Up Next With Us

April

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There’s nothing more crushing than starting something new, only to realize you’re embarrassingly bad at it—and miles away from where you want to be.

When I was a kid, The Karate Kid lit a fire under me. Mr. Miyagi’s wisdom, power, and effortless cool? I was hooked. I begged my parents for karate lessons until they caved.

Spoiler alert: this is not the story of how I became a karate champion.

My first few classes were nothing like the movie. Instead of epic battles or life-altering wisdom, I got… drills. Endless drills. “Ichi, ni, san, shi,” over and over again. I spent hours repeating the same basic moves, wondering when the action-packed training montage would kick in.

It didn’t. Ten-year-old me was crushed.

At the time, I thought you could decide to be great at something and the rest would just fall into place. Want to be Mr. Miyagi? Just show up! But real life doesn’t work that way, as I’ve learned—and keep re-learning—the hard way.

Fast forward 20 years, and I still fall into this trap. I’ll watch a YouTube creator deliver the perfect video, feel a spark of inspiration, and think, I can do that! But then I hit record, watch the playback, and cringe. Where’s the charisma? The sharp delivery? The magic?

Here’s the uncomfortable truth I’ve been avoiding: the people I admire didn’t wake up one day as geniuses. They’ve spent years practicing, refining, and improving. The work we see—the video, the book, the performance—isn’t their first try. It’s the result of hundreds, maybe thousands, of iterations.

I wasn’t giving myself permission to iterate. I wanted my first attempt to be just as good as someone else’s 1,000th.

That’s not how mastery works.

Every person you look up to—whether in business, sports, or entertainment—went through a stage where they sucked. They started at zero, just like you. And what made the difference? They kept going. They embraced the crappy first drafts, analyzed what worked and what didn’t, and got better with every attempt.

Here’s the lesson I’m learning, one painful try at a time: you have to give yourself permission to suck.

Not everything you make will be perfect. Most of it won’t even be good. But if you commit to creating, releasing, learning, and repeating, you’ll improve. Slowly, steadily, progress will happen

So, if you’ve been waiting for a sign, this is it: start. Write the bad blog post. Record the awkward video. Show up to the first karate class.
And then keep showing up.
Because the secret to greatness isn’t talent or luck—it’s giving yourself permission to suck and sticking with it long enough to get better.