Origin Story

If you absolutely insist on playing by your own rules, living beyond the edge, turning your trials into strengths, your passions into a lifestyle and your ideas into gold…then I’d like to share a little story with you…

It’s about going against the system, refusing to conform to the 9-to-5 status quo, and achieving a life of freedom, excitement and unlimited possibility that few people believe is even possible.

It wasn’t always this way though. In fact, it used to flat-out suck.

You see, growing up, I had a stepfather who was a pastor-missionary in Mexico, which made me a missionary’s kid.
My early years were spent bouncing between Washington and the downtrodden city of Tijuana, Mexico. During the summers, my mother and I would stay in Washington with my grandparents, while my step-father traveled from church to church, gathering support and coordinating youth groups to build houses for Mexican families on free plots of land given to them by the government.

As soon as the summer would end, good ol’ Stepdad would shuffle us back down to Mexico, where, on the back of a motorcycle, I’d shoot north across the border each day to attend school on the U.S. side in Chula Vista, Ca. After school, I’d head right back to TJ to do missionary work.

My stepdad was terrified of the possibility of anything secular grabbing ahold and influencing me into some imaginary wayward path. He only allowed me to attend a private Christian school, where the kids had nothing but the latest, greatest, newest stuff. Meanwhile, I lived on handouts and trotted around in worn-out, old hand-me-downs donated by the church.

I was constantly teased and bullied—in Mexico for my pale skin and golden hair, and at school, in Chula Vista, for my ragged donated clothing.

Then, when I was thirteen, during my yearly summer pilgrimage to Washington, my Stepdad abandoned us in the middle of the night, cleaned out our bank accounts, and ran off with a 21-year-old girl from the church, who, it turned out, he’d been having an affair with for years. Mom and I were left homeless in Washington State, without money, resources, or hope.

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