I grew up moving — Wisconsin, then the Florida coast, several towns before I finished school. I lived in the Bahamas on a boat. I fell in love with the ocean in that shuffle and never really got over the beach.
On my eighteenth birthday I knew I was living a life that wasn’t heading anywhere good. So I did something simple: I called my grandparents and asked for a ticket out. Literally. That’s the earliest version of a habit I’ve repeated ever since. Don’t wait for someone to fix it. Ask for exactly what you need. Then finish what you started.
I can’t tell you how many times I found myself saying “This life isn’t for me.” That’s when I knew it was time for another major pivot.
I’ve never been able to fake status. Palm Beach taught me what I didn’t want — the right car, the right bag, the right watch. Years later, standing on a bluff in San Diego in flip-flops with nobody performing for anybody, I knew I was home. Substance over polish. That’s never changed.
I am direct. Anyone who knows me well knows this. I’d rather have an uncomfortable conversation than a polite, unresolved one. I want to be understood accurately, not just liked — and I extend that same standard to the people in my world.