Are you afraid of success?

Back in February, Rich reached out and invited me to spend Easter weekend with his family.

He knew I was on my walk with Jesus and wanted me to come to church with them. I was honored. Humbled, honestly. I said yes without hesitation.

They’d recently switched to a Greek Orthodox church. I didn’t know what to expect. The service was beautiful and ancient and a little disorienting - the kind of disorienting that’s actually good for you. It made me pay attention. It made me present.

But that wasn’t the uncomfortable part of the weekend.

From the minute I walked through the door, it was like exhaling. I’d told Rich on the way there: “I need this. I need to dump to people who understand and will just listen.” He basically said the same thing back to me. We both needed it. That’s the kind of friendship that’s hard to find and impossible to fake.

Rich isn’t just someone I look up to - he’s someone I look across to. He’s building multiple things at once while working a full-time job and taking care of his family. His drive is the kind that doesn’t make noise, it just moves. We’ve asked each other hard questions before. That’s what we do.

So when he looked at me at some point in the middle of what had already been a deep, real conversation and asked point-blank - “Are you afraid of success?” - it wasn’t out of nowhere.

It still landed like a punch.

I’ve been asked a lot of questions. Thirteen years in uniform, four deployments, three marriages. I’m pretty good at answering questions.

I sat with that one.

Then I said it out loud: yes. I’m terrified of success. And I don’t even fully know why.

And here’s what Rich did.

He smiled.

Not a fix. Not a pivot to advice. Not a raised eyebrow. Just a smile that said “I see exactly where you are, and you’re going to be fine.” He held up a mirror with no judgment in his hands at all. He’d seen this before - maybe in himself, maybe in others - and he wasn’t rattled by it. He just let me sit in it.

The weight that came off when I said it out loud - I wasn’t ready for that. I expected it to feel like a confession. It felt like relief.

We just kept talking after that.

I’ve built a whole brand around helping veterans navigate transition. I say “unfuck the transition” like it’s a battle cry. And one question from one man in one living room after church on Easter weekend did more work on me than months of building and posting and recording ever did.

I think the fear of success is more common than we admit. Especially for veterans. Because success means being fully seen. It means you can’t hide behind “I’m still figuring it out” anymore. It means you have to actually become the person you’ve been telling people you are.

That’s terrifying.

I’m still sitting with it. But now I know its name.

Next week I walk on a stage in front of a room full of veterans. I still don’t know exactly what I’m going to say.

But I know what I’m going to admit.

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This week in AI - what’s worth your attention

The OpenAI trust problem is getting louder. Insiders are publicly saying they don’t trust Sam Altman. For veterans who’ve watched bad leadership hollow out good organizations - you already know how this ends. Keep an eye on this one.

Google dropped a free offline AI dictation app. No internet required, runs on your device, powered by their Gemma models. If you’re someone who thinks better talking than typing - which is most of you - this is worth grabbing right now.

$700 million is being cut from CISA - the agency responsible for protecting U.S. critical infrastructure from cyberattacks. Meanwhile Iranian and Russian hackers are actively escalating. This should concern you - not just as citizens, but as anyone building a business in a digital environment that’s about to get less protected.

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My name is Adam Peters, and I’m here to unfuck the transition.

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