Hi there, thanks for stopping in.

I’m Trevor, 30-something-year-old going on 19 some days and other days what feels like 80. While the aches and pains of life have accumulated, they’ve taught me a valuable lesson. I’ve learned to slow down [in the past few years], and suddenly life has sped up. Oh the paradox. 

From not being able to name more than three authors (aside from a few ancient stoics, and the famous J.R.R Tolkien or J.K Rowling) in my early twenties, to; for the past decade regularly consuming up to six books per month, I’ve nurtured daily my ability to focus, mono-task, and hold my attention to research specific topics I’m passionate about.

You see, what might sound trivial, “sitting still” (long enough to read a book at least) was actually just an oversight of mine that I didn’t become aware of until my mid-twenties. It’s hard to fix a problem one doesn’t know exists.  I’ve been on-the-go hustling for as long as I can remember. According to my mom it’s been this way since birth “Trevor never crawled, he just went straight to walking. He’d stand up, grab onto whatever low lying furniture he could, and go. He’d stumble, and fall of course, but he’d get up and just keep going”. To be honest, the more I write and reflect as an “adult” (I use that term loosely)  I don’t remember a dull moment or sitting still in my childhood long enough to get past the cover of a book, unless I was forced to in class. At home, for punishment when banished to my 8×8’ room (full of toys I’d admittedly get lost in at times), I was unable to leave until I’d written an apology letter, some form of which usually read “I will not hit my brother”… “I will not break (his) toys” or some variation of “I will keep my hands to myself” two hundred, three hundred and sometimes five hundred times depending on the severity of my childhood crimes. This repeated mantra would be scribbled across the tear soaked page in my chicken scratch until it filled what felt like at the time an entire notebook and then and only then would I finally be let out. But wait there’s more, what’s worse than the torture I learned to call “writing”, oh I’ll tell you, it’s the dreaded sentence of being forced to sit quietly on the bottom step of a staircase, silently watching everyone else have fun, the original FOMO. Imagine that, sitting still, quietly and content, what so many adults in this fast paced modern world do everything in their power to carve out a few minutes for each day. My childhood experience compelled me to reject sitting still, and writing, two of what I now consider my most important values for nurturing self love.

Clearly my childhood wasn’t “the worst” but, the effects (damage) nevertheless had it’s long term effects, avoiding reading, writing and sitting still stimulation-free at nearly all costs as I continued to grow. While gratitude has become a key value of my six pillars of wellbeing, I am eternally grateful for not only parents, but parents who cared enough to discipline me, free of physical or emotional abuse. Their love has guided me to my current state.