Still Writing

Over the last few weeks, I’ve had the good fortune of crossing paths with several friends from my uniformed days. Without exception, each has asked some version of the same question: “Are you still writing?”

Each time I hear it, I feel a small pinch in my chest.

If you were to browse this site or pick up a copy of my book, it’s clear that for years, writing wasn’t just something I did—it was core to who I was. I wrote to force deep thought, to reciprocate the generosity of other thinkers, and to connect with people far beyond my physical reach. I believed then, as I do now, that leaders are readers, readers are thinkers, and thinkers must eventually become writers.

I wrote to inspire others to think, do, and be more. And then, I simply stopped.

When I transitioned out of the military, I felt the need to choose between two paths. I could either lean into the familiarity of who I had been, or I could “burn the boats” and start a completely new chapter. My resume and my silence suggest I chose the latter. It wasn’t that I lacked pride in my past; it was that I feared being limited by it. I didn’t want my previous profession to be the only thing that defined my value.

But as I’ve reflected on those recent conversations, I’ve had to confront a hard truth. Underneath the “fresh start” was a quiet, persistent case of imposter syndrome.

I had convinced myself that my voice only carried weight because of the rank on my shoulder and the title on my door. I feared that once the uniform was put away, the interest in my message would evaporate. My ego preferred a clean “Irish Goodbye” over the risk of discovering that my words couldn’t stand on their own.

I’m realizing now—largely through the act of typing these very words—that the why matters more than the who. I didn’t start writing because of a position; I started because I found joy in the discipline and the human connection it sparked. By walking away, I wasn’t just burning boats; I was abandoning a piece of my own identity.

Writing wasn’t just core to who I was. It is core to who I am. It’s good to be back.

Connecting the dots.

• What meaningful hobby or interest have you set aside because of a change in your “status”?
• Is your ego preventing you from pursuing something that once brought you great joy?
• How might you encourage a friend to reconnect with a lost piece of their identity today?