Why Doing Hard Things Changes You

And why building a camper is about more than the camper itself

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about challenge—real challenge. The kind that stretches you, humbles you, and quietly changes who you are on the other side.

My brother-in-law is about to have his second child. He’s 28, and at this stage of life, routines start to settle in fast. Wake up. Go to work. Come home. Help with the baby. Make dinner. Sleep. Repeat.

It’s a beautiful season—but it can also feel confining, especially for someone with an adventurous heart.

Recently, he mentioned something called misogi: a Japanese ritual built around choosing a challenge so difficult that growth is unavoidable. Not a goal you might fail at—but one you’ll almost certainly struggle through.

The kind of challenge that leaves a mark.

That idea stuck with me. Why do rituals like this exist across so many cultures? Why do people intentionally seek discomfort, especially during major life transitions like becoming a parent?

The answer feels simple:

Comfort doesn’t prepare you for what’s next.

And that’s when it clicked.

This is exactly why building a camper feels the way it does.

No one builds a camper because it’s the easiest option. There are faster paths—buying used, ordering something custom-built, skipping the process altogether. But choosing to build your own camper means choosing friction. It means choosing moments of doubt, frustration, and wondering if you’re in over your head.

And that’s the point.

Building a camper asks something from you. It stretches your patience. It forces you to slow down and solve problems you’ve never faced before. You mess things up. You learn. You fix them. You keep going anyway.

Somewhere along the way, you stop being the same person who started.

Just like misogi, the camper itself is only part of the outcome. The real transformation happens in the process—the late nights, the mistakes, the persistence. The quiet confidence that grows when you do something hard on purpose.

So when you finally take that first trip, you’re not just towing a trailer. You’re carrying every lesson learned along the way. Every moment you didn’t quit. Every time you chose growth over comfort.

If your build feels challenging right now, that doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.
It means it’s working.

Hard things have a way of preparing us for the next season of life—whether that’s parenthood, retirement, or whatever challenge comes next.

That’s why building a camper is worth it.

Let this be your reminder to face something challenging this year.

Let’s make 2026 the year you do hard things—and become more.

P.S. If you’re ready to take on a challenge like building your own camper, we’d love to have you along for the journey.