
I grew up in sunny Northern California — ocean breeze, the Golden Gate at sunset, Lake Tahoe. Beauty everywhere. And still, most days, I felt trapped in my own life.
For twelve years, I worked in California state government. Six of them at California Correctional Health Care Services — the Medical Prison System — visiting institutions and seeing firsthand the weight those walls carry. Six more as an analyst at the Department of General Services, the business operations center for one of the largest state governments in the world, where I spent my final two years as a Research Data Analyst II. Two roles. Two windows into how large systems function. And through it all, one quiet feeling that would not leave me: I was serving time inside a system that wasn’t mine.
What I wanted was simple and out of reach: to be home with my son, watching him grow, watching that big, joyful smile. Then our family’s circumstances changed, and the wanting stopped being a private feeling and became a problem on the calendar. There was no one to take him to and from school. Daycare wasn’t an option we could afford. And I realized something quiet but unshakable: I didn’t just want to spend more time with my son. I needed to.
So in 2021 I walked away from the so-called “security” of government work and stepped into something far more valuable — the chance to be fully present as a father. I knew I needed to be with my son. And truthfully, he needed me too.
What came next took five years and a lot of wrong turns. I evaluated platforms the same way I once evaluated systems for the State — line by line, against twelve years of notes. Every system I’d ever reviewed had a point where it fell apart. This one didn’t. EntreMinds is what I built on top of it.
That thought doesn’t usually arrive once. It comes back — on a commute, on a Sunday evening, in the middle of a week that went fine. Something in you keeps returning to it, and that’s worth paying attention to.
I know what tends to sit between the thought and the decision, because it sat on me for a long time: the fear of the unknown. It is usually louder than the wanting, because staying put comes with a schedule, a paycheck, and a story that’s easy to tell at dinner. For years I kept the idea close and told myself next year.
Here is the part I always knew: the walls were never made of the job. I was carrying an employee’s mindset, and getting out was going to take a different one — an EntreMind. That is where the name comes from, and it is the only real qualification I have for writing any of this. I went first.
For the five years since I left, I have been building as an Estage founder alongside a private group of entrepreneurs doing the same thing.
I’m an Estage ambassador. When someone builds their hub on Estage through me, I earn a commission — once at the start, and a share of the subscription for as long as they stay. It costs you nothing extra, and the price is the same whether you come through me or not.
Here is the part worth saying plainly: I earn more when your hub actually gets built and stays useful to you. If you sign up and never log in again, that is a bad outcome for both of us. Our interests point the same direction, which is not true of every arrangement in this industry.
I have also turned down things I don’t think most people need, and I’ll keep doing that. If a cheaper path is the right one for you, I would rather tell you than sell you.
See the whole path, stage by stage →As an affiliate of ESTAGE I earn a commission from qualifying purchases. At no extra cost to you.