Look How Far You’ve Come

This was originally published as part of The Comic’s Log on January 21, 2025.

As we enter the third week of the year, most people are looking forward. They ask important questions like What are my goals? What will I accomplish?

But instead, I'm looking back. How did I get here? Is that a rash?

The aim isn't to analyze the ups and downs or the wins and the losses. It's to recognize the gains I've made so I can lock them in. It's an opportunity to look at what worked and recognize that it did, in fact, work. Just as we wear retainers to lock in the position of our newly straightened teeth, we can reflect on our lives to lock in the improvements we've made.

If life is climbing a mountain, most of us spend most of the time focused on getting to the top. You're on the trail. You plod along. When you hit a clearing you focus on the peak in the distance. You drink from your canteen, you slam some gorp. How much longer? Do I have enough underwear? Is that a snake? When you hit a difficult patch, you focus on the ground ahead. Should I scramble up this rock or that one? Will that root hold my weight? Why am I so fat?

But stop a moment. Turn around. You might see a beautiful vista filled with wildflowers. You might see where you made the right turns, where you took the right shortcut. Sure, there's a grizzly in the distance, but that’s nature's way of telling you to keep on going.

You can see where you recorded one more take to nail the audition and it led to one more booking, which covered one more month's rent, one more lunch date with Wiff, and one more chunk for savings. You can see where you kept on writing when you wanted to put down the manuscript and it led to a better story. You can see where you spent an extra hour writing jokes and how it led to a stronger, tighter act, which led to booking more shows.

Now look at the times when you lost your temper (but then right after, look at when you apologized for being a dickhead and got back on the path); the times you procrastinated writing a newsletter [for 6 months] and lost subscribers; or the times you didn't prepare a setlist for a show and stumbled through the set.

The missteps are tricky. It's easy to feel guilty about them, to feel shame from them. It's easy to think you'd be farther up the mountain without them. But in reality, you needed them. They gave you time to focus on becoming a better husband, a better writer, and a better comedian, and in doing so, better prepare yourself for the path ahead. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and also less of a dickhead.

Take a minute now to thank the path: for the opportunity to climb it and become a better human; for the times you went to the gym when you were tired and would have rather slept in; for the times you skipped the ice cream even though—actually that never happened. I never skip ice cream.

Thank each of the missteps: the fight with your wife, the procrastination, the hours spent reading the news. Even though they slowed you down, that’s okay. They give you moments to catch your breath, to realize your err, and to prepare for a steeper part of the path ahead. They make you a better climber and a better man.

Now, turn back around and look at the path ahead and see how much steeper it gets. You don't have a map—there isn't one—so whip out your compass. It's the one your parents gave you. The one your teachers helped you hone. Use it to figure out your path. It might seem scary—that grizzly bear is getting a little close, isn't he?—but where before you might have filled with fear, fill yourself instead with confidence. You can keep climbing because you've been climbing. Keep your head down, keep on marching, and don't forget, every now and then, to turn around and see how far you’ve come.

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