CHAOS & CLARITY: Two Time Zones, One Life
Responsibility, Relationship, and What Distance Revealed That Proximity Never Could
There are trips where you leave home.
And then there are trips where home never really leaves you.
India — with all of its movement, noise, warmth, altitude, and intensity — should have been an escape from work, responsibility, and the constant rhythm of leading a business.
But that’s not how leadership works.
It doesn’t pause.
It doesn’t wait.
It doesn’t hold until you return.
Leadership follows you — in your pocket, in your inbox, in your Slack feed, in your head — even when you’re twelve time zones away.
What surprised me wasn’t the workload.
What surprised me was what the distance showed me about people.
I Lived in Two Clocks at Once
I had U.S. time in my head — the familiar rhythm of clients, tickets, projects, fires, conversations, decisions, and moving pieces that always need attention.
And I had India time around me — morning light, chai vendors, errands, family voices, mountain drives, wedding ceremonies, the hum of life happening in a different language, a different culture, a different pace.
To keep up, I had to stretch my days in both directions:
Late nights when the U.S. was awake
Early mornings when India was awake
Little pockets of silence in between
It wasn’t exhaustion — not this time.
It was a different kind of awareness.
Living in two time zones forces you to live in two truths:
the truth of what people expect from you, and the truth of what people give back.
And those truths rarely match.
Distance Creates Clarity Because It Removes Familiarity
In my normal life, I don’t always notice the subtleties of relationships.
I’m too close.
Too involved.
Too responsible.
Too invested.
There’s too much noise, too much routine, too many assumptions layered over everything.
But distance…
Distance wipes the slate clean.
Suddenly, you see:
who checks in
who drifts away
who adapts
who makes excuses
who steps up
who steps back
who respects your time
who consumes your time
who genuinely supports you
who only seeks you when they want something
It becomes painfully — and beautifully — obvious.
Some People Maintained Connection Without Needing Anything From Me
That’s rare, and it’s meaningful.
A simple, “Hope you’re doing well out there,”
or “We’re good here — enjoy your time,”
or “Take care of yourself out there, we’ve got this,”
…those messages held more weight than they probably realized.
They weren’t about work.
They weren’t about extracting value.
They weren’t about status or position.
They were relational, not transactional.
Distance amplifies the difference.
Some People Only Reached Out When They Needed Something
Which is also fine — responsibility is responsibility, and I don’t shy away from it.
But distance reveals patterns that proximity hides.
You begin to notice:
who never checks in unless there’s a problem
who engages with you as a person vs. you as a solution
who respects the effort you’re putting in from across the world
who doesn’t even realize you left the building
It’s not about judgment.
It’s not about keeping score.
It’s about recognition.
You learn where the weight in the relationship actually sits — and who is helping carry it.
There’s a Different Kind of Pressure When You’re Supporting People From Far Away
Not physical pressure.
Not emotional pressure.
A kind of structural pressure — like holding a building up from the outside.
You’re not in the office.
You’re not in the meetings.
You’re not in the hallway.
You’re not behind the wheel of the machine.
But you’re still expected to keep things running.
You start to see precisely who fills in the gaps without being asked.
And who creates more gaps because they assume someone else will fill them.
Distance reveals the architecture of your team.
Not what people say.
Not what people intend.
But what people do when you’re not physically present.
That’s where truth lives.
Some Conversations Hit Harder When You’re Far Away
There were moments —
not many, but enough —
where something someone said back home lingered longer than it should have.
Not because it was cruel.
Not because it was intentional.
But because distance strips away context.
A comment that might roll off your back at home suddenly becomes amplified.
A tone that feels normal in person feels colder through a screen.
A misunderstanding feels sharper.
A lack of understanding feels louder.
And sometimes, you realize that a person’s worldview — their way of relating, connecting, and communicating — has nothing to do with you.
You were simply the closest mirror.
There is clarity in that realization, too.
Leadership Is Not Measured in Proximity — It’s Measured in Presence
I’ve learned something unexpected:
my absence created more presence than my presence often does.
People behaved more honestly.
Patterns became clearer.
Systems revealed their cracks.
Individuals revealed their character.
Leadership doesn’t require standing in the room.
Leadership is what remains when you’re not in the room.
And from India — from wedding halls, mountain passes, quiet guest rooms, long drives, and late-night ticket clearing — I saw my entire organization in a way I’ve never seen it before.
The good.
The strong.
The frail.
The avoidant.
The reliable.
The relational.
The purely transactional.
Not with emotion, not with frustration — with clarity.
A clarity I wouldn’t have found if I had stayed home.
Two Time Zones Taught Me Something About Myself, Too
I learned that I carry more than I admit.
I learned that I adapt faster than I think.
I learned that exhaustion and purpose feel different in the body.
I learned that responsibility is a part of my identity — not a burden, but a structure.
I learned that distance doesn’t weaken leadership — it tests it.
And I learned that just because I can hold everything doesn’t mean I should.
Becoming isn’t just physical.
Becoming isn’t just emotional.
Becoming isn’t just spiritual.
Becoming is recognizing the truth of your relationships — the ones you lead, the ones you rely on, the ones you nurture, the ones that ask too much, and the ones that reveal who you are when you’re twelve hours ahead of your life.
Living in two time zones didn’t split me.
It clarified me.