46

Birthdays always make me reflective, and as I’m getting older there’s no exception. This year, I’m thinking less about what I “should have done by now” and more about everything I have done — survived, stumbled, adapted, learned, built, healed, unlearned, and dreamed.

So apparently, I’m 46 now! That’s wild, considering I still feel like a 90s kid half the time… until my knees remind me that I’m absolutely not.

Today November 19th, I’m celebrating another year of becoming more me — wiser, weirder, happier, funkier, crazier and still figuring it all out. I kinda feel nostalgic at this age to be honest. Perhaps to clear the air a bit, I’ll share a bit past the 2 decades from my upbringing.

I started as a banquet waiter in my youth. Long shifts, heavy trays, endless plates—but it was more than a job. It was my first lesson in people. Watching interactions around me, noticing what made someone smile or frown, I realized the power of human connection.

Around the same time, movies captivated me—not just the stories on screen, but the magic behind them. I wanted in; I wanted to act, maybe even direct. I did some extra work in San Francisco, met actors, and felt the thrill of being part of something bigger. But life was insistent—I still had to work to make ends meet.

College brought a pivot. I tried the film industry but quickly realized I couldn’t act worth a dime. I turned to photography, chasing my creative passions. I loved the craft, but reality struck in—passion doesn’t always pay the bills. I couldn’t make decent money or enough for a living. and so the flame dimmed.

Then came the tech world—cubicles, screens, deadlines. The work was steady and well-paying, but monotonous. Yet there was a spark: helping people. Answering questions, solving problems, making someone’s day a little easier—it made the repetition meaningful. Helping became my quiet joy.

And then I asked myself: Where do I want to go?

Counseling always felt natural to me. I imagined guiding high schoolers on the edge of graduation—answering their questions, easing their fears. I enrolled in Social Work, played soccer with students a decade younger, and absorbed every lesson. After graduation, I worked in multiple social work and clinical roles. The work was important, but I felt unfulfilled. Something was missing. I felt boxed in, valued more for my bilingual skills than for my genuine heart for people.

So, next step was quit and went back to the drawing board. I reflected: What lights me up? Where do I truly feel alive? My mom and friends had long told me, “Jorge, you need to be around people. That’s what lights you up.”

Looking back at my life—as a waiter, production assistant, tech support worker, winery employee, and Adidas team member—I noticed the thread connecting it all: human connection. The energy, the spark, came from being with people, from understanding them beyond the surface, and from being part of their stories.

At the winery, I thrived on building personal connections and working closely with an awesome team. At Adidas, I had the opportunity to meet people from around the world—both customers and colleagues. Sometimes communication required creativity, from using body language to relying on smartphone voice translation. I vividly remember helping a young boy from Mexico who was eager to get his favorite team’s jersey. Unfortunately, we only had a men’s extra-large in stock, and the only way to get the right size was online—but his father couldn’t access our employee discount. Seeing the boy on the verge of tears, I decided to use my own discount to order the jersey online and arranged to meet the family when it arrived. That small gesture turned into a lasting friendship. Moments like these have shaped me, teaching empathy, patience, and the joy of going the extra mile.

Life hasn’t been easy. I’ve stumbled—lost jobs, drifted from friends, wrestled with depression, and battled alcohol. Yet one friend’s words have stayed with me: “This world is not made for people to give up.” I reflected on this. The past cannot be changed, but the future is mine to shape. Mistakes are lessons, not roadblocks. Hardship is growth, not defeat.

Today, I know where my spark comes from: people. Connection. Helping others. That’s where I feel truly alive. Along the way, I’ve learned I am never alone—God, friends, and family are always there to guide me, even when the path gets rocky.

Looking back, every detour in my life makes a little more sense now. Each job, each dream, each struggle was quietly shaping the person I was meant to become. Whether I was carrying trays, troubleshooting tech, pouring wine, or helping a kid find the right soccer jersey, the same truth kept revealing itself: I come alive when I’m connecting with people. That thread has never broken—it’s only gotten stronger.

So as I move forward, I’m choosing to honor that truth. I may not have taken the straightest path, but I’ve taken a human one. One filled with lessons in empathy, resilience, faith, and the kind of small moments that end up meaning everything. And for the first time, that feels like enough. Here’s a few notes I took after listening to a wise podcast that shed some light into my life to share—

Your triggers are your teachers
You’re jealousy is your guide
Your anger is your mirror
Your irritation shows u your wounds
Your defensiveness reveals your fear
Your impatience exposes your expectations
Your sadness highlights your values
Every reaction is a revelation
Life will keep sending u the same lessons until u learn from it

You repeat what u don’t repair
You repeat what u don’t reflect on
You repeat what u don’t release
You repeat what u don’t reveal
You repeat what u don’t reframe
You repeat what u don’t respect in yourself
You repeat what u don’t take responsibility for
Patterns don’t disappear with time, they disappear with work

I don’t know exactly where this next chapter will lead, but I do know what guides me now: connection, purpose, and the courage to keep becoming a better version of myself.