Rewired

Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey was an incredible film. I saw it in theaters earlier this summer on the big IMAX downtown. It was a spectacular experience—still sticking with me weeks after seeing it.

This adaptation of Homer’s Odyssey has some real powerful insights in our modern age of comfort and distraction.

In the story, Odysseus and his men are returning from years of war at Troy after a long and tumultuous campaign. Odysseus longs to return home to Ithaca, his wife Penelope, and his son Telemachus. He and his crew face a series of obstacles on their return voyage—monsters, storms, witches, and whirlpools—but one was more dangerous than any other.

He survives the Cyclops, who begins eating them. Circe turns his men into pigs. He journeys into the underworld, sails past the deadly song of the Sirens, and navigates between the six-headed Scylla and the whirlpool Charybdis. Eventually, Zeus destroys his ship, killing everyone aboard except Odysseus.

And after all that, he washes ashore to a beautiful island called Ogygia. There, he meets a goddess named Calypso. She takes care of him, feeds him, shelters him. He is offered immortality and freedom from aging. He could stop fighting. Stop traveling. Stop suffering.

He spends seven years there.

He forgets about Ithaca. About Penelope. Telemachus.

He was so comfortable, he forgot about his family. He forgot about his destination. He stayed where he was and time slipped by, even though all he wanted to do was go home.

Ultimately, the gods intervene and compel Calypso to release him. Then, he gets back to Ithaca and kills many suitors trying to marry his wife.

Of all the dangers Odysseus encountered on his journey home, Calypso was actually the most insidious. The monsters wanted to kill him. The seas tried to swallow him. His men wanted to throw him overboard.

Calypso offered him paradise.

On Ogygia, Odysseus had everything he needed. He was safe. He was wanted. He was so comfortable, he forgot his purpose, he forgot who he was.

Calypso was the greatest threat because she doesn’t seem all that dangerous. Her deceptive nature stranded our hero, delaying the journey home even longer than it already had been. He was lulled into a sense of security, so cozy and coddled, he stopped moving.

There is a real danger in staying too long.

Comfort is not wrong on its face. We need to rest. We need to recharge. We need stability. We need seasons of our life where we slow down. When things are quiet and nothing pressing needs to be done.

The problem stirs when comfort begins to slow you down until you stop moving indefinitely. That inertia is as insidious as Calypso’s island. Though you might have everything you need, you could be so comfortable you stop growing. You prefer to stay where you are because it’s easier and less stressful. But if you don’t push yourself, if you don’t strive or go outside of your comfort zone, you’ll never fully comprehend the extent of your abilities.

The job you have is fine, so you stay another year because it’s easy even though you stopped growing several years ago.

A relationship has stopped growing, but confronting what needs to change feels harder than maintaining the status quo.

The city you live in is what you know, so you don’t venture out somewhere new to see what else is out there.

Fleeing familiarity feels frightening. Uncertainty is paralyzing. But stagnation is just as alarming. Lack of direction is far more dangerous.

Stillness is crucial in mindset, but treacherous in relation to action. Staying still when you want to do more, feel more, be more, can create a fissure in your life that can tear you apart. Though nothing feels wrong on its face, when you peel back the layers, you know that doing the hard thing is what you have to do. It’s easy to stay. It’s hard to take that leap into something unknown.

At 27, I had to get comfortable being uncomfortable. I left alcohol behind and reconnected with myself and others in rehab for 40 days. Learning how to not escape pain, but to feel it, process it, and learn to live with it was incredibly hard, but ultimately very rewarding. I had to learn how to not default to comfort, because in many ways, it was holding me back.

In my descent toward rock bottom, I forgot who I was becoming. I forgot what I wanted. I was drinking and smoking and craving comfort over everything else. I didn’t realize I was no longer living the life I wanted. I failed to remember that I wanted a wife, a family, a home, a career.

I had to get off the island and set out to sea to find my way back to the best version of myself. It wasn’t easy but it was what I had to do. I found out what I was capable of by getting comfortable being uncomfortable.

And I couldn’t be happier.

Comfort can be a healthy place when you are in recovery. I was doing uncomfortable work but I was taken care of in the confines of a facility designed to rehabilitate people like me. The modern comforts we enjoy should certainly be cherished. However, comfort can become dangerous when it becomes your destination. When all you crave is to be unchallenged, it is easy to then become unmotivated, stagnant, and directionless. Without discomfort, we atrophy, and we lose our sense of self.

Like Calypso’s island, comfort can cage us because it can keep us trapped forever. If we never wake up and realize where we are going, we will hold ourselves back before we realize how much of our life has passed us by. Riddled with regret, we lament our lack of drive and initiative. If we don’t get out of our own way and deliberately choose discomfort regularly, we will find that regret eating away at us for years until we reach a certain age and feel hollowed out by what could have been.

Nearly eight years ago to the day, I met my wife. I was only about seven months out of rehab. Unsure of who I was or what I was doing, I wasn’t sure if I should be dating yet. Instead of reflexively saying no and staying in my isolated bubble, I said yes to our first date. Now, I am a husband, father, and homeowner. I have everything I have ever wanted, all because I said yes to something uncomfortable.

Professionally, I had to make a big pivot recently. For at least a year, I knew I needed a change. In my previous position, I had the expertise, reputation, and security. Nothing was necessarily forcing my decision. There was just this nagging sense of stagnation. This feeling deep down that told me I had to move on. It was really hard to leave. But that feeling of stagnation only grew and grew with each passing month.

So I left my job of nearly eight years, a career track more than a decade in the making, and went into something new that built on the skills I’d developed while entering into a new industry full of uncertainty and opportunity. It’s been a life-changing experience for me. It was so hard to leave, but it was time to move on. It would have been easier for me to stay there. Stay the course. Go through the motions. But I wanted more out of my career. I wanted growth. Opportunity. Challenge. Just because you’re staring down one path does not mean you have to stay on it forever.

We all have our own versions of Calypso in our life.

A job that is comfortable but no longer challenging us.

A relationship that feels safe but deep down does not feel right.

An identity we think we need to have because of what others might think of us.

A dream we keep postponing because the timing is not right yet.

Habits that are not destroying us but are quietly keeping us from becoming who we know we could be.

Odysseus left paradise not because hardship was preferable. He left because paradise was not home.

We don’t have to make life hard on purpose. We don’t have to choose discomfort for its own sake.

We should enjoy stability. We should crave comfort when it suits us. There’s no need to randomly …

My book Rewired has been out for a few weeks now. It’s still surreal to finally be done with it. The fact that I have a book that strangers are reading is such a strange thought to have. The reality of it all is rewarding—how I decided to do a big thing and saw it through to completion.

Looking back, it’s been a journey. Full of questioning the point of it all. Many moments of self-doubt and self reliance. A healthy dose of determination and dejection. So many twists and turns and detours and reroutes. I didn’t really know what I was doing. But I figured it out. I kept at it. And learned a lot in the process.

Over the course of 18 months, I went form a hair-brained idea for a book to a published book. This year and a half of examining my life unearthed many insights into myself and forced me to question some beliefs.

Below are some thoughts of mine about what I learned while writing my first book. It’s on the longer side but I had a lot to say. So here it goes.

In my early twenties, I was inspired by the works of Ayn Rand. No, I’m not going to get into libertarian politics or tell you what I think of our current government.

I was a proponent of self reliance, discovering who I was. Finding my way. Stumbling onto a path I thought I was supposed to go down. Figuring out some real life lessons the hard way. Before eventually finding where I needed to go.

I was finishing up college and trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. I read Atlas Shrugged in the months leading up to college. The book is part novel, part philosophy, and it sparked something in me. I think it gave me the confidence that I had the power to shape my future. I alone had the ability to chart my own course. Little did I know, I was the only one holding myself back.

However, my rational self interest made me too siloed and set me back when I stumbled into graduation, leaving the stage in May 2012 with a degree in one hand and my first DUI in the other. I was so eager to prove I could do things on my own, unable or unwilling to ask for help when I needed it most.

In March of 2025, my son was just about to turn one year old. My wife and I were holding on for dear life. She had just started her own business. I was thinking about whether the career track I was on was for me. All while keeping a tiny human alive. We were just trying to figure it all out. Keeping our heads above water.

Throughout the winter, panic attacks paralyzed me to the point of laying on the floor thinking it was all over. A combination of stress and overwhelm at work, feeling deficient as a father, and a failure of a husband, all came down like a midnight bombing raid that nearly destroyed me.

As the signs of spring began with lighter days and warmer temperatures, I would similarly emerge from this emotional and psychological wreckage for a brief moment on a Tuesday evening with as clear a head as I’d had in weeks. Despite everything I was going through, I had something on my mind. I was finally going to write a book.

The following is an excerpt from Chapter 9, “The Weight I Signed Up For,” from Rewired: From Rock Bottom to Unshakable.

My son was in the bath. Water was everywhere. I sat there watching him. He asked me, in his cute little voice, pointing to a seahorse on his bathmat, “What’s that?” I told him, and he repeated it back to me. We went through this exercise with all the sea creatures he could find. We played some basketball and he would pass me the ball and I would shoot it over the top of the shower curtain. I made one and he cheered me on. It was another standard weekday night and I had this warm feeling in my chest that I was exactly where I needed to be.

I didn’t feel like my life truly began until I became “Dada.” Fatherhood has changed me profoundly, anchoring my life in a new purpose and sharpening my priorities. It’s simultaneously the most rewarding and most challenging thing I’ll ever know.

In early 2018, I found my way back. I had been destroying myself for months. Drinking and smoking and watching myself disintegrate before my very eyes. I checked into rehab for 40 days. Got my s**t together. And kept on the straight and narrow.

I stopped going around the problem. I simply walked through those doors and started figuring out what drove me to drink in the first place. I delved into the depths and began to understand the man I needed to become. For years, I had taken the easy way out. Always avoiding the obstacle that lay in the path before me. Rehab forced me to finally do the hard thing.

Those delicate years after addiction were raw. The decision to stop self-sabotaging was obvious. Restarting my career and finding a partner were crucial foundational pillars to anchor my life. None of it was easy. All of it came with a healthy amount of discomfort. But over time, I started respecting the person looking back at me again. I wasn’t disgusted by who I was anymore. I was proud of where I was going and who I was becoming. And yet, underneath the surface, the wiring was fraying, disconnecting, slowly and steadily. I was losing touch with the small things and it would all come back to hit me hard during a particularly stressful chapter.

I got a package from Amazon this weekend. But this one was different. It was something I had been working on for 18 months. Something I’d poured quite a lot into.

I finished up a few hours of yard work in the 95 degree weather. Sweat, dirt, and grime. Took a shower. Then I picked up the package, tore it open, and pulled it out.

All the time I spent laboring over this. All the hours I’ve sat with it. All the headspace it has occupied.

It was my first book. I finally finished it.

I thought the hard part was starting the job. Turns out it was waiting to start it.

I’m now almost done with my second week of the new gig. But I was supposed to start on March 30. My first day was April 27. I did everything right. Had it all lined up. Was ready to start the next chapter. I left my job of nearly eight years. Went out on a limb. Took a leap of faith. Then, I waited. And waited.

Here’s what happened and how I got through an unexpected sabbatical.

Somehow, it took my new company’s vendor more than seven weeks to complete my background check. As my start date approached and still no word, my anxiety kept spiking. My start date was pushed week after week. Left with no income, no insurance, and most importantly, no control.

Stuck in a state of limbo, my mind went off in a million different directions. Did I make a terrible mistake? Why is this happening to me? Should I have just stayed where I was?

I planned to take one week off in between jobs. I went five weeks without working. Unsure of when we would have insurance again, when my next paycheck would be. Forced into a state of inactivity and insecurity, I had to figure out how to keep my head above water.

I did not handle it well. I found myself checking email constantly. Refreshing it every few minutes sometimes. Unconsciously opening my phone and checking it several times an hour. I did it so many times every day. I tried to stop myself but I just couldn’t. It took me until the last week for me to finally show some self restraint.

This psychological toll spread from my mind to my marriage. The desperation and helplessness led to tension at home. It’s not just me anymore. My wife and son are on my insurance now. And we we were now going without insurance for who knows how long. My role as a provider was put into question. I’m not the sole breadwinner by any means. My wife does very well with her new business. But I pride myself on providing for my family, getting us good insurance, and bringing in a stable income. Now, all of that was gone. This purgatory paralyzed us in a constant state of fight or flight.

The worst case scenarios were considered. What if I didn’t get the job? What if that one thing comes up in my background check and they withdraw my offer? My job at my old company was just filled. The backup of going back to my old job was no longer an option. What if something terrible happens to our son and we have to pay out of pocket?

I had an urge to lash out at HR. It took everything in me to keep my cool until the job became real. I just couldn’t wrap my head around what the hell was taking so long. My hiring manager was similarly upset and embarrassed about how it all shook out. I wanted to force an outcome but there was really nothing I could do. Despite the shitty situation, I kept it together for the most part, despite the tension with my wife. We had our arguments. She was rightfully pissed and wanted me to do something about it.

We had been through some tests during our short marriage so far. They might not have made sense at the time, but I truly believe everything happens for a reason. Housing setbacks. Loss. Fertility struggles. The chaos of becoming parents. My wife started her business in early 2025, now, a year later, I was going through a career transition.

I didn’t want to just wait and wallow around. I couldn’t just sit and refresh my email all day. I had to decide what to do with the time that was unexpectedly given to me. Here’s what I did instead.

I made the most of it.

We cleared out 15,000 pounds of lava rock and dirt from our backyard, giving me the opportunity to get after it during my time off. In the extra four weeks off, I was able to finish much of the backyard that had been unfinished for so long. I built a border around the grass area, prepped and cleared the ground for grass seed, dug and installed a sprinkler system, and planted seeds. The grass is now established and I just mowed it for the first time. I also built an extensive paver walkway with rock pebbles in between our other grass area and the hot tub and our fire pit area, then another smaller paver walkway along an area we call The Jungle Cat Club, our hangout area with a hammock where we installed new turf. Nothing better than the feeling of a job well done. Building something with your hands. But there’s still more to finish.

I also stayed active. Though I wasn’t up at 4:30am every morning and in the gym by 6am, I worked out three times a week. Got a lot of steps in, especially with all the backyard work.

I read a lot. A few books finished. I didn’t write much on Substack. But I did focus on finishing up the latest round of edits on my book, Rewired. I now have a full final punch list to get the manuscript to the last step of polishing before moving on to publication later this year.

One book I read was The Pathless Path by Paul Millerd. It’s about leaving the default career path to find a life filled with more meaning beyond the grind of a traditional 9-5 job. One thing he recommended was to take four weeks off from work, a mini-sabbatical, and seeing how you feel. Though I did not plan to do that, that is exactly what ended up happening.

It might have been exactly what I needed. Didn’t feel like it at the time. But now, removed from the chaos of that neverending limbo, I realized how I found contentment in that uncertainty, channeling energy into appropriate areas, not lamenting over my circumstances, but controlling how I showed up each day ready to do whatever I could to stay sane and stay balanced.

Over the course of those weeks, I accepted the delay. Even though I hated the feeling, I stopped trying to force it. I stopped trying to pray for it to reach its resolve. I started focusing on what was in front of me. I kept my feet moving forward and controlled what I could.

I found myself even more grateful to be working again. Counting my blessings that I have a job and new career track I’m moving full spead ahead down. It was a strange saga that I will never forget.

I was not always the best version of myself. We got through it together. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t what we had in mind. But I am happy with what I did with my time off.

Finally, the day came. An automated email from the background check vendor. I was cleared. I checked with HR. Confirmed my start date was on Monday. It was all over. I was able to negotiate a 10% signing bonus which helped. We are still without insurance until June 1, but the benefits are better and less expensive, so it’s not all bad.

I’m not celebrating. I’m not mad at my new employer. I’m ready to get to work and put this whole mini-sabbatical behind me.

It worked out. Not the way I planned it, but everything turns out the way it should. I found my patience but I fell into despair and despondence more than once. Life doesn’t always reward you in the way you think it should. Things don’t always happen right away. Sometimes, it drags on and takes time.

I was handed another test. Not sure I passed, but I stood my ground despite the lack of forward motion. I’m moving forward even though we were held back for a bit.

I did not find enlightenment. I found steadiness.

I stumbled upon Justin Bieber’s performance at Coachella recently. His rendition of Beauty and a Beat was a callback to a simpler time. Just up there on one of the biggest stages, singing along to his younger self on a YouTube video.

I was stoked to see him back doing his thing. I looked into his backstory as I couldn’t quite recall what happened. Since the 2012 release of that song and this 2026 performance, Justin Bieber has come a long way.

On March 1st every year, the weather changes. The wet, cold, and grey make way for sunny skies and warmer days. Springtime in Sacramento is nothing short of superb. Turning the page on the calendar and just like that, it’s sunny and 70.

March is the month of change. And for me, there’s plenty of change coming.