Right In Front Of You

Have you ever lost something valuable to you, only to discover that said item was actually in a super obvious and super visible place the whole time?

It’s always a little embarassing to have a friend or family member find what you were looking for in a matter of seconds after you might have spent hours looking for it.

I’ve found over the past few years, that this simple example of stressing over something that is so easily solvable, is so often the daily plight many of us face:

We toil and strive and cope and go in these big circles, all the while saying that we wish that we could break out of these cycles. And yet, the whole time, the answer is right there, staring us in the face.

Everybody Needs Healing

Someone said today, “Everybody needs healing,” and I think if more of us believed this, we’d have a lot healthier of a world. There is this negative stigma around being hurt, being broken, or needing help and so we generally try to be as “strong” as we can be.

We play the comparison game and gauge our own health relative to those other people we know who have got way bigger problems than we do. It’s dumb.

I spent so many years pretending to be okay.

It was the religious and “put-together” thing to do.

I lived a double life just so that those around me would think that I was some person who didn’t have problems. Some morally upstanding person who was above the self-destructive tendencies of the human condition.

But in the end, the only person I fooled was myself.

When we aren’t honest with others about who we are and what we struggle with, we choose to live in the dark.

And strange and poisonous things grow because of the secrets that we keep in the dark.

Investing in Community

We tend to celebrate our victories in public and grieve our shortcomings in private. The irony is that we don’t need community as badly in good times as we do in bad times. And yet, we still tend to isolate when it comes to struggling with our vices.

My journey with pornography is something I’ve written about countless times, but it’s a prime example of how things we allow to thrive in the dark can eventually sabotage the rest of our lives.

For me personally there were a ton of factors that helped me walk on the road of recovery. However, I think the most clear turning point came from when I shared about it with my best friend and then decided to dig deeper as to the reason why I didn’t want to consume pornography anymore.

But this isn’t just relevant for porn addicts. I think it’s very important that we invest in a few friendships that go beyond getting drinks after work, swapping gossip about our mutual friends, or only being honest when under the influence of something. Friendships that go deeper than the surface level of celebration and “I’m fine.”

It can be so hard to do this.

Because the kind of friendships that I’m talking about can tragically backfire. I’m talking about a bare-your-soul, authentic, and intentional friendship in which your dirty laundry is aired for those select few who are in this circle. It’s uncomfortable and it doesn’t happen by accident.

But when the rip tides of life catch you off-guard, community can be the difference between you surviving and you being even further isolated.

True friends can help you get back to shore, but if you don’t invest in them, there’s nothing to hold onto when that wave pulls your feet off of the ground that you were standing on.

Step by Step

I owe so much of my own personal growth to my therapist who stewarded her authority and influence well, in order to make a safe space for me to process and to heal.

From day one, she told me: “Remember, growth is not linear.”

So often, we try these cookie cutter, cold turkey approaches to dealing with our vices. When we fail to meet our unrealistic goals, we go into a nosedive and end up as bad or worse than before. When fear and control are our motivators, can we actually do anything but fail?

I think we often look for panaceas or things that will solve all of our problems as quickly as possible… like a get rich quick scheme. But in doing this, we neglect the “why” behind why we are doing what we are doing.

We end up treating symptoms instead of the underlying roots of our compulsive behaviors.

We take things out of our lives without replacing those things with healthier options.

We erroneously believe that healthiness is equivalent to perfection and we throw up our hands and give up when we fail.

This kind of approach is only socially acceptable in the context of addictive or compulsive behavior recovery.

In any other context it would be absolutely preposterous to expect people not to fail and flounder a bit before experimenting and then eventually succeeding.

Think about working out and riding a bicycle.

If your muscles never failed when working out, that would technically mean that you were not destroying your muscles and rebuilding them, and therefore you would not be growing or getting stronger.

And for the most part, most people learn to balance from the sensation of what it feels like to fall. Riding a bike consists of riding the edge of “almost falling” to the right or to the left.

In both of these contexts, resilience and perseverance far outweigh any other trait.

Own Your Story

We are all messed up people in need of healing so…

Own your narrative.

Yes, admit you have a problem, but don’t stop there.

Be relentless in your pursuit of a healthier way to live.

Make amends with those who you have perhaps not purposefully hurt, but have hurt anyways.

Seek out reconciliation.

Seek out resources.

Talk about your struggles so that you can find others who have also struggled so that you can encourage one another.

Pride would have you isolate and impress upon others that you have no problems. In doing this, you will find no allies, because those around you will not offer support to someone who does not need or ask for it.

Humility and vulnerability on the other hand will attract allies to you, because in revealing the struggles that you have, countless others with the same weaknesses will constantly remind you that you aren’t alone.

It’s your life.

No one will come to encourage you that you need healing and restoration in your life.

It’s your personal choice to pursue that recovery process.


In 2020 and 2021, I decided to write monthly emails to a group of friends who all struggled with pornography. We ranged in age, gender, and life stages but we were connected through our shared struggle. The idea was birthed from Fight the New Drug’s “No Porn November” campaign, but I wanted to journey with these friends for a period of time longer than just one month.

At the intersection of: processing my own experiences of sexual assault, understanding my personality and my need for community, learning about pornography and its effect on the brain, coming to terms with the people who I had hurt because of my out of control sexuality, and realizing that my identity was not defined by my behavior, I began to write these emails of encouragement to my friends.

Most of the time, no one wrote back.

But occasionally, a friend or two would share an experience they had which would encourage the rest of the group.

I realized partway through, that I was really writing to myself…

I was sharing stories, strategies, and things I was learning, but really, I was writing because I wanted to believe that we could recover. I wanted to believe that this was not another fool’s errand or failed attempt. And so I wrote to this group, because I hoped that one of us might succeed and prove that we weren’t lost causes.

During those two years, I think I ended up being the one who benefitted the most. Because, through sharing about my ups and downs on my journey of recovery, I was able to receive grace from my friends and encouragement to persevere.

Wherever you are and whatever you are facing, just remember, that you are never truly alone unless you choose to be alone. No man is an island, and we all desperately need to invest in community as we walk towards healthier versions of ourselves.

Don’t give up!

But also, don’t let pride prevent you from living an abundant life.

Life is too short to just survive!

Let’s thrive!

Modern Day Heroes

Night is falling, and an invisible electricity that far exceeds the anticipation before a concert, buzzes in the air. About fifty people bustle around near the entrance to the underground metro, setting up foldable tables, a manicure station, and streamers. The food vendors arrive and set up their cart with a huge rotating slab of barbecued pork. Teams of three with individually wrapped roses in their hands make their way into the surrounding blocks. Passerbys flash curious looks towards the throng of busy people setting up what looks like a party. A handful of volunteers look fearfully at the sky. Ominous rain clouds seem to promise rain within minutes.

The street corner you are on is in the middle of the red light district. The volunteer team is composed of churchgoers, those who work with the organization: El Pozo De Vida, visitors from other countries, and current and past beneficiaries of the organization. They are gathered to assist in throwing a Block Party in the middle of the red light district on the last Saturday of the month. Depressing and heavy is the atmosphere of the location where the party is hosted, and yet, throughout the night, the atmosphere changes. Somehow, this place that is so dark becomes this beacon of light.

The volunteers gather and throw this party, in hopes that those who are looked down upon or forgotten by society know that they are seen and worthy of being celebrated.

It doesn’t make sense, and to be honest, it sounds ridiculous and dangerous.

And it is.

But something happens on that corner that even I can’t explain.

It’s almost as if..

Heaven invades earth..

And the rules and economics that govern our world are flipped on their heads, if even, for just one night.

Ignorance Is Bliss

You know how sometimes as you are driving and exiting the five freeway, you’ll see a homeless person with a sign?

I might be weird, but I always do this thirty second evaluation of their attire and their shoes to gauge if they are actually in need. There’s that mental conversation where I ask, “Are they going to spend this money on drugs? Do I have some food in my car? Are they actually incapable of working?”

Usually what happens, is that my mental conversation takes too long, and the light turns green. I look apologetically at the person and then drive by.

The entire encounter is usually forgotten within minutes.

Our lives are filled with encounters like these.

There are obvious needs that we see, but we get lost in the “how to help” and we end up literally or metaphorically, driving by.

I mean… we can’t possibly be expected to help all these people…

I mean shouldn’t the government or some organization with more resources help this person?

Besides… we’re in the middle of a pandemic… It’s really the safety of myself and my family that is paramount and everything else must be secondary… right?

Living for the Weekend

It’s crazy how being alive and feeling alive can be so different.

Doesn’t it feel like sometimes we string together the moments in life that make us feel happy, while trying to ignore the broad majority of life that makes us feel dead inside?

For me personally, I filled the weekends with escape rooms, dinners, concerts, alcohol, trips, relationships, and whatever made me feel less miserable for a few days. I didn’t feel super enthusiastic at work, which is probably common. But the thing that was stranger than not really enjoying work, was this unending need to fill my free time with any number of distractions, so that I wouldn’t have time to be alone with my thoughts.

I was living for the weekend, but really, I was barely surviving the week so that I could distract myself with my weekend activities.

Behind the instagram stories and the cute photos we post, it sure feels like something is missing…

Have you ever drunkenly had your head on the toilet seat wondering if there is more to life than this cycle of trying to forget about your day to day?

I have.

Safely in the Boat

Ever since 2019, I’ve been flirting with this idea of packing up my things and moving to Mexico City.

Over the years, I donated two shirts for every shirt I bought. I made frequent trips to the Salvation Army and Goodwill as I slowly decreased my piles of junk.

Every time I visited Mexico City, I stayed just a little bit longer than the last time.

Sometimes I was tutoring, other times I was just an extra pair of hands doing whatever needed to be done.

Every time I came back to the states, I mentally traversed the path that would get me to stay in Mexico City, and every time, I found a reason to stay within the bounds of my comfort zone.

Obviously my suburban life wasn’t cutting it for me, but at least I knew what to expect.

If I didn’t know every single detail, how could I responsibly leave everything I knew, to go live in a country where I didn’t know the language, to work in a context I had never worked in before?


It was better to stay in the tumultuously thrown but familiar confines of the boat.

Walking on the Water

This past June, I finally decided that it would be better to take the leap of faith and to move to CDMX rather than wondering or regretting for the rest of my life.

To some it might seem a little fast or impulsive, but in reality, this whole journey has been slow-cooking for years.

What initially held me back, was my job not going remote.

But after some thought (and some mezcal), I realized that maybe this season was about unlearning some of the guiding principles that I’ve lived my whole life by.

I’ve built my life around control and knowing the next ten steps…. but maybe, this season is here to help me to learn how to just take one step at a time.

A Gang of Misfits

One of the craziest things about being here in Mexico City is how crazy everyone is.

I use crazy in the sense that, people from wildly different backgrounds are here, standing in solidarity, against human trafficking.

A couple that paid off their debts using Dave Ramsey’s principles felt the need to sell everything they had to come here.

A young girl fresh out of university who decided to stay and work with the girls at the safehouse who is now married and still works with the same girls.

Two Brazilians who came with a team last year and decided to come back and to stay a while supporting the different projects.

A blue haired guy who used to work in churches who now hosts teams here while lighting up the room with his jokes (and his hair).

I mean I don’t have enough space or time to write about all of the members of this eclectic superhero team.

Natives and foreigners. Beneficiaries and students. Missionaries and social workers. Psychologists and entrepreneurs. Physical therapists and handymen.

In no other context, have I seen such a wide spread of talents, giftings, and personalities.

And yet, somehow , this group manages to laugh in the face of a social ill so depressing, that most people try to forget about it.

The Art of DeReconstruction

In a blog I wrote last year, I talked about how I had experienced this long season of deconstructing my faith and religion.

I was discouraged for a very long time, and try as I might, I couldn’t seem to find the answers I was looking for in the context that I was in.

I was jaded by the constant discord in the church (side note unrelated to the blog: I am just now realizing how ironic it is that the application Discord is called discord, when the word discord means disagreement).

If we weren’t arguing about worship song lyrics, we were arguing about which churches were the most “doctrinally sound.”

It seemed like a big competition for who could have the best lights and camera setups, or the biggest “outreaches” which were just big church services hosted in arenas.

I couldn’t understand why churches were investing so much money into a weekly program when there were real needs all around us. EVEN within the church, there are huge needs for mental health awareness, education, and restoration.

But no. We are more concerned with “I believe” hands, getting churchgoers to tithe, and small group to volunteer conversion rates.

The wildest thing about being here in Mexico City is that, completely on accident, my faith is being re-constructed. I would have been happy enough with coming here and just doing work that was addressing social ills.

But no.

I’ve conveniently found myself at the intersection of faith and action. I’ve finally found people who are acting on what they’ve read about. I’ve finally found modern day heroes who are applying kingdom principles from the Bible to address the social ills that we are facing. People who are leaving the ninety nine to find the one. People who have been absolutely transformed by something that is not of this world.

People who give their time, resources, and energy in order to do crazy things, like throw a party in the middle of the redlight district on a Saturday night.

I’ve finally found “religion that is pure and just that goes to widows and orphans in their distress.”

This isn’t a biography of David Livingstone, Amy Carmichael, Gladys Aylward, or George Mueller.

This is happening today in 2022.

We have a problem with toxic masculinity and so we made a campaign to raise awareness and educate people on machismo.

We saw that forced begging was a huge problem in the city that led to human trafficking. The founder didn’t just drive by… He felt that since there wouldn’t be begging in heaven, that there shouldn’t be begging here either. So we are currently running a campaign to encourage the lawmakers to draft new laws.

Whether it’s walking alongside and providing women with safe and sustainable alternatives to their work on the streets, or if it’s incubating beneficiaries and equipping them for their own businesses and dreams in the future, everything here is about restoring people’s dignity and walking alongside them in their journeys.

And you know what?

It’s not just the women that decide to leave their work on the streets that experience transformation.

Each one of us can’t help but be impacted and transformed by the work that is being done.

So Alive

Some people say, “don’t meet your heroes,” for fear of being disappointed.

I must say, that after the last few years, I have wholeheartedly agreed with this statement. It is better for me to be blissfully unaware of how human and flawed those I look up to are…


Apparently this season of my life is about healing and restoration.

No person or organization is perfect and EPDV is no exception.

But there is something to be said about people who steward the authority, power, and influence they have in an appropriate and mature manner.

Never in my life have I felt more fulfilled, excited, or happy to be working.

We are moving the needle, and I wholeheartedly believe that we will keep fighting until the 40 million people who are being trafficked becomes 0.

The Invitation

Not everyone can pack up their lives and head into a context similar to the one I am in.

But! I hope that wherever you are, that you would find a renewed sense of purpose and that perhaps for the first time, you would feel a sense of hope. Hope that our world is not just destined to self-destruction and that we can indeed make a difference.

If you’d like to learn more about El Pozo de Vida and the work that is going on here in Mexico City, don’t hesitate to reach out. It might just change your life.

If you’d like to be updated on my journey please fill out this form to select the option(s) that work best for you!

If you are interested in financially supporting the work that I am doing here in Mexico City, you can find me at:

Venmo: lifeapaulling

Zelle: pauljoshuaho@gmail.com.

I am also in the process of setting up a donation portal through EPDV so I will update the information here when that is all squared away.

Thank you to everyone who has supported me thus far in every sense of that word.

Thank you to the friends who let me stay with them, the bosses who let me go on extended trips here, and the handful of friends who have supported financially. I could not do this without you, and I am SO grateful.

I’ll leave you with a phrase that has quickly become one of my favorites:

Whatever season you are in right now, no matter how dark it might be, “no te rindas” or “don’t give up.”

Much love and I hope to see you soon over some tacos here in the city 😉

You Really Need to Flag…

My hands were in so much pain as the tape haphazardly covered my raw skin. The muscles in my arms were burning as my hunched up form attempted to climb this DAMN V1. I was discovering that I was indeed afraid of heights… and of falling the short four feet to the crash pad.

“You know… you’re tired because you’re all bunched up and climbing only with your arms. You really need to flag..”

Flagging, is the practice in climbing of fully extending a leg to the side as a counter balance, generally combined with arms fully extended for maximum control and maneuverability. It is critical, but quite uncomfortable… especially for beginners who tend to think that climbing is strictly an upper body exercise.

I remember being annoyed that Crystal was coaching me…. from the ground.

But then again, this wasn’t the first time that Crystal had brought me on an adventure where the primary goal was discomfort and growth.

For some context, I’m going to need to tell you a story about camels, reservations, and the importance of owning your own narrative.

Get ready…

It’s a trip.

Or maybe two or three.

A Trip Built Around a Camel Festival

During college and in the years shortly thereafter, we had bonded over: the latest food trends, Disney runs where we tried to ride the most obscure rides (Mark Twain’s Riverboat anyone), and pity parties where we discussed our sad lives as temporary workers.

Crystal had a reputation for being a world traveler and so in 2018 when she invited me to go on a trip to Turkey, I was honored and thrilled.

The one catch was that I could not for the life of me figure out why she had chosen Turkey of all places to go visit.

See, a few years prior, my cousin had been in Turkey when there had been a coup. I remember FaceTiming her and her friend as they hid out in their Istanbul airbnb waiting for the travel ban to lift.

This experience of my cousin combined with the fact that there was a travel advisory on the U.S. Department of State’s website that said, “Reconsider travel to Turkey due to terrorism and arbitrary detentions,” were enough to make me quite uncomfortable.

Alas, work at Chick-fil-A had been sucking the life out of me for a few years at this point, and I was looking for any excuse to escape. So Crystal, Brian, and I waited for some affordable flights and then booked our trip for January of 2019.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, Crystal had actually built our entire three city trip around a single festival that was occurring in Ephesus on one specific day in January. That’ll be important later.

As I boarded the plane, I remember being more than a little bit anxious about the trip: I had never traveled internationally with friends for this long, I wasn’t sure how safe this place was, and I quite frankly had no clue what to expect.

I put my headphones in, cued our “Turkey 2019” collaborative Spotify playlist, and fell asleep to Clueless by the Marias.

Thanks For Not Listening to Your Friends (<-Link to the “written in Turkey” blog)

On our trip we tried new food, made new friends, got creative with our documenting, and learned a lot about the world and our perception of it.

Crystal was always the first to put herself out there when it came to practicing the language and engaging with the natives. While many people travel for the photos and the stories, Crystal always seems to want to see what life is like for the normal person in these different cultural contexts. This is evident in how she plans her trips all the way through to the way she frames her photos.

In experiencing her method of traveling to know and understand rather than traveling to see and commentate, my eyes were opened to so much beauty that comes from experiencing different cultures.

Her courage and adventurousness is what placed us in the thick of a Camel Wrestling Festival on a Saturday morning, where we would experience a party unlike any we had seen before.

In many ways, Turkey was an incredible trip because the people we met there were unbelievably hospitable and friendly. We were offered food, drinks, and warm welcomes almost everywhere we went. Complete strangers would hear us speaking English and they would stop and say hello and share about their sons or daughters that lived in California. Airbnb hosts would shift heaven and earth to get us better accommodations. Food tour guides would take time after their shifts to take us to wine gardens and share recommendations of where we could eat next. The country was beautiful from a nature and sights standpoint, but it was especially beautiful because of the people that interacted with us.

But see, herein lies the catch: we never would have experienced any of this hospitality or any of the great things Turkey has to offer, if not for Crystal’s willingness to plan this trip to a place that neither I nor many people I know would ever try and go for “safety” reasons.

As our world experiences a time of great unrest, and nationalism and patriotism are being flaunted left and right, I think fondly on this trip and how it completely re-framed my perspective of other countries. When a native says, “Thanks for not listening to your friends who said we were barbarians and that you shouldn’t come,” it fucks you up a little bit.

Every country is a melting pot of atrocities, customs, innovations, and most importantly: people.

Thanks Crystal for teaching me the importance of seeing things and people for myself as opposed to just believing what I hear about them.

No Reservations

A few years later, Crystal joined me in Mexico City, in order to see, what all the hype was about an anti-human trafficking organization that I was crazy about.

We spent time with several of the beneficiaries teaching basic math and facilitating some team building exercises and I tried to summarize everything in Benny Yu’s book Painful Miracles in a succinct way in order to explain the anti trafficking work that El Pozo De Vida was doing in Mexico City.

When we weren’t at the safehouse or eating tacos, we were seeing the sights and trying to keep our food down.

As a celebratory meal of sorts, Crystal tried to get us a table at Quintonil, an upscale restaurant in the same stratosphere as some Michelin Star restaurants in the area. Unfortunately for us, there were no reservations available for the time we were free.

Now, I would have just given up and eaten at Taco Express for the fifth time in three weeks, BUT Crystal decided what the heck, I’ll just shoot them a quick email and explain our situation.

Lo and behold: we got a table.

As we sat down and ate, we realized that we were in fact an exception to the rule, as the restaurant had violated its one party an hour rule and double booked us in their opening slot.

If you know me, you know that I am terrified of asking for things. I will eat the incorrectly delivered food at my table because I don’t want to cause an inconvenience. I figure it’s better not to ask and therefore not be disappointed than it is to try and find a creative solution but fail in the process.

Crystal lives this theme of “just trying” to the max.

Windy gales might prevent us from flying in hot air balloons? Eh, let’s try anyways.

We are 20 and 21 on the waitlist for this game theory class? Eh, let’s just hang around anyways.

There’s a contest on this new travel app? Eh, sure what do I have to lose?

There’s a social media giveaway for these tickets to a play? Eh, you should just try.

Thanks for teaching me the importance of asking, Crystal.

Own Your Narrative

It can be hard to get by in a culture that values set-in-stone plans and monetary success so highly above all other things.

As great as the exciting adventures we’ve shared have been, we’ve been privy to each other’s non-instagram highlight-esque life struggles as well. From uncertainty of wanting to stay with certain companies, being overworked and abused by poor managers and organizations, and wrestling with the tension between personal passion projects and making rent, we’ve been privileged to give the other space to vent about all that stuff people generally don’t talk about.

We post on social media about the concerts, the picturesque views, the trips, and the good times, but we conveniently leave out the jobs that are killing us, the painful process of learning about ourselves, and the long ass times we spend at jobs we hate in order to save up enough for the next trip.

People remind us time and time again to get serious about our lives as we brush them off, too busy wandering and discovering just a little bit more about who we are and what we want.

I appreciate the safe space that Crystal has created when it comes to talking about purpose and living the one life that we have.

In one phone call, I shared about how I was pretty sure that I was going to move to Mexico City and that I was finally okay with being the only one in my life who seemed remotely excited about that decision. She cheered me on from the other side of the line and said something along the lines of, “HELL YEAH! OWN your narrative!”

I think Crystal has taught me an immense amount about empathy and being supportive that I have never experienced in such consistent quantities. I’ve learned so much about being a cheerleader to my friends and family just from the conversations we’ve had in which she just hears me out and encourages me to keep chasing what I think I was designed to do.

If you’ve had the privilege to get to know Crystal, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Embracing the Uncomfortable

By far, the trait I admire most about Crystal, is her intentionality with being uncomfortable.

It could be on her travels.

It could be on the bouldering walls she scales.

It could be in the controversial topics she chooses to discuss when everyone is just vibing.

She chooses to challenge the norm and the widely accepted way of doing things and she asks the hard questions which she might not have the answers to.

This takes immense bravery, but without people in our world with this trait, we would never develop, grow, or solve the problems that our societies face.

She doesn’t accept the stereotypes that people blindly assign to other people and instead chooses to immerse herself and to see for herself what makes different people unique.

She’s willing to take risks in order to learn about others and she’s not so quick to assign blame to entire people groups.

To be frank… our world needs more people who desire to see the similarities we all share as opposed to harping on the differences.

Dude, Crystal, you’ve taught me HELLA, about life, perspectives, and just living life authentically. I’m honored to call you my friend, and I appreciate you being patient with all of my tiktok transitions that I make you do for my travel videos. Thanks for caring about my passion projects and encouraging me to chase them down. Also thanks for being down to detox from social media with our janky “social media addicts anonymous” program. Thanks for reminding me to create space for myself when I get lost in trying to do five thousand things at once. Try and remember me when you are the Senior Director of the United Nations who wins the Nobel Peace Prize for inspiring change through photojournalism.

Some people might see Crystal’s life as a bit unorthodox or unbalanced but to be honest….

I think she’s hanging on that V6, flagging, concentrating, and knowing exactly where she’s going next: to solve the world’s next problem.

IP Men

I can still remember walking into the hotel restaurant where the dedication dinner for Chick-fil-A University Town Center was being held.

There was a person in a cow costume, and a ridiculous number of people crammed at dozens of round tables. The girl who I had met at orientation had carpooled with me and she chose a table that already had a handful of people at it.

It was there that I cracked a joke that didn’t land all that well. But within a few minutes the guy sitting across from me had worked the entire table and was the star of the show.

That was when I decided that I didn’t like this guy.

How do you even pronounce “Imon” anyhow?


There were probably a hundred of us working at the store to compensate for the sure amount of people that would quit in due time. Of the people that worked there, a handful were cool, a lot of them were weird, and all of us were eclectic as heck.

There was the cute sassy girl working at the prep station, the mid twenties sleeve tattooed body builder singer guy who exuded coolness, and then there was this well mannered grand opening supervisor who always had a smile and a bowtie on.

I often got scheduled for closing shifts during which, my favorite pastime, was to ask my coworkers icebreaker questions while scrubbing the floors and cleaning the “ice dream” machine.

My go to series of questions was in this order:

1. If you were told by the doctor that you had a year to live and you had access to unlimited resources, what would you do?

2. Okay now let’s say you were just told you had a year to live and only had the resources you currently possess, what would you do?

3. Now why aren’t you doing any of that now?

Most people gave me the standard answers of: traveling, spending time with family, paying off the debts of families, buying houses for family, high risk and adrenaline pumping activities, telling crushes their feelings, telling friends and family they cared, etc.

I think most people thought the question was a little more than they had bandwidth for at 23:30 and would give me a quick answer and just be done.

But Imon (pronounced eye mon and not eee mon, eee man, or some other variation as I learned the hard way) literally stopped scrubbing the floor when I asked him the question and thought carefully about his response.

At that moment, I reneged on my previous decision that I didn’t like this guy.

Koobideh and Tea

Over the next few months, we’d bond over optimizing our closing techniques, gawking at cute new hires, and talking about life over our post close meals.

We loved to go to this one spot called Hen House Grill because it was open late and they served hot tea that warmed us up even as our sopping soapy floor water shoes chilled us to the bone. These meals would prove to be the catalyst for some stupidly deep conversations that we would have.

It sounds far fetched, but as a church kid and college student, I had never been a singular version of myself. There were always multiple versions of me that were catered to the audiences that I needed to perform for.

There was church paul, boyfriend paul, son paul, brother paul, christian friend paul, cursing paul, among many other compartamentalized versions of myself. I had never felt like I had the permission to just be all facets of myself with anybody. And to be quite frank, I wasn’t looking to change anything about myself because keeping everything neat and separated seemed to be working out just fine.

However, the conversations that Imon and I had were unlike any I had ever had before. We talked about everything and by everything I mean EVERY thing. There were no pretenses, assumptions, or judgements of any kind.

One particular night, I parked illegally at the apartment complex where Imon lived and we talked about how we thought porn was affecting our lives in a negative way. And the crazy part was, while I beat around the bush regarding the topic: Imon got straight to the point.

I had never experienced authenticity to this degree and quite frankly: I was inspired.


Eventually we stopped working together, as we pursued different jobs, and I was deeply afraid that our friendship would cease to be as many friendships built upon convenience tend to do.

And yet, miraculously, we both made time to invest in the friendship.

We bonded over parallel hobbies, music, gaming, trying relationships that tested our sanity, and brief flings with our passions and dreams.

Imon is the one who introduced me to the concept of a collaborative Spotify playlist, a tool that I have used in trips and get togethers ever since.

There has been this harmonious give and take, in which we have learned to appreciate the other’s interests and hobbies even if it may not be a shared interest or hobby.

Even at our lowest points, we have been able to encourage each other with the truth that perfection is unattainable and that all we can do is our best, which is strangely, enough.

Part of the Problem

In 2015, when I came back from Mexico City for the first time, it was Imon who articulated for me what I felt deep in my being.

When I told him about what I saw in Mexico City, he told me that, “I want to help… but I can’t help but think that I’m part of the problem.”

I remember being super put off by his response because I thought, “You can’t just let thinking that you are part of the problem paralyze you from doing anything!”

But the truth of the matter was that Imon was more in touch with his emotions than I was.

It was the first time where I realized that I indeed was a part of the demand, and that is why Imon’s statement unnerved me so.

I would end up attempting to forget what I had seen in Mexico City for the next four years.


One year, we decided to go on a camping trip with the goals of creating and relaxing.

We had our respective dreams and passions regarding music and film, BUT because we had found great ways to justify not creating for fear of many different things, we had instead picked up photography as a surrogate hobby.

The trip was filled with DJ Khaled’s summer hit “I’m the One,” Coronas with lime, crash courses in exposure and iso, and of course a shower of bugs.

The story of the shower of bugs is actually hilarious and probably metaphorical, but it doesn’t serve a purpose in this current narrative so be sure to ask either one of us about it.

Long story short, because of this unforeseen bug problem, we spent one of the nights in my 2001 Honda Accord, on the cold ass leather seats, with not so much as a blanket to warm ourselves. It was cold, miserable, and uncomfortable. We both shared later that we kept waking up and wishing for the sun to peek above the mountains so that we could “wake up” and leave.

During that night, the camaraderie of knowing that we were suffering together gave the night less power over defining the whole trip. In fact, we laughed about how terrible that night was even as soon as the next day.

In our friendship, one thing we’ve struggled with is finding a way to manage this gnawing desire to create. We’ve tried just shoving it down and ignoring it or finding a less risky way to still flex our creative muscles. We’ve used the excuse of not having enough resources or experience and we’ve critiqued others’ mismanagement or poorly executed ideas until we were blue in the face.

But all of our attempts have led us to the same place of uncomfortability where we know that we could create something.. but we choose to sit in that uncomfortability indefinitely.


In the fall of 2019, we had both quit our jobs and were having brunch at El Torito. I jokingly said, “Hey you should come to Mexico City with me since you aren’t working right now.”

He responded, “Honestly man… I’m down…”

We quickly threw together a quick action plan of how to expedite his passport and his approximate timeline but then I was off on the first leg of my month of travel and I wondered if this reunion in CDMX would ever come to fruition.

Three weeks later, I ran down the steps of my hostel to the street below and flagged down the uber that Imon was in, and we embraced for the first time on foreign soil.

We learned a lot that trip. We spent hours at the community center teaching some classes, we captured b roll all over the city, plotted a way to climb the temple of the sun illegally (we did NOT by the way), ate sooo much food, and we spent time with the beneficiaries of El Pozo De Vida.

I am overcome with emotion as I write this because Imon (and a few years later Crystal) are two of my closest and dearest friends who for really no benefit to themselves decided to shell out resources and time to come and see a place that is so meaningful to me.

We had so many conversations in our “jail cell hostel” about how we could join in the fight against human trafficking and what we could do to bring awareness to the issue. In many ways, we began re-writing our own destinies and not allowing our own limitations and demons to hold us back.

We often joke that we are just hyper corrupt and fallible lizard brained individuals. Well if we were lizards: we had just started molting.

Imon has since: been in a Fight the New Drug Interview video with me, sat in Clubhouse rooms with me talking about mobilizing in the fight against human trafficking, and hearing me out when I’m at wit’s end about how big the problem of porn consumption is when it comes to the grooming of the next generation of sex buyers.

Excited Accountability

Last month, Imon and I met up to enjoy an evening of Dave and Busters and a tbd dinner. We played lots of arcade basketball, almost killed some people with the air hockey puck, and took a few Cactus Cooler shots at the bar.

Afterwards, due to the weather, we decided to go to BCD Tofu House to eat dinner. As we were eating, we once again discussed the topic of creativity. For the first time in a while, we were both financially stable enough to talk about pursuing our passions without breaking the bank. We shared once again how we loathed that we always found excuses to create.

Sure we were scared, but we just didn’t know how to start… or where to start.

We stumbled upon an idea that really combined the themes that have woven their way through the heart of our friendship: What if we just created for us?

What if we metaphorically threw caution to the wind and took an impromptu trip and edited a video just for kicks? What if we removed the fear of performing for an audience and just created for each other and shared with the world only if we were comfortable with what we made?

And so even though we had joked about hosting a podcast in the past, or recording a mixtape, or filming a short film, we decided to actually set out in 2022 with the goal of creating.

In just the last month, we’ve read books on creating, brainstormed together, stretched our brains, and cursed at the writer’s blocks that seem to stack on our desks… (we also randomly played trivia night at a brewery after our brainstorming session and came up with the name IP Men for our team name hence the title)

And yet, it has been an awesome and energizing type of uncomfortability. It differs from the “work is work” uncomfortability or the “my relationship is toxic” uncomfortability because for once, the discomfort comes from growth and the exploration of unknown territory rather than obligation, duty, and necessity.

I’m just grateful I get to creatively experiment with a friend who is basically my brother instead of doing it alone.


A wise person once said, “give people flowers while they can still smell them.”

Imon, you have taught me so much over the years, and above all of the lessons, you have been authentic and available even in the craziest of times.

I am beyond blessed to call you a friend and it is an honor to get to do life with you. Thank you for being a genuine friend and a gracious brother. I am truly a better person because of you. Even if I was just to look at the blogposts I write, there has been a huge evolution in writing style, subject matter, and transparency that is traced back to you showing me what genuine friendship looks like. I am forever indebted my friend. (also Kristie, I’m not a threat, please still have me over. This is strictly bromance)

We always joke that we are collecting b-roll for the documentary about the musician and director duo that changed the world, and to be honest, stranger things have happened.

It’s weird to write about our friendship in such gory detail for unknown readers to experience, but I know for a fact that the lessons that we have learned corporately AND the lessons that you have taught me can encourage and uplift so many others.

So if you are reading this, and you’ve been scrolling tiktok and waiting to make that thing until you are a little older, have more experience, have more gear, are more qualified, or whatever, our question to you is:

Why not now?

Limited Bandwidth

As 2021 comes to a close, a lesson that I’ve been repeatedly reminded of is the danger of committing to too many things at one time.

Most of us are familiar with the scenario: we say yes to that first request and it is totally doable… and then we say yes to the next thing that comes up… and the next, and the next. Pretty soon, we have a completely booked week, zero time to ourselves, and all of a sudden, it feels like we have two full time jobs and the mental capacity of a dog in a forest with too many squirrels.

For the longest time, people pleasing was what prevented me from saying no to things. Later on, it was a fear of failure and the desire to keep my options as plentiful as possible. But just like the saying about being “a jack of all trades and a master of none,” states, if you attempt to half heartedly commit to everything that comes your way, you end up exhausted and unable to do anything well.

I’ve written about boundaries and saying “no” before, but my heart behind sharing today, is to hopefully encourage those of you who repeatedly feel overextended and exhausted from a life that seems more like an automated and accelerating hamster wheel than a journey to be enjoyed.

One of the first things I mentioned to my therapist was this very analogy about how I felt like a hamster that was running to keep up with this wheel only to get thrown out of the wheel disoriented and exhausted.

Her response was ironically, adding MORE life giving activities into my schedule, BUT with the qualifier of eliminating some life-draining activities at the same time.

Over the next few years, my perspective on self-care went from impulse buying a Nintendo Switch and binging escape rooms to carving out time in my days to intentionally care for myself. From running to basketball, writing regularly to quality time with friends, I began to incorporate a rhythm of prioritizing myself in my own life.

I stopped being the first to jump at volunteer opportunities.

I stopped feeling like every phone call and text message REQUIRED an immediate response.

I started sitting in my own discomfort at being alone in order to give myself space to process everything that I was feeling.

I started drawing my boundaries in my work environment and then for the hard part, I began to enforce those boundaries.

I pissed people off in the process as I began to say no to outrageous requests that I had been more than happy to oblige in the past. In the process, I began to love the time I got to spend alone, and this ENFP began to realize that he was a blend of introversion and extroversion.

Most app games that exist nowadays force you to manage some sort of limited resource. Maybe it’s speedups or gems or gold or food or candy crush hints. Whatever it might be, we gravitate towards challenges that force us to work within constraints.

Our lives are filled with choices and opportunity costs: decisions where choosing one thing means losing out on something else.

Some of us think that we are above these rules of limited time and resources and we try to have it all.

We end up tired, at wit’s end, and it is in those situations of fatigue that we make our poorest decisions, all because we neglected taking care of ourselves.

We think self care is eating out, manicures, video game binges, and shopping sprees. We generally know that certain coping mechanisms are actually negative, but they let us borrow tomorrow’s happiness and so in order to deal with the disappointment of today, we gladly borrow, though we pay with interest.

We self medicate with trips and shows and fantasies in order to take our minds off of the lack of agency we have in our own lives.

And even if we are self-destructing, at least we are making the choice ourselves.

A key tenet behind why I write and advocate so heavily for the issues that I do, is because I genuinely want people to operate at the best versions of themselves.

I often look back on my life and wish that I knew about the resources that I know about now, back when I was struggling to be comfortable in my own skin. I would have rather swallowed my pride, done the personal work, BEFORE I made my poor choices.

Unfortunately or fortunately, I learn best from experience, and so for me a lot of lessons were learned in hindsight. But for anyone who reads, I hope that you know that you deserve to be seen, heard, and understood, and that tools to help you navigate life’s more challenging seasons exist.

We oftentimes come up with excuses and like to play victim cards because it means that we don’t have full control or responsibility for what we do, but the truth is, in doing so, we only hurt and hinder ourselves.

I was homeschooled until high school and so my mom had the answer key to my math textbook. I used to open the answer book when she wasn’t looking and copy the work into my homework. I’d get full credit, but when asked to explain what I was doing, it was clear that I had no clue. My parents would scold me and tell me that “I was only hurting myself” by looking at the answers, but I saw my short term victories as a worthwhile exchange to spending hours trying to understand what was actually going on. This would come back to bite me in the ass later on when I went to public school and college, but that behavior was what started my habit of looking for shortcuts to deal with the day to day stress instead of preparing myself for the long term.

The truth is, most of us are like young Paul.

We see the day to day stress and anxiety, and we self medicate with reactive coping mechanisms that only temporarily distract us. We rationalize our behavior with our age, our finances, or our ability to “generally stay in control,” all the while knowing that we are lying through our teeth. We playact that we have our shit together, but at 3am when it’s just us and the negative self talk dialoguing, we realize that we are deeply frustrated with ourselves and where we deserve and need grace, the same coping mechanisms that provided us temporary distraction are used by us to shame ourselves and thus perpetuate the cycle.

Oof, did I just lose you?

Can we talk plainly for a second?

Our culture is obsessed with perfection and having your shit together. I can be anything as long as no one knows that I actually don’t have it all together.

We post the pictures of the parties, the promotions, the trips, the friends, the weddings, and anything that might get those likes, but we archive or don’t post about the break ups, the unemployment, the mental health struggles, addictions, and all those other imperfections we don’t want others to see.

Now while lying for the sake of our online reputations is one thing, the primary talking point of this blog is, why we lie to ourselves about our own growth points when really it is us that benefits or suffers based upon our action or inaction?

I think of this scene in the Zac Efron acted Ted Bundy Netflix film where, Ted goes to the courtroom and sees that the courthouse library window is a certain height above the courtyard outside. We then see a montage of him in his cell practicing landing after jumping from higher and higher distances. Eventually he jumps off of his bunk mate’s bed and lands safely, after which, the audience sees a shot of him making the courthouse library jump.

This example is SO FUCKING random, but I think it’s an interesting take on self-care and personal work.

We really do each have within us, the capacity to face the difficulties that life presents with us. It requires time and practice to figure out how to deal with our challenges, but we do have the potential to grow. But unlike Mr. Bundy, we’d rather observe the window of opportunity and worry about the risk and then forget about it rather than doing the work of preparing for our escape.

We all have limited bandwidth when it comes to the activities and passions that we can devote ourselves to. On top of this, life is short, and we never know how much time we are going to get. I’m reminded of how short life is every day.

Even with our limited resources, I invite you to invest in yourself above everything and everyone else.

To some of you this might feel foreign or selfish, but I promise you, that while all other relationships and friendships have times when they are unavailable to you, your own self dialogue is ALWAYS going to be your biggest ally or enemy. This reality behooves us to invest in ourselves and to learn to love ourselves in our strengths and weaknesses… because when it comes down to it, no one else is going to magically care for us if we don’t care for ourselves.

I spent years trying to fix myself through self work and therapy so that I could be present for those around me.

About halfway through, I realized, that the biggest goal was and always will be to learn to love myself.

The Art of Deconstruction

An acquaintance asked me the other day, “Paul, what do you even believe any more? Do you still believe in God? Are you even Christian?”

I’ve written a lot about therapy, pornography, purpose, and how race has affected my experience as a U.S. citizen. If you follow me on Instagram, you know that I’m often writing little blurbs about everything from toxic masculinity to finding your purpose. If we are connected on Facebook, you have probably noticed that I post almost exclusively about the harms of pornography which is a stark contrast from the Bible-verse-trigger-happy high school graduate from ten years ago.

There’s been a lot of trauma, a lot of work, a lot of wylin’ out, and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears that has led me to this point in time.

As much as I’d like to think that I’m so unique, I’m about 80% sure that my experiences, questions, and confusion are shared by many of you.

For those of you who would consider yourself 100% grounded in your faith and religion, I’d ask for grace, but also encourage you to hear me out as I try to explain where a lot of my doubts and cynicism originated from.

For those of you who are in the same boat, you aren’t alone, and I see you.

For those of you who don’t believe in God any more, you aren’t alone either and I see you too.

This is: the art of deconstruction.


To properly understand my journey, you should know that I was practically born into church. I was homeschooled until high school, took classes on theology, read the biographies of missionaries, and surrounded myself with friends who shared the same religious views.

I went to a Foursquare church in Van Nuys for the first thirteen years of my life. During my time there, I was encouraged and inspired by so many individuals who volunteered their time and resources to teach Sunday school. I remember fondly, this one black family taking the 11am slot to teach fourth grade sunday school and I especially remember them incentivizing memorizing a whole chapter of the Bible by giving an entire Little Ceasar’s Pizza to any kids who could. There was also teacher April who organized the Vacation Bible School and invited me to join the dance team as an elementary school teacher. I remember pastor Bob at Highway 56 sticking around later when my parents were late to picking me up. I remember pastor Brian at Rock Solid keeping us middle schoolers busy at the Jr. High summer internship.

Most of my memories are positive and most of them I cherish and remember fondly.

In high school, I started going to a new church in San Diego, and I remember pastors, Josh and Greg creating a safe space for us high schoolers. I remember Matt investing time and energy into making sure I was not just blindly following sermon talking points. I remember Frank treating me like an adult and not a project as he burned worship cds for me. I memorized scripture, listened to Christian Contemporary Music, and probably annoyed the living crap out of my non-Christian friends.

I’m pretty sure I broke up with a girl one time citing God as a reason..

I wrote entire posts on Tumblr devoted to my interpretation of scripture. My mother watched Fox News and I was convinced that being Christian was synonymous with being a Republican.

I knew the verses and the messages about grace and love, but I never stopped and listened to anyone who had a different life experience than I did.

I used to give mini-sermons at Christian club where I just copied the styles and themes that I had seen modeled for me in church.

If you are reading this, and we knew each other back then, this is my formal apology.

I am so sorry if you ever felt judged or shamed by the things that I said. Things that I, a flawed human, asserted that God said about you. Whether it was my blatant disregard for your emotions or my gaslighting and steamrolling of your worldviews, I am so sorry that I caused you pain.

In college, the cracks in my self righteousness began to show. I volunteered my time in my college fellowship, took calculated small steps of vulnerability in controlled situations, and pretended like everything was okay. My closeted addictions started coming out and by the time I graduated, I was full on tripping.

The Cynical Prodigal Son:

I remember going to Mexico City for the first time after I graduated from college and rationalizing to myself that my secret porn habit couldn’t actually be contributing to ruining the lives of real people.

Deep down, I knew I was lying to myself, and so I said that I cared about anti-trafficking efforts, but I quickly forgot everything I saw and experienced.

As I wrestled with my own sexuality and addictions, I became angry. I didn’t know what spurred the anger because I had never done the hard work of naming my emotions. I became frustrated and criticized the church for the needs I saw that it wasn’t addressing.

It was easier for me to blame the church for over-preaching about tithing and under-preaching about mental health and addictions because that meant that my problems weren’t my fault.

I stopped going to church, and lost the one thing I thought I’d always have: my integrity.

I was so confused.

For my whole life I knew that there was a “right” way to be a Christian. Christians didn’t sleep around, didn’t drink, didn’t do drugs, didn’t curse, voted yes on Prop 8, and volunteered as much time as possible at church.

But despite knowing that this was the “right” way to to do things, I knew that I was not actually adhering to the full letter of the law.

When I wasn’t at church I was cursing, experimenting, and let’s not forget, watching a SHIT ton of porn.

I felt like a fraud at church because I was.

Yeah, I had read the whole Bible.

Yes I had been to small groups and retreats.

Yes I had been on mission trips.

But there was this huge cognitive dissonance between who I was supposed to be and who I was.

After you attempt to quit porn after a church retreat for like the third time, you start asking some questions about whether or not something is wrong with you.

Toxic Church CULTure:

If you’ve gone to church, tell me if this sounds familiar:

The pastor talks about how everyone needs grace, and then some people at church look straight at you and when it’s time to pray for each other, nobody says jack shit about anything more than “work has been tough.”

At first, you think wow, everyone here has their shit together. I aspire to be this level of holy.

But as you spend more and more time there, you come to a shocking discovery: At ANY church, charismatic or conservative, expository or theme-based sermons, Hillsong worship songs or hymns, people are seriously fucked up.

Marriages are falling apart, addictions are out of control, mental health is a huge issue, volunteers are being abused, affairs are happening on the worship team, tithe money has gone missing, pastors are arguing and causing church splits, and it turns out, that some of the biggest assholes and abusers are churchgoers.

Then, depending on your level of self-awareness, you begin to realize that you are actually a part of the problem.

I remember realizing that I despised the fact that no one was talking about pornography, depression, and suicidal ideation in church. At one lunch with my mother, I asked her WHY the church was so silent on issues that I KNEW were relevant. She just sat with me and heard me out.

I kept criticizing and SLAMMING the church for what it wasn’t doing to make the world a better place. I thought it was ridiculous that churchgoers didn’t act like Jesus did in the New Testament, but it never occurred to me that perhaps I had a part to play in this.

A Perfect Storm:

In 2019, after about a year of therapy and processing my emotions, I realized that I had a lot of work to do on myself in order to not project all my baggage onto my friends, family, and significant other.

An incident, in which my pornography addiction wreaked even more havoc in my day to day life, led me to start aggressively targeting the root cause of my habit in therapy as well.

As I processed my emotions and sat with them for the first time in 25-26 years, I began to see the depth of my own pain and brokenness. And as my therapist validated me and told me that I wasn’t alone, I realized this fundamental need I had to be seen and heard.

It was as this was happening, that I realized that I had not felt seen or heard in really any of my circles except for a handful of scenarios.

My best friend, Imon who sat with me through all of the shit I had been processing even outside of the context of religious camaraderie.

My college pastor and friend, Abe who hugged me after I revealed that I didn’t think I could be a college small group leader because of my porn addiction.

My friend, Crystal who allowed me to sit in post travel and job hating depression because she too was experiencing it.

This concept of sitting with people as they were processing their emotions would end up being the missing piece that helped me tie together everything that I had been experiencing.

For the first time ever, I was allowing myself to be angry, sad, tired, cynical, happy, excited, depressed, worried, doubtful, anxious, heartbroken, worried, and a whole slew of other emotions without shaming myself into putting “faith in God.”

And while my Christian readers are waiting for the other shoe to drop as I say that therapy has led me away from God and into the ever waiting socialist arms of the far left, I have a surprise for you:

God showed up in my therapy sessions uninvited.

As I transitioned from talk therapy to EMDR therapy, my sessions began to tackle really traumatic memories in which I felt truly alone, violated, or damaged. And even though my therapist said nothing about God and I didn’t explicitly invite God into that space, He freaking showed up there in the middle of my deepest pain.

It was at this moment, that I realized the importance of being present during the painful seasons of those in our community. I think of Jesus mourning Lazarus, the disciples falling asleep as Jesus prays at Gethsemane, and the Holy Spirit descending in the upper room.

But hold up, I’m not done yet.

20 Fucking 20:

In the biggest plot twist of our modern day lives, 2020 came and screwed us all over. Whether you were a small business owner, a stay at home mom, a church goer, a food service worker, it really didn’t matter, we all were affected.

We had BLM in the streets protesting injustice. We had a freaking virus running crazy. Trump was re-running for office. Asians were being targeted in public.

I don’t even need to write you about this, you all ALREADY fucking know. 2020 was a cluster show.

It was at this critical point in history, that my faith in the church was shaken to its core.

While my faith in God was just recently reinvigorated, the marriage of christianity and politics that 2020 brought forth absolutely destroyed me.

One day, I’d be playing basketball at a park while being aggressively approached by a racist security guard only to hear from the pulpit that BLM wasn’t a Biblically founded movement. I’d grown up hearing about how Jesus spoke in parables where the heroes of the stories were marginalized immigrants, while my old church friends were lauding ICE and wall building as practically Christian endeavors. I’d learned as a child that loving your neighbor as yourself was second only to loving the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and strength, but then people were raving that masks and vaccines were inherently unchristian or worse yet the mark of the beast.

We were taught as children in Sunday school that we had a personal relationship with Jesus, but then all of a sudden, there was this HUGE push that God HAD to have us meet in person.

It was like everything was moving and changing and contradicting itself.

My heart sank as past mentors and pastors openly decried governmental mandates and went so far as to assert that being Christian meant defying laws designed to protect us. Nonchalant and cavalier comparisons to the persecution of Christians in other times and countries were liberally used by conservatives. AND THEN, just when things couldn’t get any worse, having views that weren’t as conservative became being anti-God.

All of a sudden the LITERAL depiction of loving your neighbor became rebranded as being socialist.


A Search For Doers:

As I sat with my dad at the breakfast table one morning in 2020, I shared with him how I was so discouraged and confused about my convictions on what the church should be. I asked him where the heroes were and who was actually doing what Jesus had commanded us to do in the Bible: loving God and loving people.

He didn’t have an answer, but he said that he would pray that I would find more of these heroes.

In the span of a year and a half, I was given the immense privilege of partnering with Fight the New Drug, my friend Calista referred me to join Clubhouse, I met Victoria on Clubhouse and was able to share my story on the Trafficked Truth podcast, and my friends Tina and Randy shared their story with me and hosted me on my longest stint in Mexico City yet.

In the face of the question: Where are the heroes who are doing Kingdom work, the answer came in the the form of El Pozo de Vida, 27Million, and new friends who have been doing Kingdom work in their respective areas of expertise.

Where I am:

It’s weird when you look back on the past few years and realize that the majority of the people who have been the best representations of God’s grace, acceptance, and character weren’t even churchgoers.

I have immense gratitude for my supportive family, my ride or die friends new and old, and for the organizations that have given me the privilege of partnering with them.

It’s interesting how I learned empathy, shameless acceptance, and recovery from sources that weren’t explicitly citing scripture or throwing “Kingdom principles” at me. All of these aforementioned traits are traits that the Bible teaches us that we should exhibit, and yet, as a Christian I admit, we have failed as a body to grow these character traits.

It might make some of you uncomfortable that I don’t quote scripture in my facebook posts every week anymore or that I curse when I write my blogs. It might be disconcerting to know that not all the organizations that I partner with have Jesus explicitly in their mission statements.

But that is just the point: I’m done playacting that I’ve got my shit together.

Never in my life, have I cared less about what people think about my motives or intentions, because I know what they are for one of the first times in my life.

I’d rather be congruent and consistent in who I am and who God has created me to be, than pretending to be someone who I am not.

It doesn’t help me or anyone else if I bury my struggles and pain and pretend that cliches and quotes are what can change lives and the world.

Our world is so fucking messed up, and we need to be on the frontlines addressing the needs, not just criticizing other doers from our high horses of self righteousness.

I honestly think that God created us to be innovative and creative in our problem solving approaches and part of that is trusting that God has given us the tools and gifts that we need to get the job done.

Maybe as a collective body, we as the church need to do a better job of leading with actions rather than words..

Maybe God isn’t so keen on our “defenses of the faith” on facebook so much as he is looking for our actions that display His love to those who need it.

Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. Therefore put away all filthiness and rampant wickedness and receive with meekness the implanted word, which is able to save your souls.

But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a aman who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing.

If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this person’s religion is worthless. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.

James 1:19-27

Have we focused too much on the very last phrase, fixating on spotlessness, while disregarding everything that came before it?

Is the pinnacle of our lives as Christians arguing about vaccines and the mark of the beast or is it going and doing as Jesus commanded: loving God and loving others?

67 Adventures

It is quite easy to find acquaintances who are willing to make plans with you. It is noticeably more difficult to keep friends who will keep true to those plans and follow through, time after time after time.

The year was 2018, and in the middle of a summer where everyone was trying to find different ways to cope, Marco, Dina, and I had decided to hang out together and try something new.

We stepped into the submarine themed escape room and did our best to escape… We did not.

As we scooped the consolation prize of Afters ice cream into our mouths after our crushing defeat, we talked about the room and how it was an interesting experience.

Then someone said something along the lines of…”if you guys want to do the other room…. I’m down”

We did exponentially better in the wizard themed room and when the first secret door reveal occurred, Marco exclaimed “Grab the daggers, we are fucking doing this!”

The rest is history.

Our escape room addiction spanned every genre imaginable, from a super mario themed gen one escape room to an immersive theater/scavenger hunt/escape room hybrid on a farm in the middle of nowhere.

Along the way, our roster also grew and shrunk as we invited friends and acquaintances to join us on our adventures.

But in the end, it was always us three that would be down to do “just one more” after completing a room.

In many ways, the challenges we faced in those 67 rooms were metaphors for the challenges we faced in our real lives.

Many times just like the door that just swung open to reveal a pitch black room, our next steps with our careers or big moves were just as obscured to us.

Oftentimes we waited in anticipation to do a room only for that room to be closed down or tragically destroyed.

Other times, we thought our roster was set and at the last minute someone dropped out or some random person was added into the room.

Some of the worst memories were when we shelled out our money but lost terribly in the escape room. One time we didn’t make it past the second or third puzzle and that was quite the awkward ride home.

On other occasions, I vehemently argued that I was right in a scenario as I steamrolled the opinions of Dina and occasionally my other teammates, only to discover later that I was in fact wrong and an asshole.

There was no lack of lessons from those experiences and I thank everyone who joined us on our adventures!

As I’ve seen the metaphorical leaves change color as the end of this season approaches, I’ve been filled with very confusing emotions. On the one hand, I’m so excited for what is to come, and my heart is so freaking hyped for what is next. On the other hand, endings are something that I have only recently come to appreciate.

As Marco, Dina, and I were preparing for Project Minotaur this weekend, a room that Marco and I had heard was being built 1.5 years ago, I felt a twinge of sadness as I realized that this could be the last time that we could all be in one place to do rooms together.

As I let the sadness run its course, I realized how grateful I was that Dina and Marco were my companions in this epic and expensive journey we had been on. During the height of our addiction, we were doing 2-4 escape rooms per weekend, and our friends and family looked at us with disdain when they realized how much money we were spending.

Other friends feared for our safety when we fell off the find my friends map to do escape rooms in uncharted parts of California.

But looking back, we realized that if we had not been as enthusiastic about completing rooms as we had been, we would have missed out on so many memories and so many room.

2020 was a year that killed so many small businesses, but escape rooms got hit especially hard. Many of our favorite rooms had to close their doors for good in the wake of the pandemic. It wasn’t until the three of us were sitting in the lobby of QuestTavern’s Last Supper, that we realized that the Cromwell Estate, Evil Genius, and countless other rooms no longer existed.

Dina and Marco will always be the ones that I associate with bravery, ingenuity, and teamwork. From our time running shifts together at Chick-fil-A to the countless times we escaped with seconds to spare.

We had to run into rooms that we were terrified to enter.

We had to think outside the box to solve unorthodox problems and puzzles.

And ultimately, we had to set aside disagreements in order to work cohesively as a team.

I’ll never forget our memories together as: ghosthunters, DEA agents, archaelogists, serial killers’ would be victims, secret agents, dinner guests, time travelers, lab rats, and scientists.

I believe that, as much as this is a blog expressing my gratefulness for Dina, Marco, and my other escape room collaborators, this blog is ultimately a thank you to every creator and game master who has invested into the task of worldbuilding.

It’s a huge risk to attempt to build an escape room, and it’s incredibly expensive to own and operate one. On top of that, it’s incredibly brave to take an idea or concept and create it in the physical realm for the world to consume and critique it.

On our journey we’ve met so many kind and creative escape room owners and creatives. It’s inspiring to see your faces light up when we ask about certain puzzles or ask about ideas you have for future rooms.

Us enthusiasts always remember the way that y’all fall into character when you are both the gamemaster and the owner. We see the excitement that you have to share your idea with the world and we are grateful that you chose to share them with us.

I’ve loved it when y’all have pulled us behind the scenes so that we could see how things work. It’s been an honor to get into your creative process and to see the evolution of your rooms. We celebrate with your successes and mourn with your tragedies.

You fill such an interesting space in the entertainment industry, and we are grateful to y’all for doing so.

It was interesting how even though the goal of the room was to escape, oftentimes we played the rooms to escape from whatever stressors were currently affecting us in real life. And while running from our problems isn’t the healthiest way to cope, making memories and learning how to be a better team player aren’t terrible ways to deal with the less pleasant parts of life.

I talk a lot about travel and adventuring outside of your comfort zone. A resounding theme in my blogs is embracing uncomfortability and asking questions you don’t have the answers to. Another theme is that of just taking leaps of faith in order to pursue goals that you might have. Most of these themes have been a direct result of my experiences in escape rooms.

To be quite honest, after I graduated from college my opinion after travelling to a handful of countries was that the United States was superior in almost every way, so why even bother visiting other countries. If it wasn’t for my obsession with adventure in the form of escape rooms that was born in the summer of 2018, I don’t know if I would have said yes to the Turkey trip of 2019. And if I didn’t go to Turkey, I don’t know if I ever would have gone back to Mexico City.

In my blog about the marathon, I spoke about how I needed to force myself into a challenge in order to prove to myself that I was capable of seeing something that seemed impossible, to its end.

In many ways, escape rooms were mini challenges that gave me opportunities to grow certain traits within myself that I wished were true about me, but maybe were not a reality yet.

Whether it was being brave, giving space for opposing opinions, taking risks, or making split second decisions, the lessons that I learned in escape rooms have laid the groundwork for real life applications.

In conclusion, we do not become who we are overnight. If we desire to grow and change, it is a process that comes through trial and error. If we never place ourselves in situations that test us, we will never give ourselves the opportunities to grow.

Wherever you may be, embrace the process and give yourself opportunities to grow and more importantly to fail. Find people who will accompany you on the journey, and be sure to appreciate the time that you have with them as all seasons end eventually.

But the fact that something ends doesn’t make it any less memorable or beautiful.

Adventure awaits!

P.S. Attached below is a list of all the escape rooms that I have done. Most of them have company names attached to them as well. Several no longer exist, but some of the best ones are still open! I have ranked my top ten and included honorable mentions. I hope that you get to enjoy some of them as much as I did!

The List:

1. Mario (square) (LOST)

2. San Diego themeless one

3. Minnesota business espionage one

4. Phantom Soldier (square)(Lost)

5. Harry Potter (square)

6. Escape the Darkest Hour (Mission Escape) #9

7. Jack the Ripper (LA mazerooms)

8. The Cromwell Estate (closed)

9. MurderCo (Black Market Escape Rooms)

10. Bloody Elbow (Questroom)

11. Ghost Ship (60Out)

12. Cannibal’s Den (Questroom)

13. The Basement Chapter One (lost) Repeated 1/6/19 and won

14. Secrets of Suburbia (Breach Escape)

15. Zoe (Escapade)

16. Red Giant (Questroom) #1

17. Stashouse (Stashhouse) Honorable Mention

18. Jumanji (60out)

19. Occam’s Apartment (Evil Genius CLOSED)

20. Norcross Art Gallery (Evil Genius CLOSED)

21. The Hydeout (Mission Escape)

22. Fun House (Crossroads) Honorable Mention

23. Trapped in Time (Puzzle Workshop)

24. Davinci’s Challenge (Questroom)

25. Prison Break (Foxinabox)

26. The Attic (Escapex)

27. Labrats (Hatch Escape) #8

28. Welcome home (RealityX CLOSED)

29. A.I. (Exit Game)

30. An Hour to Kill (Exit Game) Honorable Mention

31. Evil Mastermind (Exit Game)

32. Psych Ward (Crossroads)

33. The Hex Room (Crossroads)

34. Amityville (60out)

35. Zombie Lab (Foxinabox OC)

36. Exodus (Exodus Escape rooms)

37. Sorcerer’s Study (The Exit Game SD LOST)

38. The Escape (Unlockables in SD)

39. Cartel (60out)

40. Cursed Crypt (Escape Hotel) #7

41. The Virus (Get the F out)

42. The Attic (Escape Hotel) (lost)

43. Mafia Heist (EscapeX)

44. The Elevator Shaft (The Basement) #2

45. The Pyramid (Escape Room LA)

46. The Study (The Basement LOST)

47. The Courtyard (The Basement) Honorable Mention

48. The Experiment (GTFO)

49. Ground Zero (Prism Escapes) (lost)

50. The Morgue (Evil Genius CLOSED)

51. Perfumer (Questroom)

52. Hyde and Seek (60out)

53. Sister’s Secret (Unlockables)

54. The Curse of the Black Knight (Escapex)

55. Cabin 13 (Legacy Escape Rooms)

56. Smuggler’s Tunnels (Escape Chronicles) #10

57. Decades (Level Escapes CLOSED)

58. Operation Longbow (Mindtrap)

59. Conspiracy (Mindtrap)

60. Resurrection (Questroom)

61. Amnesia (Questroom) #3

62. The Strange Thing (Cinema Escape)

63. Irvine School of Wizardry (Hidden Donkey) #5

64. Headcase (Breaking Point) #4

65. Whitmore Estate (Breaking Point)

66. Project Minotaur (Questroom)

67. The Last Supper (QuestTavern) #6

Beyond A Reasonable Doubt

It’s three in the afternoon.

You’ve been in the jury lounge for the better part of the day.

You and the forty other people lucky enough to be summoned on this sunny July day.

Having vacated the courthouse twenty minutes ago, after the judge said that the court would make their final decisions on the jury in about ten minutes, you flip to the next page in R. F. Kuang’s Dragon Republic.

One of the court administrators steps to the podium at the front of the room and begins to read a list of names.

Your name is the second one read.

You get up even though you aren’t sure if this means you were selected or dismissed.

You take the elevator up to the tenth and final floor with thirteen other people, the judge congratulates you on your selection, and you all swear in.

The opening statements begin, and life as you know it changes… if only for a few weeks.

All Rise:

This was how the stage was set for my three weeks of jury service. I got to deliberate on a jury of fourteen civilians as we were presented with a federal criminal case.

Each day before we walked into the court room and as each recess finished, the courtroom clerk would say, “all rise” as we filed into our seats. At the opening of the door, all the attorneys, the defendant, and everyone else stood up as we entered or exited.

A few seconds later, the judge would enter, and we would remain standing until she gave us permission to be seated.

It was a strange feeling to be presented to for three weeks.

It was stranger to be unable to ask questions.

Like viewers on the opposite side of the tv screen, we watched the Netflix Special of the U.S. Government vs. Serge Obukhoff in gory detail.

A weight of responsibility permeated that court house and we carried that weight alone as we were instructed to speak of the details of this case to no one (not even other jurors). It consumed our waking hours and made it into many of our dreams, as we oscillated between guilty and not guilty opinions.

Objection Your Honor:

Perhaps one of the most annoying parts of sitting in that courthouse, was our relative ignorance of courtroom verbiage.

We were instructed not to research anything in regards to court proceedings or vocabulary, and so as attorney after attorney said things like: Objection: relevance, Objection: Leading, Objection: 503, Objection: Asked and Answered, Objection: Lack of Foundation, Objection: Speculation, or when the Judge said: “overruled” or “sustained” or “it has been stricken from the record” we were just confused.

I was definitely familiar with Viola Davis saying “Objection your honor, prosecution is badgering the witness,” in her role as Annalise Keating in How to Get Away With Murder, but this was the first time I was able to see attorneys make objections in real life.

As the days turned into weeks, I began to understand how much of a chess game the attorneys were playing with their choice of witnesses and their objections.

As jurors, we were to only take into account information that was not stricken from the record. And if the judge sustained an objection, it meant that we were to disregard that question and any potential answers that the witness gave to that question.

In many ways, the attorneys were sketching caricatures of the witnesses and shaping what we saw by the usage of their objections.

It was fascinating, and I caught myself smiling and having Eureka moments when I was able to see the strategy of what some of the attorneys were doing a few steps before they carried it out.

As a funny aside, I also wished I had a personal judge at my house so that I could say “objection your honor, relevance” whenever I got into arguments with my mother.

Only the Truth, The Whole Truth, & Nothing But the Truth

Of the seventeen witnesses that testified, a good third of them either had immunity, had entered plea deals, or were currently in prison.

The day that all of us walked in and the witness was already at the stand in handcuffs with a guard present, we all were taken aback.

We had heard of this guy in the previous days, and if anything was crystal clear in this case, it was that he was a criminal genius mastermind.

As I sat and watched these regular people with checkered pasts testify, I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity. Some of them seemed genuinely sorry that they had profited off of the ignorance of others. Others clearly lacked any remorse.

Before any of the witnesses was allowed to take the stand, they had to swear that they would only tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. But even so, the defense attorneys made sure to remind us jurors of all the times that some of these witnesses had lied under oath.

The handcuffed guy I mentioned earlier, had actually lied under a previous plea deal and almost got away with stealing 1.6 million from the government. His bad behavior was indeed punished as the prosecution was swift to remind us in their re-direct examination. Another witness swore up and down on the lives of her children multiple times while talking to FBI agents, insisting that she was not guilty of anything.

This element of the case was probably the most drama infused aspect of the whole experience.

We were instructed to take the witness testimonies as evidence, but to also take into consideration their potential ulterior motives and biases. We were straight up told to weigh their testimonies with caution.

As we listened, I couldn’t help but draw a connection between the witnesses in the case, and the people in our lives who have ulterior motives and perhaps less than wholesome agendas that we allow to have full weight when it comes to speaking into our lives.

Perhaps we should weigh their words a little differently depending on how they have treated us in the past..

A Fiery Defense:

One of my personal favorite moments from the trial was after one of the witnesses alleged that the defendant had openly admitted to participating in the kickback scheme when being questioned by the prosecutor.

The defense attorney approached the podium for his cross examination, and vehemently defended his client while attacking the witness.

He stripped the witness of their credibility, asked clarifying questions regarding the exact circumstances that took place in this alleged exchange, and defended his client with such energy that you could hear the emotion in his voice.

That angry and infuriated tone that the defense attorney exhibited, combined with his aggressive body language is something that I will never forget.

The defense’s main goal was to highlight the manipulative nature of the head ringleader in order to show that the defendant was in fact tricked.

It reminded me of many times in my life where justice wasn’t served. There wasn’t clear evidence that I was guilty of whatever I was accused of, but I was punished anyways. Or the times when I was guilty of something because I was misled into it.

There’s definitely been plenty of times when I have knowingly broken rules, but to see a defense so passionate about defending their client, reminded me of how I see the person of Jesus.

I could write a whole blog about how the triune God exists in the courtroom with the judge, defense attorneys, and jury, but that’s a blog for another day.

I think I left the courtroom that day realizing that this kind of fiery defense is what I want to provide when speaking up for those who are voiceless or marginalized. Maybe I’m not an attorney, but I want the words that I say to be used in defense of those who are being targeted by the powers that be.

Reasonable Doubt:

On the second to last day of our service, as we were given our final instructions before deliberating, we were told that the defendant was to be innocent unless proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.

As jurors, we were able to see the indictment (basically a written list of what the defendant was accused of), but we were unable to see the potential punishments or sentences. This is because the jurors’ job is solely to find the defendant guilty or not guilty. The task of punishment is the judge’s job. And the “burden of proof” falls upon the prosecution.

After watching movies like Runaway Jury in high school history class, I thought deliberating would be more like a game of Mafia or Resistance.

While we did appoint a “foreperson” and the loudest voices did end up filling up a lot of the space, it was interesting to see how our gut feelings and intuition had nothing to do with our decision.

In fact, many of us had doubts that the defendant was completely oblivious to the criminal scheme that he happened to be a part of. However, our job was not to convict based upon a feeling or intuition. Our only job was to decide if the evidence produced by the prosecution found the defendant to be guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.

And my gosh were there many many reasonable doubts.

Not Guilty:

I think the whole experience was encouraging in terms of the concept of being innocent until proven guilty, but on the flipside it was easy to see how this system could be abused and exploited for crimes where precautions were taken by the perpetrators.

At one point, after we had decided that the evidence found the defendant to be not guilty, I voiced this concern to my fellow jurors.

I said that I believed our evidence did not point to the defendant being guilty, but that for this exact reason, I was concerned that our justice system was not robust enough to handle instances in which abuse was ocurring but perhaps there was not a clear paper trail.

Obviously no justice system this side of life is perfect, as one of the jurors so matter of factly pointed out, but it still is a little disheartening to know that you could take a serial rapist to court, and he could still be found not guilty if concrete evidence that wasn’t just the word of his victim(s) wasn’t readily available.

I think it just taught me that justice and accountability really falls into the hands of normal civilians like your or me.

It’s us calling people out on their toxic or hurtful behavior that creates a paper trail and gives future perpetrators a chance to change their ways early.

In that same vein, we play a large part in preventing the victims of tomorrow from ever becoming victims.

One of the driving factors behind the rationale with which I use to make my life choices and choose the causes I rally behind, is based upon this concept of stopping the cycle of trauma that I see.

By the time an issue has made it to the courtroom, we in many ways are too late. At that point we are deciding guilt…. not preventing trauma.

We’re reacting instead of preventing or being proactive.

Closing Arguments:

I look out into the world and I see immense beauty but I see this beauty juxtaposed with pain. We see hurt people hurting people, and we see cycles and patterns that seem too big to stop. We feel helpless as we see problems in our cities and across the ocean.

We numb ourselves up with our coping mechanisms and with our work and we stay busy building our little empires while doing our best to stay oblivious to the injustices around us.

It’s easier to say that something isn’t our problem because it doesn’t affect us rather than making it our problem.

So this is my call to action for you:

Outside of work and outside of your hobbies, find something, and make it your problem.

Is it raising awareness on climate change?

Is it less robust education for underserved populations?

Is it the discussion of race with youth?

Is it labor trafficking?

Is it cyber bullying?

Is it a lack of integrity or accountability within a sector you work in?

Is it a lack of vaccination information and education?

Whatever it might be, there are so many problems in our world today. They need people like us to be brainstorming and experimenting with ways to solve them.

It is way easier to sit back, critique, and cancel politicians, celebrities, and policymakers, than to do the hard work of trying to solve them.

Partner with organizations, do your own research, find others who are like minded, and don’t give up!

If things carry on the way that they always have, we will always be one step behind true justice: the crimes will already have been committed and the inequality will already exist.

This is an invitation to time travel: let’s start working today, so that our kids and the generations that follow can have a better present than we see presently.

It isn’t hopeless, and contrary to common belief, this doesn’t have to be “just the way that it is.”

Let’s go!

Lessons from the City

Have you ever re-watched a movie from your childhood, and caught a theme or joke you completely missed when you were younger?

With each year that passes, I find that I learn fewer completely new things and instead learn secondary iterations of concepts I already thought I fully understood.

As I write this, I’m in Mexico City for a three week visit and my heart is full.

Every time I come to the city, I expect to serve and to leave something of value.

Ironically, it’s usually me that leaves with a different perspective.

Lost in Translation

There is something beautiful and exciting about not completely understanding the person you are speaking with. I remember coming to the city in 2015, and having NO clue what some of the beneficiaries were saying when we visited the safe house. That visit consisted of connect 4 marathons and Uno games where people might have broken all the rules.

During my second visit in 2019, I was tasked with teaching a few classes on business principles and I thought that Google Translate would be an accurate translator for me to communicate with… I was definitely wrong. My friend Ixel graciously translated for me, but I definitely bored the girls half to death with my boring and way too long lessons on building their businesses and brands.

When I returned from my trip in 2019, I resolved to practice my Spanish. I dusted off this software that I had long forgotten about, and finished the five course class in five months… Unfortunately, the pandemic hit, and I hardly practiced after finishing the course.

During this current trip, I resolved to try and use my “traductor” as infrequently as possible. It’s been chaotic and yet the trip has been filled with so many laughs and memorable moments as I try and find the words to communicate what I mean. Everyone has been so gracious as I ask them to repeat their phrases and “como se dice” has become my most common phrase.

I’ve learned that there is something beautiful about struggling to find the right word without the help of my phone’s translator. I joked around with my friend Jess that me using my translator was like “phoning a friend” in “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” Every time I need to “phone a friend,” I disconnect from the conversation I’m in. By attempting to limit my usage of the translator, I’m able to stay present. Even though it’s not the smoothest process, it’s taught me so much about how communication in any friendship or relationship takes work.

In many ways, we all speak different languages that are informed by our experiences, trauma, and history. Sometimes we are so concerned with saying the right thing, that we disconnect from the present in order to find the “best” way to say something. In doing so, we cease to listen and the authenticity of the moment is lost as we listen to respond instead of listening to know the person we are talking to.

Laughing at Myself

For those of you who don’t know, I accrued a massive amount of debt during 2018-2019. Partially due to poor coping mechanisms and a toxic work environment, I spent a TON of money on escape rooms, trips, and things that I thought would make me happy.

In hindsight, I was just trying to escape my day to day reality and in order to do so I literally locked myself in rooms with friends and tried to escape in sixty minutes.

After returning from Mexico City in 2019, I wanted to return as soon as possible, but I had SO MUCH debt that I literally couldn’t do ANY thing. I had avoided a budget for as long as I could and I was so afraid of knowing where my money was going, that I did everything I could to avoid attempting to get my finances in order.

I literally lived paycheck to paycheck even though I made a decent salary, and if I had been fired or had a medical emergency, I would have been on the street in five minutes.

In February of 2020, I came to the conclusion that I definitely had a problem, and I decided to take a personal finance class.

The first task was to save a thousand dollars for a starter emergency fund, and I wasn’t even able to complete this step until after the class was completely finished. It was depressing and painful to begin budgeting. All of a sudden, I was aware of where all my money was going. I got so sick of handmade sandwiches and having to say no to getting lunch at work. I cried a little when I realized how much money I was losing to interest.

In order to try and achieve my financial goals, I began to gamify my experience. I used T-mobile Tuesdays in order to get free Burger King Whoppers. I fought over mailer coupons with my roommates in order to get cheaper food. I filled out a ridiculous number of surveys to get free food. My budget tracker became my best friend as I tried to buy groceries for as cheap as possible. I started saying no to my initial impulses to buy things and I started donating any extra crap I had.

By the grace of God and many sandwiches later, I was debt free in November.

If you know me, you know that I have this habit of getting really excited about whatever I’m into at the current time.

I blasted my social media accounts with the importance of budgeting and saving and would literally try and pull in anyone that would listen. I’m sure I sounded like an MLM schemer with how aggressive my marketing of Financial Peace University was. So to everyone who I harassed, thanks for being patient with me!

Ironically, in 2021 as I was dealing with last minute trip preparations, I got a call from my old FPU instructor asking me to table lead for the spring FPU class. In the process, I wrote a handful of emails to the individuals at my table, where I shared about my experiences and did my best to encourage and affirm them.

So of course, IF YOU KNOW me, you know my life is just filled with these crazy coincidences that I call divine appointments.

Anywho, after I purchased my tickets two weeks before I was supposed to be in CDMX, I talked with the project volunteer organizer and without knowing of my experience with debt or FPU, she suggested that I talk to the girls at the safe house and transition home about….

You guessed it: personal finances.

As I presented my short presentation on budgeting yesterday, I incorporated some visuals that I hoped would help the girls remember the importance of money management. On a whim, I decided to share in broken Spanish about my own experiences con deuda.

I couldn’t help but laugh at myself a little bit as I presented. The girls’ eyes went wide when I told them about how much debt I had accrued and they asked me if I had learned my lesson.

I told them I had, and it was a great throwback to my conversation with my friend Cheyenne a few years ago about how our own struggles often give us the authority to speak on those subjects in the future.

Sin Miedo: Without Fear

In order to keep my taco weight at a minimum this time around, I had inquired with my host family about the presence of nearby parks or basketball courts. Luckily for me, Benny, the founder of el Pozo De Vida and his son Micah play basketball multiple times a week.

Basketball is a little different here. There’s the rims which seem to be a lot less bouncy. The basketball itself seems to be a tad smaller. And the play style here is a lot more pass oriented compared to the isolation heavy style on the West Coast.

One of the craziest things about basketball here is how fearless and savage the girls are.

Where I’m from, Basketball is this male dominated sport, in which seeing a girl in a pickup game is a rarity.

In the one week I’ve been here, I’ve seen girls play that can literally run circles around most of the guys here.

Three pointers? Of course.

Ball handling? I’ve seen girls keep possession while being double teamed by guys that towered over them.


Driving? They’ll literally take the contact from two dudes in the lane as they euro step to the basket

HONESTLY. It’s insane.

I’m fan girling over here, but I realized something as I was matching up against them.

They attack the basket facing what many would consider to be insurmountable odds stacked against them. But even if they are nervous, they appear to be fearless.

I WISH that I had that level of fearlessness in the game of basketball and in real life…. Unintimidated by the odds or the obstacles, I aspire to that level of courage and boldness.

Unbeknownst to any of the people that I’m playing basketball with, they have been teaching me about perseverance and courage on the court and off of it.

So if you have felt like you can’t do something because you aren’t qualified or because there are too many obstacles in your way, just remember the fearlessness of these ballers and be encouraged that you too can beat the odds.

It’s only been a week, but it’s been a non stop journey of excitement and rest.

Wherever you are in life, I hope that you are encouraged by what I’m learning here in the city.

P.S. If you want to help support El Pozo De Vida and you live in the U.S. text pozo11 to 44321. Their eleventh birthday is this Thursday and we are trying to get people to donate $11 for their 11th birthday.

Welcome to the Club

Fairly recently I started speaking and writing about the less than glamorous parts of my life.

In our cancel culture, I believe this could be misconstrued as a sort of brash arrogance on speaking about my own shortcomings.

I was actually inspired, to begin peeling away the filters I put over myself on social media, by a lyric that Andy Mineo wrote.

In his track “Honest 2 God,” Andy pens the line:

“We post pictures of the party, but not the ones throwing up at the end”

A common theme in Andy’s work is the importance of authenticity and honesty in one’s day to day life.

As a young person growing up within the context of homeschooling and church, I always believed that I either had to have all my shit together or admit that I was a failure.

There was no space for mistakes, and character flaws were promptly punished and behavior modifications were constantly being applied.

I learned the “correct” things to say, the appropriate behavior to engage in, and the activities to avoid.

From the outside, I was mild mannered and well behaved. Internally though, and to those closest to me, I was a powder keg waiting to explode.

I had a conversation with Imon the other day about how we define trauma and how we can trace the effects of our past trauma to today. We spoke candidly about how some of us have “relatively” less traumatic lives.

It was in this conversation that I was reminded of a conversation that I had with Crystal. In that conversation, we were discussing how it is important for us to validate our own emotions and frustration as we process through our pain.

To anyone who goes to therapy, we know that self validation is the bread and butter that leads to growth and healing, but to an outsider, self-validation seems inherently selfish.

We play the comparison game and we sympathize and pity those with “greater” trauma.

In reality, self-validation does not exalt your struggles over the struggles of others. In fact, self-validation just gives you permission to feel how you feel and to heal what has been broken.

When we give ourselves permission to be angry, sad, hopeful, anxious, frustrated, excited, happy, etc., we acknowledge that we are human and that we are worthy of love and acceptance even amidst the less than glamorous facets of our personalities.

The last year has been a whirlwind of activity.

I went from thinking I was going to travel a whole bunch more and perhaps move to Mexico City to facing the harsh reality of the quarantine.

Despite the change of plan, the year was incredibly eventful.

From a random email response from Andy Mineo regarding perfectionism and creativity, to a surprise video project where I had to learn Adobe Premiere. There was also the random video interview I did with Fight the New Drug talking about my journey over the last few years. As I was dealing with the mental and emotional effects of detoxing from porn, I was in a class where I was learning how to get out of debt and save. I was hitting up friends to do “No Porn November” with me while learning how to cope in more sustainable and healthy ways. I was invited onto the Clubhouse app, and found other anti human trafficking advocates who I shared my story with and I got invited onto a podcast and was asked to share my experiences with a lady’s thirteen year old son.

On the flip side: I had a handful of mental breakdowns last year and relied heavily on Imon to take detox trips with me into nature to calm the heck down. I struggled with anxiety as the covid crisis rose to a fever pitch and AAPI were targeted and treated with aggression. I had several bouts of depression as the institution of church abused its power and asserted that man knew what God’s will was. I went on a porn bender after the quarantine initially started and I struggled to put the bottle of alcohol down.

Amidst all the amazing things that were happening, I felt trapped and stuck. I didn’t feel like I was moving the needle and I didn’t feel like I was where I was supposed to be.

So I did the only thing I really knew how to do and I just started writing about everything I was feeling.

I went from only talking about porn with my therapist and closest friends to blogging about it and then going full blast advocating against it.

An addiction that was a source of shame and guilt for years started dissolving once I began talking about it.

I started addressing depression, anxiety, doubt, frustration, therapy, and my various addictions and vices in my blogs.

The churchboy facade started fracturing and I became less compartamentalized. Strangely enough, as I questioned the motives and actions of the church, I felt God nudging me to continue to deconstruct further.

As I wrestled with the church’s inaction and silence on matters that I thought needed to be discussed, I felt led to speak into those areas where there was only deafening silence.

My friend Cheyenne in Mexico City encouraged me that “Our greatest weaknesses are often what God uses… our struggles give us authority”

Clubhouse is an app that allows users to basically host Ted Talks on any issue they desire.

Rooms range from discussions with Elon Musk, to mental health, and everything in between.

When I got on the app in February, I quickly was serendipitously connected with anti- human trafficking advocates, mental health advocates, creatives, and old friends in far off places.

The free form nature of the rooms I joined quickly revealed to me, that what I had believed to be unique stories and experiences for myself were in fact the stories and experiences of many.

Rarely have I felt so validated by complete strangers, but with little to no space to customize one’s profile, users were forced to simply rely on their stories and anecdotes to paint a picture of who they were. And for people who were looking to connect with organizations and individuals doing specific work in specific areas, Clubhouse provided a unique opportunity.

It was on this app that I met Victoria who runs a safehouse and a podcast for human trafficking survivors. As I shared my FTND interview experience and my desire to get more involved in the anti human trafficking and anti porn space, she was quick to validate and affirm me while thanking me for sharing. I distinctly remember her being a fiery advocate in her defense of survivors that were vulnerably sharing their experiences on Clubhouse. While some white and more privileged moderators steamrolled the stories of survivors, she made sure to affirm and give space to everyone who shared.

She was gracious enough to host me on her podcast and she is doing incredible work representing POC’s in the anti human trafficking space while also giving POC’s the space to share without taking advantage of their stories to push a hidden agenda.

Be sure to check out her podcast at this link and support her work if you feel led to do so!

In conclusion:

We often hide the ugliest parts of ourselves for fear of rejection.

When we hit rock bottom, often we feel alone and isolated and we believe the lie that we are the only ones to have gone through this.

Tobymac in his track “Stories,” models the song after a roundtable discussion in which people are sharing the shit they go through. One of the lines goes:

I’ve been there too

When everything falls apart and the best you can do is

Get through each day wonderin’ will this never end?

Is it always going to be this way?

And the greatest lie you’ve ever been told is that

You’re the only one to ever walk on this road

And that you’ll never see the light of dawn, so we came together to say

Hold on

Cause we’ve been there and found our way home

I promise you that you’re not on your own

One day this will pass, God will see us all through

God will see us all through, God will see us all pass through

What if the ugliest parts of your story need to see the light of day in order for you to heal?

And what if, your struggle and your pain and the isolation you felt when you went through hell was a nudge for you to provide encouragement to someone who is going through that now?

What if we posted not only the birthday parties, and the concerts, and the trip highlights?

What if we were honest about our trauma?

Our broken families.

Our broken hearts.

Our addictions that threaten to derail our lives.

Our doubts.

Our fears.

Our illnesses.

Our dysfunctionality.

Our brokenness.

What if when someone was honest about what was really going on in their lives we could answer with “I see you and I feel you. Welcome to the club”