Savage & Sacred

  There was a time I celebrated everything. Not in a confetti-and-champagne way. More like a "hey, we made it through today, that counts" way. I had a kid. And I was trying to teach him something important — that wins don't have to be big to matter. That noticing the good stuff, even the tiny stuff, is how you build a life that doesn't crush you. Got through a hard homework assignment? Win. Made it to school on time? Win. Chose kindness when it would've been easier to be a jerk? Big win. I wasn't just teaching gratitude. I was teaching him how to see his own life. How to find proof that he was doing okay, even on the hard days. And it worked. But somewhere along the way — between survival mode and starting over and losing things I thought I'd have forever — I forgot. I stopped counting my own wins. I stopped noticing. I got so focused on how far I still had to go that I forgot to look back at how far I'd already come. And here's the thing about gra...

You know that saying — " When the going gets tough, the tough get going "? What does that even mean? Because I feel like I'm tough. Not muscly tough — mentally tough. Emotionally tough. I've been through a lot in my 40 years. Stuff nobody knows about because I don't talk about my problems like they're for everyone to hear. I think that's weak, tbh. And that's another word I've been thinking about lately. Weak. Because sometimes? That's exactly what I feel. Weak. Like I didn't try hard enough to prevent all the shit that brought me here — to this trailer, with no food. Eating rice for weeks. Pasta for days. It's ridiculous. So what's the fucking point of all this? To teach me a lesson? Okay — taught. Got it. I have a voice and I'm using it. Am I supposed to feel this shitty about myself? Because if that's the goal — job well done, universe. But here's the thing: All you're doing is pissing me off more. And me being pi...

  There's this energy you get when you first start something. The spark. The "holy shit, this could actually work" feeling. The thing that makes you stay up until 4am building, creating, believing. It's not infinite. And nobody warns you about that. They don't tell you that hope is a resource. That it leaks. That every setback, every silence, every "no one's buying, no one's commenting, no one gives a shit" moment drains the tank a little more. Until one day you wake up and the spark is just... dim. Not gone. But flickering. Tired. Wondering what the point is. I've been there. More than once. And here's what I've learned: The spark doesn't die all at once. It dies in small moments. When you refresh the page and see zero sales. When you post something you're proud of and hear crickets. When someone you thought would show up for you doesn't. It dies when you compare your chapter one to someone else's chapter twenty. It d...

  I've been put in this damn trailer for a reason. I know that much. My safety? Probably. My sobriety? Definitely. A place to get shit done without distractions? Yeah — and I have. I've gotten so much done. 24 blog posts. A book on Amazon. Another one drafted. A shop. Content going out. Learning Python. Building a whole brand from nothing. Three months. I did in three months what most people take six to do. Maybe longer. So... what now? Is the universe just waiting for all these seeds to sprout? Because I planted a lot of them. A lot. Or am I still planting when I should be watering? Am I doing too much? Not enough? The wrong things? I've never been more confused about what direction to go in my entire life. And the fucked up part is — I'm not lost because I'm lazy. I'm not stuck because I gave up. I'm confused because I did the work. All of it. Fast. Hard. Alone. And now I'm sitting here in this trailer, waiting for... what? A sign? A sale? A fucking cl...

It's 4am. I'm in a fifth wheel trailer. My dog is under the blankets because it's cold. I haven't eaten today, and I'm writing a blog post about building a brand. If that sounds unhinged — yeah. Maybe. But here's the thing: I'm still building. Not because I have a plan. Not because some podcast bro told me to "bet on yourself." But because the alternative is giving up, and I'm too stubborn and too pissed off to do that. So let's talk about what it actually looks like to build something from nothing. Not the cute, curated "started from the bottom" story. The real one. The one where you're googling food banks and editing your website in the same hour. The one with a little bit of gangster under the crown. Section 1: The Lie You've heard it. Probably from someone with a ring light and a course to sell. "You need money to make money." "Invest in yourself." "Your first year in business, expect to spend ...

I'm gonna be honest with you because that's kind of my whole thing. I feel like a failure today. I've been building, creating, posting, writing, grinding — and my bank account still looks like a cry for help. I have products that nobody's buying. I have content that nobody's seeing. I have a whole vision and zero dollars to show for it. And I'm tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes. The kind of tired that makes you wonder if any of this is even worth it. The Lie We Tell Ourselves Here's what I'm NOT going to do: pretend I'm fine. I'm not going to post some "rise and grind" bullshit and act like I've got it figured out. I'm not going to slap a motivational quote over my pain and call it content. That's not me. That's not this brand. Savage & Sacred was never about having it together. It was about being in the mess and still fighting. What's Actually True So let me tell myself — and you — what's actuall...

Coding has literally helped my ADHD spirals that I have more now that I'm sober. I don't have that off switch anymore and I'm not turning to booze for that extra off switch either. Coding has a set of rules that my ADHD brain needs to grasp onto and survive the chaos thats inside of my head. In which I am still learning how to navigate. My brain doesn't like traditional rules.. I will break every one if I get told I have to do something a certain way. And then get angry about it when it doesn't work out.  Python has helped because it pulls me out of that "oh i have to do things a certain way in order for the code to work" and then it calms me because python isn't your traditional tactic to staying sober but it sure helps my adhd brain stay in its lane. That's probably why i like it, not everyone can do it. My grandma use to joke when I was a kid that, whatever she wanted me to do she should tell me that she didn't want me to do it because then ...