About
Servant. Father.
Survivor.
Before the stage, the strategy and the trust work, there was a kid raised by a single mother, a soldier with two loose titanium screws in his shoulder, and a man who twice came within inches of ending his own life. This is that story, in his words.
Family & Faith
Servant, father,
husband & son.
Raised by a single mother, my sister and I grew up fiercely independent and capable. We had to be. Our mother battled substance abuse for most of our lives, and it would eventually take her from us at 63. For four short years, while living in Sydney, Australia, we were unofficially adopted by a Greek family, and that was the first time I understood what the word "family" really meant. Community. Unity. Unconditional love. That glimpse was all I needed to paint the picture of the family I wanted. It took me 30 more years to make it real.
In 2007, dealing with a debilitating injury from my military service, extreme pain, depression and major memory loss, I almost ended my own life. In 2015 I found the Lord. In March of 2018, after the passing of my mother and deep therapy work, I released a decade of guilt about my own near suicide and opened myself up to letting someone in. Less than a month later I met Meagan, my best friend, partner and wife.
If I am honest, there was zero chance I would have been a good father in my 20s or 30s. Intent and execution are not always connected. I was lost, reckless and unsure. Now, nearing 50, I have found myself and my place in this life. Becoming a father in 2021 changed everything, I took three years off travel to be the most stable presence in the house. Then came Roman, born with LCHAD, a rare metabolic disorder that reshaped our lives. It was time to get back to work, so I did. These boys are my legacy.
My faith, my release of guilt and my trust in God are the only reasons I am here today. My purpose is to help others find their peace and navigate around the obstacles that nearly ended my life. Service to my family is #1, community #2, and reaching those in the shadows #3.
My disabilities do
not define me.
(Disabled) Weathered Veteran
The darkest years.
In 2007, at the height of my professional acting career and just as my advertising business was growing, screws inside my shoulder from a military surgical repair came loose and brought my world to a screeching halt. For nine years the VA had misdiagnosed two loose titanium screws as "arthritis." The result was like throwing a grenade into a dryer. Nothing would ever be the same.
What followed were the darkest years I have ever faced. Multiple surgeries. Debilitating pain. Loss of work and the closing of my business. Financial distress, mounting medical bills and major depression. The battle with the VA was nothing short of unethical, and the amount of medication they put in my body was nothing short of criminal. It almost left me a statistic. I nearly took my own life twice.
"You are not the only one. There are more of you out there, struggling in the darkness."
Ever since that moment I have been on a quest to find those who are silently battling, the lost brothers and sisters who feel alone, unseen and hopeless. In 2018 I faced an almost exact mirror of 2007: surgeries including a joint replacement, excruciating pain, depression, financial hardship, memory loss and lost self-worth. The difference was my team. I met my wife that year and she stood beside me when most people wouldn't. We came out the other side stronger.
My disabilities do not define me. They shaped me. But just "getting through it" is not enough, that is survival, not living. My mission is to teach people how to get through it and thrive.
Mental Health Advocate
From alone to aligned.
During the deepest part of my depression I felt lost, hopeless and alone. Since those days I have made it my mission to shine light on the people still sitting in the darkness. We are stronger together, and sometimes it just takes someone showing up to say: "Follow me. I know the way out, because I have walked this path myself." Therapy is great, but understanding from shared experience is, at times, even more powerful.
Over the past 15 years I have volunteered with incredible veteran organizations. As a public speaker my voice has reached veterans, family members and civilians in need. As a mental health advocate I have worked with local organizations to spread awareness and break down stigma.
Ohio State Veterans & Shakespeare Project
A six-week workshop for veterans, with a mirror program for caretakers and spouses. MFA students then produced a play from the experience, bridging the gap between the veteran and civilian worlds.
Suicide prevention campaign
As an outspoken suicide survivor, my hometown asked me to be the face of their suicide prevention initiative, bringing real lived experience to the campaign materials and brochures.
Adventure Seeker
Adventure, my door to serenity.
As a kid who grew up outside, including eight years in Australia and six months in the outback, adventure was part of my DNA. At the time it was just life. It took decades to realize adventure was my breath in life.
In 2015 I took that to a new level. After sitting dormant for eight years due to my injury, I hit a wall. I was tired of letting my disability define what I was capable of. So I set out on the hardest challenge I could find: hiking the Pacific Crest Trail.
The PCT is 2,650 miles from Mexico to Canada and takes about five months. You carry everything you need on your back. Fewer than 4,000 humans had completed it before my walk, more people have stood on top of Everest. Let that sink in.
I started the trail to prove that my suicide story wasn't a weakness but a season, and that I could make it through the hardest things without reverting to that hopelessness. Little did I know the trail would deliver the hardest blow possible: my military injury, requiring a joint replacement, stopped me dead in my tracks.
Hiking 25 miles a day for five months is hard. Doing it with a bone-on-bone shoulder and torn muscles was impossible, until I found a new source of perseverance and faith. That journey tore open every wound I had and demanded I rebuild myself from the inside out. Along the way I found my calling: to use my story to help other people find their way.
Watch The Epic Mile
Trust isn't given. It's earned.
That is not a slogan. It's a life. Bring that story to your stage, your team, or your growth strategy.