I was brought into this world in the early hours of a dark stormy blizzard, which may have been the universe’s way of foreshadowing what was to come. I grew up on Long Island, my time spent between the everyday mundane of suburban life and the horrors of a cult that trafficked adults and children. One of my biggest takeaways from my younger years was the single phrase “survive.” I've carried it with me since then, though now I work pretty hard at easing the burdens I no longer need to carry.

“This shit is hard, and it’s the work of a lifetime.”

While I learned to swing a hammer at a young age, I actually went to school for something different. I graduated from a local community college with an associates in a program that was preparing me to be a fitness trainer. From there, I became fascinated with performance and training athletes. After some deliberation I settled on psychology, believing that most of the work I'd be able to assist athletes in would come from the way they mentally approached the game.

I graduated with a BA in psychology from Stony Brook University. It was there that I developed a newfound appreciation for trauma, but was still fascinated behind the numerous ways one could improve performance in the psychological realm. I was accepted into Ithaca College’s master’s program with a concentration in sport psychology. I completed the course work but dropped out of the program before finishing the research component.

It was while I was away at school that a therapist asked me a question that would change my life: “If you could do anything in the world— you don’t need to know how to do it, you don’t have to know someone doing it, and it doesn’t have to be immediately available— what would you want to do?

Prior to this question I was leaning toward pursuing a doctorate in clinical psychology. Sport was fascinating, but trauma was one of his passions. How people adapt, how they heal, what makes us get stuck, etc. But this question my therapist asked me reframed things. It came to me at the right time. I realized that while trauma fascinated me, my motivation for working with people in a clinical setting was coming from a need to manage others in an attempt to protect myself. This realization spurred me into a new realm of thinking. One that wasn’t as self-limiting.

From here, I admitted to myself something I’d been running away from for most of my young life. That I truly felt at peace only when working with his hands.

I started working as an electrician’s apprentice shortly after, and picked up a hammer to explore blacksmithing on my own terms for the first time in my life a few months later.

My work as a blacksmith jeweler has been one that has not only empowered himself, but also led others through example.

When asked about why I do all of this, I often respond with: “Because I think all of us deserve the opportunity to feel as if we are enough. I want my rings to be a reminder of that.”