“If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading.”
— Lao Tzu
On this day in 2021, I woke up on a patch of grass by the Walgreens on Brooks in Missoula. I had slept there the night before, drunk, worn out, and running from myself. There were no more couches that would welcome me. A police officer roused me off the business proprety. So, I stumbled across the street to a table by Town Pump, and drank more. Then, blacked out.
The next thing I remember is realizing my phone was about dead. I had lost my charger sometime during this five-day homeless bender. I texted a friend, who used the opportunity to loop in my addictions counselor and convince me to go to the hospital. We waited a few hours before I was admitted. After they got me situated, they took a urine test and drew blood. When the results came back—which is about where my memory starts to sharpen—my BAC was .407. The doctor saw enough to know I was suicidal.
I was admitted to the neurobehavioral unit for five days. Then a judge. Then rehab, round two.
A journey of hard turns
It was a long damn road to here.
Early on, I had this tendency to figure everything out on my own. Learn by myself. Fix things myself. My way or no way. It was an all-or-nothing mindset that had sunk deep into my bones. That mindset was both a gift and a curse: once I committed to something, it was like a switch flipped. Game over. But that same switch was tied to an ego that wouldn’t quit—the boy-king in me still running the show, with a darker shadow always close behind.
All-or-nothing helped me burn the boats. It got me through early sobriety. But it was also toxic. It isolated me and fogged my perception. Everything had to pass through a psychological filter before I could commit or be vulnerable. My masks had masks. My defense mechanisms were automated and synchronized. Four years ago, I had no clue who I was, but great at faking it.
Two years ago, recovery, life, and business all collided. I was stretched thin. Progress in real relationships, both personal and professional, was stalled. I was over myself and needed to reset. I had pulled away from AA, in part because I hadn’t relapsed and thought I was good. I even skipped my two-year coin. But that lone-wolf, alpha-male, “I got my crap figured out and I’ll prove it ..later” thing was getting real old.
So, I took another hard right turn and committed to everything. I faced the things I’d been avoiding and did all the things I was afraid to do. Starting a business was one of the healthiest—and hardest—moves I could’ve made. Even here, though, there was still some all-or-nothing that needed to be broken if it was going to be a useful and healthy trait.
Business as Personal Growth, not Profit
It’s tempting to use business as a label. A way to compensate and inflate your ego. You can fake it until you make it. But you don’t have to. We can lead with authenticity. We can grow without pretending. We can compete without dehumanizing. We can show up—day to day, meal to meal, task to task—with 100% authenticity. Not to perform. Not to hide. Not to convince anyone. But because it (whatever “it” is) matters. We can actual do what we mean and mean what we do, and make sure we’re not being jerks about it.
There’s a bit of a trick to making sure what you’re doing matters and works. It’s matching acceptance with authentic strengths and personal wholeness. Nothing “major.” However, the arena of “what matters and works” is much bigger than most of us think. What we call “impossible” is usually just “difficult.” And if something’s difficult, it can be practiced.
This is, in no small part, where Stigma was reborn: out of a desire to figure out my crap and do what I love. And what I love is helping others do the same. It’s also about the ideas that get in the way of good ideas, “stigmas,” and how even our stumbles and be victories.
“Time Takes Time”
Today, there are more resources than ever for those facing addiction, mental health, or just the daily existential slog. Books. Podcasts. Counselors. Groups. But what AA helped me remember is that time takes time. It also helped to think more like a tree. Epicetus, a stoic philosopher, said fruit takes gardening and time. Process and being are part of the point. So, don’t just endure it—become good at it.
“Nothing great is created suddenly, any more than a bunch of grapes or a fig. If you tell me that you desire a fig, I answer you that there must be time.”
— Epictetus
From business and recovery to faith and personal development—we have a lot to work with today, and we can live more authentically if we want. We can see customers as people, and people as more than roles or objects. All-or-nothing has its uses. But if we apply it everywhere, it becomes everything. And when it becomes everything? That’s not just egotistical. It’s narcissistic. And we’ve had enough of that. More and more people can see through it nowadays.
I’m not “done” by any stretch. I am back on the path I was always meant to be on, and it didn’t look like I had imagined. But I’m grateful as hell I’m not where I was. That old version of me still haunts me sometimes. The shame still flares. But it keeps me grounded. Keeps me honest in the mirror.
In the last year—since getting my three-year coin—I’ve learned more than I can count just by listening to the strength, hope, and experience of others in recovery. It’s given me more perspective than I knew I needed.
I couldn’t have done it without people. I could’ve done it better. I’m grateful that season is over.
“Where you begin is where you have power.”
– Tara Brach
