One of the most overlooked reasons people do not get what they want in life is surprisingly simple. They never ask.

We tend to underestimate generosity and overestimate rejection. Before we open our mouths, our minds run ahead and decide the outcome for us. We imagine judgement. We imagine awkwardness. We imagine being told no. And so we protect ourselves by staying silent.

For most of my life, I believed discipline was the key to everything. If I could stay consistent, if I could push through resistance, if I could do what I said I would do, then progress would take care of itself. And for a long time, that belief worked.

Discipline helped me build trust with myself. It allowed me to set goals and follow through. It gave me confidence that if I committed to something, I would see it to the end. When life was simpler and my focus could stay on one or two priorities, discipline felt clean and effective.

Recognising the Signs of Over Control and Fatigue

Most leaders dont start out as micromanagers. They slide into it slowly, almost without noticing. It rarely begins with a desire for control. It begins with tiredness. With overwhelm. With the sense that if you dont hold everything together, the whole thing might fall apart.

This year has been a year that stripped so many of us right back to the foundations. A year of endings. A year of shedding. A year that forced us to let go of things we never thought we would have to release. It has been confronting at times. It has been heavy. And for a lot of us it has been one of the hardest years we can remember.

Building a Team That Runs on Clarity, Not Emotion

People often think a strong team culture comes from charisma or big personality. But culture is not created by hype. Culture is created by consistency. If your team relies on your mood or emotional energy to function, the culture is not healthy. It is unstable, unpredictable, and dependent on you.

The Truth Behind the Moments We Do Not Share**

There is a quiet illusion that follows all of us around. The illusion that everyone else has their life sorted while we are the ones barely managing to keep up. You see people online sharing their best moments. You watch creators and entrepreneurs talk with confidence about discipline, clarity and routines. You read posts from people who seem to have the exact words you need to hear. And without meaning to, you begin to believe they are living a different kind of life. One without doubt. One without fear. One without spirals.

Most leaders think boundaries restrict them. They imagine boundaries push people away or make them less supportive or less available. For a long time I believed the same thing. I thought saying yes made me reliable. I thought being available meant I cared. I thought stepping in meant I was strong.

But all it really did was drain me.

And over time it made me resent the very job I had once loved.

There is a strange truth I have learned through experience rather than theory. Some of the best things in your life only happen because something else fails. It does not feel like that when you are in the middle of it. When things fall apart it feels heavy and personal. It feels like you have lost control and lost direction. But when you look back, you realise that those moments were the turning points. The places where life quietly redirected you toward something better.

Over the years I have had to fail fast, pivot quickly, and accept truths I did not want to face. And looking back now, I can see how each of those moments built me rather than broke me.

Clear communication is one of the most underrated skills in hospitality leadership. Most of the problems we face do not come from lazy staff, careless decisions, or poor intentions. They come from misunderstandings. They come from assumptions. They come from leaders believing they have been clear when the people listening have actually been left to guess.

I learned this lesson slowly and painfully over the early years of Ojo Rojo.

There is a voice inside many of us that appears in the moments we want something. It is not loud. It does not shout. It whispers. And the whisper usually says the same thing. Not for you.

Maybe you have felt it when you tried to grow in your career. Maybe you have felt it when you met someone who made you feel hopeful. Maybe it arrived on a Monday morning when you promised yourself you would take better care of your health. It is that soft undertone of doubt that sits underneath even your brightest ambitions.

Delegation is one of the hardest parts of leadership in hospitality.

Not because the tasks are difficult to pass on, but because letting go feels risky.

For years I believed that if I wanted something done properly, I had to do it myself.

I thought my standards were too high and that no one else would care as much as I did.

What I did not realise at the time was that this mindset was not protecting the business at all.

It was limiting it.

And it was limiting me.

Discipline is one of the most reliable things you can build in your life. But it only becomes reliable once you practice it.

It is like a muscle. You do not wake up strong; you become strong through repetition and small choices that slowly shape who you are. Motivation might start the process, but discipline is what keeps it alive.

Last night I closed the doors of my restaurant for the final time.

Ten years of laughter, late nights, lessons and growth all came to rest in that single turn of a key. I stood in the empty space where the music had once played and the lights had once glowed warm, and I realised how many emotions can exist in one moment. Sadness, relief, pride, fear, love and gratitude. They were all there, sitting together quietly.

Here’s a truth I had to learn the hard way: it’s not about how many hours you work. It’s about when you use your best energy.

In hospitality, we’re taught to think the answer is always “more.” Longer shifts. Later nights. Just keep grinding and eventually you’ll get on top of it all. But that approach nearly broke me. What I eventually realised is that I was spending my sharpest hours of the day on the wrong things.

The good news is this: when you protect your peak hours, you don’t just get more done—you lead better, with more clarity and less exhaustion.

Running a hospitality business isn’t just a job—it’s a lifestyle. And for many owners and leaders, it becomes all-consuming. The long hours, constant interruptions, team issues, last-minute crises, and never-ending WhatsApp messages leave little space for rest, clarity, or real leadership.

You become the glue holding everything together… but at what cost?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why we feel unworthy of the things we want.

Recently, I’ve been working on clarifying what I really want out of life – whether that’s lifestyle, happiness, abundance, calm, or just a simpler existence. And it’s forced me to face certain aspects of myself that I found quite interesting… and honestly, surprising.

When I first started my venue, I expected the hard parts to be things like cash flow, staffing, suppliers, marketing.

The technical stuff.

What I didn’t expect was how lonely it would feel.

There was a time when my mornings looked like this:

Snooze the alarm twice.

Grab my phone before even sitting up.

Scroll through emails, panic at the ones I’d missed, and start mentally firefighting before my feet even hit the floor.

When you first start out in hospitality leadership, you think the biggest challenge will be running the venue.

Keeping the wheels turning. Keeping the customers happy.

Keeping the cash flow moving.

And sure, those things are tough.

But the real challenge?

For a long time, I thought burnout just meant feeling tired.

Like if I could just get one good night’s sleep, maybe a day off, I’d bounce back.

But it’s not like that, is it?