September 28, 2026
Grand day rising.
Day two.
My Conversation with God.
I woke up sometime after five this morning with a brand-new sleep record.
Two hours and fifty-four minutes.
😂
Apparently we’re setting records in the wrong fucking direction.
I had some bone pain last night, took a pain pill, and still didn’t sleep for shit.
But strangely enough, I’m okay.
I’m tired, obviously.
But underneath the tired body, there is energy.
There is peace.
And there is this sense that today is a new week and another new beginning.
I have client calls.
Projects I’m finishing.
Some work with my buddy Barry.
And apparently I also have a date with my Peloton bike.
I got on it for about ten minutes last night.
At first my knee was so stiff I couldn’t make a complete rotation.
So I rocked the pedals back and forth.
Half circles.
Then eventually I could make a full circle backward.
And finally, forward.
That felt pretty fucking good.
Not because ten minutes on a Peloton is some great athletic accomplishment.
Because right now, it is mine.
This is where my body is.
And I don’t need to pretend otherwise.
Soon I’ll be back in the gym.
Probably lifting weights that my ego is going to hate.
I may look like the guy who should be pressing the 80-pound dumbbells while I’m sitting there with the 30s.
And somebody might look at me and think:
Why the hell is that guy using those little weights?
Because they don’t know.
They don’t know about the surgery.
The infection.
The hospitalization.
The PICC line.
The antibiotics.
The muscle loss.
The months of shitty sleep.
They just see what I look like.
And that brought something else up for me this morning.
People often assume I am stronger than I actually am.
Not just physically.
Emotionally too.
Spiritually.
I have been carrying weight for a very long time.
Husband.
Provider.
Father.
Grandfather.
CEO.
Entrepreneur.
Coach.
Protector.
Problem solver.
The guy who figures shit out.
And this morning something hit me hard enough that I actually felt emotion move through my body.
I don’t remember the last time my primary responsibility was simply me.
That is fucking foreign.
Of course I have Chapo and Jet.
Those little dudes are mine too.
But beyond them?
For perhaps the first time in decades, I can sit down and ask myself:
What would you like to do today, Colin?
Where would you like to go?
Who would you like to see?
What would you like to say?
And to whom?
For the highest good of all.
And as soon as I said that last part, I smiled.
Because that’s actually a JJ line.
Twenty-six years leaves fingerprints.
I don’t need to erase her influence to discover myself.
Some of what she brought into my life became part of me.
And one of those things was a mantra we used to say together for years.
It went something like this:
I flow through life with abundance and ease.
I go where I want, when I want, with whomever I want.
I get and give whatever I want.
Laughing, loving, in massive abundance and joy.
I sat with that this morning.
And emotion came into my eyes again.
Because for all those years, somehow I heard that mantra as we.
Even when the words technically said I.
It belonged to us.
Our life.
Our dreams.
Our abundance.
Our freedom.
And today I heard it differently.
Today it belonged to me.
I flow through life with abundance and ease.
Me.
And even writing that feels a little selfish.
Isn’t that interesting?
I’ve been a we for so long that saying me can actually make something inside of me uncomfortable.
When did “me” become a dirty word?
When did saying:
I want this.
I desire this.
This belongs to me.
become selfish?
Somewhere along the way, so many of us learned that choosing ourselves meant taking something away from somebody else.
Share the toy.
Don’t hurt anybody’s feelings.
Put everybody else first.
Sacrifice.
Provide.
Be there.
And before you know it, you are 30, 40, 50, 60 years old and everybody else has an oxygen mask on except you.
And here’s the funny part.
I have coached people on this shit for years.
Especially mothers.
I’ve told women over and over:
Put your oxygen mask on first.
You cannot pour into your children, your spouse, your family, your clients, your business, everybody else, while suffocating yourself.
And life, being the smartass mirror that it is, looks right back at me and says:
Oh really, Colin?
You believe that?
Then why the fuck haven’t you been breathing?
Life is a mirror, not a window.
Eventually all the advice you give everyone else comes bouncing back at you.
So maybe day two is about oxygen.
Maybe it’s about learning that me does not mean:
Only I matter.
It means:
I matter too.
There is a difference.
I can care about other people and choose myself.
I can love JJ and choose myself.
She can choose herself without rejecting me.
I can be a father, grandfather, friend, coach, businessman, and human being who gives deeply without continuously giving from an empty vessel.
And I can want something simply because I fucking want it.
No committee vote required.
That might be one of the bigger freedoms waiting for me in this season.
I’m looking outside right now.
It isn’t quite sunrise yet.
The morning light is beginning to fill the sky.
The windows are open.
The fountain is flowing.
And suddenly even that fountain looks different to me.
The cup fills.
It pours out.
It fills again.
It pours again.
Always moving.
Maybe that is abundance.
Not holding everything.
Flowing.
And maybe these letters are doing the same thing for me.
Every morning I sit here with God and empty something onto the page.
Fear.
Sadness.
Grief.
Joy.
Confusion.
Desire.
Whatever is there.
I empty it.
And somehow, while I’m emptying, I’m also filling myself.
Then I share some of it.
Someone reads it.
They send me a piece of themselves.
I receive that.
And the cup fills again.
Maybe that is why this feels so different from creating “content.”
I don’t have to get the lighting right.
I don’t need to manufacture a hook.
I don’t have to remember the perfect line.
I don’t need everybody to read it.
If one person reads something here and recognizes a part of themselves, that is enough.
Because I’m not creating content about Becoming Colin.
I’m becoming Colin, and these pages are simply what falls out of the experience.
One day at a time.
One moment at a time.
And today I am remembering something I apparently forgot.
I get to breathe too.
I get to flow through life with abundance and ease.
I get to go where I want, when I want, however I want, with whomever I want.
I get to give.
I get to receive.
I get to laugh.
I get to love.
I get to be healthy.
I get to experience abundance.
I get to experience joy.
Not someday.
Not once everything is figured out.
Not once the PICC line comes out.
Not once my knee is perfect.
Not once my body is rebuilt.
Not once the business hits some number.
Now.
This morning.
Coffee in my hand.
Dogs nearby.
Fountain flowing.
My music.
My house.
My life.
And a question I haven’t asked myself enough:
Colin, what do you want today?
I’m listening.
One important ask: please don’t reach out to JJ about what I share here. She is processing her journey privately, and I want to respect that. Even with the best intentions, please give her the space to experience this in her own way and on her own timeline.
Make today amazing.
Namaste.
Colin F. Watson