"I knew what I needed to do. And I wasn’t doing it."

The aftermath of a brain injury led me to dedicate years to unstructured, chaotic days. At times this meant getting much-needed rest in a supportive home, and at other times it meant living in my car in the streets of LA and wondering where grocery money was going to come from.

I needed the time away from the demands and structure of traditional life, yet as the solitude and spaciousness did their work, I began to crave structure and discipline again.

I was doing “whatever I wanted” yet I often wasn’t doing what I’d told myself I would do.

I started getting fed up with myself, aware that I was overdue to reengage with life. By the summer of 2024, I’d found my way back into a proper house with a pile of roommates. From the outside, I was doing better. There was a roof over my head and I was making money. But I felt further away. My life didn’t feel like my own. I was performing the life others expected of me, and it was bringing out the worst in me.

I was making a piece of art one day and went to throw away a bit of red string I didn’t need. I don’t know what compelled me, but I stopped. I tied the string on my wrist. I decided it would be my reminder that I was going to make different choices. I was going to tell the truth, keep my word to myself, and be kind to myself along the way.

I thought the string would last a few weeks, at most. It lasted for 10 months. I took my commitment to the truth seriously, and it rocked the foundation in every area of my life. I had more hard conversations in those months than ever before in my life. I saw my own actions with clear eyes, and it was humbling. Misaligned relationships fell away. Slowly, subtly, opportunities started to open up. My relationships deepened. My life felt like my own. I had real preferences and unique taste. Levels of intimacy I’d only ever dreamed about became my norm.

When that first string broke, I knew it was a commitment I wanted to make for life. I now have a red band tattooed around my left wrist.