Real Stories of the Normal 40.

“Because coming from him, my dad, a man who had spent his whole life waiting, it felt less like advice and more like permission. The permission I needed to finally do it.”

I never know who I’m going to meet every time I hit “Join Meeting.”

For the last two years, I’ve opened my calendar to people who never thought they’d be here—elite performers, executives, entrepreneurs, career military, physicians. High achievers who have spent decades building success but now feel restless, stuck, or called to something more. People who would trade what they have, but don’t know what it is they would trade it for.

I’ve built my life around one mission: helping elite performers start something new. It creates an incredible journey for them, and I get a front-row seat to the action. I show up here to inspire change in a thousand livesa€”people on the cusp of transformation. Some standing at the edge. Some in the fight. Some hoping they muster the courage to start.

Every conversation is different. Every story is worth telling. Everyone hoping this is their time to finally break free to make a better bet on themself. Everyone hoping this is the day change begins.

These are their stories.

Today, meet Cameron.

Cameron grew up in the Midwest, in a family where hard work wasn’t just encouraged—it was expected. Success meant stability, and stability meant doing what was practical, what was proven, what was safe. And for years, she followed that blueprint. She built the life she set out to build—stable, successful, the kind of career people envied.

But when we talked in February 2024, I knew this call was different. I could hear it in her voice—the kind of energy that comes when someone is standing at the edge of something big. She wasn’t just asking if change was possible. She was asking how big she could dream.

And then she said something I can’t shake.

“My dad always told me to live life to the fullest.”

She paused. And then, almost like she was realizing it in real-time, she added:

“And for the first time, I’m actually listening.”

Her dad had spent his entire life working. He had done everything by the book—providing, grinding, waiting. And then, at nearly 70 years old, he finally took the trip he had always talked about. He spent a summer in Alaska. And just like that, it was over.

That stuck with Cameron.

She had spent years convincing herself that there was always time. That she could chase dreams later, once things settled down, once she had enough saved, once she felt fully ready.

But her dad’s words—you only live once—suddenly carried a different weight. Because coming from him, a man who had spent his whole life waiting, it felt less like advice and more like permission. Permission she didn’t know she had been waiting for.

She had built a career in the insurance industry, making good money, with a clear path forward. Promotions. Bigger deals. More responsibility. She had spent years chasing that next level.

And then one day, she stopped.

Not physically—she still showed up, took the meetings, made the decisions. But mentally, she felt like she had stepped outside her own life and was watching herself go through the motions. She started asking questions she had never let herself consider.

Is this it?

How much longer can I keep doing this?

How much more of my life am I willing to trade?

She had always assumed she would retire from this industry. That’s how she was wired. You don’t quit when things get hard. You don’t walk away from something that’s working.

But then life started throwing warning signs.

First, a health diagnosis, one directly tied to stress. It was manageable—for now. But it forced her to acknowledge that the pace she was running at wasn’t sustainable.

Then, the death of her aunt. A woman who had worked her whole life, putting off joy for the promise of someday. Someday never came. That loss hit Cameron in a way she didn’t expect. It forced a reckoning.

And then there was her daughter. Young, still in preschool. In just a few months, she would start school, locking them into a schedule that wouldn’t allow for an adventure like this again. Cameron realized that if she wanted to do something different—something bold—it had to be now.

So she did it.

She and her husband both quit their jobs at the same time. No backup plan. No corporate safety net. Just a deep, undeniable pull toward something bigger. Some would call it reckless. Cameron saw it differently.

They didn’t just quit. They designed what came next.

First, they gave themselves space. Time to breathe. Time to think. Time to undo years of being on autopilot.

Then, they set out on an adventure. In April, Cameron was heading to Europe. Months of travel—part with her family, part completely solo. She was going back to Denmark, the place she had studied abroad 17 years ago. It wasn’t just nostalgia. It was a chance to reconnect with the version of herself that had once felt limitless, the young woman who believed the world was wide open.

And there was more.

For years, Cameron had carried a book inside her. A story she wanted to tell but had never quite shaped into something real. That’s what we talked about. She had the experiences, the insights, the lessons. But turning them into a book? That felt like something other people did.

I challenged her to look at it differently. Maybe it wasn’t just a personal story. Maybe it was something bigger—a book that could help others find the courage to step off the path they were told to follow and into the life they actually wanted.

She was at the beginning of something big. She could feel it.

We both could.

And here’s what I know—Cameron didn’t just quit her job. She took back her life. She saw the warning signs before it was too late. She did what so many people dream of but never act on.

She made The Trade.

Most people wait. They wait for permission. They wait for clarity. They wait until things calm down or until they feel fully ready.

Cameron didn’t wait. And neither should you.

Because the life you want is possible. Finding it won’t be easy, obvious, or free.

It will be a trade. The Trade of a lifetime.

I still do free rambles. You can still go to normal40.com and book one. I still book out several weeks, but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be on my calendar.