I’ve been told I’m a lot.
Sometimes it was meant as a compliment.
Other times—not so much.
I think the first time I noticed I was wired a little different was back in sixth grade. I was that kid who always asked questions. Not because I wanted to challenge authority—I just wanted to understand. Why are the rules the way they are? Why does this matter? What are we really trying to accomplish?
My teacher once told me, in front of the class, that I’d make a great lawyer. I remember feeling proud of that. Like someone saw something sharp in me. But looking back, I think she might have been trying to get me to stop talking.
Even then, I couldn’t turn it off. That part of me that needs to dig deep, to peel back the surface, to ask why until I find the root. That hasn’t gone away. If anything, it’s grown stronger.
The Need to Know Why
Throughout my time in the military, this trait didn’t always go over well. Orders were orders. You don’t question the why—you execute.
But I still wondered. Why do we do it this way? Can it be done better? Why that process? Why that frequency?
That instinct to analyze and optimize has followed me into civilian life—into leadership, into marketing, into sales strategy. And now, it’s one of the things that makes me valuable. Because I don’t just want to check boxes. I want to understand the reason we’re checking them in the first place.
But there was a time when I felt like I had to hide that side of myself. Or at least, shrink it down.
Especially in relationships.
Too Deep, Too Fast
I don’t blow up. I don’t yell. My intensity isn’t about volume—it’s about depth.
And sometimes that depth gets triggered by the smallest things.
My wife might make a quick comment during a show like, “I don’t like that character,” and I’m suddenly launching into a philosophical discussion about human behavior, story arcs, and moral frameworks.
She just wanted to get back to the show.
Sixteen years of marriage has taught us how to navigate those moments. Now I pause the show and ask, “Do you want to unpack that or just keep watching?”
Most of the time, she just laughs and says, “Let’s keep watching.”
But it hasn’t always been easy. My mind doesn’t have a “casual setting.” It’s not built for small talk. It wants to dissect everything—from sitcom scenes to board game rules.
One vacation, we were playing Monopoly as a family and someone wanted to change a rule. I couldn’t let it go. I needed to clarify the official rule. It wasn’t about winning—it was about principle. About teaching our kids to respect structure, to play fair, to do it the right way.
Some people call that overkill. I call it intentionality.
But yeah, it can be a lot.
The Superpower Analogy
I don’t remember a single moment where I stopped apologizing for this part of me. But over time, I began to understand it for what it is: a superpower.
Think Cyclops or the Hulk. Their strength is real—and when it’s used right, it’s powerful. But if it goes unchecked, it can cause damage.
My intensity is like that. It needs wisdom. It needs timing. And it needs self-awareness.
I used to feel like I had to tone it down for everyone’s sake. But now I realize:
I don’t have to apologize for how I’m wired.
I just need to steward it.
There are times to go all in.
And there are times to hold back, not out of shame, but out of love.
That’s maturity. That’s leadership.
When Not to Apologize (And When To)
There are still moments when I say, “Hey, sorry if I got a little intense there.”
But it’s not because I feel guilty about who I am. It’s because I want to meet people where they are.
Some conversations aren’t meant to be dissected. Some moments just need lightness. And I’m learning to read the room.
But when I do choose to go deep—when I push the conversation further, or challenge a process, or stand firm on integrity—I don’t walk away feeling ashamed. Because I know why I did it.
And like with anything else in life, when you understand your why, you gain clarity.
If I believe I handled something poorly? I own it. I apologize.
If I believe someone was just uncomfortable with the truth I spoke? I move on.
I don’t carry shame for being wired this way. I just carry the responsibility of using it well.
Final Thought
God didn’t create you to be lukewarm. He didn’t give you fire so you could pretend you’re ice.
If you’re the kind of guy who thinks hard, asks deep questions, and sees what others overlook—that’s not something to apologize for. That’s something to channel.
Know who you are. But always be growing.
Your intensity isn’t too much.
It just needs direction.
If this post hit home—this might help too:
I created a 31-day check-in called Start Strong for guys who’ve been stuck before and don’t want to go back.
It’s not a hype plan. It’s a daily gut-check built around faith, discipline, and showing up—even when you don’t feel like it.
If you’ve ever needed something simple, honest, and consistent to keep you grounded, this is it.
