I’m turning 43 in less than 24 hours, and despite what the facade of endless hard work, a meticulously maintained poker face, and the constant effort to keep things stable for the kids might suggest, my life has been completely turned upside down.

I even had to deliver a speech so heavy it defies measure, in front of an audience steeped in bitterness, vanity, and greed. It was a message straight from the heart—even though, in my anger, I crammed it full of every last bit of wisdom I had.

I meant to share my principles, but in my overly pragmatic drive, I failed to see that it wasn’t my job to change others. From now on, I won’t judge their choices, because they no longer affect me.

When someone dies, people say, ‘May the earth be light upon them.’ But what do you say when what you once felt is gone, even though the person is still alive? Maybe what I’m about to say will hit a little hard:

‘May the weight that burdens your hearts someday lighten before your final breath on this earth.'”