You Are Not Too Far Gone

There's a version of me from a few years ago that I don't talk about much. Not because I'm ashamed of him, but because he feels like a completely different person. And honestly, that's the whole point of this article.

If you're reading this and you feel like you've wasted too much time, like you're behind, like the gap between where you are and where you want to be is too wide to cross — I wrote this for you.

The Version of Me Nobody Saw

When COVID hit, I was in a bad place. Not in the dramatic, cinematic way people talk about it on podcasts. In the quiet, invisible way where you just stop doing anything meaningful and convince yourself that's fine.

I wasn't building anything. I wasn't working toward anything. I was just existing, and not in the peaceful, intentional way. In the stuck way. The kind where you know you should be doing more, but you can't figure out what "more" even looks like, so you just don't start.

I think a lot of people felt that during COVID. But for me, it wasn't just the pandemic. It was deeper than that. I genuinely didn't know what I was supposed to be doing with my life. And when you don't have a direction, every day feels the same. You wake up, do nothing that matters, go to sleep, and repeat. And the longer that cycle goes, the harder it becomes to believe you're capable of breaking it.

The Switch

I can't pinpoint the exact moment it changed. I wish I could give you some movie scene where everything clicked. It wasn't like that. It was more like a slow realization that I was running out of excuses.

And then something happened.

I started. Not because I had some grand vision. Not because I was "ready." I started because the alternative, another year of doing nothing, scared me more than failing.

I fell in love with the process.

Not the results. Not the money. Not the validation. The process. The act of doing the work. The late nights figuring out how to make a campaign actually convert. The obsessive tinkering with a landing page until it felt right. The problem-solving. The building.

The Obsession That Saved Me

People use the word "obsession" like it's unhealthy. And sure, it can be. But for me, it was the opposite. It was the thing that pulled me out.

I became obsessed with getting better. Not in a comparison way, not "better than someone else." Just better than yesterday. I wanted to understand marketing at a level that most people don't bother reaching. I wanted to be precise. I wanted to be excellent. Not for the accolades, but because the pursuit itself felt like the first meaningful thing I'd done in a long time.

If you want a recent example, this website you're on right now has gone through over 30 functional iterations in the past week alone. Thirty. Not because any of them were bad. But because I couldn't stop refining it. I'd finish a version, look at it, and think "this could be better." And then I'd rebuild it. Again. And again.

Some people would call that a waste of time. I call it the reason I'm here at all.

That same energy, that same refusal to settle, is what turned a kid doing nothing during a pandemic into someone building a company, working with AI startups, and writing articles at 1 AM because he genuinely wants to.

You Just Have to Know It to Be True

I want to be honest about something. My conviction, the deep-down belief that I could actually do hard things, didn't come from a motivational video or a self-help book. It came from my faith. It came from God.

I'm not going to preach at you. That's not what this is. But I'd be lying if I wrote this article about what pulled me through and left that part out. When I had no evidence that things would work out, when every rational indicator said I was behind and under-qualified and out of my depth, there was something deeper that told me to keep going. And I listened.

Whatever that thing is for you, your faith, your family, a promise you made to yourself, hold onto it. Because the world will give you a thousand reasons to quit. You need at least one reason that's stronger than all of them.

Forget the Gurus

Here's what nobody with a Lamborghini in their thumbnail is going to tell you: fulfillment doesn't come from the outcome. It comes from the alignment.

When you find something you can make genuinely fun and exciting, something that pulls you forward instead of something you have to drag yourself through, that's where 90% of fulfillment lives. Not in the revenue milestone. Not in the follower count. Not in the "passive income lifestyle" that someone's selling you for $997.

It's in the work itself. It's in choosing a thing, whether it's a school, a business, a job, a craft, and making it yours. Making it something you care about deeply enough that the hard parts stop feeling like punishment and start feeling like the price of admission to a life you actually want.

I genuinely believe that. I believe that the kid who's scrolling at 2 AM feeling like they've wasted their potential is closer to a breakthrough than they think. Not because of some magic formula. But because the fact that they care, the fact that the gap between where they are and where they want to be actually bothers them, means the fire is already there. It just needs permission to burn.

What I'd Say to That Person

If you're the person I wrote this for, here's what I want you to hear.

You are not too far gone. You're not too old, too young, too broke, too uneducated, too whatever excuse feels the most convincing right now. The gap between doing nothing and doing something is exactly one decision wide.

You don't need to have it all figured out. I didn't. I just needed to start, and then I needed to fall in love with getting better. That's it. That's the whole strategy.

Pick something. Make it fun. Make it yours. Get obsessive about it. And when people tell you you're doing too much or caring too much or trying too hard, understand that those people have never felt what it's like to be fully alive inside of their work.

The juxtaposition from where I was during COVID to where I am now is so sharp it almost doesn't feel real. But it is. And if it happened for me, it can happen for you.

You just have to know it to be true. And then you have to start.

- MM