This week is my 50th birthday
Much like my server at Benihana, you may not believe it, but why would I make this up?
I’m not mad about turning 50 years old. But is this what I thought life would look like? Not really.
Yes, there were some real highs this year. I published a bestselling book. I did work I’m proud of. I had moments where things clicked in ways they hadn’t before.
But in many ways, this year didn’t go according to plan — financially, professionally, or personally. On the same day I reached bestseller status, I got hit by a car. I had to slow down in ways I didn’t choose. Parts of my business didn’t work the way I expected them to. I made changes to my team that were overdue and uncomfortable. A few relationships I thought were stable, weren’t.
None of that is a complaint. It’s just the reality of the year.
When enough things change at once (good and bad), you don’t get to stay on autopilot. You have to decide what you’re building, who you’re building it with, and what you’re no longer willing to spend your energy on.
Milestone birthdays have a way of forcing that reckoning. You look around and realize some decisions aren’t optional anymore. You don’t have the time, energy, or interest to keep doing things that don’t fit. For me, this year clarified what actually matters, how I want to work, and what I’m no longer willing to carry forward.
That’s what I want to share today: the lessons that came out of this year, and why they led to some real changes…including finally putting a name to this newsletter.
What I learned this year
1. Not everything gets better if you just try harder.
I put a lot of effort into things this year that didn’t improve because effort wasn’t the problem. Some situations only change when you change the structure, or admit that something isn’t working and stop forcing it.
2. Volatility is exhausting, but it’s also clarifying.
This year was in constant roller coaster motion. Some great things happened. Some really hard things happened. Roller coasters don’t actually coast — they have to be towed up to a pretty high point and then take a big drop to get momentum. You can’t keep towing everything in anticipation of things working out eventually. You have to decide what actually matters.
3. Aging is real. Then someone hits you with a car.
I already knew I had less energy than I did ten years ago. Getting hit by a car removed any remaining ambiguity. I have responsibilities beyond work, and a lot of people who count on me. I have to save some of my energy and attention for the rest of my life, which means keeping firm boundaries on work.
4. My body gets a vote, even when I don’t like the answer.
Related to that, there are physical limits now that aren’t temporary. I can’t just “work through it.” That forced me to rethink how the business runs and who needs to be able to step in when I can’t.
5. I really like writing and thinking. I really do not like micromanaging.
This was not a surprise. What was new is that I finally stopped pretending it might change. The business does not need me building financial models and filling out benefits forms.
6. Boys are gross.
Do I love my kid? Yes. But he is also extremely excited about deodorant. We talk about “boy smells” a lot in my house now — the cleats, the scentmaxxing, the use of shampoo and conditioner in separate bottles.
7. But also, time with my kid is not infinite.
As we started looking at middle school, it became very clear that I have a limited number of years where he actually wants to hang out with me. That changed my math. We went to Japan this year with a very light itinerary that included a lot of gashapon machines. We chose ninja training over heritage sites. It was the trip a nine-year-old wanted, and that mattered more than anything else.
8. Sometimes no one is coming to do it for you.
I didn’t expect to plan my own 50th birthday party. But eventually I realized the choice was either to not have a party and be okay with it, or stop pouting and find a workable solution. I threw out a Partiful invitation. We’re playing UNO under Christmas lights.
9. I don’t want to work with everyone, and that’s a good thing.
Up to this point, my annual goal has been to double the number of business owners I can help. Having explored scaled programs, masterminds, and events, I realized I’m not here to build a personal marketing machine. I’m here to build companies.
Next year, we’re doing hands-on consulting and this newsletter. We’ll work deeply with a handful of companies and I’ll share what we’re doing with everyone else for free. It’s about creating space to do the work well, with the right people, at a pace that actually makes sense.
And yes, there is space for you, if you’d like to join me. If you’d like to talk about becoming a consulting client, reply to this email with CONSULTING and we’ll get you on my schedule for the first week in January.
All of that is why this newsletter finally has a name
And you’ll see it soon, as we make some changes around here in the coming weeks:
Built, Not Bought
If you’re wondering why it took so long, the honest answer is that “name the newsletter” has been an unchecked task in ClickUp since 2022. The newsletter existed. It grew. People read it. But that box stayed unchecked, and I knew it mattered more than I was willing to admit.
This year forced the issue.
Built, Not Bought is about rejecting the idea that, as a founder, you have to play by someone else’s rules to build a real company. Venture capital playbooks. Silicon Valley timelines. Hustle-till-you-drop culture. None of that is required. What is required is building something profitable, sustainable, and aligned with your values on purpose.
It doesn’t mean you’re anti-growth, and it doesn’t mean you’ve settled for being “just” a small business. It also doesn’t mean doing everything alone. It means refusing the false choice between poverty-wage lifestyle businesses on one end and unicorn-or-bust thinking on the other. There’s a middle path for self-funded founders who want smart, intentional growth that actually fits their life and their mission.
And this isn’t just a name for what I’m doing. It’s a name for what you’re doing too. The people who read this newsletter aren’t chasing shortcuts or trying to buy legitimacy. You’re building real companies, making thoughtful tradeoffs, and doing the unglamorous work it takes to grow something that actually lasts.
This newsletter has always been about that.
Built, Not Bought just finally puts words to who we are and what we’re doing together.
Turning 50 is a beginning
Fewer things, done better. More intention. More space.
That’s what I’m taking into next year. I’m making room for the work I actually want to do, with people who care about what they’re building and why it matters. I’m letting go of the rest.
If you’re here because you’re trying to build something real on your own terms, at a pace that fits your life, then you’re in the right place. That’s what Built, Not Bought is about, and that’s what this newsletter will continue to support.
