Hi Reader,
​
Last week I told you I was too busy drowning to learn how to swim.

This week, I got out of the water.

Wednesday, April 2nd was my last day at TD Bank. After two decades in banking, I walked out of a corporate office for the last time. No safety net. No “let me see how the side project goes first.” Done.

I’m going all-in on Curio Chat Academy.

Why Now

You’ve been reading these emails long enough to know I don’t make impulsive decisions. I’m an Architect. I designed the exit before I took it.

But here’s the thing I couldn’t design my way around: you can’t build something real while giving your best hours to someone else’s thing. I tried. For years. I taught about restart time while my own restart kept getting delayed by meetings, quarterly reviews, and obligations I’d stopped believing in.

Remember the mastermind in New York? The phrase that stuck — “too busy drowning to learn how to swim”? I came home and realized I wasn’t just busy. I was split. And the split was the drowning.

So I stopped splitting.

The Irony

I’m writing a book called Restart Time — about how fast you recover after disruption. And I just made the biggest restart of my life.

The irony isn’t lost on me. The guy who teaches restart speed spent two years “getting ready” to restart. Planning the exit. Waiting for the right quarter. The right savings number. The right moment.

There is no right moment. There’s the moment you stop waiting. Mine was Wednesday.

What’s Coming

This month I’m launching Agentic Coding Mastery — a program for software engineers who want to build with AI agents, not just talk about them. Programs for solopreneurs follow later this year.

And Restart Time — the book — gets past the finish line this month. At least the writing and editing. No more “I’ll work on it this weekend.” It’s the work now. All of it.

Mini Insight

There’s a version of productivity advice that says: optimize what you have. Make the calendar work. Find the gaps. Squeeze more in.

Sometimes that’s right. And sometimes the calendar is the problem. Not the gaps in it — the whole thing. The commitments you built around a life you’ve outgrown.

The hardest restart isn’t a habit. It’s an identity.

Try-This-Now (≤5 minutes)

1. Name the thing you’ve been “getting ready” to do. The one that lives in “someday” or “when things calm down.”
2. Ask: what am I waiting for? Write the actual answer.
3. Look at that answer. Is it a real prerequisite — or a delay disguised as preparation?
4. If it’s real, name the next concrete step. If it’s a disguise, name the date you’ll stop waiting.

Stop — this counts.

Your Pattern Tweak

Each type has a version of the “not yet” trap:

• Architect: Over-designing the exit. The spreadsheet will never say “now.”
• Surfer: Waiting for momentum. Big restarts arrive as decisions, not waves.
• Keeper: Honoring expired commitments. Check if you’re staying out of loyalty or inertia.
• Pilot: You already know the move. Fear is wearing a patience costume.

(Don’t know your type? Reply “quiz” and I’ll send you the link.)

Living Profit (why this matters)

• Energy: I slept seven hours Wednesday night. First time in months I didn’t wake up at 3am running through two sets of priorities. Splitting yourself isn’t “balance.” It’s a slow leak. Closing the split gives you back energy you forgot you had.
• Relationships: My family has heard “after this quarter” for years. Now there’s no quarter. Just the work I chose and the people I chose it for. It’s Easter weekend. Renewal isn’t a metaphor today — it’s the actual situation.
• Income & Opportunities: This is the scary part. No salary. No benefits. Just the bet that what I’ve been building on nights and weekends deserves full daylight. If you’ve ever thought about making this kind of move — I won’t romanticize it. It’s terrifying. But staying was starting to cost more than leaving.

Excelsior,

Pierre/ Founder,
​Curio Chat Academy

P.S.: Three issues ago I broke my newsletter streak. Two issues ago I admitted I was drowning. This issue I’m telling you I changed everything. That’s the arc. Not a planned arc — a lived one. Happy Easter to those who celebrate. And to everyone: sometimes the restart isn’t a habit or a system. It’s your whole life. Mine started Wednesday.