Your why has to be bigger than your pain. When I was in prison, I lost everything. The money. The freedom. My wife. My kids, for a time. And the worst moments weren't in court — they were at night, alone in my bunk, when there was nowhere left to hide from my own thoughts. What got me through wasn't grit. It wasn't positive thinking. It was a face — two faces, actually. My children. Every night I'd close my eyes and see them. I'd feel everything I'd cost them. And I'd make the same promise: there is nothing I won't do to come back better than before. To prove a father can fail and still rise. To be the example they deserved. That was my why. For me, it was my kids. For you, it might be something else entirely. The parent who told you you'd never amount to anything. The version of yourself you've been quietly betraying for years. A cycle in your family that ends with you. The one person — maybe yourself — you need to prove wrong. It doesn't matter what it is. It only matters that it's real, and that it's bigger than the pain trying to stop you. When you have a why, the how takes care of itself. When you don't, every setback feels like the end. What's your why? Drop it in the comments. Saying it out loud is the first step to honoring it. - @wolfofwallstreet