My father was home, but not present. By the time I reached young adulthood, I realized I would have to guide myself. I thought I knew what success looked like—there were milestones, goals that society said defined adulthood. Graduate from college. Get married. Build a career.

So that’s what I did. I went to Central Washington University, intending to study Criminal Justice, but ended up graduating with two degrees—a Bachelor of Arts in Sociology with a minor in Anthropology, and a Bachelor of Science in Social Services with a minor in Philosophy. Check.

I got married. Check.
I began working as a coach for adults with developmental disabilities. Check.

From the outside, I was right on track. But inside? I was lost.

Every year for birthdays, I offer a special gift: a tarot spread using a deck chosen from my (admittedly too large) collection. What started as a personal ritual eventually became my most requested session—the 13 Keys Annual Path Reading.

A few years ago, I gave this gift to my daughter, Mackenzie. After reading through the seasons of her year, each one with their own challenge and growth, she turned over her Soul Card, the 13th Key at the center of the spread.

Forgiveness was something I needed to learn in order to survive.

During and after my divorce, my family of origin couldn’t or wouldn’t accept my new partner. They excluded her from conversations, left her off invitations, and continued to embrace my former partner instead.

Many people tense up when they see cards like Death or The Devil. But when The Tower shows up? That’s the one that really shakes them.

I had a client recently who was going through a rough patch in his marriage. When The Tower appeared in his spread, he threw his arms in the air and said, “That’s it, I’m losing everything.”

The Chariot card looks like a green light. You’ve got momentum, you’ve got direction, and you’re ready to charge. But here’s the catch: when you push too hard, you can cross the finish line alone, leaving behind the very people you wanted to succeed with.

Let’s get this out of the way—nice is not the same as good.

Nice is holding the door while silently resenting the person who walks through. Nice is saying “sure, no problem” when inside you’re thinking “I hate every second of this.” Nice is a performance, and people can smell the inauthenticity on it.

If you’ve ever wondered why “being nice” doesn’t earn the respect you think it should, here’s the truth: niceness without boundaries is just manipulation in a polite suit.

The Lovers card—cue the dramatic music, rose petals, and maybe a shirtless man holding a sword on a cliff somewhere. Hollywood has trained us to think this card is all about finding the one. But in truth? Sometimes the one… is you.

And not in the “eat-pray-love, buy yourself flowers” cliché way. I mean really choosing yourself—especially when it’s the hardest option on the table.

January 1st was months ago. It felt like a magic doorway. We made grand declarations—This year I’ll get healthy, quit the habit, save the money, find love. And by February? Most of those promises are gathering dust next to the unused gym shoes and unopened journals.

It’s not that you’re weak or unmotivated. It’s that resolutions—at least the way most of us make them—are built to fail.

Resolutions crash and burn because they’re fueled by a burst of short-term motivation, not by sustainable change. They often come from pressure (what we think we should do) rather than clarity (what we actually need). And without a deep “why,” we drift right back into old patterns.

This past New Year’s Day, I sat down with my wife, Jess, and drew three cards for her year ahead. It wasn’t a prediction — it was her compass. A map of the currents she’s been swimming in, the tides she has been heading into, and the horizon she can choose to aim for.

This year, 2025, the cards spoke with a force of truth she’d been afraid to confront, a grief, an understanding of her over giving wrapped by her sense of worth