Week 4: The Island Nobody Talks About (Isolation in Personal Growth)
I’ve been lying to myself.
Not about the work. I’m showing up—daily journal practice, early morning workouts, building the business, trying to be better for my son. The discipline is there. The effort is real.
But I’ve been lying about the cost.
Day 28 of the Daily Stoic journal landed different. Marcus Aurelius dropped this line: “You’ll more quickly find an earthly thing kept from the earth than you will a person cut off from other human beings.”
Our mutual interdependence is stronger than the law of gravity. We’re designed for connection, not isolation.
And that’s when it hit me—I’ve been on an island. By choice. And I’m fucking lonely.
When Doing Hard Things Becomes Doing Everything Alone
Here’s what nobody tells you about isolation in personal growth: the very things that make you better can simultaneously cut you off from everyone around you.
I ran 43 miles on my 43rd birthday. Completed 75 Hard Phase 1. I’m 28 days into this stoic journal practice. I wake up early, I train hard, I’m building a business while trying to be present for my 5-year-old son.
And when I try to talk about it? “That’s crazy, man.”
Not in an admiring way. In a “why would you do that to yourself” way.
So I stopped talking about it. Started keeping it bottled up. Because nobody in my circle is running ultramarathons or grinding on personal excellence at 5 AM or reading Marcus Aurelius before the sun comes up.
I became the island Marcus warned about.
The irony? I’m doing all this hard work to become a better husband, father, and business owner. To show up better for the people around me. But the pursuit itself has isolated me from those same people.
The Arizona Trip That Masked Everything
We spent last weekend in Arizona—all family time, no personal routine, no business work, no solo runs.
Part of me felt relief. Finally present without the pull of my usual grind.
Part of me was itching to get back. What’s next? What do I chase now that the 43-mile run is done?
And underneath both? The same loneliness. Just temporarily masked by activity and family obligations.
When we got home and I fell back into “normal,” it felt hollow. Like I’d checked off the biggest box on my list and now I’m just… what? Back to the routine that nobody understands?
This is the trap of isolation in personal growth—you can be surrounded by people and still feel completely alone.
What My Son Is Teaching Me (Even When He’s Pushing Every Button)
This week my son tested every boundary I set. Multiple times. Daily.
And here’s what I noticed: when I stay calm, he actually listens. When I scream and put my foot down? He just reacts, and we both spiral.
But I’m also realizing I might be too rigid with him. He’s five. I’m treating him like he needs to be held accountable for every misstep because I can’t let up, can’t show weakness, can’t break the pattern.
Sound familiar? That’s island thinking.
I’m applying the same isolated, self-reliant, “I’ve got to handle this perfectly” mentality to parenting that I apply to my personal growth. No room for error. No asking for help. Just me versus the problem.
And it’s exhausting. For both of us.
Marcus was right—we’re made for each other. My son doesn’t need me to be an island of perfect consistency. He needs me to be human, connected, present. Not just enforcing boundaries from a place of depletion and isolation.
The Admission I Didn’t Want To Make
You know what the actual win from this week was?
Not a workout. Not a business milestone. Not even a great parenting moment.
The win was finally admitting out loud: I keep things bottled up. I feel lonely pursuing personal excellence. I need to talk to my wife more. I don’t have people who get what I’m doing.
That’s not the kind of thing you post on Instagram. But it’s the thing that actually changes the trajectory.
Because here’s the truth I’m learning 28 days into this practice: isolation in personal growth isn’t a badge of honor. It’s a design flaw in how I’ve been operating.
The hard things I’m doing? They’re supposed to make me more capable of connection, not less. More patient with my son. More open with my wife. More able to show up for people—not more isolated from them.
What Stoicism Actually Says About This
The passage that broke this open for me was about our two essential tasks in life:
- Be a good person
- Pursue what you love
Everything else is wasted energy.
I got the second part right—I’m pursuing what I love. Running, building, growing, doing hard things.
But I forgot the first part requires other people. Being good to all regardless of situation. That’s not something you do on an island. That’s what Marcus meant by mutual interdependence.
You can’t be a good person in isolation. You can be disciplined, accomplished, impressive—but not good. Not in the way that actually matters.
And you definitely can’t allow others to care for you in return if you’re bottling everything up.
The Work Ahead (That I Don’t Have Figured Out)
I don’t have this solved. I’m not writing this from the other side with a tidy solution.
What I know is this:
I need to find my people—even just 1-2 guys who are on a similar path, who get the ultrarunning and the business grind and the mental game. Online communities, local running groups, other dads who are also trying to do hard things while staying present.
I need to let my wife actually see what I’m carrying. Not to dump it on her, but because she can’t support what she can’t see. And “allowing others to care for us in return” is part of being human, according to Marcus.
I need to stop expecting people who don’t do hard things to understand hard things. My circle isn’t going to become ultrarunners. That’s fine. That’s not why they’re in my life.
Most importantly: I need to remember that the hard things are building evidence I can do hard things—not building a case for why I should be alone.
When I’m depleted and my son needs patience, I can reference “I ran 43 miles on my birthday—I can handle a tantrum.” That’s using the physical achievement in service of connection, not isolation.
The Pattern That Actually Matters
There’s a theme emerging across all four weeks of this journal practice:
Consistency over perfection.
Not flawless execution. Not never failing. But showing up, even when it’s messy. The trend line being unmistakable even when individual days aren’t perfect.
That applies to parenting. That applies to showing up. And it applies to this too—I need to consistently move toward connection instead of consistently moving toward isolation.
Some days I’ll do it well. Some days I’ll retreat back to the island. That’s the work.
But at least now I’m naming it. At least now I see the cost of trying to do everything alone.
Marcus said our interdependence is stronger than gravity. Time to stop fighting that pull.
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