How Did I End Up in a Documentary About Consciousness?

Part 1: There Has to Be More Than This

Four years ago, my life looked exactly the way I thought success was supposed to look.

Amazing husband. Check.

Great career. Check.

Healthy, happy kids. Check.

Travel, adventure, beautiful home. Check.

From the outside, I was living a life many people spend decades working toward. I had spent decades working toward it myself. And the truth is, I was genuinely happy. This isn't a story about being miserable and pretending otherwise.

But underneath all of it was a quiet, persistent feeling that I couldn't shake.

There has to be more than this.

Not more money.

Not a bigger house.

Not another promotion.

Just... more.

More meaning.

More connection.

More purpose.

At the time, I couldn't explain it. I only knew that something inside me felt restless.

I was working in the high-stress, male-dominated world of software sales. The work was intellectually challenging and financially rewarding. It provided opportunities I will always be grateful for. It allowed me to travel, support causes I cared about and build a beautiful life with my family.

But somewhere along the way, I realized that my bank account was growing faster than my soul.

I'd hit goals I once dreamed about achieving and instead of feeling fulfilled, I found myself asking, Now what?

Every mountain I climbed seemed to reveal another one behind it.

So I tried to fill the gap.

I volunteered.

I donated money.

I served on boards.

I looked for ways to contribute beyond my career.

Yet the feeling remained.

If you've ever ignored a whisper from life, you know what happened next.

The universe is remarkably patient at first.

It nudges.

It plants ideas.

It sends little moments that make you pause.

But when you continue ignoring those nudges, eventually it stops whispering and starts using a bullhorn.

In 2022, I was at the peak of my career. I finished the year as one of the top sales representatives in my company and closed the largest deal in company history. I also came in second place, missing the number one spot by 1% during the final week of the quarter. Not that I'm keeping track. Clearly I've moved on.

I should have felt victorious.

Instead, I felt strangely empty.

Not because I wasn't grateful. I was.

Not because I didn't appreciate the accomplishment. I did.

But I had spent years believing that reaching the next level would finally bring the fulfillment I was looking for. And standing on top of that mountain, I discovered something unsettling.

The view wasn't what I thought it would be.

After years in SaaS, I knew how the game worked. My territory was tapped. If I wanted another massive year, I would likely need to move to another company and start climbing again.

Normally that's exactly what I would have done.

But I was tired.

Not physically tired.

Soul tired.

I didn't want another mountain.

I didn't want another quota.

I didn't want another version of the same story.

So I stayed.

The following year, layoffs swept through the company. Technology is a volatile industry and after enough years you learn to recognize the signs before everyone else does. When the meeting invitation appeared on my calendar with our VP of Sales and Head of HR, I already knew what was coming.

What surprised me wasn't the layoff.

What surprised me was the relief.

When the call ended, a calm settled over me.

There was no panic.

No anger.

No desperate scramble to update my résumé.

Just a deep knowing.

This chapter is over.

The fear I thought I would feel never arrived.

Instead, it felt like someone had opened a door I hadn't been willing to walk through on my own.

What I didn't know was that another chapter had already begun.

About a year before the layoff, I had started what I thought was a healing journey.

I wanted to feel better.

To understand myself better.

To work through old wounds I had spent years carrying.

I had no idea that journey would eventually throw me face-first into a spiritual awakening.

At the time, I would not have described myself as a spiritual person.

If anything, I oscillated somewhere between agnostic and atheist.

The only reason I never fully embraced atheism was because of a handful of experiences I couldn't explain. Moments throughout my life when I sensed something around me. An energy. A presence. Something that felt real even though I had no framework for understanding it.

I believed there was probably more to existence than what we could see.

I just didn't know what that "more" was.

As I began healing, I started doing something I had spent most of my life avoiding.

I started feeling.

I learned how to connect with my emotions.

I started unpacking the stories and beliefs I had carried since childhood.

I worked through wounds from my first marriage.

I confronted grief I still carried from the death of my son, Connor.

And as layer after layer began falling away, something unexpected happened.

The world started getting a lot stranger.

Or perhaps more accurately, I started paying attention.

Looking back, I understand something now that I didn't understand then.

Healing isn't just about feeling better.

It's about removing the layers of conditioning, fear, grief and old beliefs we've accumulated over a lifetime.

And when enough of those layers fall away, something else begins to emerge.

Yourself.

What followed would eventually lead me to channeling classes, out-of-body experiences, conversations that challenged everything I thought I knew about consciousness and, somehow, a documentary filmed at The Monroe Institute called Instructions for Leaving.

If you had told the software sales version of me that this was where the road was leading, she would have laughed in your face.

In a few weeks, I'll be heading to The Monroe Institute to participate in a documentary called Instructions for Leaving.

Four years ago, I didn't even know what The Monroe Institute was.

Now I'm preparing for an experience that has the potential to challenge everything I thought I knew about myself and the world around me. In many ways, that journey is already well underway.

Over the last few years, I've had experiences that I can't easily explain. Experiences that forced me to question assumptions I had carried for most of my life and opened the door to possibilities I never would have considered before.

Trust me when I say this journey was not on my vision board.

But somehow, every step led here.

Looking back, I can see that the journey didn't begin when I found The Monroe Institute.

It began the moment I stopped dismissing the things I couldn't explain.

In the next part of this story, I'll share some of the experiences that made the world start feeling a whole lot stranger.

Another thread from my heart to yours.