From Physical Threats to Digital Ones
There’s a certain kind of work that trains you to live in a constant state of readiness. You learn to scan rooms instinctively. You react faster than you think. You get very good at putting out fires (literal or otherwise), and you’re rewarded for being the person who can handle chaos without flinching.
I spent years in that world. The Marine Corps. Law enforcement. Executive protection. Casino and club security. High-pressure environments where decisions matter immediately and mistakes carry weight. It was demanding, intense, and for a long time, exactly what I wanted. I had a front-row seat to adrenaline, responsibility, and leadership under pressure.
And then one day, it wasn’t.
It wasn’t a dramatic breaking point. It was exhaustion…physical, mental, and emotional. The kind that creeps up slowly and then suddenly feels impossible to ignore. I was sitting with a friend after a brutal day, having a drink, when he asked a simple question that cut straight through the noise: What are you doing here? You’re too smart to keep destroying yourself for this.
That question lingered. Because the truth was, there was something else I wanted to do. I’d been fascinated by cybersecurity long before it became a buzzword. I just never allowed myself to take it seriously. There was always a reason to wait. Always another shift, another responsibility, another fire to put out.
So I stopped waiting.
I enrolled in a cybersecurity bootcamp while still working full-time in security management and began learning the fundamentals of the field. As my understanding grew, it became clear this wasn’t a departure from what I knew…it was a translation. Physical security and cybersecurity are built on the same principles: understanding systems, anticipating risk, and preventing problems before they escalate.
That clarity sharpened when I moved into leadership within a managed services provider. As a general manager, cybersecurity stopped being theoretical. Decisions around identity, access, backups, compliance, and risk weren’t academic; they directly affected real businesses and real outcomes. Security had to work in the messy reality of day-to-day operations, not just in theory.
That immersion reshaped how I learned. When it came time to earn my Security+ certification, it wasn’t about tutoring or cramming. It was about validating knowledge already built through experience. Running an MSP requires understanding security as a living system; one that supports people, processes, and growth without becoming a burden.
I’m not opposed to leadership roles, but I’m deliberate about when and why I step into them. I’ve always believed leadership should come after mastery, not before it. I won’t ask people to do work I don’t understand or couldn’t do myself. That rule guided me in physical security, and it applies just as strongly in cybersecurity.
Right now, the priority is learning the craft: understanding systems, remote access, threat hunting, and how security functions at a technical level. That kind of knowledge takes time and space to develop properly. Leadership may come later (or it may not), but if it does, it will be built on real experience, not distance from the work.
But even with that clarity, the environment I was in no longer matched where I was headed. The politics, the constant urgency, the endless stream of unrelated priorities…it was taking more than it was giving. I was losing sleep. Losing patience. Losing parts of myself I wasn’t willing to sacrifice anymore.
So I did something uncomfortable. I quit. No backup plan. No safety net. Just the certainty that staying put would cost me more than leaving ever could.
There’s a belief that’s followed me through every phase of my career, no matter the title: everything is a choice…so whatever you decide to do, do it right. That belief carried me through leadership roles, dangerous environments, and into a field that values preparation over reaction and clarity over chaos.
Cybersecurity, when done well, is quiet. It reduces noise instead of creating it. It allows people to focus on their work without constantly bracing for the next incident. At this stage of my life, that alignment matters more than endurance.
When expectations are clear and scope is respected, everyone wins. Organizations get focused, high-quality work. Clients get proactive security instead of reactive fixes. And I get the space to do meaningful work without being pulled into chaos that doesn’t serve anyone.
I didn’t leave one career behind so much as refine it. The threats changed. The tools changed. The setting changed. But the core stayed the same: understand the system, reduce risk, and make life better for the people depending on you.
This time, I’m doing it right.
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