My Promise

Before I share more of my story, I want you to know what I’m promising you.

I’m not perfect. I’m learning every day how to use my voice, social media and the things I’m building to do some good. Sometimes I’ll get it wrong. Sometimes the words won’t come out the way I meant them. Bear with me. I’ll listen, take responsibility and keep learning. I don’t have everything figured out, but I care enough to keep trying.

I’m not here to call people out or build myself up by bringing somebody else down. My story includes people I love, people I’ve hurt, and people who have hurt me. Telling it honestly means owning my part, too. It doesn’t mean turning anyone into a target or asking you to take sides. I want to tell the truth with care, knowing that other people have stories of their own.

To my family: you will always be part of my journey. That doesn’t mean every part of our lives belongs in public. Some things belong to us, and I promise to protect that.

To my children: I want you to know there are good people in this world. People who show up, who listen, who help without needing applause. I promise to keep showing you that goodness—and to work on being someone who shows it through his own actions.

To my wife: I promise to keep walking beside you and caring for the life we share. Your love gives me strength to speak when I’m afraid and keep going when I doubt myself. As I reach toward other people, I won’t forget the person beside me. Whatever grows from this, you are part of the heart that made it possible.

And to anyone finding their way here: this welcome includes you.

Every race. Every person in the LGBTQ+ community. Rich or poor. Certain of who you are or still figuring it out. Whether you stay for a while or you’re only passing through, you deserve to be treated with dignity.

I won’t reduce you to a label or decide your whole worth from a distance. Compassion and accountability can exist together. We can make room for people while still taking responsibility for the harm we cause.

I promise that money and growth will never be worth more to me than people. I want this work to succeed, but I won’t measure that success only by what it earns. I want to care about what it gives, how it treats people and whether I can stand behind it honestly.

I’ll help where I can. And I’ll be honest about my limits. I’m sharing my experience; I’m not a replacement for a therapist, counselor or mental health provider.

Some parts of my story will be difficult to hear. I’ll give you clear warnings when we reach those subjects. You can pause, step away or decide a reading isn’t for you. You don’t owe me your pain, your personal details or your attention at the expense of your well-being.

If you come back, I hope you find honesty here. Something to think about. A little courage. A reminder that people can struggle, make mistakes, learn and still choose to do good.

There’s more I want to share, and I want to share it with care. For today, this is where I begin: with a promise to keep learning, keep listening and keep choosing the kind of person I want this work to reflect.

Thank you for being here. You’re welcome to come back exactly as you are.