10/01/2026
Yesterday was my 44th birthday. I spent a lot of the day reflecting and thinking about whether I wanted to share any of this publicly, but after keeping so much of the last year private, honesty feels more useful than pretending everything is fine.
So in the spirit of being honest, yesterday wasn’t great. Not because it lacked messages of love and care from family and friends, but because I’ve had a very difficult time celebrating myself over the last year.
During the summer of 2025, I found myself in the midst of a life-threatening personal health crisis, and it shook me to my core. Thankfully, I asked for help before it was too late. With a lot of work, and the support of some truly selfless people, I found the ability to reframe my thoughts and feel hopeful again.
But I also discovered that the time had come for me to step away from my greatest source of both joy and crippling pain: my restaurants. Carrying a mix of guilt and shame, I admitted that if I didn’t make some serious changes, both personally and professionally, I wasn’t sure I was going to survive where my mind was taking me.
Fast-forward a year, and I feel more resolute than ever that the decisions I made were the right ones. That doesn’t change how badly I feel about leaving the businesses, and moreover my team behind. It doesn’t change how often I worry about everyone at Gunshow and wish I could help. And it most certainly doesn’t mean that I have this whole thing figured out. In fact, I’ve never felt less certain of “the path” than I do now.
That said, I have chosen an uncertain future, with all its possibilities and hopes, over giving up on life simply because I wanted the pain to end.
I’ll be back in Atlanta this winter to pack up my home and reflect on a chapter of my life filled with immense joy and moments of deep sadness. Then it will be time to move on and see what the world has in store for me.
It’s terrifying to leave behind the only career I’ve ever known and embrace professional uncertainty. I don’t know what comes next, but with a heart open to my community, a heavy dose of optimism, and maybe a little luck, I trust that I’ll find my way. For now, I think that’s enough.
