There’s a funny thing about humans: we claim we have “priorities” long before those priorities ever show up in our calendars, our spending, our relationships, or our daily decisions.
Most people have a wishlist, not a set of priorities. Most people have intentions, not commitments. Most people have fantasies, not plans.
Here’s the truth: priorities don’t actually exist until they hurt. If that sentence stings a little, good. That’s the point. Pain is data. Pain is clarity. Pain is a directional beacon that cuts through all our stories, excuses, optimism, bravado, and denial like a hot knife through butter. Pain forces our hand. Pain makes us act. Pain makes us choose.
No one likes to admit this, but look at your own life and test it: When did you finally lose the weight? When it finally hurt.
When did you finally leave the toxic job? When it finally hurt.
When did you finally organize your finances? When it finally hurt.
When did you finally fix the failing marriage? When it finally hurt.
When did you finally pursue education, mentorship, or training? When it finally hurt.
Pain is interesting because it is both a warning and a teacher, and often the only teacher people will actually listen to. And yeah, that includes me. I’m not preaching from some ivory tower here. I’ve lived this truth in both uniform and business, and I’ve watched thousands of other human beings live it too.
The problem most people struggle with isn’t that they don’t know their priorities. It’s that they haven’t yet experienced enough pain to admit and honor them.
And that’s where our story starts.
Everyone loves to say things like: “My family is my priority.” “My health is my priority.” “My financial future is my priority.” “My career is my priority.” “My faith is my priority.” “My business is my priority.”
These statements feel good. They sound noble. They signal to others that we’re values-driven, thoughtful, intentional, and aligned.
But here’s a simple diagnostic test for any supposed priority: Show me your calendar. Show me your bank account. Show me your habits. Those three markers don’t lie. They’re immune to storytelling. They don’t care if you have an MBA, or a Special Forces Tab. They don’t care how articulate you are. They don’t care how motivated you say you are. They don’t even care what your goals are.
They reveal what you actually value.
People who say their family is the most important thing often spend more hours scrolling on their phones, doom-scrolling the news, chasing dopamine, or playing pretend productivity games than they do investing in the people they claim to care about.
People who say they care about health rarely sleep eight hours, rarely drink enough water, rarely lift anything heavier than a laptop, and rarely eat anything that didn’t come from a window, a box, or a bag.
People who say money matters spend impulsively, live above their means, and push savings and investing into the “future version of me” category that never arrives.
This is not meant to shame. It’s meant to illuminate the gap between what we say and what we choose. And until there’s pain, most people just won’t close that gap.
There is a point (sometimes gradual, sometimes catastrophic) where pain changes everything. It could be a diagnosis. It could be a divorce. It could be debt collectors calling. It could be a child looking at you disappointed. It could be the mirror. It could be the scale. It could be the annual performance review. It could be your business running out of runway. It could be losing someone you love. It could be your faith collapsing under apathy.
There is always an event (big or small) where the story switches from: “I should do something about this…” to “I have to do something about this.”
That shift is the birth of a real priority. And it’s wild because the situation might have existed for years without action. The person knew. The person understood. The person even talked about it. But talking isn’t choosing. And choosing isn’t doing.
It wasn’t until the data (the pain) became unbearable that the change occurred.
Here’s the important reframe: Pain is not an enemy. Pain is feedback. Pain is information. Pain is data.
In business, and in life, pain reveals where the problem actually is. Pain points to dysfunction. Pain points to misalignment. Pain points to the work.
When I coach leaders, founders, transitioning veterans, or project managers, I often ask a deceptively simple question: Where does it hurt?
Most have never even paused long enough to ask themselves that. Because hurt is uncomfortable. Hurt requires acknowledgement. Hurt requires vulnerability. Hurt requires honesty about tradeoffs.
But the data hidden inside pain is gold. Pain tells you what is out of alignment with what you value. Pain tells you what you’ve been avoiding. Pain tells you what you’ve been lying to yourself about. Pain tells you where the work needs to begin.
Pain is the compass. Change is the journey.
Pain is part of the problem. Comfort is the rest. Comfort is the silent assassin of potential. Comfort is what lets you say: “I’ll do it next quarter.” “I’ll fix it after the holidays.” “I’ll save when the market settles down.” “I’ll start the business when the kids are older.” “I’ll deal with my health when things calm down.”
If you ever need proof that comfort is lethal, just look at how many smart, capable, talented people never build the life they actually want; not because they lacked skill or opportunity, but because nothing hurt badly enough to force action.
People rarely sacrifice comfort voluntarily. They wait for discomfort to chase them down.
People love to mythologize Special Forces training as pain, suffering, and grit (sure, there’s lots of that), but the pain isn’t the point.
The point is clarity. Under stress, you learn what matters and what doesn’t. You learn what is priority and what is noise. You learn what must be done and what can wait. You learn what resources matter and what is irrelevant. You learn who is reliable and who is deadweight. You learn what the mission actually requires.
Pain compresses the decision tree. It removes all the extra branches. If the mission succeeds, it was a priority. If it doesn’t, it was a distraction.
Civilian life is much more forgiving in the short term, which paradoxically makes it far more dangerous in the long term. There are no immediate consequences for unhealthy eating, for procrastination, for avoidance, for spending money you don’t have, or for ignoring your family.
The bill arrives much later. But it always arrives.
There are three main reasons avoid prioritization without pain:
Prioritizing Means Admitting Tradeoffs: When everything is important, nothing is. Prioritizing means telling the truth that some things must lose. Your business might need to win over your comfort. Your marriage might need to win over your ego. Your health might need to win over convenience. Your financial future might need to win over your consumption habits.
People hate admitting this, but prioritization is fundamentally about sacrifice.
Prioritizing Means Taking Responsibility: If you make something a priority, you now own its success or failure. As long as something stays in the “I should…” category, you don’t have to look in the mirror. Responsibility is heavy… Many prefer fantasies over accountability.
Prioritizing Forces Identity Change: If you prioritize health, you can no longer identify as “busy but trying.” If you prioritize financial discipline, you can no longer identify as “I just like nice things.” If you prioritize your marriage, you can no longer identify as “they’re the problem.” Identity change is scary because it threatens the ego. And most people would rather suffer than change.
Here’s the part people skip: you don’t have to wait for pain to force you to act. Mature adults (especially leaders) can learn to read the early indicators and intervene before life drop-kicks them into a crisis.
There are 4 types of pain data streams:
Physical Pain: The most obvious. Fatigue, stress, low energy, poor sleep, inflammation, and chronic issues. Most people don’t even need a doctor to tell them they’re falling apart; they just ignore the data.
Emotional Pain: Resentment, anxiety, shame, defensiveness, guilt, loneliness, anger, stagnation. These are signals that something in your relationships, work, environment, or habits is misaligned.
Financial Pain: Debt, scarcity, fear, dependence, living month-to-month, lack of margin, lack of control. Money pain often takes years to show up publicly, which is why it traps so many people.
Spiritual/Existential Pain: Meaninglessness, numbness, purposelessness, apathy, detachment. This is the pain people notice last because it hides behind success.
If you want an actual competitive advantage in life (one most people never develop) here it is: Prioritize before the pain point.
Elite performers (athletes, founders, high-level operators, top leaders) grow intolerant of misalignment long before catastrophe. They don’t wait for: hospital visits, divorce papers, maxed credit cards, midlife crises, burnout, depression, or loneliness to force them to act. (Note, I’m speaking from personal experience here).
They study the data early. They adjust early. They invest early. They repair early. They train early. They communicate early.
Preventative action is cheaper, faster, and smarter than pain-driven action. But it requires discomfort tolerance. Most people have none.
Here’s a straightforward 3-step approach anyone can use:
Ask Where It Hurts : Sit down with yourself and ask bluntly: Where does it hurt? Physically? Emotionally? Financially? Relationally? Spiritually? Professionally?
Name it. Write it down. Own it. Fix it.
Ask What the Pain is Telling You: Pain always has a message. Is it telling you to slow down? Speed up? Invest? Divest? Commit? Exit? Repair? Learn? Apologize? Train? Communicate?
Decipher the data.
Choose the Sacrifice: Every priority demands a cost. If you want your health, you must sacrifice convenience. If you want your marriage, you must sacrifice ego. If you want financial independence, you must sacrifice consumption. If you want peace, you must sacrifice stimulation. If you want excellence, you must sacrifice distraction.
No one likes this part, but this is where priorities become real. If you ignore pain long enough, it doesn’t go away. It just moves up the chain of consequences.
Minor pain becomes moderate pain. Moderate pain becomes crisis. Crisis becomes catastrophe.
This is as true in business as it is in health, marriage, money, leadership, faith, or parenting.
Catastrophe is just pain that didn’t get handled in time. Here’s the most important takeaway of this entire essay: Pain doesn’t just hurt; it points.
It points to priority. It points to truth. It points to alignment. It points to responsibility. It points to what matters.
And if you’re brave enough to listen to it early, you don’t need to learn the hard way.
