom. His generation succeeded in rebuilding everything the Second World War had destroyed, and they profited greatly from it.

The reality now? The world he thrived in—affordable housing, inexpensive education and stable employment—no longer exists. Yet, the ease of living they experienced blurs their vision of the present, so they continue to push the rhetoric that the life path they took is a failsafe against the modern socioeconomic challenges and the only path to prosperity.

Now, I'm not saying the Boomers had it easy. I realize they lived through a significant financial crisis and recession in the early 1980s, during which interest rates skyrocketed. Yet, markets swing; it's a fact of life. No one is immune to them, and I've now experienced two major recessions in my working life.3 Yes, interest rates remained low in comparison, but we now face other pressing factors, such as debt. My generation and the ones we push up against are the most indebted in history. In 1980, the ratio of household debt to personal disposable income in Canada was 66%. By 2015, the ratio had exceeded 150%, and now it stands at 185%, with 75% of this being mortgage-based.

That's staggering.

Nowadays, the only means to homeownership for most people is through debilitating debt. No wonder people want out. To put things into perspective, my dad, when he was not much older than I am now, purchased his home4 with a mortgage from his employer at zero-percent interest. An interest-free mortgage! Can you fuckin' believe that!?

On top of the 'we-had-it-made' cake, also perched a real estate market with prices that were one-ninth of what they are today.

Before you say, "people made less back then," I'll say, yes…but only sort of. According to Samuel Lichtman, a millennial financial advisor catering to millennials, "If income had kept up with home prices, then the median income today would be around $233,000. That income level today would put you in the top 2% of income earners in Canada."

The preceding generations not only face higher costs and a greater debt load but also earn less.

Clearly, people are leaving, and with good reason; the Boomer-era prosperity is long gone, and probably nobody will have it that good again.

Now, I don't mean for this to be a diatribe against Boomers; I'm attempting to reveal that the world in which they prospered and the one we've been led to believe is the path to success no longer exists.

The Housing Trap and Its Fallout

I was fortunate enough to enter the real estate industry at a young age, during a period of price inflation. Yet, it came with a stroke of luck. In my mid-twenties, I won a small sum of money in a cancer foundation lottery, and combining it with a small inheritance my wife (at the time) had received, we could afford a down payment on a condo in downtown Toronto.5 While this gave us more flexibility than most of my friends, we were barely staying ahead of the curve with the advantage.

Even with that unexpected spring into the market, real estate prices moved fast. I attempted to keep abreast by renovating and reselling a series of houses before my marriage ended in separation and divorce. By 2020, when my current wife and I were looking to purchase a 107-year-old Victorian gut-job,6 housing costs had risen to nearly half a million dollars for an entry-level home in a gentrifying municipality on Toronto's periphery.

I had a good job, yet getting a mortgage for that house was challenging; I fell prey to B lenders after the A banks rejected my income statements. I had incorporated my sole proprietorship less than two years before submitting my mortgage application, and therefore, "didn't have enough consecutive years of income" to qualify for a decent rate. I'd been self-employed for nearly 14 years at that point, and was doing quite well for myself.

Ironically, the distinction between an incorporated business and a self-employed person was debatable. For the opposite reason, the GOC denied me paternity leave benefits when my second son was born into the NICU and I needed an extended absence from work. I was an employee of my company and contributed to the government employment insurance. However, they informed me that I was ineligible because I owned the company and was therefore considered self-employed.

None of it made sense.

A Contemporary Problem

The housing crisis we face today isn't only about cost; it's also about availability. There are simply too few homes to go around, and the laws of supply and demand push the price of available homes higher—a problem that earlier generations never faced. Part of this is due to the Boomer generation staying in their homes long term, but it's also the result of an increase in the number of homes purchased by investors.7 This figure currently sits around 28% of all housing purchases in Canada and the US. To put all this into perspective, a brief Google search revealed that "the percentage of homes owned by corporations in 1980 was negligible, estimated to be less than 1%."

I've seen it firsthand; both of my brothers have owned multiple properties at one time. At one point, one of them even had seven other homes in addition to their primary residence. He did well with it, and I can't blame him for his ambition and drive to provide a good life for his family. However, I question how such endeavours contribute to the lack of housing and the rise in property costs. I'm not an economist, but given the Government of Canada's struggle to keep up with housing demand, limiting one mortgage per person may be a good starting point in addressing the issue.

Therefore, home ownership and housing costs became a significant factor in my decision to move abroad. The thought of carrying a 30-year mortgage was dreadful, disempowering and defeating, especially with my bent-over-a-barrel rate. The dream of being mortgage-free in Canada seemed so far off, and I was one of the lucky ones; I owned my home. For many, including the hardworking young people I employed in my residential contracting business, that dream was only in pipe form; if they allowed themselves to dream about it at all.

It's no wonder the Harris Poll reported that "68% feel that they are surviving more than thriving."

I get that.

Why More of Us Are Saying "Enough"

The system sucks, straight up, and the thought of exiting it greatly appealed to me. However, the harsh reality is that you are stuck in it, unless you choose to take a bold step, such as uprooting yourself with a move abroad, which can provide a viable option to regain that sense of thriving. Such an act can offer a personal solution to the North American housing problem. For my family and me, Belize allowed us to step out of that deeply entrenched and broken system. After witnessing the affordability of land in Belize (which, admittedly, has increased substantially since then), we were hooked. The thought of being mortgage-free before the age of 40 sparked a 'what if' that we couldn't ignore, and became one of the reasons we couldn't shake the idea of starting a new life there. So, for half of what the average cost of a home was where we used to live, we moved, purchased a lot8 and built a house, steps from the Caribbean Sea at that.

We can see, hear and smell the water.

What kind of premium would you have to pay for that type of water access in Canada? Forget about it!

Oh, that house we sold in Ontario? It now rents for the low-low price of $2,975 per month, not including the separate basement unit. That rent could get you a seaside home in Belize. No wonder people want out.

That Familiar Feeling

That restless feeling beneath the surface of my seemingly perfect Canadian life? It was the inherent instability of a long-entrenched system that many believe they need to be part of to achieve success in life. It was an uneasiness stemming from the need to rely on a system that I subconsciously knew no longer served me.

Belize is by no means perfect. However, it has provided us with something Canada no longer could:

A sense of agency and freedom in our lives.

I know not everyone can, or wants to do what we did. And, I recognize our privilege in being able to do so. But the broader truth remains:

The traditional life path is increasingly unattainable.

It's not that people don't want to work hard. It's that the system no longer rewards hard work the way it used to.

And that's why more of us are looking abroad for alternatives.

—

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Thanks for reading!

If you enjoy my writing, you might also like the Belize Foreigner Blog, the Lili Art Blog, or my award-receiving book Home in Good Hands. If you'd like to support this Substack and help me keep creating stories and essays about life abroad, consider subscribing, sharing, or making a small donation. And to those who already have—thank you. Your support means the world.

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When my wife and I moved to Central America, we didn't know how it would turn out. People at home thought we were crazy, and they told us horror stories about people who crashed and burned after moving abroad. We decided to leave Canada because we felt an uncontrollable pull to action that was so intense we couldn't leave the proverbial stone unturned. We knew we would have significant regrets if we did not attempt to fulfill the desire, and we didn’t want to be left wondering for the rest of our lives, “Could we have made it work?”

Before we left, we told ourselves that no matter what happened, even if we returned home broke with our hat in our hands, we wouldn't consider it a failure. If it didn't work out, we promised to look at the result as “just the natural flow of events,” which would inevitably lead to somewhere; undoubtedly, to new endeavors.

We waxed theoretical with this thought experiment: Suppose we “failed” in Belize, but it pushed us somewhere else or into something new. You can never really know what life has in store, where endeavors will take you, or how they will turn out. So, suppose the post-Belize undertaking became a success; could we really then think of Belize as a failure?

I have a “failed marriage,” but it led me to my current wife and the love of my wife. What was once regret for so many years lost in a loveless marriage I now see as a necessary waiting period: the time it took for us to reunite (we knew each other as camp counselors in high school and crushed on each other). Without that “failed” marriage who knows when or if we would have met again? So, following that same logic, if we failed in Belize but succeeded afterward, was any of it an actual failure? Or were the interim periods (my previous marriage and the theoretical failure in Belize) stepping stones to success?

I now live by this logic, and it has changed my life. I no longer think of anything as a failure. At the very most, I say “such-and-such-a-thing isn't working out right now. There is only success and adjustment. If you try something that doesn't work, even if you abandon the initiative altogether, you are simply adjusting that initial plan. We inherently learn from errors and mistakes, and there is no knowing at the time of abandoning that the lessons learned from it won't be applicable in a future endeavor. If that's the case, the perceived failure of the abandoned initiative becomes instrumental in the new effort, flipping what you previously perceived as a failure into a success.

Everyone is so afraid of failure. I see it in the community of foreigners where I live in Belize. There is a stigma around going back home. You feel like you have to chain yourself to your decision to move here, like some gambler trapped in a sunk cost fallacy. You are allowed to change your mind. Who cares if such-and-such-a-thing didn't work out? It inevitably leads to something new. So, on to the next thing!

I love this new mentality. It makes me less scared of trying new things because I don't fear failure. I can’t lose! I can only succeed or adjust my efforts until I do. I am free to do what I please, and I'll work with and adapt to any outcomes that arise from my efforts, whether others perceive them as positive or not. Now, the question arises: do you care what other people think? If so, you shouldn’t, but I’ll get into that in another post.

If you enjoy my writing, you might also like Belize Foreigner Blog, the Lili Art Blog, or my award-receiving book Home in Good Hands. If you'd like to support this Substack and help me keep creating stories and essays about life abroad, consider subscribing, sharing, or making a small donation. And to those who already have—thank you. Your support means the world.

Like so many coming out of post-secondary education, I remember feeling the pressure to justify the time and money spent after I graduated; if I didn't have any plans, what did I spend all that money on? A lack of plans makes you a bum, a freeloader, and a laze-about. Our society has cemented forward thinking under the euphemism of “future plans”—the typical five- and 10-year varieties—into its cultural expectations, and they are, unfortunately, necessary if you want people to take you seriously. If you don’t want people to think you’re useless, then you better pen that fucking plan. “Where do you see yourself in five years?” Blergh.

I despise the concept. Plans are like a carrot on a stick, dangling in front of you in the cliche way, in a feeble chase towards the determined goal. But there's a sneaky aspect to the carrot/stick: there are two! The other hangs behind you, perusing you wherever you go, reminding you that you haven’t fulfilled the plan. Desire is a better driving force in life; it's flexible, open to change, and adapts to the present moment. Plans provide the illusion of a path, leading you to believe you know where you are going. Desire leads you into the unknown, into uncharted territory, to change, and to new opportunities you can’t even begin to comprehend before attempting to fulfill the current desire.

“Future plans” are dreadful and fallacious. A societally embedded guilt trip dressed up as responsible behaviour, meant to make us productive members of society while leaving us forgetful of the inherent fact that our lives are precious, unique, and fleeting. They inflict an amnesia-like state that veils our eyes to the fact that our experiences are what makes us—and there is no better way to gain life experience than traveling abroad. No one truly knows what life has in store for them. Plan all you want; there is no guarantee they will play out. If you desire to travel, don’t ignore it.

Plan-making is distracting, removing us from the present moment. We’ve all been conditioned by insidious forward thinking to be worried about the unknown, ashamed of our desires, and scared of where we may end up if we ‘don't have a plan.’ But it's bullshit. We should ask ourselves: what are we missing out on by not having plans? What doors are we closing? What avenues are we blocking by forcing ourselves to stick to a plan? What would happen if we just left life unfold naturally? Where would it take you?

If you enjoy my writing, you might also like Belize Foreigner Blog, the Lili Art Blog, or my award-receiving book Home in Good Hands. If you'd like to support this Substack and help me keep creating stories and essays about life abroad, consider subscribing, sharing, or making a small donation. And to those who already have—thank you. Your support means the world.

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Share A Foreign Perspective

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For anyone interested in exploring this concept, I highly recommend Michael Singer’s Surrender Experiment. That shit will change your life.

The following outlines my thoughts on the construction industry. Before I became a writer, I spent nearly two decades as a building professional in the renovation industry—and I am still known to get my hands dirty with personal projects. I wrote the piece some time ago, only uploading it to my LinkedIn account because I had no other place to post it. I recently found the piece in the depths of my Google Docs when I used it as a writing sample for a freelance writer position. They liked it, and I landed a new client, so I figured I’d share it here, too. Enjoy.

A Dirty Job

When I started as a labourer in the residential renovation and construction industry, I was happy to be working a job that kept me fit and developing real-life skills. As my skills and ambition grew and I began to run my own company, I developed an acute awareness of the shortcomings of the industry practices and their ‘standards.’ Put plainly, the construction industry is dirty. And no, I'm not speaking of the literal dirt on job sites; I'm referring to the trash, chemicals, embodied carbon, and lousy building practices considered normal in the industry. Construction is literally and figuratively a ‘dirty job.’ According to the UNEP, the building industry accounts for a whopping 37% of annual greenhouse gas emissions worldwide. 

Embodied Guilt

If it isn't apparent, I still harbour my fair share of guilt about contributing to this pervasive problem. Whether they were mine or on behalf of a client, I wittingly sent innumerable bins of construction waste to the landfill. I never felt good about it and was always left with a sense that there must be a better way. But I felt trapped. What was I supposed to do about it? I did what I could to recycle, salvage, and reuse, but that was just a drop in the bucket, even when I considered the amount of waste my company alone produced. 

A Wasteful Industry

Yet, the wastefulness of the construction industry doesn't just apply to the physical garbage it produces, which is a lot, by the way; about 4lbs per square foot in residential construction. Yes, that's right. During construction, a 2000 sq.ft. home produces 8000 lbs of trash.

On the front end, wastefulness applies to the misuse and abuse of the precious natural resources used to manufacture harmful building products. On the back end, wastefulness reveals itself in poor construction practices and the unsustainable nature of the finished product.

Flaws in the Foundation

The way we currently construct is inherently flawed. Today's standard methods have less to do with what is best and more with supporting and propping up existing industries. Yet, the consensus is we build the way we do because it is the best way to do it. Conditioned by government, industry, and corporations to follow along and not question the status quo, we blindly build into oblivion. 

There is clearly an elephant-sized question in the poorly built room: Is there a better way? The answer is yes, but we will need an equally large knife to cut through the governmental red tape and industry rules, regulations, code books, and ‘standards’ blocking the way to genuinely sustainable construction practices.

Stuck in Old Ways

Like much of our society, we based our modern building methods on 200-plus-year-old practices. These standards have become deeply ingrained, and up until recently, we haven't questioned them. Our approach to building has heavily cemented these methods, causing hesitation, over-analysis, and restrictions when encountering new, sustainable, and environmentally conscious building techniques. Ironically, we do not apply the same level of scrutiny to existing methods as we do to these new, ecologically aware building approaches. For example, wood frame construction has deep historical and cultural roots. Parts of this building method have relevant applications, but it leaves much room for desire and improvement as a standard building practice. Wood frame construction relies heavily on burning fossil fuels and other environmentally detrimental power generation methods in creating lumber products and heating and cooling homes.

Conventional wood frame construction also relies heavily on toxic chemicals and products to increase the energy efficiency of homes constructed in this way. At its core, wood frame construction is not a building practice that produces energy-efficient homes. Wood is a poor insulator and a great thermal conductor. As a result, wood-frame homes contain many thermal bridges. The solution? Heavy reliance on unnatural products like vapour barriers, fiberglass insulation, and spray foam to mitigate the excessive heat gains and losses inherent in this type of construction. However, if you were to compare the energy efficiency of a straw bale home, for example, to that of a conventional wood frame home, the straw bale would win, hands down. Straw bale is not just a great insulator; homes constructed this way also sequester more carbon than they produce during the building process. Seems like a no-brainer. Yet, builders rarely use straw bales, and we must ask ourselves why. 

Inefficiency in Logic

Instead of analyzing the efficiency of wood frame construction, the industry has piled on numerous products and processes to increase its energy efficiency. Enter the Passive House. I'm not bashing this construction method, as it is an effective means for producing energy-efficient homes above and beyond the industry standard. But it isn't an environmentally friendly or sustainable way of building. Building to a PH standard requires many toxic building products, increasing the embodied carbon within the construction process.

Undermined Principles

Unfortunately, like the Passive House, innumerable resources and products are thrown into conventional buildings only to achieve the minimum standard governments and industry regulators set. To top it all off, modern buildings are incredibly wasteful. Apart from the garbage produced during construction, the average home wastes thousands of liters of water per month through single-use systems. Conventionally built residential homes waste as much as 30% of the natural gas and other fossil fuels through careless energy consumption and poor insulating practices. It is quite the double-whammy when coupled with rising utility costs that are passed onto the homeowner.

As with much of modern society, the old adage “if it ain't broke, don't fix it” rings true in the building industry. Even though something works, that doesn't mean there aren't far better options available.

Structural Reset

The building industry needs a major reset and revamping. All building methods, whether conventional or ‘alternative,’ should be placed on level ground and analyzed for their construction efficiency, sustainability, and overall environmental impact. This approach is being made somewhat, as evident in improvements in concrete production with low carbon options and carbon sequestering additives, but not on a large enough scale. We are still building subdivisions and condo buildings using conventional methods and standards. Yes, qualifications like LEED are mandatory in some jurisdictions in North America, like California. Still, even then, it only addresses one of the many issues that ail the construction industry, our homes, and our living environment. 

A Rare Occurrence

Alternative methods are regularly deployed in the custom home building industry, as well as select architectural projects. While this is great, relying on the adventurous and environmentally conscious upper and upper-middle classes isn't a game changer for the industry. 

The building industry is broken, and only a radical approach can fix it. We need a new way of looking at our lives, not just how we live them but where. The average person spends 90% of their time indoors- a whole other issue- yet we build the places where we spend that time to a minimum environmental and occupancy standard. It seems ironic; a natural way to avoid the adverse effects of a toxically built home is to spend more time outside, yet how we build houses toxifies the outdoors, driving us back inside to a more poisoned environment. This negative feedback loop signals a death spiral for humanity.

A Solution for a Sustainable Future

The solution is a radical change. It means abandoning convention and challenging the status quo. It means approaching the building of homes in a way we've never done before. A new way of constructing homes and living creates a stable foundation for our children to build the future. If that means a well-established industry disappears into the history books for the sake of humanity and the environment, then so be it. New industries, with new products and businesses, will inevitably replace the old, and a sustainable move forward will be made, a move with humanity and Mother Earth in mind.

With love for all,

Simo D

If you enjoy my writing, you might also like Belize Foreigner Blog, the Lili Art Blog, or my award-receiving book Home in Good Hands. If you'd like to support this Substack and help me keep creating stories and essays about life abroad, consider subscribing, sharing, or making a small donation. And to those who already have—thank you. Your support means the world.

Years ago, I was a residential renovation contractor. I worked with homeowners, tradespeople, suppliers, and employees to create affordable, functional, and beautiful living spaces for innumerable clients. I was a jack of all trades—but still managed to master some—engaging in every aspect of the business, from physical on-site work to sales, marketing, accounting, client relations, and HR. 

One of the many hats I wore in my previous occupation was that of a content writer: web copy, social media captions, sales proposals, and client contracts. I had a knack for it; writing numerous papers as a history student at university piqued my interest in the written word. After graduating, I tucked writing away in the back of my mind.

My business grew and was profitable. I thought it would be my forever career until the traumatic birth of my first child (the birth of my second son also had significant complications) changed my perspective; I hung up my tool belt to pursue a life closer to my miracle children.

So, I naturally leaned on writing when advancing into a career change. I'd always wanted to write a reno guide for my clients, something I could post on my company website and provide to new or prospective clients, and that was my first true writing endeavor when I started this profession. I self-published Home in Good Hands: A Homeowner's Guide to Construction and Renovation, which received the Finalist Award in the 2023 Readers' Favorite International Book Awards and helped launch my new writing career.

As many do in their professions, I niched down; being a "writer" is a vague job description. Just peruse the copious job posting boards, and you'll discover the broad definition that is “writer”: AI prompt writer, proposal writer, marketing copywriter, technical writer, content writer, AI-assisted writer, social media caption writer, YouTube script writer, meeting minutes writer....the list of “writer” iterations is fucking endless. So I chose "content writer," focusing on on-page SEO because that aligned with my experience, skill set, and interest. *I would like to point out that being an SEO writer is not my long-term writing goal, but it has provided valuable experience and consistent income.* 

As I delved into the craft, gaining experience through personal projects like my blog and Substack and a growing list of clients with my freelance work, I realized a perplexing aspect of the trade: it's very repetitive. I thought I had niched down enough simply to become a "content writer," but no! I must find a schtick and stick to it. 

There isn't anything inherently wrong with this, and I have always known it. Most musicians and artists have a genre and style; it's their medium’s form of repeating what one is and knows. I suppose this makes the one-hit wonders in the music industry those who couldn't find their groove, failing to find a way to hash out a product that is simultaneously the same but different.

Still, it has become glaringly evident as I create content for my clients' clients, churning out tens of thousands of words a month off of keyword lists composed of twenty terms, most of which are iterations of themselves. The job description begs the question: How many ways can you write about the same thing?

I recognize a stark difference between my SEO content work and what established authors achieve (and what I attempt to achieve with writings such as this): SEO is about keywords, page rankings, SERPS, clicks, impressions, and the like; it's not about the content per se. However, the characteristic of repetitiveness is strikingly similar between the top echelon of authors and lowly ones like myself. (Before I go on, I want to point out that what I'm writing about mainly pertains to non-fiction writing.)

For example, I’ve been a long-time follower of Neil Pasricha, after watching a live TED talk of his nearly a decade ago, who exclusively writes about happiness, gratitude, and "awesome" things. And he’s been doing it for over two decades. I also recently discovered Daniel Piper, whose satirical musings and writings about being an SLA (Serious Literary Author) and a plethora of other self-invented acronyms I’ve regularly enjoyed on Substack. 

Despite my enjoyment, I'm left dumbfounded: How do you make a topic evergreen without feeling like you are beating a dead horse? Over the years, I have become a big fan of a niche (or author): stoicism, minimalism, and spiritualism, to name a few, only to eventually fall out of interest.

However, one thing remains certain: my engagement with these topics and creators will never be permanent. They eventually get old. In the case of Pasricha—whose email list I'm still on— I only engage with about 15% of his content and have, admittedly, never purchased a book. As for Piper, I am already losing interest despite his wit and clever approach to topics.

Now, I want to be clear that this isn't a criticism. Quite the opposite: I admire authors' ability to keep their niche topic fresh and exciting. But I'd like to know if my ebb and flow of interest indicate a natural sine-wave trend of literary consumer engagement. If so, is the key to longevity as a writer actually repetitiveness? Or is writing a numbers game, like SEO work, where the objective is to hold readers' attention long enough to get them to buy a book, pay for a subscription, and share enough of your work to convert new members before they fall off, in a never-ending stadium-like wave of engagement-disengagement?

Perhaps the nature of any profession is repetitive. From the outside, my previous job probably seemed repetitious. How often can you install a kitchen, tile a bathroom, or reconfigure a basement, right? Yet, one thing I loved about that job was its freshness. Yes, it was many of the same types of projects, but each was unique and different.  So within writing, or any job for that matter, lies the challenge to adopt that outlook, to take that approach to a subject and rehash topics to maintain fresh engagement from readers.

The best approach, then, is to adopt the mindset of the contractor-me: inherently, the job is repetitive, but each project, writing assignment, article, blog post, or whatever, is unique in its own right. With that in mind, dive deep and dig into the nuances of each piece and extricate its uniqueness, bringing to life its individuality in prose upon the paper (or, most likely, screen) even if it's the thousandth time you've written about topic X. Being evergreen is repeating yourself.

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Whether a consumer or a fellow writer, how do you engage with your topics of interest? Are you happy reading the same things repeatedly, or are you like me and eventually get bored and move on to new things?

If you enjoy my writing, you might also like Belize Foreigner Blog, the Lili Art Blog, or my award-receiving book Home in Good Hands. If you'd like to support this Substack and help me keep creating stories and essays about life abroad, consider subscribing, sharing, or making a small donation. And to those who already have—thank you. Your support means the world.

You have this great idea in your imagination, your creative juices flow and you're hyped about bringing your thoughts into reality.

And then…

That shit DOES NOT turn out as you thought, and you're left feeling discouraged, wanting to quit, and wondering, what the hell am I doing?

So, I scoured the internet for an explanation for what this was and found nothing. At first, I was disappointed that I couldn't find terminology for it. However, dissatisfaction quickly became relief because I knew I wasn't alone in the experience. Perhaps it is so commonplace that there's no need for some fancy psychology term or to brand it with its own cognitive bias. Possibly, my research skills still need some work, and this isn’t new territory. If so, and you already know of a term for what I am attempting to describe, please let me know by commenting below and disregard this piece.

I could have turned it in after coming up empty-handed, but I decided to take a stab at defining it for myself. After a bunch of research, the closest thing I found to what I'm trying to describe is a blend of three cognitive biases: cognitive dissonance and expectation bias, with a sprinkling of the Dunning-Kruger Effect. Each plays a role in defining our current conundrum, but all fail to describe it fully. Let's quickly examine each to see how they are similar, how they aren’t, and how they interact to understand better what we are dealing with.

A Three-Way Baby

Cognitive Dissonance is a discomforting psychological experience arising when we simultaneously hold two or more contradictory beliefs, values, or attitudes. This discomfort often leads us to change one of the conflicting cognitions, acquire new information that outweighs the dissonant belief, or reduce the importance of one of the contradictory elements. Put simply, it's the mental stress someone feels when their actions don't align with their beliefs. It’s similar to our point of focus, as our actions -the execution- don't align with the creative ideas in our heads. 

Likewise, Expectation Bias occurs when an individual's expectations or preconceptions about an outcome influence their perceptions and actions. This bias can lead to a self-fulfilling prophecy, where the expectations cause the expected result to happen. Becoming aware during the early stages of execution that the idea is not as planned often fosters a discouraging sense of defeat, prompting resignation from the endeavour. 

Lastly, the Dunning-Kruger Effect illuminates a common cognitive bias in which individuals with some ability or knowledge in a particular area overestimate their competence. This effect occurs because those with lower skill levels lack the necessary self-awareness to assess their abilities accurately. In the case of our aloof concept, early in our ideation, we fail to realize that our potentially creative asset doesn’t match our skills to bring it to life.

So, what exactly are we dealing with here? We have three pre-established cognitive biases, but none fit the bill. The best way to describe it is the unlikely love child resulting from a menage-a-trois between those above. Whatever it is, I was adamant about defining it and came up with the term Creative Discordance. I describe it as a cognitive bias in which there's a significant gap between one's expectations of their creative ideas and the reality of their execution. This gap often leads to frustration, discouragement, and a lack of confidence, undermining growth and progress in creative endeavors.

Keep On, Keepin’ On

Can you relate? Can you spot occurrences of Creative Discordance in your creative efforts? Welcome to the club! A lot of humanity are already members. Now the question begs asking: what do we do about it? A key aspect of club membership is remembering to ignore those thoughts and keep at it, whatever it is you are trying to achieve. Only by continually doing ‘that thing’ can you refine it into what you imagined it to be. Through continual output, you will eventually put out into the material world what you create in your mind's eye, creating a physical representation of what springs forth from imagination.

Back to ideation…

Where ideas come from is a bit of a mystery (perhaps an examination for another article) and far beyond what I care to touch on here. The idea may come to you in a meditation, dream, or out of the blue. Regardless of how they arise, the most important thing is the ability to execute. Based on our newly defined bias, this is where the pain point occurs, as we come to grips with the fact that our current skill set prevents us from fully recreating the idea. 

Me & My CDs

Lately, I’ve experienced my fair share of Creative Discordance. My ideas routinely exceeded my ability to develop them in reality, whether it be writing or video editing. These are relatively new endeavors for me, especially the latter. Most of my skills lie in twenty years of home renovations, project management, and customer relations experience. So, that fresh writing concept or Instagram reel idea never really ends up how I imagined it to be, but instead, it becomes the driving force behind the pursuit of new skills and knowledge. 

As frustrating as it is to fail at executing the idea, it helps to take a step back from yourself to see that it's a blessing. These instances push us to learn and grow, revealing the areas that need improvement and prompting us to explore opportunities to learn and expand our knowledge and skillsets.

Mind’s Eye Blind

I'm also aware enough to know that this mind's-eye-to-physical-eyes transition is just a phase. I'm sure there was a time -although I don't remember it anymore- when I would think of a woodworking or renovation project and couldn't bring it to reality as I envisioned. I spent the better part of two decades honing those skills and accumulating knowledge to the point where it became second nature. I can think of a task or desired outcome and create it as I've internally pictured it. Issues or oversights still pop up, but I have the skills and expertise to navigate them. Not so, with my current endeavors in writing, video editing, and content creation. 

However, such reflections are a good exercise for maintaining a positive attitude. They remind us that sticktoitiveness, motivation, and determination are keys to success in any facet of life. If you believe you can, are fearless when making mistakes or failing in a public setting, take constructive criticism and feedback, and strive to improve at whatever you choose to focus on, you'll flourish.

The early stage of any initiative is a slog, as you have to learn and develop skills to get your ideas out. It can seem daunting. Part of me wants to be able to execute on a dime. In contrast, another part of me understands that I don't know shit and need to build a repertoire of aptitudes to pull out a seemingly simple idea from my imagination.

It's also a reminder that my ego is mean. It's willing to put me down and make me feel bad about something in an ass-backward attempt to prevent me from being subjected to other people’s meanness or put-downs. Sometimes, I don't know what's worse: internet trolls, Facebook know-it-alls, trash-talking friends and family, or my self-loathing depreciation. Not true. I do know: the hate I throw at myself is worse. 

Reflect & Reframe

That’s why reflecting on the process of growth and development is crucial in the early days of a new venture. Even if you are young and starting something for the first time, it's critical to understand that it takes time to develop the technical skills, learn the nuances of ‘that thing,’ and find your place and groove within the new field. What becomes second nature isn't second nature at all: it takes time, dedication, repetition, and building skills and experience to get to that ‘nature’ state. 

One thing that is natural from the outset is feeling like you suck shit at ‘that thing.’ And that's okay. Don't let it get you down. Use it. Flip it around and employ it as a guiding light. Instead of throwing in the towel at the first sign of failure or when things get hard, be kind to yourself. Recognize that you’re learning. Ask yourself: how can I improve? How can I make that creative idea -so bright and shiny in the mind's eye- unfold into reality in the same glorious state it had while floating around in the ether? 

When Creative Discordance rears its ugly head, turn your discouragement into achievement. I'm not referring to top-echelon achievement (at least for now), but simple achievement. Acknowledging and addressing its presence, you can maintain confidence and grow in your creative pursuits. When you feel stuck or overwhelmed, pick a task within ‘that thing’ that develops skills and builds experience, and nail it. Then do it again, and again, and again. You’ll get there. Before you know it, your brain will be like a 3D printer pumping out imaginative ideas with all the details they had in your mind. 

Enjoy the process. Then, bask in the creative glory.

If you enjoy my writing, you might also like Belize Foreigner Blog, the Lili Art Blog, or my award-receiving book Home in Good Hands. If you'd like to support this Substack and help me keep creating stories and essays about life abroad, consider subscribing, sharing, or making a small donation. And to those who already have—thank you. Your support means the world.

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