I-75 Introspections
Today marks the day before my dad and I embark on a cross-country road trip—something I’ve been looking forward to for months. My dad flew down to Florida because I need to drive back up to Michigan to pick up a car, and I’ll also be flying to Phoenix soon for work. With all this travel, my parents have graciously agreed to watch my dog. This trip with my dad feels significant. I hope to learn more about who he was when he was younger. So far, I only know the snippets he’s shared—stories about work, and some partying in between. But I yearn to understand the deeper layers of his life. Understanding my parents’ lives has become a way for me to understand myself better, a goal I’ve been pursuing through attending church.
Church, for me, has been more than just a spiritual experience; it’s a way to reset and break free from routine. When life feels monotonous, throwing in something unexpected—like a sprinkle of cumin in a familiar dish—can shift my perspective. This road trip, I hope, will be one of those moments of change and reflection.
One thing I want to ask my dad about is how he handled his own insecurities and ambitions. Did he ever feel like he wasn’t living up to his potential? Did he ever feel stuck or wasteful of the opportunities in front of him? These are questions I’m grappling with myself. This insatiable drive to do more—never feeling like I’m enough—is something I’m trying to understand and overcome.
My dad and I started at 6 AM, and while the journey was physically tiring, I found unexpected solace in our time together. Over the holidays, I had been feeling the weight of loneliness while staying in Tampa, and this time with my dad reminded me of the importance of family. During the drive, I brought up the idea of balance. I asked him, “How did you find work-life balance at my age?” His response struck a chord: “I was already starting a family at your age.” While I’m not quite ready for that step, his words made me think about responsibility and fulfillment. Maybe balance isn’t just about work versus play but about finding meaning in your duties and ambitions.
This year, one of my goals is to practice giving myself grace. Stressing over outcomes doesn’t change them—it just drains energy. Perhaps letting go of the need to control every detail might lead to even better results. I’ve also been working on my faith, albeit inconsistently. I made a pact with a close friend in Tampa to work on impulse control and, as part of that, to read the Bible every day. It’s been a challenge to stay committed, especially since I’ve fallen out of some positive routines, like reading Scripture while my dog played at the park. Reflecting on when and why I dropped those habits has been enlightening—it likely coincided with a period of partying more than I’d like to admit.
Now that I’m back in my hometown in Michigan for the next two weeks, I’m struck by how calm and serene it feels here. The city, with its constant hustle and culture of comparison, has a way of wearing you down. I felt this especially when I briefly redownloaded Instagram—scrolling through carefully curated lives left me feeling hollow. Comparison is the thief of joy, and resisting that urge feels like the ultimate challenge in 2025. It’s about delaying gratification, mastering emotions, and realizing that intrinsic value isn’t something you lose by making mistakes.
One thing I’ve been pondering is the concept of “cheap grace.” If you continually commit the same sins without reflection or growth, you cheapen the grace extended to you. True grace, I think, requires self-awareness and the willingness to change. This year, I want to embody a new mindset. Great leaders, I’ve learned, periodically stare into the abyss—not to get stuck in it, but to contemplate their choices and accept that risk is inevitable. Faith, whether in a spiritual or psychological sense, is what allows us to leap into that abyss, trusting that we’ll land where we’re meant to be.
As I continue this journey—both on the road and within myself—I hope to embrace faith, responsibility, and self-compassion. After all, we’re all works in progress, and that’s perfectly okay.