Covid-19 changed everything for me.

Before the pandemic, my twenties were nothing but extreme. I was a high achiever. Awards, leadership roles, even winning a design competition judged by Massimo Vignelli, one of the true legends of modern design, all while juggling three jobs and two bachelor degrees. Post graduation, I ran my first startup as a co-founder. Naive as I was, it didn't go anywhere. I went on to launch products in the physical and digital world, led different departments, and even helped a company grow into a public listing on NASDAQ.

But I burned myself to the ground. I gave myself away until there was nothing else left to give. I was sleepwalking through hell. And somewhere in those years, death came knocking once, twice, and then, three times.

When you've come so close to dying, something changes. You wake up, and nothing is ever the same again. 

My turning point was 2023: everything fell apart. Instead of rebuilding what I had, I took the year off to volunteer on ecological restoration projects and learn about permaculture. I got my hands dirty for the first time in a long time. It was hard, exhausting work. But somewhere in that year, I fell in love with life all over again.

The jobs I once knew how to do well suddenly felt foreign. I wasn't sure how I'd fit back into society. The people I love were building homes and families. I was restarting from scratch, drifting from the world I once knew. Sometimes I feel I'm falling behind in my 30s, like maybe I'd peaked too early and lost my place in this world.

And then there's the actual world itself. Geopolitical uncertainty. Increasing pollution. Microplastics everywhere. Droughts and floods worsen with each season. Summers break records year after year. It's easy to fall into the trap of doom and anxiety, but the year I spent in nature showed me that the possibilities for a better future exist if you're willing to work on them.

Knowing that, how could I return to life as before? I couldn’t just sit back while there was still a chance to build a better tomorrow.

Omawild is a living evolution. Somedays, the weight of it all feels overwhelming. But the fear of failing is also what makes this the greatest thrill of a lifetime: creating something that might meaningfully contribute to our changing world. And if I died tomorrow, I would've died knowing that I tried.