Have you ever found yourself in a familiar situation, realizing that last time you didn’t quite make the right decision?

Or, as James Clear recently described, maybe you walked out of life’s barbershop with the wrong haircut—or, worse, a tattoo you didn’t want.

Honestly, I don’t often feel that way—or maybe I just don’t remember it. My memory conveniently holds onto only what matters. And I’m fine with that. Life’s complicated enough without storing every little detail.

But a few months ago, I found myself in that familiar place again. Working hard, earning well—but feeling unfulfilled. This wasn’t the first time. I recognized the feeling, and I knew it wouldn’t go away on its own.

A few years ago, I faced the same crossroads. Back then, I quit my job, spent the summer with my wife—my best friend—and our three kids. It felt right to give myself time to figure out my next move. But, if I’m being honest, I didn’t find the clarity I was hoping for.

When winter came, so did the urge to build something of my own. But I wasn’t sure what exactly. I remember thinking, If only I had one burning problem I was desperate to solve. Ideally, something that could become a B2B SaaS—my dream scenario. I knew that if I could just focus on something, I could make it happen. The problem? I didn’t know what to focus on.

I spent a few months exploring opportunities and meeting people. By summer, instead of starting my own thing, I joined a startup from day one. It felt close enough to being my own, and for a while, it was great.

But over time, the familiar unease crept back in—anxiety about how we were building, frustration with a lack of freedom and trust, and worst of all, I stopped learning. That’s when Garry Tan’s words started echoing in my mind:

“At every job, you should either learn or earn. Either is fine. Both are best. But if it’s neither, quit.”

I was earning well, but that wasn’t enough anymore.

One morning, I woke up earlier than usual. The room was quiet, a faint chill in the air. I lay there, thoughts racing. Suddenly, it was crystal clear—I had to quit if I wanted things to change. There was no other way. I felt it also aligned with my "think slow, act fast" mantra.

In my usual spontaneous style I turned to my wife, who was still half-asleep, and said, “I’m going to change my occupation.” She mumbled something, half-conscious, and I took that as understanding ??.

Later that morning, I met with my manager and told him I was leaving. I was ready for it to be my last day—after all, I’d seen it happen with my colleagues in the Bay Area startup I worked for. But this time, we agreed I’d stay for a month to help with the transition.

It wasn’t until later, during a casual Google Meet with a friend, that my wife overheard me talking about my decision. Turns out, not only did she barely hear me in the morning—she wasn’t sure if it was real or just a dream. Instead of preparing something new before quitting, as we’d previously discussed, I’d already made up my mind to leave. You can imagine how that conversation went ??.

I apologized for not being clearer, and I’m deeply grateful for her support.

So, there I was, with a countdown timer set for my last day. Over the next month, I did my best to wrap things up, but it was tough to stay focused. The pull to think about what’s next was too strong, and honestly, I’m not too proud of how I handled that final stretch.

When my last day finally came, it was just before Christmas. I decided to spend the holidays fully present with my family. I knew I wouldn’t jump into action right away—but this time felt different. I wasn’t quitting to escape. I was quitting with a purpose.

I made a commitment—not just to build something that gives me financial freedom, but to create something meaningful. Something that aligns with my goals: to have a meaningful, fulfilling, lucrative, sustainable, and joyful business, and to live by my personal mission: to inspire self-belief, empower action, and make the world a better place for all.

And now, 1.5 weeks in, here’s what I’ve decided—I’m going to build this publicly. I want to share as much of the journey as possible, openly and honestly. This is the first post of what I hope will be many.

If any of this resonates—whether you’re building a SaaS, thinking about starting your own thing, or just figuring out your next step—I’d love for you to join me on this journey.

See you tomorrow.