Trusting the process

This one was an easy one to write.

I’m sure we’ve all tried and failed. We’ve all wanted to be better at something we’re working on — stronger, calmer, more consistent, more disciplined. And sometimes, after days… weeks… even months of effort, we find ourselves asking the quiet question no one likes to admit out loud:

Is this work even worth it if I can’t see the results yet?

That’s the moment where most people stop.

But it’s also the moment where something deeper is being asked of us. This is where we learn to trust something we cannot see yet. This is where we have to decide to push, to work, and—most of all—to trust.

When I think about what “the work” really looks like in everyday life, it’s rarely dramatic. It’s not the big public moments. It’s things like:

• making a good decision when no one is there to witness it,

• choosing a calm conversation instead of an argument,

• having an off day that doesn’t cause you to spiral or give up.

Wins don’t always feel like fireworks or explosions. More often, they feel like peace. Like quiet confidence. Like inner calm that didn’t exist before.

Why People Abandon the Process

This might be the most important part of the process for me.

How many buckets of golf balls have I bought over the years trying to get my game where it is today? And maybe more honestly… how many would it take to actually be great?

If someone told me, “Just hit one million 9-irons, one million 8-irons. Spend three hours a day on the practice green. Train constantly. Putt endlessly. Eat only certain foods,” I’m not sure I would’ve jumped on board so quickly.

And that’s why there’s only one Tiger Woods — and millions of guys like me.

That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy work or failure. Oddly enough, those two are old friends of mine. Fatigue, discouragement, and comparison show up too — and on some days, they absolutely slow me down. But the other two? Work and failure? They tend to keep my fire burning.

Because when I work, I learn. And when I fail, I get up and try again. Sometimes the same way. Sometimes differently.

I don’t always recognize those moments as wins while I’m in them — but they are. Getting up one more time than I fall down is a win. Staying in the process when quitting would be easier is a win.

And trusting the process long enough for it to work…That might be the biggest win of all.