Story Time
A Million Miles, A Million Lessons, and One Truth
I left home at 16 and never looked back.
What followed was a wild, wandering odyssey across the globe — a bohemian, self-proclaimed experience junkie chasing intensity, freedom, and some version of healing.
I tried everything I could get my hands on — sacred plants, breathwork, gurus, and every shadowy corner of the self-help aisle — looking for a way out of the pain I carried in my body, mind, and spirit.
By 30, I was 100 pounds heavier and recovering from heart surgery. Addicted to alcohol, tobacco, sex — always thirsty for something more. More sensation. More escape. More proof that I was alive.
Mentally, I was drowning in depression, anxiety, loneliness. Starving for love. For confidence. For some sense of self-worth or purpose. I never felt like I had enough — time, trust, safety, or success.
Spiritually? Burnt out. Lost. Disconnected from myself, from Source, from the moment. I wanted to live in my heart, but I kept getting stuck in my head. I knew the words — “mindfulness,” “presence,” “wholeness” — but couldn’t make them real in my body, my days, my life.
This is a part of my story I haven’t shared much.
But I’m sharing it now — not for pity or praise — but because this is where the real medicine begins.
I grew up in a small Midwestern town—five minutes from suburbia in one direction, endless farmland in the other. I always felt like I didn’t belong.
I was the rebellious kid, the troublemaker. But on the ice, I found salvation.
At 14, I got recruited to play hockey at a boarding school. I turned it down, kept running wild, and ended up in military school instead.
Eventually, I circled back to the very school that had once scouted me. Hockey saved my life, but that choice also cracked open my world—introducing me to travel, culture, and the thrill of the unknown.
Then, at 18, everything shifted.
A close family member spiraled into a midlife crisis. I watched them dissolve into a pharmaceutical haze while doctors pointed their fingers at me.
They said I was next. Genetic. Inescapable. That I’d be on meds too, if I knew what was good for me.
I told them to screw off.
That moment split my life in two: follow the mainstream mental health path… or find my own way through the dark.
I chose the road less traveled. And it made all the difference.
I became obsessed with the mind—its power, its mysteries, its stories. I devoured books on the subconscious, philosophy, and consciousness… and opened myself to the teachings of psilocybin and LSD.
In college, I started in cultural anthropology and switched to fine art. Hockey was still my outlet, but my real addiction was pushing limits—physical, mental, and spiritual.
I rode the waves of success, and I crashed hard into the rocks of addiction. Sex, booze, weed, whatever kept the emptiness quiet.
Eventually, I left hockey behind. I turned down my family's business. I chose the road of the wandering soul.
With nothing but a backpack, I worked odd jobs, saved pennies, and bought one-way tickets. I hitchhiked from Montana to Honduras—twice—chasing wisdom, wildness, and deeper healing.
Eventually, Montana became my home base. I bought a house with only a bicycle and backpack to my name, built extra rooms, and lived in the garage.
Then fate walked into my backyard. She had eyes like fire. She became my wife.
We were inseparable. Got married three times—long story.
Kids came. And suddenly, the nomadic dreamer was a dad, a provider, a man pulled between freedom and responsibility.
At 30, buried in $100K of debt, I traded the wild for the stable. Became a nurse. Climbed the ladder. Managed ERs.
But the deeper I got, the more I realized—I was in the belly of the beast. The “healthcare” system was a machine of suppression, and I was helping it run.
I watched pills replace presence. Protocols replace people. I was gaining weight, losing soul, and dying slowly in a system I didn’t believe in.
In 2015, we said screw it and left. Sold everything. Moved to Asia.
I studied Ayurveda. My wife became a yoga teacher. We ran an Ayurvedic wellness clinic in the Philippines. It was heaven.
But life had other plans. We were called back to the U.S.—and the moment my feet touched American soil, the depression came roaring back.
To survive, I pivoted into crisis response nursing—six months on, six months off. The rest of the time I dove into finance: crypto, stocks, forex. High risk, high reward. Redefining my relationship with money.
I also dove back into the jungle—deep into the Amazon. Ayahuasca. Huachuma. I remembered the sacred.
In 2017, I wrote “$1,000,000” on a piece of paper and taped it to a bottle of wine. Four years later, we hit it.
By 2023, we’d made $8 million. I was immersed in Dr. Joe Dispenza’s work—meditation, breathwork, quantum physics. Life was magic.
Until it wasn’t.
Almost overnight, every investment fell apart. Millions gone. Identity stripped.
But something wild happened in the ruins—I didn’t collapse. I went deeper.
Back to the jungle. Back to the medicine. Back to the mirror.
I sat with my shadows—failure, unworthiness, insecurity—and I let them teach me. I let them break me. I let them clean me out.
And I found something I’d never felt before—an unshakable trust. In myself. In life. In the mystery.
I had to lose it all to remember who I really am.
After 25 years and over $1,500,000 spent exploring healing, wholeness, and the human spirit… I’m finally ready to serve. To guide. To share the real medicine.
And this is just the beginning.
Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing the work I’ve spent a lifetime preparing for — the real medicine that’s been forged through fire, devotion, and decades of walking the path.
But if something in this story stirred something in you… if you're navigating your own crossroads, craving something deeper, or ready to reclaim your life from the inside out — don’t wait.
This isn’t just coaching. It’s soul work. Its Co-Creation.
Let’s get Unstuck — unshaken, unapologetic, and undeniably *you*.