In 2021, I sold my business.
For most people, that’s the dream. The finish line. The big win. The moment the confetti flies and someone walks a pony in to the room just you. The Golden Buzzer.
But for me, it didn’t feel like a celebration. It felt like silence.
The day after closing, I woke up at 4 AM like I had for the past several years. No pools to check. No employees to manage. No fires to put out. I sat in my kitchen drinking coffee, staring at my phone, waiting for it to ring. It never did. That’s when it hit me—I’d built my entire identity around being needed. And suddenly, I wasn’t. I agreed to stay on as an employee through the transition, so I went into the office; the same people greeted me the say way they had for years but upon sitting in my office, still, silence. The new leadership was already handling the employee questions, holding meetings, and making decisions. It’s what I asked for but not what I was ready for.
I had time. I had options. But no purpose.
I’m wired for structure, momentum, progress. The idea of rebranding myself as a consultant or guru crossed my mind—but it didn’t sit right. Felt too polished. Too packaged. Not me.
What I really wanted was to stay in the game—because it’s where the real energy is.
So I started showing up to networking events—not as an expert, just as someone who’d been through it. I listened. Sometimes people asked questions, and I shared what I’d learned. No pitch. No agenda. Just real conversations with people who were building, struggling, experimenting.
Sometimes that led to partnerships or investment opportunities. That’s great when it happens. But honestly, the best part is the connection that comes from trading ideas with people who actually get it. That’s the part I missed.
Business has always been a game to me. One I love playing. And by reconnecting with founders and operators, I’ve found a way to stay in it—without having to pretend to be someone I’m not.