Some nights I sit back, sip my coffee (or whatever’s strong enough to keep me from flipping tables), and let the question roll around in my head like it owns the place:

Does any of this actually matter?

I’ve been in this game long enough to know how the sausage is made. Security programs built on duct tape and prayers. Execs who think “acceptable risk” means “ignore the problem” or “let IT handle it”. Until it blows up in someone else’s face. Frameworks that look great on paper and appear academically sound, yet fail in practical applications due to a lack of experience, fundamental shortcuts, and/or absence of critical thinking.

And don’t get me started on the vendor bullshit — holy hell.

We spend our days fighting fires, chasing ghosts in logs, and teaching users (for the tenth time) not to click on “Free iPad!!!” emails. We spend our nights trying to convince leadership that security is their responsibility and not a line item you can cut because you “already bought that tool.”

And then, right when you think you’re making progress — boom. Another breach. Another bullshit press release. Another round of finger-pointing while the people who actually do the work are left holding the bag.

So yeah, the question sneaks in:
What’s the point? Does it even matter?

The Grind is Real

Let’s just call it what it is: this job is a grind.

The wins are quiet, invisible even. No one throws you a parade for stopping an attack. No one claps because the boring, unsexy controls you pushed for worked. In fact, if things go well, they usually assume you didn’t do anything at all.

Meanwhile, there’s always some vendor in your inbox selling you the “next-gen AI-powered zero trust blockchain synergy platform” that promises to fix everything. You know it won’t (hopefully), so you don’t buy the bullshit. Most of that stuff wouldn’t survive a real red team exercise, let alone the chaos of actual business operations. Yet, you feel like the outsider because it seems like everyone else is buying it like a televangelist selling salvation.

And the self-appointed thought leaders? The ones who have never run a security program, but spew 20-tweet threads on how you should do it? Yeah. Love those guys.

A World on Fast-Forward

Tech is moving faster than common sense. People hook up smart toilets to the internet. Companies adopt cloud platforms they barely understand. Developers push code straight to production on Friday afternoon because, “What could go wrong?”

We’re trying to secure a world that’s sprinting full speed toward complexity with its shoelaces untied. And we’re supposed to somehow protect all of it — quietly, perfectly, and without slowing anyone down.

Feels impossible some days.
Feels like we’re set up to fail.

And maybe that’s why the question hits so hard: Does it even matter?

Here’s the Answer

Yeah.
It does matter.
It matters more than you know.

Not because we’ll fix everything. We won’t.
Not because we’ll ever “win” security. We won’t.
Not because people will suddenly stop being people. They won’t.

It matters because the work still protects people, even when they don’t realize it.
It matters because the right controls, in the right place, at the right time — can mean the difference between a bad day and a catastrophic one.
It matters because someone out there is safer today because of a choice you made, a risk you flagged, or a fight you picked that nobody else had the guts to.

That stuff adds up. It counts.

Even if no one sees it.
Even if the headlines don’t tell the whole story.
Even if you never get the credit.
Even if executive management or the board fails to appreciate it.

Keep Showing Up

Every time I hit that wall — every time I wonder if I should just walk away and do something easier, something quieter — I think about the people I’d be leaving behind.

The defenders. The ones who still care. The ones who put in the work, call out the BS, and hold the line even when everything around them is broken or burning.

The everyday people. The ones who actually own the data that corporations treat like their “asset”. The ones who end up suffering the consequences, even though they don’t feel it (yet).

These are my people. These are our people.
And I’m not leaving them behind.

So I show up.
So do you.

Why?

Not for applause. Not for status. Not for the keynotes. Not for the thrill.

We show up because somebody has to.
We show up because we give a shit.

And if you’re reading this, still fighting, still caring — thank you.
Thank you for being in the game for the right reasons.
Thank you for being on my team.

So yeah, it matters.

Even when it feels like bullshit.
Even when the system is broken.
Even when you’re tired, burned out, and questioning everything.

It still matters.
Because you still matter, and so do they.