Thankful for the Chaos

Playoff baseball and Thanksgiving in the same weekend.
That’s heaven right there. The smell of turkey, the sound of a bat cracking through cold October air, and that feeling when a game actually means something. October baseball hits different. Heroes are born, hearts get broken, and you’re reminded that pressure doesn’t build character, it reveals it.

For my American friends wondering why we celebrate Thanksgiving in October, it’s because we’re Canadian. The harvest comes early, the frost hits faster, and winter starts sometime between dessert and leftovers. Thanksgiving here isn’t just a holiday; it’s a pause button. A breath. A moment to ask, “What’s actually good in my life right now?”

For me? A lot.
 

Family

My girls. My three daughters are the reason I get up, the reason I try, the reason I laugh when I probably shouldn’t. They’ve taught me more about patience, joy, and purpose than any book, course, or coach ever could. Each one of them carries a piece of me, the fire, the stubbornness, the heart. And I’m thankful I get a front-row seat to watch them grow into the kind of women who’ll make their own rules and raise their own bar.

My wife. The glue, the calm, the storm, and everything in between. The one who calls me out when I’m drifting, who holds the line when I’m losing it, and who somehow still finds a way to laugh at my chaos. She’s my anchor and my mirror, and being married to her is the greatest daily reminder that love isn’t about perfection, it’s about choosing each other, again and again, no matter what.

My parents were the steady hands that guided me long before I learned how to guide anyone else. The ones who showed me what real love looks like: work, sacrifice, and a sense of humour strong enough to survive me.

My sister and her family are constant, loyal, and real. The kind of people who show up with laughter, hugs, and food when you didn’t even know you needed saving. I’m thankful for the bond that time and distance can’t touch. Also, your pantry!!!

The laughter, the noise, the chaos, I’m thankful for it all because I know what silence feels like. And I never want to go back there.

Baseball

Still the greatest teacher there is. Every season, the game reminds me who I am. It’s about patience, failure, timing, and shutting up when you’re 0 for 4. It’s about heart and humility.

And while I’m thankful for baseball, I’m not thankful for the coaches who are ruining kids’ experiences because of their ego. Or the parents and clowns who make youth sports political, turning games into power trips instead of lessons. I see you. You’re stealing joy from kids who just want to play. You’re not helping, you’re hurting. I am coming for you. You won’t know it, but I’m on my way. Every word I write, every kid I teach, every parent I educate, it’s to undo the damage you’re causing. For that mission, I’m thankful too.

Health

I’m thankful my body still moves. It’s not perfect, but it’s mine. I’ve put it through enough to retire twice, but it keeps showing up. Between Ironman training, the gym, and the chaos of dad life, I’m reminded that movement is medicine. And shoutout to PureLife Peptides, not because I work with them, but because they believe in the same things I do. Longevity, recovery, and science-backed consistency. They support me, and I support them right back.

Friends

My boys from Grayson County College. Chase, Parker, Woody, KT, Bowser, Peeps, Lead Singer, The Mule, Julian, Shower..... and fine..... JD too lol. All you mutts still showing up for each other 26 years later. The calls we have, the help and support we all provide...  That’s real friendship. The kind that never dies, it just grows older and louder.

Some new friends and dudes I've known a lifetime, but we're now just cranking it up.... the ones who are very impactful in my day to day..  Gary, Rossy Ross, Killer, Jeremy.

My awesome clients. Some grinding through dark stuff, some riding waves of success, but all of them fighting. I’m thankful for every single one of you.

And to the friends from my past.
We don’t talk anymore, and that’s fine. A big part of me wants to tell you to fuck off, but the truth is, I’m thankful for our time. It served its purpose. There’s no coming back, but it shaped me. Gratitude doesn’t mean reopening doors. Sometimes it just means nodding at the memory and walking on.

My Mistakes

I’m thankful for the mess. For the hangovers, the heartbreaks, the wrong turns, the moments I wish I could take back. Our brains replay regret to protect us. But gratitude reframes it. It turns shame into growth. Instead of “I can’t believe I did that,” it becomes “I learned from that.” Same past, different meaning.


Community

My people. Coaches, athletes, parents, business owners. The ones who get it. Who grind, fall, rise, and repeat. I’m thankful for the community we’ve built, where real talk beats small talk every time.

Opportunity

Every call, every Zoom, every kid I coach, every speech I give. I’m thankful for the chance to keep doing what I love. To keep learning, failing, rebuilding, and finding purpose in the process.

Mindset

Gratitude isn’t soft. It’s armour. It trains your brain to see opportunity instead of a problem. Every day I wake up and remind myself it’s not about followers, fame, or cash. It’s about playing the day right. Showing up. Keeping your word.

The Random Thanks

I’m thankful for pre-workout that hits like lightning.
For gym mirrors that somehow lie just enough to keep me motivated.
For mini chocolate bars that convince you, “it’s fine, they’re small,” until the pile of wrappers says otherwise.
For Ironman medals that prove pain pays rent on pride.
For 0% beer, because it tastes good and keeps me out of cop cars. 
For my wife’s ability to read my mind, and occasionally ignore what she finds there.
For bad drivers, because they test my breathwork and forgiveness training daily.
For my insane Instagram reel meme-sharing buddies. (FML)
For Canadian English, and using "U" on my keyboard way more than necessary.

And Finally

Gratitude doesn’t mean loving everyone. I’m not thankful for the assholes. The scum. The leeches who take more than they give, who drain energy and pretend it’s your fault. I’m aware of them, I see them, and I stay far away. You can’t grow if you keep watering weeds.

So yeah, Happy Canadian Thanksgiving.
Eat too much. Laugh hard. Lift heavy. Stay kind.
And remember, gratitude isn’t a feeling you save for a weekend in October. It’s a muscle. Build it daily, one rep at a time.

The Last Thank You

To those beside me, thank you. You’re my fuel, my family, my people. The ones who show up, who check in, who keep me honest.
To those who ran, who doubted, who talked shit.... fuck you.
But also, thank you. You taught me what loyalty isn’t. You taught me to stop watering the wrong gardens. You forced growth I didn’t know I needed.

Both sides built me. Both shaped me.
And for that, I’m thankful.

You might be surprised by some of these words. You might think they don’t sound like a “spiritual” guy or a “grounded” coach. But here’s the truth: as spiritual and grounded as I am, there’s still a part of me that burns. That hurts. That wants to fight.

Mel Robbins says, “Let them.”
I say, fuck that noise.

There’s a time and a place to “let people.” But not when it comes to your tribe, your clients, your friends, your wife, your kids, or your peace. You don’t “let” people mess with that. You protect it. You fight for it. You bleed for it.

The “let them” theory sounds peaceful, but it’s passive. It’s how people lose their edge. Sometimes peace isn’t found in silence; it’s built in the fight to defend what matters.

And I’m thankful for that part of me. The protector. The fighter. The man who still burns.
Because gratitude without backbone is just surrender.

So I’ll keep saying thank you and I’ll keep swinging.

CP