
The Power of Irreverence: Because if you don’t laugh at the abyss, the abyss wins by default. We use humor not as a shield, but as a weapon to stay sane when the script goes off the rails.
From Victim to Director: Stop acting like a background extra in your own tragedy. It’s time to retake the director's chair and decide how the scene ends, even if the set is on fire.
The Survival Toolkit: No "visualize your goals" nonsense. These are the tactical tools I use to stay sane and productive when the set is on fire.

The Power of Irreverence: Because if you don’t laugh at the abyss, the abyss wins by default. We use humor not as a shield, but as a weapon to stay sane when the script goes off the rails.
From Victim to Director: Stop acting like a background extra in your own tragedy. It’s time to retake the director's chair and decide how the scene ends, even if the set is on fire.
The Survival Toolkit: No "visualize your goals" nonsense. These are the tactical tools I use to stay sane and productive when the set is on fire.
Not a chance. I don't have certifications on my wall, and I won't speak to you in mystical "woo-woo" language. I’m an advertiser and film director who almost died and learned the hard way that the heart is in charge. What I offer isn't coaching; it’s an exchange of findings from the trenches. If you're looking for someone to tell you "you can do it" with zen music in the background, you’re on the wrong set.
I don’t offer a cure or a magic formula. I offer my ears and my experience. We sit down to review what’s happening in your life and, using the narrative and creative tools I’ve used my entire career as a director, we find a way to keep your story from crushing you.
It’s about finding a path to relief where today you only see a dead end. Think of it as a "Heads Up" from someone who has already been there: I’ll tell you exactly what you’re going to deal with, so you don't have to walk into the fire blindfolded. I’m not here to hold your hand and cry; I’m here to give you company and the right gear so you can keep rolling.
(And no, I’m not speaking metaphorically—unless you count the part where I actually died and came back).
In advertising, everything starts with The Brief. Before we even think about "solutions" or "tasks," I need to listen to your story. We sit down to define where you are, what's hurting, and what script you've been following so far.
After this initial "briefing" session, the goal isn't to give you a to-do list. It's about letting that conversation sink in so you can start noticing how small shifts in your perspective change the way you face your reality. If you feel that relief and want to keep digging, we continue the production. If not, you walk away with a clearer picture of your own narrative (hopefully).
You don't always need a "kit" right away. Sometimes, you just need a conversation with a stranger who has been through the fire and won't judge or over-analyze you.
If you feel like an enemy wrote your life’s script, or if you’ve been hit by a reality you didn't see coming, you might need a place to talk it out. Think of it like a "Table Read": you speak, you unload your story, and in that process, you often start hearing your own answers. Whether it’s about health, career, or personal chaos, if you’re ready to stop spinning in circles and start understanding where you're heading, this is for you.
The Kit isn’t a magic box or a "how-to" manual for happiness. It’s a shift in perspective. It’s the collection of findings I gathered while I was fighting for my life—the ones that actually worked when everything else failed.
In the end, the Kit is about agency. It’s about moving from being a victim of a disastrous script to becoming the director of your own production. I’m not here to tell you that everything will be perfect; I’m here to help you find the tools to keep the cameras rolling, even when the set is on fire.
If you’re looking for a "happily ever after" delivered on a silver platter, this isn't it. But if you're looking for a way to find meaning, relief, and a real plan of action to live a life that’s actually worth filming—despite the pain—then you’ll know if this is for you.
No. Illness sucks, and there’s nothing "nice" about it at first. But here is the truth from my own experience: chronic or life-threatening illness can actually give you an unfair advantage over everyone else. It forces you to see, by any means necessary, that what you have is special and that life is absolutely worth fighting for—no matter how dark the set looks.
It’s about finding a "silver lining" that is real, not just a cliché. For me, my incentive was my children. If you don't have an incentive like mine yet, our goal is to find yours. We are not here to read jokes to forget the pain; we are here to give meaning to what’s happening so it stops being senseless suffering and starts becoming your greatest strength
I’ve only been to marriage counseling, so I’m no expert on clinical therapy—but I did spend months writing a book called "Blame It On The Heart," which was basically my version of a lobotomy without the anesthesia. If you want to talk about therapy, writing my story was the most expensive and exhausting one I’ve ever had.
So, what we do here is a different beast. Think of it more like an interview for a documentary. My role isn't to diagnose you, but to guide you through your own story by asking the questions no one else dares to ask. We sit down to review the "dailies" of your life—the raw, unfiltered footage of your current reality. This process is designed to touch delicate nerves because that’s the only way to discover what you haven't dared to say to anyone else. I don’t give you the answers; I help you find them by editing out the noise and focusing on the truth. It’s one-on-one, truth-first, and built to help you rewrite the scene before it turns into a tragedy.
I’m not a doctor or a guru. While I have immense respect for the medical profession—they are the ones who kept my body together—I don’t give medical advice. My approach is strictly tactical: what to do when your health fails and how to maintain a sense of humor when the clinical reports say you should be crying.
On the spiritual side, I am a Catholic and I believe in a Higher Power. I’m deeply open to discussing these topics if you wish; after all, it’s your time. Back in college, I took a Philosophy of Religion class that changed my perspective, and I’ve even had the chance to meet the Dalai Lama. I have a profound respect for everyone’s beliefs, especially those of my family; I’m convinced that without their "celestial help" and prayers, I wouldn’t be here today.
However, my "red flag" is fanaticism. I’m not here to convert you, and I’m not here to be converted. We can talk about medicine as a reality we face and faith as a tool for relief, but we stay away from dogmas. I’m here to help you find your own path to keep rolling.
You won’t walk away with all your problems solved, but you will have a different perspective and a real plan of action. You’ll leave feeling that, even though the script got tough, you still have something to say in the story.
Beyond that, you can expect to find a space where you can talk about the things you might not dare to mention at home—a place for total honesty without the weight of family expectations. And here is my personal guarantee: if at any point you feel that this isn't for you or that we are just wasting time, tell me. I value your time and your journey too much to let us spin our wheels. If we aren't moving the needle, we stop the production right there. No hard feelings.
Look, you have my full permission to make it as "depressing" as you need it to be. If you want to pay me just to have a place to cry, go for it. My goal is to give you a space where you can vent, scream, or complain about everything that’s draining you: your family, the illness itself, being fed up with endless medical exams, or the soul-crushing routine of being stuck in a clinic.
I know exactly what it’s like to be "done" with the whole process. Sometimes you just need a breather—a "safe set" to unload the weight before we even try to find a way forward. And if we can manage to laugh at the tragedies we've faced along the way, you’re more than welcome. In my experience, if you can mock the tragedy, it stops winning.
First and foremost, you need the will to do the work. Once that’s set, you need to read my book, "Blame It On The Heart". Consider it your pre-production manual. I don’t want to waste your time or money recapping my story; I want us to hit the ground running on yours. This way, when we schedule our first "Table Read", we start with a shared language and a clear brief.
A standard "Director’s Session" lasts about 60 minutes, but we aren't punching a clock. If we’ve said everything that needs to be said in 45, we wrap the scene; if we hit a breakthrough at minute 55 and I don't have another "shoot" scheduled right after, I’m more than happy to keep going until we finish the thought. Efficiency over fillers, always.
Production is global. We can connect via video from anywhere in the world as long as you have a stable connection and a quiet place to talk. That said, I’m always open to a change of scenery—if you’d rather have me on location and want to fly me in, consider this my official "yes." Otherwise, the digital set works just fine.
I respect your time, and I ask for the same in return. If you need to reschedule a "shoot," please let me know at least 24 hours in advance. Last-minute cancellations disrupt the production schedule and may be charged.
Absolutely. What happens on set, stays on set. In my career as a publicist, I’ve handled secrets for major competing brands where confidentiality is the golden rule. I value the "Privacy of the Edit Room" above all else. You can speak freely about your family, your doctors, or your fears; your "script" is handled with the same professional secrecy I’ve used for years in the industry.
We can discuss specific arrangements if you are committing to a full "Production Schedule" (multiple sessions). My goal is to find a way to make this work so you can find the relief you need without adding financial stress to an already tough script.