Each morning, before the dogs wake up and before the demands of the day begin, I sit quietly with my coffee and play my mind games.
I tell myself these games help keep my mind sharp as I age, and I believe that is true. But they have become something more than mental exercise. They have become connection.
I have a Wordle thread with my sister and aunt where we share our daily scores. Most days it is simple, colored squares, quick reactions, the occasional “good job” or “grrr…that one was awful.” But sometimes those tiny exchanges open the door to deeper conversations and meaningful check ins.
I have another thread with my brother, who travels the world regularly. I have only seen him once in the last ten years, yet these daily game exchanges have become a steady thread between us. We analyze strategies, debate guesses, and turn it into a friendly competition. Along the way, he shares stories and photos from his travels, and through these small daily moments, I continue getting to know him and his life.
What began as a game became ritual. What began as routine became relationship.
This morning, while playing one of my games, I had an unexpected realization.
I was stuck.
The game offered tools I could use to help me move forward, things like wildcards or hints, but I noticed I almost never use them. I have always approached these games with an internal rule that using those tools somehow makes the victory less legitimate. I wanted to win “honestly,” whatever that means.
But this morning something clicked.
By refusing to use the tools available to me, I was choosing to make the game harder than it needed to be.
That realization reached far beyond the screen in front of me.
I recognized how often I have done this in my life. I have struggled through things alone, convinced that needing support somehow meant weakness or inadequacy. Even though intellectually I know asking for help is healthy, capable, and human, there is still a part of me that believes I should be able to figure everything out on my own.
But no one can know everything. No one is meant to navigate every challenge alone.
Using available resources is not weakness. It is wisdom.
In fact, asking for help often signals confidence, confidence that your worth is not tied to knowing everything all the time. Confidence that support can strengthen you rather than diminish you. Confidence that collaboration and guidance are part of growth, not evidence of failure.
As I sat there thinking about this, I started reflecting on my work as a coach.
I realized coaching is a lot like the wildcard in a game.
The game is still yours to play. It simply offers another way forward when you feel stuck.
The strongest, most self aware people I know are often willing to use the resources available to them. Coaching is simply one of those resources.
I am reminded that I can still experience challenge, growth, and accomplishment without forcing myself to struggle unnecessarily. I can still feel victorious while also accepting support.
Maybe that is the real lesson.
The wildcard was always part of the game.
And maybe life was never meant to be played the hardest way possible.