Last year changed me—but not in the neat, permanent way I expected.
I remember sitting with my father, a man who had always been strong, active, and full of life, facing a diagnosis that didn’t care about any of that. Brain cancer doesn’t negotiate. It doesn’t wait for better timing. It just arrives.
Watching him go through that forced a realization I couldn’t ignore: life isn’t something you plan to enjoy later. He had built a multi-million-dollar business and wasn’t going to be able to enjoy the benefits of doing so.
So I made a promise—to slow down, to stop running at full speed, to actually live the life I spend so much time helping others plan for.
And I started preaching it. I found myself telling clients things I hadn’t emphasized enough before: take the trip, buy the dream car (if it makes sense), move to the place you’ve always imagined, etc. You’ve worked for this. Enjoy it. Use it. Live it.
In many ways, it became a different kind of advising—less about accumulation, more about permission. But here’s the uncomfortable truth.
While I was encouraging others to live more fully, I wasn’t fully doing it myself.
Business was growing quickly. Wealth Partners On Main was gaining momentum. And without even noticing it, I slipped back into the same crazy lifestyle—busy, focused, forward-looking.
I told myself I’d get to things “soon.”
My marketing plans.
My events.
Even my own succession planning—something I advise on regularly.
I had a framework. I had conversations. But I didn’t go deep. I didn’t pressure-test it. I didn’t treat it with the urgency I should have. I procrastinated.
And then, recently, I was reminded again—more personally than I would have liked—that we don’t get to assume we have time. After spending a month battling a serious illness—one that a significant percentage of people don’t survive—I saw just how quickly perspective can sharpen.
It was jarring to realize how fast I had drifted back into old habits after everything I witnessed with my dad.
In my profession, I live in the future. I spend my days projecting retirement timelines, forecasting markets, planning for tax seasons that haven’t happened yet. I make decisions today based on what I believe will happen years from now.
That’s the job.
But here’s what I’m learning—what I’m still learning: If you only live in the future, you risk missing your life in the present.
What good is a well-built portfolio or completed financial plan if you don’t have the health—or the time—to enjoy it?
Health and wealth aren’t competing priorities. They’re partners. One without the other doesn’t work the way we think it will.
For me, that means something simple, but not easy:
Stop treating health like a side account.
Stop assuming there will always be time later.
Start giving the present the same level of attention I give the future.
Because balance isn’t automatic. It’s intentional.
And it’s overdue.
As we enter the summer season, I urge to take time to plan for your future and live in the present.