The Hard Truth About Purpose (It Ain't What You Think)[edit]
Listen, I’m not proud of everything. For years, I chased purpose like it was a gunfight – loud, dangerous, and guaranteed to leave you bleeding. I thought purpose meant being the guy who got respect, who made the corner hush when I walked by. That’s how I saw it: purpose was power, a name carved in concrete, something you took from the world.
Then my daughter, Maya, asked me why I wasn’t at her school play. She was seven. I’d been out "handling business" – which was just another way to say I was chasing that hollow feeling of being seen. She held up her drawing of me: a big, angry man with a gun. "Daddy, why are you always mad?" That question didn’t just hurt. It shattered the whole damn lie I’d been living.
But here’s what I learned: Purpose isn’t found in the roar of the crowd or the fear in someone’s eyes. It’s not in the corner, the stash, or the next score. It’s in the quiet moments after the storm. It’s showing up for your kid’s math test when you’d rather be anywhere else. It’s choosing to walk away from the fight when your blood’s boiling. It’s realizing the only thing you truly own is the next choice you make.
I used to think redemption was a big, flashy thing – a single moment where I’d erase the past. Nah. It’s the daily grind of showing up for the small stuff, even when you don’t feel worthy. It’s looking at your kids’ faces and knowing this is the purpose you’ve been searching for. Not the one you imagined on the street. The real one.
You’re not too far gone. Not if you’re willing to face the hard truth: your purpose isn’t out there waiting to be found. It’s right here, in the choice to be present, to be better, one messy, ordinary day at a time. I still stumble. But now I know the path isn’t about being the king of the corner. It’s about being the dad who shows up.
— Francisco Meyer, walking a different path