I’ve spent most of my career building digital products, creating systems, and fixing inefficiencies. Parkinson’s? It’s the ultimate inefficiency. But it’s taught me to find a new rhythm, a new way of showing up for my family, my work, and myself. It’s forced me to find humor in the hard stuff and to keep moving, even if it’s slower than I’d like.
In technology, interrupt-driven describes a system that isn’t smooth and linear. Something unexpected fires off, demands attention, and suddenly the whole program pivots. Parkinson’s does the same thing: rogue signals crashing my operating system, forcing new responses, and rerouting my life. It interrupts. And yet, strangely, it drives me at the same time.
The logo reflects this paradox: a circle for infinite continuity, slashed by a jagged line symbolizing the broken pattern. Smooth flow interrupted. Stability driven into motion.
This book isn’t a roadmap for Parkinson’s. No such map exists, because everyone’s journey is different. Instead, consider it a field guide, a companion, a flashlight for the dark corners you might find yourself in, whether you have Parkinson’s, or love someone who does. It’s for anyone who’s been interrupted by something they didn’t expect and is now trying to figure out how to keep living, building, and becoming in the middle of uncertainty.
It isn’t about me being brave, or heroic, or motivational. It’s about what happens when life hands you something you didn’t ask for and you’re forced to live differently. To slow down. To pay attention. To rethink what matters. It’s about what happens when a degenerative disease meets a mind that refuses to stop building, questioning, and bettering.
You’ll find no sugarcoating here. Parkinson’s sucks ass, and I won’t pretend otherwise. It robs you of dopamine which steadily breaks down your body and your mind, testing your mettle, your resolve, your entire existence. But if you look close, hidden deep inside the breakdown is a strange, uncomfortable gift, one that forces you to live intentionally, to appreciate small wins, to let go of shit that doesn’t matter, and to figure out who you are after so much has been stripped away.
If you’re here looking for hope in bitesized chunks written at all hours of the day, occasionally repetitive, and not in chronological order, you’ll find it, but it might not look the way you expect. It’s the kind of hope that’s earned, not given. The kind that comes from checking the small boxes, celebrating tiny wins, and stacking them up until they look like progress. It’s the hope that comes from learning that you can reinvent yourself despite progressively degenerating.
Welcome to Interrupt Driven: The Heavy Burden of Uncertainty. The story of a life that continues to unfold despite its infinite interruptions, and softened by the gifts of perspective, patience, and a really dark sense of humor.
