I have personality of an addict.
Diagnosed with ADHD, control has been a constant struggle for me, both growing up and even now.
What others might see as a vice—this obsessive drive—has ironically been one of my greatest assets in building businesses.
When I feel passionate about a project, I throw myself into it with a single-minded focus.
For an entrepreneur, that obsession can be a gift.
Hustle, persistence, and systems are the backbone of success, and that relentless drive has come naturally to me when I’m working on problems I care about.
Talent may get you through the door, but it’s grit that make you thrive.
As a first-time founder, my obsession has given me a sense of direction that others often struggle to find.
It’s helped me succeed where many have failed, and it’s shown me the value of being goal-oriented, no matter how many hours I have to put in.
When obsession fuels addiction
But obsession doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t choose wisely. It just consumes.
There were times when that same drive—the same all-in, no-limits hunger—took a darker shape. One drink turned into three, turned into ten. A quick bite became a binge, the kind that leaves you wondering how you got there.
I’d look at myself in the mirror and see it: the red eyes, the shaky hands, the hollow regret.
It came to a head a few months ago on a night I can’t forget, no matter how much I’ve tried. The streets were alive with the hum of neon lights and muffled laughter spilling out of bars.
I was chasing something, though I couldn’t tell you what.
I didn’t see him coming—an undercover cop, quiet and precise, his words slicing through the haze like a cold blade.
The next few hours were a blur of fluorescent lights and suffocating questions, but the weight of it didn’t hit me until later.
Alone in my room, staring at the ceiling, I felt it: the crushing realization that this was who I’d become.
That my obsession, my fire, had turned against me.
This only happened around 3 weeks ago.
It was the kind of moment that leaves you raw, stripped bare.
I had to face my family, their faces etched with a quiet mix of sadness and relief as I told them everything. Words spilled out of me like water breaking through a dam. For the first time, I stopped running.
There was dread, then relief.
Turning Obsession into Purpose
That night changed me. It didn’t fix me—nothing ever truly does—but it made me stop and ask:
What am I really building? What am I feeding this fire for? What am I fading into?
The answer, I realized, was already there. Entrepreneurship. The thing that had been saving me all along.
There’s something almost sacred about creation. Working on a project, witnessing it come to life, the slow unraveling of a problem until it finally makes sense…
It feels like stepping into a rhythm that’s bigger than me. It gives me purpose, direction, and a reason to move forward.
Money is great, but there are better ways to make money.
I love creation because it lights something in me that’s pure and good. It provides that dopamine rush that I’d get with substances without the self-destruction.
Even when I dream about "retirement," I know I’ll still be creating, still building. I imagine myself helping nonprofits optimize their systems, not because I have to, but because I want to. Because it feels right.
I’m learning, slowly, to let the fire warm me rather than burn me.
To channel it into something that matters. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not running from it—I’m running with it.
For now, I know this: I’m still here. I’m still building. And as long as I can channel my intensity toward something that matters, I’ll keep moving forward.