It is 7:00 pm in Mexico, and the light is doing that thing it only does here, turning the dusty streets into a palette of bruised purples and liquid gold. I am sitting on a balcony, the air smelling of roasted chicken and woodsmoke. My kids are within arm’s reach, arguing gently over a Roblox game of Bake or Die.
By all accounts, I should be perfectly content.
But half of my heart is currently 13,000 kilometers away. It’s with the rest of my family, the part I’m not with right now. It’s in a different time zone, navigating a different set of challenges, and living a life I can only see through a 6-inch glass screen.
This is the “Split Heart.” It’s the occupational hazard of the remote parent, the traveling leader, and the professional in transition. We are physically in one postal code, but emotionally, we are stretched across continents and responsibilities.
The danger isn’t the distance. The danger is that while we are busy longing for the world we aren’t in, we stop actually living in the world we are in.
In this second part of our series on living deliberately through transition, I want to talk about Aggressive Presence. It’s the only way I’ve found to survive living in two worlds without losing my mind, or my connection to the people right in front of me.
What Happened: The 2:00 am Revelation
Staying in Mexico while navigating a career transition isn’t a vacation. It’s a complex logistical dance.
A few days ago, I realized I was failing at both of my “worlds.” I was with my kids during the day, but my mind was stuck on emails and job applications. Then, at night, when I finally sat down to work, I was too drained by the emotional weight of missing the rest of my family to be effective. I was half-a-dad and half-a-professional.
Totaling zero.
I decided to stop trying to blend them. I started waking up at 2:00 am.
In the silence of the Mexican night, while the kids are asleep and the world is still, I enter my “Work World.” There is no guilt here because I’m not taking time away from anyone. By 9:00 am, my workday is largely done. When the kids wake up, I shut the laptop. I don’t just close the lid; I mentally lock the door.
This isn’t just about work-life balance tips; it’s about compartmentalization as an act of love.
What It Revealed: The Myth of Being Everywhere
We’ve been sold a lie that says “presence” is a soft, flowery state of mind. We think if we just practice enough mindfulness, we can float through our day feeling connected to everyone at once.
The reality is much grittier. Real intentional living is aggressive. It requires you to say “No” to the people you love in one world so you can say a full “Yes” to the people you are with in the other.
If you are a leader whose family is far away, or a parent trying to build a business from a remote outpost, you have to accept that you cannot be everywhere. When you try to be everywhere, you end up being nowhere.
You become a ghost in your own life.
Why It Matters: The High Cost of the “Half-There”
When we aren’t present, we aren’t just “distracted.” We are teaching the people around us that they aren’t enough to hold our attention.
I’ve looked at my children while my mind was in a spreadsheet, and I’ve seen that look in their eyes: the one that says they know I’m just a physical shell occupying space. It’s a form of unacceptable change.
Self-care for leaders often focuses on massages or gym time. But the ultimate self-care is the peace that comes from knowing you are exactly where your feet are. It reduces the low-grade hum of anxiety that comes from “split-heartedness.”
What to Do Differently: The Practice of Aggressive Presence
So, how do you actually do this? How do you stay present when your heart is somewhere else?
It’s not a formula. It’s a series of deliberate living practices.
1. Find Your Grounding Wire (Sensory Anchors)
When my mind starts to drift toward the family I miss or the job I’m hunting for, I use sensory grounding. This is a classic tool for resilience as wise pacing.
I stop and find three physical textures. The rough, sun-warmed stone of a courtyard wall. The cold condensation on a glass of water. The weight of my loved one’s hand in mine.
These aren’t just “feelings.” They are data points that prove to your brain: You are here. This is real. This matters.
2. Practice Aggressive Boundaries
Boundaries aren’t walls to keep people out; they are fences to keep the “now” safe. If you are working, work with everything you have. If you are parenting, parent like it’s the only job you’ve ever had.
I call this “Aggressive Presence” because it feels like a fight. You have to fight the urge to check the phone. You have to fight the guilt of not being in the other world. You have to fight the desire to be “productive” when the most productive thing you can do is listen to a 9-year-old explain the plot of the dumbest video ever.
3. Compartmentalize the Roles
In my framework for purpose, principles, and values, I discuss healthy relationships. Part of that is recognizing that you wear different hats.
When I am with my kids in Mexico, I am not “Michael the Teacher.” I am “Michael the Dad.” If I let the Teacher into the room, he starts looking at his watch. He starts thinking about outcomes we earn. The Dad, however, knows that the only outcome that matters right now is the connection across the table.
4. Create “Anchored” Rituals
When you are living in two worlds, you need bridges. For us, it’s a simple video call ritual where we share “highs and lows.” But when that call is over, the bridge is closed. We don’t leave the “video call version” of ourselves running in the background all day. We cross back over and resume our lives where we are.
The Messy Middle
Let’s be honest: this isn’t easy. I fail at this three times before breakfast. I still find myself staring at the horizon, wondering what the “other world” is doing.
But the goal isn’t perfection. The goal is to discipline down the environment so that presence becomes the path of least resistance.
Being a parent is hard. Being a leader is hard. Doing both while living a split life is a Herculean task. But you don’t need a hero’s effort; you need a wise man’s pace.
A Grounded Takeaway
Today, wherever you are—whether in a boardroom, a kitchen, or a quiet cafe in a foreign land—take 30 seconds.
Don’t think about what’s next. Don’t think about who is missing.
Find something physical near you. Touch it. Feel the weight of it. Notice the light in the room. Realize that this moment is the only one you actually own.
Your heart can be in two worlds, but your life only happens in one. Choose to be there.
This is Part 2 of a series on living deliberately through change. In Part 3, we’ll look at what happens when the transition ends, and how to stop waiting for the “perfect moment” to finally start living.
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