Meet Our Founder

The "Behind the Scenes" Reality

I spent two decades behind the curtain for corporate giants like ASML, Verizon, and Safeway. But it was my time at The Zenith, a workers' comp powerhouse, that taught me how the machine actually works.

I was a player in that system. I know exactly how insurance companies, doctors, medical support staff, corporate fiduciaries, and special needs trusts look at your file because I helped build the cabinets.

Today, I am a reliant of that same system. I navigate the same red tape you do. The difference? I know what’s happening behind the curtain, and I’m here to make sure you stay in the driver's seat.

The PhD Brain: Research as a Weapon

People see the "Ph.D." and think I spend my time in a library. I don’t. But when you’re facing a hurdle that seems impossible, my "PhD brain" kicks in. I’ve become a researcher because our community needs it. I dig into the data, find the hidden resources, and translate the "doctor-speak" into a plan of action. I don’t research for clinical journals; I research so that when you and I talk, you have the facts you need to demand the care you deserve.

The Bridge: Therapy, Coaching, and the Soul

My life hasn’t just been about systems. It’s been about the "Bridge,” that space between a person’s crisis and their recovery.

• The Heartstream: In my years as a therapist and executive coach, I worked to help people find their "heartstream" again, that flow of life that gets dammed up by trauma, age, or illness.

• The Bedside: As a Board Certified Chaplain, I sat with people when the lights went out. I learned that kindness isn’t "nice,” it’s the grit you need to sit in the dark with someone without looking away. I’m the guy who sits with you while we find the flashlight.

730 Days of Being a "Mystery"

I navigate life with a T9 incomplete Spinal Cord Injury, the physical result of an aggressive neurological event and a rare neuromuscular disorder. My injury wasn't a sudden accident; it was a systemic collapse.

The diagnosis wasn't the hard part; it was the 730 days of medical gaslighting (I was even told once it was cancer) I endured while my body was under siege. I spent two years being a 'fascinating case' while my physical capacity disappeared. If you’ve been told 'you’re fine' while your world is falling apart, I hear you.

What is CIDP (The Reality Check)? Here, let’s use the full mouthful: Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyneuropathy (CIDP).

In plain English? Your immune system, the thing that’s supposed to protect you, gets confused. It decides the myelin (the insulation around your nerves) is a "foreign invader" and starts attacking it.

Think of your nerves like electrical wires. The myelin is the rubber coating that keeps the signal moving fast and clean. When CIDP eats that coating, the signals from your brain to your muscles get slowed down, distorted, or lost entirely. That’s where the weakness, the numbness, and the "mystery" symptoms come from.

The "Rare" Factor: 1 in 100,000

CIDP is rare, affecting only about 1 to 2 people out of every 100,000. That sounds like a statistic until you’re the "1." Being "rare" means:

• The Waiting Game: It often takes months or even 730 days (like it did for me) to get a name for what’s happening.

• The "Art" of Treatment: There is no one-size-fits-all cure. Whether it’s IVIG (infusions), steroids, or plasma exchange, finding the right "cocktail" is an art form. You need a doctor who is an artist, not just a technician.

• The Relapse Cycle: CIDP isn't a straight line. It’s a rollercoaster of relapses. Just when you think you’ve found your footing, the system can shift again. Living with a reoccurring condition isn't a "sob story,” it’s a tactical challenge that requires constant adaptation.

A Minority Within a Minority

I also navigate the world as a proud member of the LGBTQ+ community. Being "rare" is exhausting. Being "othered" by a system that wasn't built for your identity or your wheels is a weight nobody should carry alone. I’m not here to "process" you. I’m here to be the friend who knows how to get shit done.

Why I’m Here

I’m direct because I’ve been an executive and I know your time is a disappearing resource. I’m kind because I’m a chaplain and a peer, and I know your heart is heavy.

But there’s a deeper reason I built this collective. When I entered medical retirement and started navigating SSDI and LTD, I realized the system creates a strange kind of prison. It tells you that if you're "useful," you're "cured," but if you're "disabled," you have to be silent. It’s a mental trap that tries to rob you of your identity.

Here’s my truth: I’m not dead, and I refuse to be useless. I have a Ph.D. and 25 years of "insider" knowledge sitting in my brain. Letting that expertise go to waste just because my legs don't work, my nerves are on fire, or I just don’t have enough "spoons" today, is an insult to the life I’ve lived.

And for the mentors in this collective, it’s the same story. We aren't just "cases" on a spreadsheet; we are professionals who were redirected, not erased. We are humans who still need a purpose. Our purpose now is taking the "Arsenal" we built in the boardroom and handing it to you so you can reclaim your own autonomy.

I created this advisory as a volunteer-led collective because it’s the only way to beat the system at its own game. When we have the energy and we feel good, we’re going to share everything we know to help you win. When we don’t, we’re going to rest without a shred of guilt.

I’m here to show you that you can still have a seat at the table, even if you brought your own chair. I’m here to help you get things done when you have the strength, and to be the neighbor who understands when you don’t.

We aren't just surviving the "Expert-archy,” we are reclaiming our right to be useful on our own terms. Let’s stop being "cases" and start being heard. Roll up a chair. One spoon at a time, we’ll find the way forward.

If you’re here, you’re likely tired. Tired of being "processed," tired of explaining your existence to doctors who look at their watches, and tired of a system that treats your autonomy like a suggestion.

I’m Justin. I have a PhD and 25 years of executive-level "street cred," but I also have a wheelchair. I’m not here to show you a resume. I’m here to hand you the Arsenal I’ve built so you can get your life back.

I Know Your Tuesday Morning

Let’s be real. I know exactly what your Tuesday morning feels like, because I live it, too. I know those mornings where the "wires" aren't firing, the pain is loud, and your body just says no.

In my old life, I would have pushed through. In this life, I’ve learned the power of boundaries. If I feel like hell on a Tuesday morning, I’m not doing a damn thing. I’ve learned that "resting" isn't "quitting,” it's strategy. I respect my energy, and I will always respect yours. We work on an adaptive schedule here. If you need to cancel because it’s a "Tuesday morning" kind of day? I’ll be the first one to tell you to go back to bed. No judgment. Just peer-to-peer reality.