This Article Is Brought to You by Fetch Beyond

If you're reading this... It's another "pillar."

Est. 2020

Every February, I remember two things: how single I am… and how badly I want the life I'm building.

Last February, I was still figuring out what healing looked like after being discharged from the hospital. I didn't know what I wanted, I just knew what I didn't want anymore. I've spent the last year rebuilding my life, celebrating the tiny wins, marking the anniversary of surviving something I wasn't sure I'd get out of. And building Fetch.

This time last year, I was fresh out of a mental hospital. This year? I'm building a whole company. If that's not a plot twist, I don't know what is.

Fetch Beyond started as a daydream and turned into a blueprint because I finally figured out what I want, and everything in my life is slowly — messily — aligning with that. It's the first thing in a long time that feels like mine. And that's why this not-so-brief update matters. Because knowing what you want is one thing, but building a life around it? That's a whole different kind of romance.

I could pretend I have a cute Valentine's Day story this year… but honestly, Valentine's Day always sneaks up on me. I don't hate it. I've just never really celebrated it with a partner. At 33, I've never had the chocolates-and-roses experience, and it's become less "romantic holiday" and more "annual reminder that I've never had a relationship last longer than a season." Cute.

But honestly? This Valentine's Day, instead of posting a soft-launch of a man I don't have, I'm giving you something better: a founder's update. This year I'm focused on what I do: this company I'm building, this life I'm reshaping, this second chance I'm not wasting. I think this is the year I finally get it. I'm finally living a life that matches what I want.

I've never been great at long-term relationships, but I'm oddly loyal to my goals.

---

Look, Valentine's Day and I aren't beefing. When I got released from the hospital, I didn't magically become better, but I did become certain of one thing: if I ever got another shot at life, I would build something that mattered to me. Something that kept me moving forward on the days when I didn't want to.

The last three years were chaos — mental hospital, court, learning how to show up again. But it also gave me something I've never had before: direction. And once I found it, everything else started to click: I'm someone who's better at building dreams than dating.

This year, everything is different. I know exactly what I want: clarity, creativity, stability, and Fetch Beyond. And for the first time, my life is actually starting to align with that, like my life has direction again. Surviving something changes you. It makes you realize what you actually want out of life. And slowly, everything starts to move toward those desires, almost like your life becomes magnetized.

This time last year, I was just grateful to still be here. I didn't have a plan or a clear path. Just a lot of questions and a few shaky hopes.

At 33, I've accepted that love might not be my strong suit. Life starts making sense when you stop chasing connection and start chasing alignment. I may not have a Valentine, but I do have a vision board and a surprising amount of emotional resilience. At this point, Fetch Beyond is the longest relationship I've ever maintained — and honestly, it's the healthiest one too.

If Valentine's Day is about love, then this year I'm celebrating the biggest one I've got: my future. I might not have a Valentine, but the most consistent thing in my life right now is the vision I'm building. Love stories are cute, but reinvention? That's where the real romance is. And right now, that feels more important.

Every February exposes me a little. Not having a partner is one thing, but not having a purpose? That used to sting more. Fetch Beyond is the first thing I've ever created that feels like it's pulling me forward instead of weighing me down. This time, instead of thinking about what I don't have, I'm finally looking at what I'm building.

Everything I want has a name.

I've survived worse than loneliness, and I'm still here creating something that matters. As a brand-new entrepreneur, I'm learning that building something from scratch is equal parts delusion, discipline, and divine timing. I'm figuring things out the slow way — goal by goal, late night by late night — while trying to turn Fetch Beyond Your Dreams into more than just a name on paper.

E-commerce isn't glamorous at the beginning. It's a lot of trial runs, small wins, and convincing yourself not to quit before the magic kicks in. But that's exactly why this moment matters. It's about progress that isn't loud, goals that aren't shiny yet, and the quiet belief that everything can shift if I keep showing up for it.

This post is about where I actually am in the process: setting intentions that align with the life I want, committing to the 100 Days After challenge like it's a personal marathon, and choosing myself long enough to see what consistency can really build.

When I started Fetch in 2020, I thought the big ideas mattered most — the branding, the product, the launch dates, the aesthetics. And those things do matter. But I learned quickly that none of it means anything without consistency. Showing up every day, even when it's slow. Even when it feels like nobody is watching. Even when the numbers don't move. Consistency isn't glamorous, but it's the engine that drives success.

It's how you build trust with customers, but also how you build trust with yourself. When you're a new entrepreneur, nobody hands you structure. There's no boss waiting for your morning check-in. No coworker reminding you of deadlines. It's just you, your goals, and the uncomfortable truth that you rise or fall based on how disciplined you are when nobody's looking.

Every post, every product update, every small decision compounds. You may not see the payoff immediately, but it stacks quietly in the background. Consistency is what turns goals into momentum. How you earn future opportunities.

A single day of effort is cute. A week is admirable. But 100 days — that's where transformation happens.

You don't need the right moment. Just the decision to begin.

For me, 100 Days After is a reset button and a launchpad. It's the window where you stop talking about what you want and start showing the receipts. It's a challenge, a countdown, and a commitment. A promise to myself that for 100 days straight, I will build, refine, and move forward with purpose. It forces me to pay attention to the actions that actually shape my future, not the distractions that slow me down.

I've been focused on one choice at a time. Instead of scattering my ideas across a dozen platforms, I've been consolidating everything into one home: dap-me.net.

That means bringing all my worlds together — It's A Girl Thing, Scary Hours, Krate Raiders, The Traffic Jam, Frozen Bananas, and The Slumber Party. Different ideas, different energies, but they all build toward the same universe I'm creating. One voice. One direction.

Since starting this run, the goal is simple: to become the type of person who doesn't need motivation to show up, just a clear vision and consistency. These 100 days aren't just about web pages and content. They're about discipline, clarity, and follow-through. They're about proving to myself that I can dream big and also deliver.

Because 100 days is long enough to change your life, but short enough to stay urgent. It keeps you accountable. It exposes your habits. It reminds you that progress isn't magic — it's math.

If there's one thing these 67 days have taught me, it's that consistency is its own kind of love language. Not the picture-perfect, candlelit version, but the quiet devotion that showing up for myself every day is a kind of romance too.

So here's my invitation to you:

Start where you are. Pick a goal that feels honest. Commit to the next 100 days like you're committing to someone you care about. Let the small steps stack. Let the messy days count. Let the progress be the love story.

Before we go any further, I should probably confess something. I founded Fetch Beyond Your Dreams on my birthday back in June 2020 — three (almost four) years of "this is the year," "this is the launch," "this is the moment." And if you've been here since those early posts, you already know the truth: almost none of the things I said I was going to do actually got done.

Not the launches, not the updates, not even the next episode of Scary Hours. But instead of treating that like a failure, I've started looking at it the same way I look at Valentine's Day. Just because the story didn't unfold the way I imagined doesn't mean it's over. It just means I'm learning what consistency actually looks like.

Fetch has lived a thousand little lives on my hard drive. Every year, I'd draft the perfect plan, the perfect release schedule, the perfect "rebirth," and every year, life would swing back with chaos, depression, distraction, or survival-mode energy. One minute I'd be mapping out story worlds and merch designs, and the next minute I'd disappear for months.

I wasn't lazy — just overwhelmed, under-supported, and still figuring out how to live with the brain I have. And honestly? I used to feel embarrassed about that. But when you look at something you created with genuine affection, something you want to build a future with, you realize starting over doesn't mean you failed. It means you still care.

That's why 100 Days After matters so much this time. It gives me a container: a beginning, an end, and the permission to show up imperfectly in the middle. Instead of obsessing over the launch looking right, I'm learning to focus on the process of showing up on the days when I'm excited, on the days when I'm tired, and on the days when everything feels like static.

So yes, I've "launched" Fetch more times than I can count. Yes, I've broken promises to myself, gone quiet, and had to restart. But I'm here now in year four, not because everything finally aligned, but because I finally aligned with what I want, with what I'm building, and with the truth that progress isn't romantic or dramatic. It's steady. It's awkward. It's unglamorous. And somehow, it's still beautiful. Just like this strange relationship I have with Valentine's Day. Thinking the meaning came from perfection or partnership. But showing up consistently for Fetch, for my creativity, and for myself? That feels like the real kind of love story. The kind that lasts.

Now, let's talk terms. First on the list: Attention, my first full-length novel. I'd love to sit here and pretend I have a release date circled in red on a calendar somewhere, but you and I both know I don't. What I do have is a document full of scenes, characters who refuse to leave me alone, and a world that keeps expanding every time I breathe near it.

If this were the old version of me, this is where I'd say something like "coming soon," or "dropping this spring," or whatever false urgency creators feel pressured to manufacture. But I'm in the Marathon now. And the Marathon doesn't care about fake deadlines. The Marathon cares about consistency, about showing up to the page on days I don't feel clever, about writing even when the plot is being stubborn, about letting a story become what it's meant to be instead of forcing it into what I wish it would hurry up and look like.

So no, I don't have a date.

But I do have scenes I'm proud of and characters who are evolving with me. And I'm not measuring the story's worth by how quickly I can release it. I'm measuring it by the time, the honesty, and the patience I'm investing into the work.

Next up: Scary Hours and It's A Girl Thing. Both of these projects are where I experiment, play, and sometimes get lost in my own ideas — but that's part of the point.

Scary Hours is still alive, still a place where I explore stories that aren't ready for a novel format yet. The plan isn't about rushing episodes or hitting an arbitrary schedule. It's about showing up, developing the world, and letting the narrative evolve organically. Some weeks that looks like a full draft. Sometimes, it's just a single scene, a character sketch, or even just notes in a notebook. That's the Marathon in action: incremental progress, day after day, even if it doesn't look like a full sprint.

It's A Girl Thing is where I build community and share ideas that matter to me — and hopefully, to others too. The blog continues to evolve, just like me. Every post, list, or recommendation is a small brick in the foundation of this larger vision. I don't chase viral hits or perfect launches. I chase the consistency that turns curiosity into connection, interest into trust, and readers into participants in the world I'm creating.

Both projects exist because I keep showing up. They're not finished. They're not perfect. But they're moving forward, one post, one story, one small win at a time. And honestly? That feels way more satisfying than anything that could happen overnight.

Next on the list: Deidre Annette Presents, Frozen Bananas, and The Traffic Jam. These are my spaces for music, inspiration, and the occasional deep dive into the things that fuel me. Most of them are playlists, sure, but they're also little worlds where ideas collide and grow.

Frozen Bananas is literally what it sounds like: a nod to Arrested Development and a reminder that "there's always money in the banana stand." But here, the frozen bananas are all the dreams that haven't come true yet. The merch, projects, and ideas that didn't launch perfectly (or at all) but that I'm still nurturing, tweaking, and developing. They're the long-term bets on myself, the experiments that teach me more about consistency, patience, and vision than any "overnight success" ever could.

The Traffic Jam is my other playground: a space to explore rhythm, energy, and what moves me creatively. Every story, every shuffle, every playlist is a tiny win in showing up, curating, and sharing something I love. It's also where I test momentum, see what resonates, and keep the Marathon moving. Small steps that add up over time.

All of these spaces, playlists, blogs, and experiments, exist to show what happens when you commit to your vision, even when the payoff isn't immediate. If you're ready to join me, dive deeper, and get access to exclusive content, playlists, and updates, become a DAP-ME member today. The stories, the challenges, and the wins are all waiting for people willing to show up.

Next up: Krate Raiders and Issa Cross. Both live in the YouTube automation space, but they serve very different purposes in my creative paracosm.

Krate Raiders is my music blog come to life on video. It's where I highlight the songs, albums, and artists that move me, share curated playlists, and give a platform to tracks you might not find on the mainstream radar. Every post and video is part of the Marathon: small steps to show up consistently, build trust with listeners, and create a space where music isn't just heard — it's celebrated.

Issa Cross is where I get to play, experiment, and mash things together. From creative edits to the Movies 2 Celebrate series, it's a laboratory for ideas, a testing ground for formats, and a place to push boundaries. The content isn't perfect every time, but that's the point. Showing up, trying, adjusting, and iterating is how anything meaningful grows.

Both channels are experiments in consistency, creativity, and community. They're my way of proving that progress doesn't need to be flashy — just steady and relentless.

Last but not least: The Slumber Party. This is where I get to combine everything I've been working on into one playful, immersive experience. Think of it as the creative sandbox of Fetch Beyond Your Dreams: a place to experiment, share, and connect without the pressure of perfection.

The Slumber Party isn't just for me — it's for everyone willing to participate, watch, listen, and grow alongside these projects. It's a reminder that even in chaos, showing up consistently, keeping momentum, and letting curiosity guide the process is what transforms ideas into something bigger than yourself.

Not everything is finished (or even close). Many of the projects we've talked about are still works in progress. Launches have been delayed, episodes of Scary Hours haven't dropped on schedule, and Attention still doesn't have a release date. Valentine's Day has a way of highlighting what hasn't happened yet, whether that's long-term relationships, perfect timing, or instant success. Entrepreneurship is messy, full of setbacks, distractions, and days that feel like running in circles.

But there's a lot to celebrate, too. Nearly four years since founding Fetch, I'm still creating, experimenting, and learning what consistency really means. The Marathon (100 Days After) reminds me daily that showing up, even imperfectly, compounds into progress. Every small action counts, and every tiny win proves that momentum exists. Valentine's Day may highlight what's missing, but it also reminds me of what I do have: free will, a vision, and the freedom to build my world on my own terms.

The upcoming year is full of potential. DAP-ME is more centralized, ready to bring all of my universes together, and growing a community of people who are excited to show up alongside me.

For every unfinished project or delayed plan, there's a lesson, a spark, and a small win waiting to compound. Fetch isn't "late." It's growing.

Every playlist, every post, every effort is proof that showing up matters more than perfect timing. Valentine's Day might make you notice what's missing, but it also makes you see what's possible. This year, we build, we create, and we move forward — together. Dive in, explore, and show up with us because the best is still ahead.