The Cost of Living Someone Else's Dream

Growing up, I was a bit of a black sheep.

I was a smart kid, but I lacked direction. Not because I wasn’t capable—because from an early age, my parents’ vision of who they thought I should be always overshadowed what I wanted for myself. Their expectations were well-intentioned, but they were loud. Louder than my own voice. Over time, my sense of identity became something that was constantly questioned, reshaped, and redirected.

For a long time, I assumed everyone felt as lost as I did. It wasn’t until the end of high school that I realized how disconnected I truly was from myself. While others seemed to have at least a loose plan for their future, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.

So I did what a lot of young men without direction do.

I joined the military.

Finding Purpose Through Structure

My time in the Navy was full of both highs and lows. I loved the work—working on fighter jets, loading bullets and bombs, delivering payloads. There was a mission, a purpose, and men standing beside me who shared it. That brotherhood—embracing the shitty days together, suffering together, and then doing it all over again seven days a week on deployment—built something deep inside me.

Mental tenacity. Discipline. Resilience.

For the first time, I wasn’t questioning who I was. I knew my role. I knew what was expected of me. And in many ways, that clarity was comforting.

But when I got out, that structure disappeared overnight.

Losing the Mission

Transitioning back into civilian life was harder than I expected. Suddenly, there was no one telling me where to be, what to do, or who to be. For the first time in years, I had space—space I had never learned how to sit with.

I realized something important: during my time in the Navy, I never had the mental capacity or emotional bandwidth to look inward and ask myself the hard questions. Who am I? What do I want? What actually matters to me?

Without a mission, I felt lost again.

So I created one.

Rebuilding Through Discipline and Self-Discovery

I turned to the gym—not just as a physical outlet, but as a form of structure. A daily mission. A place to push myself mentally as much as physically. As my body grew stronger, something else started happening too.

I began to read more.I learned about financial literacy.I studied human psychology.I started writing.I reconnected with my creative spirit.

Piece by piece, I began to rebuild my identity—this time from the inside out.

Through training, reading, writing, and creating, I found my way back to a younger version of myself. The little boy who was always told that what he wanted to be wasn’t enough. The kid who learned early on to quiet his own dreams to make room for someone else’s expectations.

I started healing him.

I started telling him that his dreams were valid.

Living Your Life, Not Someone Else’s

That brings me to now.

Everything I’ve lived through—the confusion, the discipline, the loss of structure, the rebuilding—has shaped the man I am today. And it’s why I feel called to help other men do the same.

So many of us are walking around exhausted, unfulfilled, and disconnected—not because we’re weak, but because we’re living someone else’s dream. A parent’s. Society’s. A version of success that was handed to us without ever asking if it aligned with who we truly are.

My goal is simple:To help men reconnect with themselves.To live with intention.To become the strongest, healthiest, most grounded version of who they truly are—not just for themselves, but for the people who rely on them.

Because the cost of living someone else’s dream is your own fulfillment.

And that’s a price too high to keep paying.