I'm Not Dead Yet

An Entrepreneurial Reset

There’s something about being an entrepreneur that doesn’t let go.
It’s not a job title. It’s a reflex you can’t unlearn.

You think big.
You go all in.
You start building before you even know what you’re building—because you have to.

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I’ve wanted to run my own thing since I was a kid.
While some were playing house, I was running an imaginary company—assigning roles, organizing fake files, and drafting contracts like a small, benevolent dictator hopped up on Kool-Aid and quiet ambition.

I watched my dad hustle, travel, and build.
He was an entrepreneur before Instagram made it a personality type.
His energy was electric.
That bigger-than-life charge stuck with me.

The lesson landed early: if you want something, you work for it. You move. You make it real.

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And I did.
I built real businesses. Big ones. Ones that scaled, sold, and made impact.
I had wins that changed everything—and losses that left a mark.

No sugarcoating here: I’ve done things I’m deeply proud of… and survived things I wasn’t sure I would.

But I built. Again and again.
Because that’s the thread. That’s the instinct.

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Entrepreneurship isn’t just a mindset.
It’s how you scan a room.
How you hear the silence in a category.
How you notice what’s missing—and feel compelled to fill it.

You don’t ask, “Why me?”
You ask, “Why not better?”
And then you figure it out—without a map, sometimes without all the tools, but with the gut certainty that something’s waiting to be made.

I’ve led brands, exited companies, shifted direction more than once.
I’ve paused, reimagined, reentered.
And now?

Now I’m doing it again—version four, if we’re keeping track.

This time, it looks a little different.
I’m building something more personal. Something that starts with words—and will likely become more than that.

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I stepped into other people’s machines—consulting, advising, sitting in the strategy seat.
But the builder in me never stopped.
It just waited… until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Because the moment I feel that flicker—that this could be something buzz—I’m back in.
Not out of ego. Out of instinct.

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For a while, I questioned if I was supposed to start again.
Not because I lacked ideas—but because I wasn’t sure I had it in me to bring one to life this time.

When you’re the one it begins and ends with—
The one with the vision, the instinct, the drive to make something from nothing—
Self-doubt creeps in.
But so does the momentum. Eventually.

And still… it’s there.
The idea. The hum. The what if.

It never really leaves. It just quiets down—until it’s louder than your hesitation.

And eventually, you remember:

The same instinct that built the first thing is still alive.
So is the courage. So is the clarity.
Only now, the voice is more grounded. The skills are deeper. The path, while not linear, starts to align.

You’re not starting over.
You’re starting from experience.

And suddenly, it makes sense—not because it was a plan, but because this is who you’ve always been.

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I make things that connect—
sometimes a product, sometimes a sentence.
But always with candor, nerve, and the intent to make it land.

Because starting something new always requires a freefall.

When you’re falling, sometimes the net isn’t under you—
It is you.

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Because I’ve still got it.
And I’m not dead yet.