cheering section

This is Ego, he does not smile.

In both success and failure, he’s the monkey on my back. His grimace speaks louder than his cymbals: it will never be enough.

Last week was one of the hardest in my career. After a string of failed inspections, I went into full damage control.

Seven straight days of sixteen-hour shifts. Stress at a level that pulls you apart inside. Trying to balance being away from family and completing the job, both important, yet I cannot be in two places at once.

Yesterday, the clearance letter finally came in. Task complete, the job is done and signed off.

You’d think that moment would feel like victory. Relief, maybe even celebration.

But here’s the thing: there were no cheers. No “atta boys.” Just the quiet reality of moving on to the next job.

That’s when Ego speaks up. He reminds me of what I could have done better. He tells me it wasn’t enough. That monkey never stops clanging his cymbals. If I feed him, push harder, chase more ________, he plays along. If I ignore him, he only gets louder.

Maybe that’s his purpose.

Maybe Ego isn’t meant to smile. Maybe he’s there to keep me hungry, to keep me from settling, to push me into places I’d never go on my own.

Still, some days I wish he’d ease up, just a little.

Because the truth is, wins matter, even the quiet ones. And if we never stop to notice them, we risk burning out in the chaos and noise.

So today, I’m reminding myself, and maybe you too, that it’s okay to pause, even briefly, to recognize the victories.

The clearance letter means the work was good enough. The team delivered. The project passed.

The next challenge will come soon enough.

TL;DR: Ego never stops making noise, but wins are worth acknowledging, no matter how quiet they feel.