There was a time when I dreaded Mondays.
Back then, all I wanted to do was party, play Call of Duty, and meet girls. So Monday always felt like a party pooper—the universe tapping me on the shoulder and saying, “Okay, pal. Fun’s over. Back to hell you go.”
This was when I still had a “normal” life. I lived in the USA. I called another man my boss. I looked forward to my two days off every week and my one measly week of paid vacation every year.
I hated it.
The thought of doing that for the rest of my life—trading away my days for a paycheck and waiting for weekends and vacations to briefly feel free—felt like being born into a cage.
Maybe that arrangement works for some people.
It didn’t work for me.
And 2013 was the last year I lived that way.
2013: The Last Time I Traded My Soul for Money
Something changed in me that year. I stopped trying to become comfortable with a “normal” life and decided I would do whatever it took to never go back.
Freelancing. Entrepreneurship. Internet stripping. Selling steroids.
If it made me money without requiring me to wake up to an alarm, sit in traffic, or call some asshole my boss, I was interested.
Maybe you’re thinking, There’s no way I could do that. I have a mortgage. Kids. A spouse. Responsibilities.
Maybe you’re right.
The path I took isn’t available to everybody in exactly the same way. That’s not a judgment. Plenty of people genuinely want the house, family, career, and everything that comes with it.
Hell, some of those things appeal to me too.
I just wasn’t willing to trade my freedom to get them.
My rules were pretty simple:
No 9-to-5. No debt. No slavery.
That left me with entrepreneurship.
There was just one problem.
I didn’t know how to do anything.
So I Started Hustling
I was 21 years old and had never stayed at a job long enough to develop much of a useful skill. I knew I wanted to become a businessman.
I just didn’t know the first fucking thing about business.
So I started freelancing—or, as they say in rap songs:
Hustling.
I built WordPress websites for small businesses still living in the Stone Age. I flipped steroids. I even sold my nudes to lonely old ladies and gay men.
Was I building the next Microsoft?
Not exactly.
But those little hustles taught me something my regular jobs never had.
Suddenly, I had to find customers, sell them something, deliver what I promised, deal with problems, manage money, protect my reputation, and wake up the next day and do it all over again.
At my old jobs, I was just a body filling a position.
Now I had to figure everything out myself.
And slowly, I went from somebody who wanted to make money for himself to somebody who actually could.
No degree. No business school.
I got paid to learn.
Freedom Wasn’t Glamorous Yet
But doing things my way came with a price.
While people I knew were renting nice apartments, financing new cars, and starting families, I was renting a room in the ghetto of Cincinnati and riding a cheap motorcycle everywhere.
Groceries? Motorcycle.
Gym? Motorcycle.
Middle of a Cincinnati winter?
Still the fucking motorcycle.
I rode that thing through freezing temperatures, ice, and snow because keeping my expenses low mattered more to me than being comfortable.
Between the neighborhood I lived in and riding everywhere on two wheels, there were times when I was genuinely risking my safety just to save money.
But every dollar I didn’t need to earn meant less time I had to sell.
And less money I needed meant more freedom.
That mattered more to me than looking successful.
So I kept my expenses low, stayed flexible, and kept going.
Eventually, it paid off.
Thirteen Years Later
This December marks nine years of living in Mexico.
I’m 34. Single. No kids. Zero debt. I live alone in a perfectly good apartment for $415 a month, utilities included.
I can work more when I want more money and less when I want more time. I’m in great shape. I’ve learned multiple languages. I’ve made friends from all over the world. I have a good relationship with my family and can visit the States whenever I want.
And I have the freedom to sit here and write articles like this one.
Is my life perfect?
Fuck no.
Was getting here pretty?
Not even close.
But it’s mine.
And I’m happy with what I’ve built.
Freedom Has a Price
I’m not telling you to copy my life.
Maybe you want something completely different.
But if you hate the life you’re living and know you want more control over your time, don’t expect getting there to be comfortable.
Mine wasn’t.
There were times when I was broke. Times when I wondered whether I was making a huge mistake. Times when the conventional path would’ve been much easier.
But I wanted freedom more than I wanted comfort.
So I kept going.
There’s a scene in The Shawshank Redemption where Andy Dufresne crawls through five hundred yards of shit before finally coming out clean on the other side.
Sometimes I think that’s a pretty good description of what I did.
I crawled through the shit.
And eventually I built a life I don’t need a vacation from.
If that’s what you want too, understand what you’re signing up for.
Freedom isn’t free.
But for me?
It was worth every fucking inch.
Your man,
Uncle Blayde