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A couple weeks ago Andrea and I celebrated our 23rd anniversary in downtown Detroit. We stayed at this ridiculously nice hotel, had one of those dinners where you don't look at your phone once, and just... remembered each other. Not in a "oh yeah, you exist" way, but in that deeper way where you realize holy crap, this person is actually my best friend.

Which sounds obvious, right? Like, of course your spouse should be your best friend. But here's the thing nobody tells you about being married for over two decades with kids and a business and all the stuff that fills up a life—it's really easy to forget.

Not in a dramatic way. Not in a "we're drifting apart" Hallmark movie kind of way. Just in the everyday grind of it. You're scheduling dentist appointments and figuring out who's picking up the kid from practice and paying bills and answering emails and suddenly weeks go by where you're just... doing life together instead of actually being together.

So this anniversary felt less like a celebration and more like a recommitment. A chance to look at this person I've been with longer than I haven't been and go "okay, yeah, this is still the most important thing."

My word this year is "alignment."

(Andrea and I—along with the kids—pick words every year instead of resolutions. It's this thing we've done for a while now and it's been way more helpful than any New Year's goal I've ever set.)

I picked alignment because I could feel myself getting scattered. Saying yes to things that didn't actually matter. Building a business that was working but didn't always feel like mine. You know that feeling where you're busy as heck but can't quite remember why?

That anniversary dinner was the first real moment of alignment I'd felt in months. Just sitting across from Andrea, no agenda, no kid interruptions, no "we need to talk about..." conversations. Just us. And it hit me how much I'd let that relationship run on autopilot while I was off chasing the next thing.

Yesterday I did a podcast interview with Skye Waterson, an ADHD strategist who helps entrepreneurs turn ADHD into their greatest asset. She's built a multi-six-figure business called Unconventional Organisation doing exactly that. We got into this whole conversation about how easy it is—especially if you experience ADHD or anything close to it—to lose focus on what actually matters and just deal with whatever's screaming loudest in front of you.

And I realized that's exactly what I've been doing. In my marriage, yeah, but also in my business.

I've been running Tell Studios for years now. Built it to seven figures. Launched courses. Coached hundreds of people. All good stuff. But somewhere along the way it got... mundane. Not in a "I hate what I do" way. More like I stopped asking the important questions. I stopped reflecting. I stopped being clear on what the heck I actually want from all this.

I just kept showing up and doing the work because that's what you do when you run a business. You show up. You serve clients. You create content. You answer emails. You keep the machine running.

But if you're not careful, the machine starts running you.

Here's what I'm realizing: my relationship with Andrea needs intentionality. It needs me to stop and ask "what are we actually building here?" and "are we still aligned on what matters?"

My business needs the exact same thing.

I can't prioritize work over Andrea. That's non-negotiable. But my work also deserves that same level of attention and care. It deserves me asking "what is this actually for?" and "does this still light me up?" and "if not, what needs to change?"

And honestly? I think I'm ready to pivot. Or at least explore. Lean more into the parts of my work that actually energize me instead of just doing what I've always done because it works.

I'm coaching more. Building a mastermind for entrepreneurs who are successful but building alone. Saying no to projects that feel like obligations. Saying yes to conversations that feel alive.

I don't have this all figured out. I'm literally in the middle of it right now, trying to get things back in alignment. But that anniversary dinner reminded me that the relationships that matter—whether it's with your person or your work—they don't thrive on autopilot.

They need you to show up. To remember why you started. To recommit. To be willing to change direction when something's not working.

So if you're feeling scattered or lost or like you're just going through the motions with your business, I get it. That's exactly where I've been. And I'm not going to pretend I have some five-step framework to fix it.

But I do know this: you have to stop long enough to ask the questions. What actually matters? What's working? What's not? And are you willing to change course if the answer isn't what you thought it would be?

Maybe you need your own version of an anniversary dinner with your business. A chance to sit down, no distractions, and just remember what you're actually building and why.

And if you want someone to help you figure that out, that's literally what I do. Let's talk.

Here's to alignment. To remembering what matters. To being brave enough to pivot when something's not working.

Thanks for being here,

Ryan
ryankoral.com

PS - If this resonated and you want to talk about where you're at with your business, just hit reply. I'd love to hear what you're working through.