This isn’t theory.I lived it.

At age 4, I knew I was different to other boys. I overheard someone on TV call it an affliction.

My dad was kind, and funny, and a storyteller. He loved All in the Family. I remember Archie Bunker calling us deviants, and my dad laughing right along.

From the offhand remarks, the stories, the cues... I knew. My dad didn’t like “them gays.” And I worried that if anyone found out, I’d be out on the street. He never said that. He never would have done that. But in the mind of a kid, you always go to extremes.

I remember in high school, every night before I’d go to bed, praying that God would fix me, and crying myself to sleep.

It was the late 80s, the height of the AIDS epidemic. And in conservative Texas, if someone even suspected you were gay, it was social suicide. Period.

So though people liked me, something I worked really hard at, the fear of being found out weighed heavy on every accomplishment, every victory, every good moment.

They like me now. But would they if they knew?

In college, I met some really great guys. They were part of a Christian fraternity... so I joined.

And I did what I always did. I figured out what people liked, and I did that thing. Memorized scripture. Held Bible studies. Tried to make others feel like they belonged... so I would.

Someone told me I should run for off-campus senator. I did, and I won the race. It was as simple as putting the silhouette of Dino the dinosaur on flyers with the phrase “Vote for Deano” under it. I literally won, and I didn’t really know anyone who voted for me.

Then I ran for president of my Christian fraternity. Where I knew everyone. Where I had invested so much time, energy and effort making sure people felt like they belonged, and were important, and were supported...

And I lost.

It was a close loss. But it reinforced my training.

People who didn’t know me would like me. People who got to know me wouldn’t believe in me.

I took over a youth ministry with 20 kids, and we grew it to more than 200. I loved those kids. I stood in front of them every single week. They got to know me. Just not all of me.

In that world, you could be forgiven for almost anything. There was one thing that was unforgivable.

Hello... that’s me.

My income, my career and my friends were all tied to one secret. One day they said, You don’t seem happy here. I don’t think we can keep you. I said, No, you can’t.

I traded my mosquito spray for sunscreen, moved to LA, and became an actor.

I was terrible at it. My acting coach told me, You’re good. But there’s no access to you. Well... yeah. I had spent 30 years making sure of that.

But nobody in LA knew who I was supposed to be. LA is where I felt free.

After acting, I went into 100% commission sales, and I did well. Then I built my first startup.

Our first raise was November 2008. The markets were collapsing. The banks were “too big to fail.” And people still invested in my company.

Then the CEO we brought on to help run it stole over $800K. It crushed me, and it crushed my dreams. 4 years. All of my savings. Bankruptcy.

The worst part wasn’t the money. It was the shame. On paper I was a founder. Inside, I felt like a fraud.

It took a long time to find the courage to do it again. But I did. I started a second company, and it was working.

From the outside, I was winning. I was still running the same plan.

First I had to reconcile my faith and my sexuality. I got to a place where I could accept myself. But I still feared that others would not. That they would judge me. Hate me. Call me a liar for lying to them all those years.

For the most part, everyone was quite the opposite.

A few did not handle it well. We all know that is more about them than about me.

So I pushed past the fear, and I thought I was free. I wasn’t. I was “out.” But I still had 35 years of training. The way I thought about the word. The people. The life.

Saying it and accepting it are 2 different things.

It’s why you can see, 15 minutes later, exactly what you would do differently next time. Then next time happens... and you do the same thing. Under pressure we don’t go to what we figured out afterward. We go to our training. We go to our Pressure Reflexes.

It wasn’t even a consideration. I left it all and headed to St. Louis, a city I had never lived in. Lung cancer. Large cell. I stayed 8 months.

In the middle of her treatments, I learned about a trip she had always wanted to take. A cruise to Alaska. She would tell people about it, and they would go with their loved one. She never went. She did not want to pay double for a cabin, then sit alone in the restaurants and on the excursions.

We had no word from the doctors yet. I got online and said, How does September sound? It was February.

She said, What if I’m not here anymore?

I said, “What if you are?”

We booked it that day. By August she was free and clear. In September, we sailed to Alaska.

I came home with no job, no revenue, and no clue what to do.

My friends all said the same thing. Deano, you were born to coach. I said, No one would pay me for my advice. They said, What do you think a consultant is?

That is when my work went from personal to professional. From fixing me to helping others.

I came to see my mom for Thanksgiving and her birthday. Then the test results came in. Lung cancer again. Small cell this time, a nasty little bugger that grows quickly and likes to travel. I stayed 18 months.

I had done this once already. This time I learned what it really takes. Seeing her. What she needed. Not taking up space, but adding value. Making it not about me, but about her.

That’s why she was the only chef in the kitchen. I was the sous chef. Because that’s what she needed. And it turns out, that’s what I needed.

I didn’t always get it right. Caregiving is learning how to dance through a field of landmines. My reactions kept showing up before I did. There were many apologies.

Yes, it was the big things. Like getting on a plane the Monday after 10 days of full brain radiation, so she could see her last 4 states and say she had seen all 50.

But it was also the alarm at 3:30 am. Practicing my RSFs on every step from the basement to the first floor, so I could walk in with a smile on my face and a warmth in my tone. Then helping my mom to the bathroom, because she couldn’t do it on her own.

It was sitting in the living room, watching Wheel of Fortune, holding hands. It’s the simple things.

When we learned it was terminal, I asked my mom, Now that you’ve seen all 50 states, is there anywhere in the world you’d like to go? Rome. The Vatican. Maybe even meet the Pope.

She said, Deano, I’m so tired. I don’t even know if I could make it through the flight.

Then she said, “Don’t ever wait to go see the world until you’re too old to do it.”

She died on April 30, 2023. That July, I left to see the world for a year. I wore my dad’s sunnies. And I left an alm in every church and cathedral for my mom.

I thought I was looking for a home. My mom was my last living parent. My rock. My safe harbor. But home was never out there. There is only 1 place home can be, and that’s in here... inside me.

Death comes for us all. We don’t get a choice. But with life... we very much do.

Everyone dies. Not everyone lives.

For years, every client came by referral. You had to know me to know who I was.

I wanted to do something bigger. To impact more people. I did not want what I know to be only for the elite, or for those who could afford me.

100+ executives had shown me the same pattern. They already know what to do. They know how to do it. They even want to do it. Then pressure shows up, and they don’t.

So I took every lesson, every skill and every tool, and put it all together in 1 idea. Pressure Reflex™.

I was never an adult in Dallas, and I definitely wasn’t gay as an adult in Dallas until now. Which is super weird.

My fraternity brothers are still my friends. They all know I’m gay.

The people I hid from for 35 years... stayed.