#3 Love, Presence & Letting Go: What My Wedding Taught Me About Real Wealth
They say “when you know, you know.”
But I didn’t just know.
I felt it—in my chest, in my breath, in my soul.
And for the first time in my life, I understood what real wealth is.
Not money.
Not success.
Not a highlight reel on social media.
But the kind of wealth you can’t measure:
Presence. Connection. Love.
This wasn’t just a wedding.
It was a wake-up call.
A sacred reminder of everything I used to miss and neglect...
while chasing everything I thought would make me feel alive.
We held the ceremony in a place that already held meaning.
It was where we had our second date.
Where we had our first kiss.
And now—where we would stand, eyes locked, hearts wide open, and say yes to a lifetime.
I woke up that morning strangely calm.
No nerves. No mind noise. Just a quiet, grounded sense of readiness.
Not for the day—but for the life that was beginning.
The guests arrived.
The sun hit the ground with that golden warmth only presence can notice.
And the bagpipes played all of our guests into the venue, which was a fantastic start to the experience.
That sound—raw, ancient, primal—moved through the space like it had a message to deliver.
And in a way, it did.
The Scottish power in those notes wasn’t just music.
It was memory. Lineage. Emotion. Which honestly, i'd never really understood or appreciated before being an englishman.
It set the tone not for a ceremony, but for a moment in time that would never leave us.
And then—she appeared.
I didn’t blink.
Didn’t shift.
Didn’t think.
I just stood there, still.
Tears gently slid down my face.
Behind me, I heard my groomsman gasp.
I felt every heartbeat like it was a drum inside my chest.
And in that moment, the world fell silent, everyone disappeared.
She walked down the aisle, glowing but grounded.
Present but powerful.
And everything in me knew:
“You’re not watching your life anymore. You’re in it.”
It wasn’t about being seen.
It wasn’t about the perfect day.
It was about this undeniable knowing—that love, real love, lives in the spaces most people rush past.
Later came the speeches.
Laughter. Tears. Stories.
The kind you forget to record but remember forever.
Not for the words—but for the feeling in the room.
A feeling you can’t fake.
which then led onto the party and the music began.
Our wedding band? A childhood friend of mine.
Someone I used to sing with in my kitchen at 14.
Now—15 years later—we were here. Together.
Sharing the stage for a completely different reason.
There was something cosmic in it all.
The people. The place. The full-circle energy.
Like life had been subtly preparing this day for years behind the scenes.
And I didn’t miss a single moment.
Not because it was special.
But because I was awake for all of it.
On my wedding day I was completely sober. Hard for some people to grasp I know.
I used to drink to feel free.
To escape.
To loosen the grip I had on myself.
Alcohol made me feel more “me”—because deep down, I didn’t fully love who I was without it.
Over time, though, the grip loosened.
Not because I forced myself to quit.
But because I stopped needing it.
I stopped liking the version of myself I became when I drank.
And eventually, it just... left.
On my wedding day, I didn’t think about alcohol once.
I didn’t crave escape.
Because there was nothing I wanted to leave.
I was clear.
I was present.
I was me.
And that was the real high.
Not the buzz.
Not the blur.
But the clarity of being so present, you feel every single frame of the moment unfolding.
And love?
It’s not what I used to think it was.
For years, I put growth first. Football. The military. Business. Discipline.
All of it.
I told myself I was building for us—but deep down, I was building to prove I was enough.
To the world. To myself. To an inner voice that never stopped whispering: “More.”
And she stood by me through it all.
Now, we’re two individuals—walking two different paths. But we’re rooted in the same soil.
We don’t need each other. We choose each other.
Daily. Consciously. With love.
Like two trees sharing the same roots—
Bending in different directions, facing different winds—
But growing, together.
That’s what love really is. Not needing someone to complete you—
But choosing someone to grow beside.
To stand beside.
To become beside.
Since that day, I’ve let go of a lot.
→ Chasing money to feel validated
→ Saying “I’m too busy” to be present
→ Believing I needed to do more to be worthy of love
Now I ask myself different questions:
✔ How do I make people feel when I enter the room?
✔ Am I with the people I love—or just near them?
✔ Am I leading from pressure… or from presence?
Because here’s the truth:
You can have everything.
The success. The followers. The body. The brand.
But if you go home and feel empty—what’s the point?
Success without connection is a hollow game.
And I’m no longer available to play it.
If you haven’t felt this kind of love yet, I see you.
I hadn’t either. Not for a long time.
Not because it wasn’t around me—
But because I wasn’t available to feel it.
I thought love came from someone else.
But it starts when you stop hiding from yourself.
When you show up.
When you soften.
When you choose truth over performance.
Yes, love will make you feel more pain.
But that’s the price of feeling more life.
And it’s worth every breath.
I’ve lived the performance life.
I’ve worn the masks.
I’ve chased perfection.
I’ve numbed discomfort with progress.
But all of it leads to the same place:
Exhaustion.
Disconnection.
Loneliness in a room full of people.
And eventually—if you’re lucky—
You stop.
You get still.
You soften.
You listen.
And you realize:
You don’t need more.
You just need you.
Whole. Present. Clear.
Now I don’t chase.
I choose.
I don’t numb.
I feel.
I don’t lead with force.
I lead from love.
That’s The Uncommon Life.
Not driven by ego—but by essence.
Not curated for the world—but lived for the soul.
And wherever you are in your journey, I hope this truth finds you:
Real wealth isn’t what you earn. It’s what you feel.
Presence. Connection. Love.
It’s already here—if you’re willing to slow down and let it in.
– David
