Dennis Schulz

I used to be the type of person who had every detail of my life planned out. My calendar was color-coded, my to-do lists were endless, and I carried a notebook filled with five-year goals and backup plans for my backup plans. It gave me a sense of control, a belief that as long as I stuck to my script, everything would fall into place. But life, as it often does, had other ideas. It started with a single unexpected event—a job offer I didn’t see coming. It was in a different city, far from the place I’d called home my entire life. It wasn’t part of the plan, so my first reaction was to decline. But something nagged at me. For weeks, I debated, wrestling with the fear of abandoning the carefully constructed life I’d mapped out. Eventually, I took the leap. Moving to a new city meant starting over—new job, new people, new challenges. My first few weeks were a mess. I got lost on my way to work, forgot to pay a bill on time, and even showed up at the wrong office for a meeting. Nothing wa...

There was a time when I felt like I had to have all the answers. Whether it was at work, in conversations with friends, or even just in casual debates, admitting “I don’t know” felt like a failure. It felt like I was letting people down or that my credibility would take a hit if I didn’t have a solid answer ready. So, instead, I’d scramble to come up with something—even if it wasn’t entirely accurate—just to avoid that uncomfortable moment of uncertainty. But over time, I’ve learned that there’s a real strength in saying “I don’t know.” It’s honest, it’s human, and most importantly, it opens the door to learning. None of us are walking encyclopedias, and it’s impossible to have all the answers all the time. Admitting that you don’t know something doesn’t mean you’re unqualified or unknowledgeable. In fact, it shows a willingness to learn and a level of humility that’s often overlooked in our fast-paced, “always know everything” culture. What’s interesting is that once I sta...