The other day I was on the phone with one of my coaching clients who finds himself at a real crossroads. He’s 41, married, with two young kids. He came to the United States from the UK years ago with a bag over his shoulder and a big dream. Since then, he’s built a serious life. He became a renowned chef, an entrepreneur, an adventurer. He achieved the title, the income, the recognition. The things we’re told are proof that we’ve made it.

Recently, he was bought out of a high-profile executive position. The very role that had him relocate to a new city. The role that justified the move, the grind, and the house he built there thinking it would be the dream home. Now that house is being sold. And that reality carries weight.

From the outside looking in, he’s a success story. But when you strip it down, he’s tired. Not physically tired. Soul tired.

After years of chasing accolades, salary, and the next level of growth, he’s started to recognize that while he achieved what he thought he wanted, he hasn’t felt as much joy as he used to. There’s been less laughter. Fewer moments of simple connection. Less of the friendship and fun that once fueled him. When you’re hyper-focused on scaling and accomplishing, especially as a driven man who prides himself on providing, it’s easy to slowly drift away from the things you actually value most.

That’s when he said something that stuck with me. He told me he’s been thinking about going back home.

Back to where he’s from. Back to the place where he remembers feeling lighter. Back to where life felt more connected and less transactional.

But he’s conflicted.

Because he left for a reason. He left because he didn’t believe the success he wanted or the life he envisioned was possible there. Leaving was the brave move. It was the growth move. So if he goes back now, does that mean he failed? Does it mean he couldn’t cut it? Does it mean he peaked?

That’s the story his ego is telling him.

We talked about the language he was using. “Going back” carries a certain weight. It sounds like regression. It implies retreat. It feels like moving backward instead of forward. And for high-performing men who’ve built their identity on progress, forward motion is everything.

But what if it isn’t going back at all?

What if it’s returning?

Returning is not regression. Returning is intentional. Returning means you left to become someone and now you have the option to come home as someone different. Someone wiser. Someone more confident. Someone clearer about what actually matters.

There’s a big difference between running back to something out of fear and returning to something out of alignment.

In midlife, the scoreboard changes whether we acknowledge it or not. The metrics that once defined success start to feel incomplete. Titles matter less. Square footage matters less. Applause matters less. What begins to matter more is time. Presence. Energy. The ability to sit at dinner without your mind racing. The ability to be at your kid’s game without checking your phone. The ability to laugh without calculating the opportunity cost.

This is the part most men don’t anticipate. We grow up conditioned to chase forward. Forward is more money. Forward is bigger roles. Forward is recognition. But at some point, if we’re honest, we have to ask ourselves a tougher question.

Forward to what?

Success is not a straight ladder. It’s more of a loop. We leave to test ourselves. We build. We stretch. We accumulate experience and perspective. And then, if we’re paying attention, we realize that growth doesn’t always mean continuing in the same direction. Sometimes growth means recalibrating.

Sometimes growth means returning.

Returning with the benefit of what you’ve learned. Returning with standards instead of insecurity. Returning as a better husband and a more present father. Returning not because you couldn’t make it somewhere else, but because you no longer need the external validation to prove that you did.

The truth is, this isn’t about geography. It’s about alignment. You can return to a city. You can return to a relationship. You can return to a slower pace of life. Or you can return to the values you quietly drifted away from while you were busy climbing.

The only thing that makes it feel like failure is the story we tell ourselves about what success is supposed to look like.

Midlife gives us a rare opportunity. We finally have the experience, the resources, and the perspective to make decisions based on truth instead of optics. 

The challenge is having the courage to choose alignment over ego.

Most men wait until life forces the decision on them. A health scare. A strained marriage. A wake-up call that makes the misalignment undeniable. The smarter move is to recognize it early and act from strength, not crisis.

If you’re honest, you already know where you feel most like yourself. You already know what fills your tank instead of draining it. The question isn’t whether you see it. The question is whether you’re willing to choose it.

Not because you’re going back.

But because you’re finally ready to return.

In Health,

I sat down with Olympian, Ironman Age Group World Champ, and ultra-performance coach Chris Hauth to talk about the elite mentality that builds success, both on the racecourse and at home. Check it out here: