Own What You Built.

Second Act Sundays is a quiet corner of the week — a moment to pause, reflect, and reconnect with yourself.

Each Sunday, subscribers receive a short, gently challenging email designed to support your journey into what’s next. Whether you’re mid-pivot, post-burnout, or just feeling a subtle pull toward something more, this series is here to offer grounded guidance without the fluff.

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Every edition includes:

• A short, personal letter — something I’m thinking about, noticing, or grappling with

• A reflective journal prompt — not a to-do list item, but an invitation inward

• A gentle weekly practice — small enough to fit into your life, powerful enough to shift something

You won’t find hacks, hustle, or 10-step plans here. Just honest reflections and grounded nudges toward a second act that feels truly yours.

Because midlife isn’t the beginning of the end, it’s the end of pretending.
And what comes next might just be your most meaningful chapter yet.

Second Act Sundays #28

Something happened this week that has been a long time coming.

It opens up new opportunities. The normal thing to say is, “I got lucky.” It is tidy. It is socially acceptable. It nice.

But it is not the whole truth, or even close.

I do not really buy into luck as the main explanation for good things that arrive.

Because when I look closely at most “lucky” moments, what I actually see is a pattern. Sticking with something when it would have been easier to drift. Taking the awkward first steps. Getting things wrong. Trying again. Building capability and capacity, one unglamorous piece at a time.

Then an opportunity shows up and, because you are ready, you can actually do something with it.

That is the part that gets missed when we call it luck.

Luck, in the way most of us use it, often becomes a way to avoid owning ourselves.

It sounds humble, but it can dangerously undermine the truth.

It can erase your contribution.

It can make your progress feel like an accident.

And it can encourage you to wait for the next “lucky break” instead of building the conditions where breaks are more likely to happen.

I am not interested in that story.

Good fortune is real. So is readiness.

I do believe in good fortune.

Good fortune is what you did not earn but still benefit from.

It is the situation you were born into. The stability you may have had. The support you received. The people who believed in you. The chances you were given. The safety net that was there when you needed it. The access to education, to healthcare, to basic opportunity.

For me, good fortune includes being born in a first world country and into a loving family. That is not something I created. It is something I received. I can name it, respect it, and be grateful for it.

But that is not the same as luck.

Because alongside good fortune, there is also readiness.

Readiness is the part you build.

Readiness is what turns an opening into an outcome.

Two people can be offered the same opportunity and have totally different experiences of it. One can act. One cannot. One can see the path. One feels overwhelmed. One has the skills and the energy. One doesn’t, yet.

That is not a moral judgment. It is just reality.

Readiness changes what you can do with what shows up.

The truth behind “I’m lucky”

If you are in midlife, you have probably seen this play out.

You watch someone “suddenly” step into something better, and it can look like it fell into their lap. But when you talk to them properly, you hear the backstory. You hear what they were doing long before the moment arrived. You hear how long they had been building towards it.

And if you’re honest, you have your own version of that too.

The promotion that came after years of becoming excellent at your craft.

The health shift that followed a run of small, consistent choices.

The new direction that only became possible after you stopped lying to yourself about what was no longer working.

So when you say “I’m lucky,” I want you to consider a better sentence.

Not a louder sentence. Not an arrogant one.

A truer one.

Something like:

“I put myself in a position where this became possible.”

That is not ego.

That is ownership.

And ownership is fuel.

Because if you can see what you built, you can build again.

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This week’s journal prompt

Where am I calling myself “lucky” in my life right now, and what did I do to be ready when the opportunity showed up?

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This week’s gentle practice

For the next 7 days, notice each time you say or think “I’m lucky.”
Pause and rewrite it in one sentence that names your part, for example: “I built the skills, relationships, and consistency that made this possible.”