Morning Thoughts on my 33rd Birthday

Author’s Note: I will not be proofreading this, and will eagerly await my friend, John's pointing out of several typos.

I turned 33 this morning.

I woke up at 4:30am (not by design). Sore and tired, but excited for the day.

Not because it's my birthday, but because I love my life. And, finally, I love myself.

That’s not something I've always been able to say. Feels nice.

Over the past year, I’ve struggled with a number of things:

• A very challenging health issue that significantly impacted my mental health.

• Intense business challenges.

• My dog destroyed (ate) 3 pairs of AirPods. I lost another on a flight.

• And much more—big & small—in between.

But today, and recently, it all feels ok.

I’m surrounded by more brilliant, beautiful, and loving friends and community than I can make time for. The best problem one could hope for.

I know myself better than I ever have. This has not come easily.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about life and the purpose we ascribe to it. I can’t escape this notion that my purpose (and perhaps, everyone's - but that's up to you!) is to do the hard, dirty, introspective work necessary to become more fully, authentically, and truly myself. And in doing so, to help a few others do the same.

I’ve tried being someone else. I’ve tried being who I think others want or need me to be, or who I thought others might be impressed by. At best, that brought short-term gains and highs. At worst, it was extremely corrosive to my self-esteem, and a waste of this valuable, precious life I've been gifted.

This past year, I’ve healed inner wounds to extents I never imagined possible. I’ve let go of many imaginary problems that plagued me my entire life. And now I can focus my energy and life force on the plethora of real problems that remain. There are many. But I get to approach them with excitement, courage, and a bit more wisdom.

After five years of consistent therapy, I recognized that it was no longer serving me in the way I wanted. I found the support I was craving in an amazing Coach, Adam Cotterill. By chance (and by way of other forces I doubt I'll ever fully understand), I found Adam via a thoughtful comment he left on a LinkedIn post from a writer we both admire.

I plan to share about my experience working with Adam in much more detail, but for now, I'll leave you with this.

He's the fucking man.

It's also fun to acknowledge that him being two years younger than me does not affect my ego whatsoever. Never has. I am only grateful for his love, wisdom, curiosity, and support, which have helped me create massive change in myself, my business, and my life in a very short period of time. I'm talking about the kind of change that one might work toward for decades.

My Brother joined my company, threesixfive, as Creative Director. This is a special one. He sent me the first Casey Neistat video I ever watched, which was the catalyst for my daily video project that kicked off my career and my new life in 2015. He also designed our first and only (to this point) logo back in 2018.

It will soon be 10 years since I launched that project. Despite having changed and matured and learned a lot, I find myself drawn to the same ideals that inspired that project in the first place. A hunger for growth. A desire to seek truth. A curiosity about, love for, and belief in Nova Scotia paired with a drive to help it realize its potential through the power of community and storytelling.

As I move into this stage of my life, I’m thinking a lot less about what I can do and get for me, and much more about how I can serve others. Especially young people who are in a similar position to the one I was in in my early 20s, when I felt lost, hopeless, unseen, disconnected, and unable to envision a path to change.

I have a ton of empathy for how young people must be feeling today. The state of the world, the rate of change, and a general lack of meaningful leadership and vision at the highest level of our governments, businesses, and institutions.

Broadly speaking, the generations before them appear largely unwilling to put their own personal gain aside to make any meaningful space for them and are denying the greater part of our youth a fair crack at the same fundamental promises that were made—and in large part actually delivered on—in previous generations, if only they worked hard, contributed, and made a few sacrifices.

I am not a data nerd, nor an economist. But I don't need to read a $5-million-dollar, 87-page report to know that almost everything is completely fucked. That very few seem to care enough to speak up, or to sacrifice even a fraction of their own comfort, to change this.

Anyway, more to come on that in the near future. Less empty pointing out of the obvious. More ideas and action. I promise.

If you'd like to read about someone who does care, and whose actions—whose entire life and being—is dedicated to doing something about it, go read about Mark Brand.

I've discovered entirely new forms of joy, responsibility, and connection in watching my sweet dog, Zuko, grow up from a tiny little puppy to a slightly bigger puppy. He is often and affectionately referred to as "the happiest dog in the world" by the folks who see him at the park every morning. I’ve grown to cherish these morning walks immensely.

I have also grown fond of birds, ecstatic to point out to a friend, or to Zuko: “Oh my god, that’s a Red-Breasted Merganser!”

As my Coach, Adam says, I am a multitude.

There are times where I am a true warrior. Disciplined, strong, and courageous.

And sometimes I am simply lazy. I just don’t have it in me.

And I am learning that any effort to resist my body’s signals is not only futile, but ineffective and even harmful.

The only thing that seems to work is to recognize that both of these parts of me are real and valid and deserving of space and love. That resisting either of them may feel like it's working, and may work for a time, but inevitably brings about the opposite of what I really want.

I’m remembering that my life, my company/career, and the way I tend to the most minute details of my life, can all be artistic and spiritual expressions of who I am and what I value. And that, for me, treating them as anything less leaves me feeling empty and produces subpar results, all around.

One of the most gratifying experiences, that began in my early 20s, was realizing that I could develop beautiful, cross-generational, non-parental friendships with people 10, 20, 30, 40 years older than me. People in the business community, like the men in their 50s or 60s, who reach out to connect on a deeply personal level because they read something I shared and it resonated with them. Or the friendship I share with an 82-year-old woman I often walk with at the park.

From a very young age, I remember craving real connection with adults, but that it was deemed inappropriate or that it seemed unwanted. Having crossed that threshold, it has been such a gift to connect with, learn from, and sometimes even teach, some of these older and mostly-wiser friends.

Several times, I've shared a personal struggle that felt devastating, un-overcomeable, only to have one of these 'wiser' friends smirk, knowingly. And this never comes across as belittling, because I now know that the 'knowing smirk' means they are about to share their own version of the same experience, and about the growth and eventual peace it brought them. In these moments I feel comforted and understood. I can relieve myself of the feeling that this struggle might just be the end of me, and even have a laugh at the absurdity of this journey we're all on together.

If there are any tried-and-true markers of real 'success' in life, having someone twice your age explain just how lucky you are to have learned a big, hard lesson earlier in life has got to be up there as one of the best—because it means you get to live that much more of your life that much closer to your own truth.

Many days, I have shed tears of joy at sunrise. In awe of the miracle that is this life. Enrapt by the undeniable interconnectedness of everything. I wish and pray and work and stumble for more of these moments. These tears serve as an unmatched barometer for the clarity with which I am seeing the love and light that I am, that we we all are, underneath the stories (because that's all they are) that obscure the fundamental truths of our being.

This year, I celebrated weddings, engagements, and births with some of the people I love most.

I have made mistakes and have had to make hard decisions and sacrifices.

But more often than not, I feel like I am making more decisions from a place of love, rather than fear. And when I catch myself falling short of that standard, I do my very best take accountability, apologize with my chin up, and do what I can to course correct without being unnecessarily hard on myself.

At the start of 2025, I made a grand and public proclamation that I would be sharing a ton of writing. And then I proceeded to immediately fall flat on my face, doing almost none.

But I am not embarrassed or ashamed.

I am grateful to have a better understanding of why that writing did not happen, and what I need to do—and not do—in order to create the conditions where it will just spill out this thing called me.

Kind of like this.