Ruthless and Revealing: Two Sides of the Same Edge

I know that I’m not ruthless. It’s not an overly insightful or helpful revelation, but it is a revealing moment.

It came up unexpectedly—this idea of ruthlessness and revealing—as part of a two-hour video call with a friend of mine while I was in Ontario and he was in Newfoundland.

We hadn’t intended to talk about those things, but somehow, they surfaced, as the best conversations often do.

We spoke about relationships, past and present. We opened up about how we’ve both experienced ruthlessness—from others and maybe even from ourselves—and how much is revealed through that. Or, conversely, how being in a relationship that reveals nothing can feel just as ruthless in its own way.

The One I Want

Lately, there’s been a lot stirring in me. And the incredible reveal—something surprisingly big—is this: I can actually choose what I want to do.

That might sound basic to some people. Obvious, even. But for me, it hit hard. I’ve spent a lot of my life attaching myself to others—supporting their goals, following their path, joining them on their trail.

It’s not a bad way to be. I’ve been loyal. Supportive. But also, maybe, self-abandoning. And if I’m honest with myself? If I had always done what I wanted to do, I don’t think I’d be where I am now. Is that a realization? That’s revealing? Let’s take a look.

And Wanting to Stay

This spring, I spent more time in Canada than I have in nearly three decades—two full months, from mid-April to mid-June. The timing was perfect. Southern Ontario, waking from winter, offers its kindness in blossoms, birdsong, and soft, stretched-out evenings.

Much of that time was with my two adult children and three sisters and 90-year-old Papi. Some of those days I’ll hold close, quietly, where words won’t reach. But others—especially seven days the three of us spent all together—were among the best I’ve known in years. Days threaded with laughter, long walks, stillness, and something rare: the ease of simply being together. My to kids are amazing - not because they my kids but because they are just awesome people.

I was there for several reasons: visa processing to return to Thailand, visiting my kids after two years apart, sorting out financial and real estate issues... but here’s the truth: I didn’t want to come back to Thailand. That was a major, silent reveal.

It wasn’t about my relationship—because that relationship is solid, rooted. She’s my anchor, and I believe I’m hers too.

But I was tired. Tired of overseas life. A part of me was hoping, deep down, that the visa wouldn’t come through. That I’d have a reason to stay, to move into my condo, to try to make a go of it in my home country. That inner whisper? That too was ruthlessly revealing.

Not a judgment

Back in that conversation with my friend, he used the word “ruthless.” It’s not a word that comes naturally to me. I don’t relate to it. But it stuck with me. It followed me. Ruthlessness as a trait by way of our habits, is real.

We often talk about things like ethics, values, morals, sincerity, authenticity—sometimes for hours. He’s more academic; I’m more streetwise. But it works. When he gets too lofty, I pull him down. When I get too raw, he gives it structure.

We talked about our exes. Mine, in particular, stood out. When I look back now, I see her—and her family—as deeply ruthless. Not in a criminal or nefarious way. They’re educated. Polished. Even kind in their own way. But they are ruthless.

They do what they need to do to get what they want. And they do it without apology. And that, to me, is a certain kind of ruthlessness. It’s a superiority complex at play. And when you pair that with my long-standing inferiority complex…Well, the dynamic gets skewed. Ruthlessness dominates. That’s the truth. It’s not easy to say. It’s not pretty. But it’s true.

And here’s the other side: I revealed who truly I am in that relationship too. A quiet, ordinary man. I don’t want or need much. I like kindness. Simplicity. Softness. And that, too, is powerful. Sometimes I was and still am, dark and hungry for unhealthy ways - it made who I am toady - at least I tell myself that.

Isn’t it?

When I say "ruthless," I don’t mean violent or criminal. I’m not talking about someone robbing banks or stepping over bodies. The kind of ruthlessness I’m referring to is more internal. It’s the belief that your values, your needs, your ambitions—matter more than anyone else’s. That what you want comes first. Not because you’re evil. But because you’ve decided it does. That’s it. That’s the game. And there’s a part of me that respects it, even as I reject it.

Being Nice is not a Dilemma

Nice guys finish last. I don’t love it, but damn if it doesn’t hit sometimes. Recently, a few friends reminded me that I am a good person. I try to do it right. I’ve made mistakes—serious ones. But I’ve never intentionally taken from someone else. I haven’t hurt people to get ahead. In fact, I’ve always tried to make it on my own. Help others first - even when things fell apart, even in the last few tough months, I’ve found my way back. I’m slowly getting back on top. But ruthless? I’m not.

And sometimes, I wonder: Is that why I’m not more successful? Financially, materially, professionally? Because the people I know who are successful, especially in money, power, and status—they are ruthless. Not all of them. But many. It doesn’t make them bad. But it’s a common thread I see again and again. Even a former principal I knew—mediocre as a teacher, but now a Head of School somewhere—ruthless. Strategic.

Meanwhile, I got overwhelmed by the politics, paperwork, and parental pressure. So I walked away.

Always There

So here I am, looking at that coin again. One side: Ruthless. The other: Revealing.

We carry it around with us. We rub it in our palms. Sometimes we show one side to the world, sometimes the other. And often, it’s in those moments of ruthlessness—our own or others’—that the deepest reveals happen.

Who we are.

What we value.

What we’ll walk away from.

What we’ll walk toward.

We Stand. You stand.

Walk tall.