I Tried to Build My Business Like an Expert

I Should’ve Started As a Human.

What Would I Create If I Wasn’t Trying to Make a Living Creating?

That’s the question on my mind today.

What if I didn’t need every article, video, newsletter—or whatever else I’m trying to make—to have an outcome beyond sharing something meaningful to me… that might also be helpful to someone else?

What if I didn’t create from scarcity?

What if I wasn’t desperately trying to generate revenue just to pay the bills and claw my way toward some version of time or financial freedom?

What if I could just share—without worrying about hooks, calls to action, “engagement,” or algorithms?

What if I could just be myself?

What if I created with joy?

Focused on the process. The practice. Becoming a better writer, creator, storyteller. Letting go of the outcome.

What if I shared the real version of me?

The one who’s screwed up more times than I want to count.

The one who’s unsure. Uncertain. Full of self-doubt. Who second-guesses everything. Who’s bought more courses and “$10k month” systems than I could ever consume, hoping one of them would finally work.

Who chases shiny objects compulsively—even when I know they’ll just make me feel more scattered. Who hasn’t committed to a single path, maybe because deep down I’m not sure I believe I can actually do this. Or that I deserve to.

What if I stopped trying to build a persona and just showed up as a person?

A human being. With flaws. Weirdness. Some good ideas. Some bad ones.

Someone with experience, and maybe a little wisdom—but who still struggles to apply it in his own life.

Someone who’s not yet the man he wants to be.

Someone who’s lived and traveled and seen things. But who’s also had his light dimmed by hard experiences, bad decisions, and the long echoes of both.

What if I talked about dealing with depression for decades?

Or anxiety that hums like an electric current in the background most days?

Or the exhaustion and emotional gymnastics of raising kids with chronic illness, supporting a wife with chronic illness, while managing a (less visible) illness of my own?

What if I could let go of the fear?

Of rejection.

Of embarrassment.

Of not having it all figured out.

Of people seeing me try and fail—again.

If I could do that... maybe I’d find an audience who cares.

People who want to follow along. Who see me as someone who gets it. Just like I follow people who help me feel that way.

Because that’s been the idea since I first started publishing online over five years ago.

But every time I’ve started, I’ve stopped.

Every time, I’ve repackaged myself as the expert.

Because that’s what’s supposed to sell.
That’s what’s supposed to feel safe.
That’s what’s supposed to cover up the shame of not being further along.

But it hasn’t worked.

Because I don’t feel like an expert.
Because I am stuck.
Because I’m not as far along as I want to be.

So instead of publishing consistently for all those years—honestly, vulnerably—I’ve started and stopped.

Overthought and underdone.

Told myself stories that kept me stuck.

So here I am again, asking:

Can I do it this time?

Can I keep going long enough for something to shift?

Can I write in a way that’s not just navel-gazing—but actually useful to someone else?

I don’t know.

But I’m going to keep trying until I figure it out.

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