At 40, I closed the business I’d spent years building.
Spook Studio was a digital agency that helped first-time founders—often people leaving corporate jobs—turn their startup ideas into real products. We were their design and tech partner, guiding them from concept to platform, app, or service.
From the outside, things looked solid. We had a team, recurring revenue, and a clear path to growth. The agency was working. But the truth was—we weren’t excited by where it was heading. Scaling something that no longer lit us up felt like choosing comfort over meaning. And that wasn’t a trade I was willing to keep making.
But I had to ask myself:
Can I still start something new at 40—and do it my way?
That was a scary question.
At Spook, we never just took briefs and built. We challenged our clients to go deeper.
“Why this idea?”
“Who is it really for?”
“Is this the right thing to build?”
That kind of honesty wasn’t always easy for clients to hear—especially when they were emotionally invested. But we didn’t want to build for the sake of building. We wanted to create things that worked—for users, for the market, for the founder’s deeper purpose.
Over time, that intention started clashing with reality. Clients wanted speed, certainty, and output. We wanted space to explore, challenge, and build the right thing—not just the obvious thing. We found ourselves spending more time explaining our approach than doing the work we loved.
The business was fine. But we weren’t.
So, we shut the agency down.
And in doing so, I found something I hadn’t fully felt in a while: agency.
Letting go of Spook wasn’t just about closing a business. It was about letting go of an identity I’d worn for years. The builder. The tech guy. The fixer. That role had brought me security and recognition. But it wasn’t what I wanted anymore.
What I needed was space.
Space to ask myself the questions we’d always asked our clients:
What do I care about now?
What kind of work lights me up?
Who do I want to build with—and for?
That’s when The Happy Startup School was born.
Not as a polished plan, but as a response to those deeper questions.
It started around the time my second child arrived—chaotic, uncertain, and real. It wasn’t just a new venture. It was a personal shift. A slow, sometimes messy transformation into a more honest version of myself.
I moved from leading tech projects to guiding people through change. I stopped choosing work based on what I was good at and started choosing based on what felt true. Connection. Creativity. Impact. Growth. Adventure.
That shift didn’t happen overnight. It took years of unlearning, experimenting, refining. Years of figuring out how to make money in ways that didn’t burn me out. Years of working with others who, like me, were in the messy middle of redefining success.
Now, I work with midlife entrepreneurs who are standing at the same crossroads I once stood at.
They’ve achieved a lot. But they feel the pull toward something more.
More meaning.
More space.
More freedom.
More them.
I know how scary it is to leave behind a role, a business, or a story that once made perfect sense—but no longer fits. Especially when you have responsibilities, a reputation, a life built on what came before.
But I also know what’s possible when you pause long enough to listen to what you really want. When you stop defaulting and start designing. When you surround yourself with people who remind you that you’re not alone—and that you’re not crazy for wanting more.
I found agency by shutting my agency.
Now, I shape my work around my life. I work with people I care about. I’ve built something that supports not just my income, but my energy, my values, and my growth.
And I help others do the same.
So if you’re asking yourself whether it’s too late to start again—or whether it’s even allowed to do it your way—the answer is yes. You can. You must.
It won’t be perfect. But it will be yours.
And that’s where everything starts.