Journey

The world, as I knew it, had imploded. Not with a bang, but with a series of quiet, insidious unravelings that left me feeling like a ghost haunting my own life. For years, I’d worn the mantle of "successful tech" a role that fit me like a tailored suit, albeit one I was now realizing was cut from my father’s cloth.

The high-paying jobs, the perfect suburban home, the picture-perfect family – it had all been a carefully constructed facade, a legacy I’d unwittingly inherited.

The first crack appeared not in my marriage, but in the quiet self-study of my emotional state and negative behavior patterns. Why was I so stressed all the time? Why was i emotionally reactive? Why was I constantly self-soothing? I began to unearth the hidden truths of my childhood. My father, the charismatic, demanding but hypocriticaI role model I always believed I should emulate, was revealed to be a textbook malignant narcissist. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. Suddenly, the subtle manipulations, the emotional withholding, the constant need for approval that had shaped my very being, clicked into agonizing focus.

This newfound understanding was a double-edged sword. As I began to see my father’s patterns, a chilling familiarity settled over me. My wife, I realized with a sickening lurch, had employed strikingly similar tactics. Which made so much sense once i understood where my behavior had its roots.

The intellectual understanding of our marital dynamic was like the dawn of a new day after 20 years. Though, it was coupled with a profound spiritual and emotional unearthing. I was opening up, raw and exposed, in ways I never had before. This vulnerability, instead of bringing connection, amplified my sense of disconnection. The identity I’d so carefully cultivated – husband, father, provider – was dissolving, leaving me adrift in a sea of uncertainty. The humiliation of her departure, not for another person, but for what felt like an escape from me, gnawed at my core.

Then came the professional blow. Like a 1-2 punch, the layoff from Yahoo was a public stripping away of another layer of my perceived success. The once-clear path to rehiring, to reclaiming my old status, became a labyrinth of rejections. Friends and family, well-meaning but rooted in the familiar, urged me back to the corporate grind, to the safe harbor of my previous life. But that life, I now saw, was a gilded cage, a monument to my father’s expectations, devoid of true authenticity. I started to wonder if the rejections were as much of a reflection of my own lack of internal commitment to that role.

A nascent desire to build something of my own, a business born of my own vision, warred with the ingrained fear of failure and the pressure to conform. I felt torn, pulled between the ghost of who I was and the elusive whisper of who I could be. Not finding any external encouragement or support for my evolving beyond my past experience.

The past few years became a cruel testament to the transient nature of life. My parents’ divorce in 2019, a final fracturing of a long-unstable foundation (with the gift of insight embedded). My sister-in-law's sudden passing in 2020, a brutal reminder of life’s fragility. My marriage ending, another anchor lost, then the passing of my father in-law, for whom I learned much. It feels as if my entire familial landscape has been systematically erased.

My friends, once my confidantes, seemed to stare at a stranger when they looked at me. The "old Bob'll Do It," the one they knew, was gone, and the "new me" was a work in progress, too raw and undefined for them to fully grasp. I felt a profound isolation, a chasm separating me from the world I once inhabited.

But within this newly vacated landscape, something extraordinary began to stir. The very act of losing everything forced me to confront the core of my being. The peeling away of layers, sitting with my truth, though painful, was also an unburdening. The “old me,” the performance artist, was dead. And in his place, something new, something raw and unpolished, was beginning to emerge.

This was the genesis of what would become Breathwave.

In early 2024, still deeply immersed in the emotional fallout, I embarked on a healing journey that took me to Pachamama in Costa Rica and then through Panama. It was there, amidst the lush, vibrant natural world, that I met a kindred spirit. She saw past the wreckage, past the pain, and offered me something I hadn't felt in what seemed like an eternity: unconditional love. In a period where I felt utterly loveless, her presence was a beacon. Though she lived in Germany, we spent countless hours sharing life across video chat, her gentle wisdom a balm to my fractured soul. She helped me find moments of integration, glimpses of the whole person I was trying to become. But alas, I was still navigating the treacherous waters of my divorce and the profound shift in my identity.

My mind, my heart, my very being, was so consumed by the internal battle that I wasn't able to be present for and aware of her as she truly deserved. That regret, that knowledge of what could have been if I were whole, remains.

Authenticity, I realize, isn't a destination; it is a process of continuous becoming. It's not about being perfectly "you" all the time, but about the process of shedding what isn't you, about listening to the quiet whispers of your soul even when the world is screaming contradictory advice.

Growth, I discovered, wasn't a linear ascent but a cyclical dance of shedding, learning, and expanding. It wasn't about achieving a final, perfected state, but about the courage to show up for each new iteration of yourself.

I started small. The business idea, once a fleeting thought, began to take root. I spent 1000s of hours researching, practicing, and dreaming.

The fear was still there, a constant companion, but it was no longer paralyzing. I learned to differentiate between the nagging voice of my internalized father and the quiet conviction of my own authentic desires. I allowed myself to grieve, not just for the losses, but for the years spent living a life that wasn't truly mine. I started to spend more time in nature, finding solace in the quiet grandeur of the jungle and mountains, a stark contrast to the sterile cube farms and WFH nooks I'd once inhabited.

This journey of self-discovery led me to the profound power of breathwork, to the very concept that now defines This Breathwave. It became clear that the path to true self-discovery, to integrating all the fragmented pieces of my life, lay in connecting with my own vital energy.

Through breath, I found a way to bridge the gap between my intellectual understanding and my emotional experience, allowing the healing to deepen and the integration to occur.

I founded Breathwave not just as a business, but as a living testament to this metamorphosis. I now leverage my vast experience, approaching it with a newfound integrity. I choose clients whose values align with my own, something I would never have considered in my previous life. I speak about my past not as a victim, but as a survivor, a student of life who has navigated treacherous waters and emerged stronger. "My marriage ended," I would say simply, "and it was a difficult period of immense personal growth." Or, "I learned a lot about myself when my career path diverged, and I'm grateful for the clarity it brought, which ultimately led me to found This Breathwave."

My friends might not see the "old me" anymore, but a few, the true ones, see a deeper, more resilient man. I've found new connections too, drawn to others who had walked through their own fires and emerged with a similar quiet strength. I speak about my father's narcissism not with bitterness, but with a detached understanding of its impact, a recognition that allowed me to break free from its patterns.

My story became one of radical metamorphosis. The painful losses, the dissolution of identity, the loneliness and solitude aren't simply chapters of suffering, but the crucible in which my true self was forged.

I've learned that authenticity wasn't about being fixed, but about being fluid, constantly adapting and evolving. And growth wasn't about accumulating external markers of success, but about deepening my understanding of myself, embracing my vulnerabilities, and living from a place of genuine alignment.

I am still evolving, always. There are still days of doubt, moments of quiet grief for what was lost, and a lingering ache for the love I wasn't fully able to receive or return during that period. But the overwhelming feeling now is one of profound liberation. Not from people, but from old patterns. I have, in essence, divorced not only my wife and previous career, but also the expectations and limitations that had I had allow to define my life.

I am no longer chasing a mirage of who I should be, but embracing the messy, beautiful reality of who I am. And in that embrace, I find not just authenticity, but a boundless capacity for continued growth, proving that at any stage of life, the journey of becoming is the most exhilarating one of all. This is the journey I now guide others through with Breathwave.