~5 min read

Earlier this year, I made a decision that caught a few people off guard…

The Problem: Most of us have a dream we tell ourselves we’ll chase when the time is right. The problem is, life rarely gives us perfect timing.

The Confusion: We often think commitment begins the moment we make a decision. In reality, commitment begins the moment we take action that proves we mean it.

The Stakes: If we keep waiting for ideal timing, we risk never doing the thing that changes us — staying comfortable instead of growing.

Promise: By the end of this story, you’ll see how letting go of something meaningful became the turning point that redefined what growth means for me as a leader.

So, what was that decision? I decided to sell one of my favorite Rolex watches.

It was a gold-bracelet, blue-face Submariner — the kind of watch you don’t buy on a whim. I’d earned it years ago after hitting my second President’s Club trip as an account executive at Salesforce.

That watch carried memories of late nights and long flights, big wins and near misses. It represented years of drive, focus, and achievement — proof that the work had been worth it.

So why sell something that meant that much?

Because I realized I was still holding on to the symbols of who I was, instead of taking action toward who I wanted to become.

A Quiet Turning Point

The decision didn’t happen all at once.

For years, I’d been saying I wanted to grow as a leader — not just as a performer or a manager, but as someone who could truly listen, coach, and help others reach their potential. And yet, every time I thought about doing something to develop myself, I found reasons to wait:

when things slow down,

when the quarter ends,

when my daughter gets older.

You know how that goes. “Someday” can feel responsible — but it’s usually fear wearing a professional disguise.

One morning last spring, I opened the box where I kept that Submariner. The light caught the blue dial, and for a moment I remembered exactly how it felt to earn it — that mix of adrenaline and pride. But instead of inspiration, I felt something else — a quiet pull that said, You’ve been here long enough.

That was the moment I decided to sell it.

Not because I needed the money. But because I needed to do something tangible — something that would make the next step real.

It wasn’t easy. That watch held stories, memories, and a part of my identity. But letting it go was my way of saying: I’m not just talking about growth anymore. I’m moving toward it.

What Followed Next

That decision led me to pursue my Executive Coaching Certification through the University of Kansas and the Center for Executive Coaching. I also joined the International Coaching Federation (ICF) and began working toward my Associate Certified Coach (ACC) credential.

I didn’t take these steps to leave what I do — I took them to become better at it.

The process has been humbling. Coaching isn’t about giving answers; it’s about asking better questions. It’s about slowing down, listening deeply, and holding space long enough for someone else to find their own clarity.

There’s a kind of leadership maturity that comes with that shift — realizing that your impact doesn’t always come from your direction, but from your presence.

I’ve learned that when you make a real commitment, something changes inside you. You stop waiting for permission. You start living in motion.

What the Watch Taught Me

Selling that watch was never about what I lost. It was about what I was willing to prove to myself.

Growth doesn’t ask for grand gestures. It asks for honesty — the kind that forces you to act when it’s uncomfortable, inconvenient, or uncertain.

That Submariner was a beautiful reminder of who I was. But this next chapter is about who I’m becoming — a more grounded leader, a better listener, and someone who practices what he preaches about growth.

One day, I will buy that watch again.
Maybe even a better one.
Not to replace it — but to celebrate how far I’ve come since the day I let it go.