Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

I felt like a God…

23,520 Subscribers…

FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER.

What an incredible milestone.

One click…

Twenty thousand emails sent.

And within minutes—boom.

They NUKED 90% of my subscribers.

Gone.

Substack? 15,000 Nuked.MailChimp? 23,000 Gone too.

Go to Jail. Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

Twice in one week.

You ever build something for a year, spend every dollar you’ve got, finally reach the promise land…

And then watch it go up in smoke instantly?

On the first f*****g send?

That’s where I was.

👉 Wiped out almost everyone…

👉 Without warning…

👉 OVERNIGHT.

[Figure 1: Crossing 14,000 Subscribers on Substack]

[Figure 2: Big Brother Deletes 13,000 Subscribers without warning overnight]

Forget about the thousands of dollars I invested in my list.Forget about hours I can’t get back.

Turns out, sending an email to 20,000 people isn’t like sending one from Gmail.

If Gmail = paddling a rowboat...

20,000 subs = a nuclear submarine

Imagine being that fisherman who bumps into the sub and climbs into it.

You start pushing buttons because the lights are pretty, and before you know it—you just started World War III.

Lights are flashing red…

Russia and China are “responding”

No take-backs.

You done fucked up.

That’s what happened to me.

I’d never sent that many emails all at once.

I honestly didn’t know what to expect.

I felt like I’d gotten the death penalty for J-walking.

Even though I’ve written for titans like Tony Robbins and Neil Patel…

And my words have been seen and read by millions…

I didn’t have the first clue about email deliverability.

I tripped every spam filter, every compliance alarm, every internal red flag. Substack saw the smoke, panicked, and hit the kill switch.

At the time, I was furious…

Like “Big Brother” was all up in my business—poking their nose where it shouldn’t be.

But now, I see it differently.

If I’m being frank with you…

My first thought after losing the list was…

“I’m finished.”

This was an extinction-level event.

I was wrong.

Just a speed bump.

They didn’t destroy me…

They exposed a weak link in my business.

And, this could have been way worse if it had happened later on.

Say, when my list hit 100,000.

Yikes.

I’d built a machine on shaky ground.

But the good news is…

I got a crash course on list hygiene.

But man — what a kick in the nuts.

I learned the hard way that your empire can vanish overnight.

So I’m rebuilding.

From scratch.

I’ve got a new lead generation system.

It consistently grows thousands of real subscribers every month.

Almost nobody knows this Substack growth trick, and it’s working exceptionally well.

You can delete my subscribers.But you can’t delete Permission to be Powerful.

I can’t be broken.(LOL — 2025: The Year I Joined a Cult to Save on Rent?)

I’ve cut all my expenses down to the bone to keep this going…

Because that’s how much I believe in it.

There aren’t too many people with this kind of vision and commitment.

I’m all-in.

I keep telling people: starting a business is like skydiving with a sewing kit. You jump out of the plane, fabric flapping everywhere, and try to stitch your parachute together before you go splat.

That’s been my entire year—needle between my teeth, wind in my face, praying the thread holds.

Pimpin’ ain’t easy.

Until next time,

Dancer, Writer, Buddhist.

.

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Now, let’s get into it…

Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

August 18, 2025, a French man named Jean Pormanove (JP) died live on Kick.

Viewers tuned in from around the world, while they…

“murdered someone slowly on camera.”

A few hours before his death, co-streamer “Naruto” (Owen Cenazandotti) coldly adds:

“Let him say on camera right now, if he dies tomorrow in the middle of a live show, it’s due to his shitty state of health and not to us.”

After Jean passed, Naruto posted on social media:

“Unfortunately, JP has left us. I love you, my brother, and we will miss you terribly.”

Regulators are considering penalties up to $49 million against Kick for failing to protect users.

Why did he stay?

JP didn’t stay because he enjoyed being a punching bag.

He knew better.

In a chilling pre-stream message, JP writes to his mother:

“Hi mom... I feel like I’m kidnapped with their shitty concept. I’m fed up. I want to get out of here...”

👉 He stayed for the same reason so many of us have stayed in toxic friendships, situationships, and relationships:

The hunger for acceptance was louder than self-respect.

I understand him.

I’ve stayed in places where I was treated like dirt.

I’ve laughed off insults.

I’ve swallowed disrespect.

I’ve clung to scraps of approval that never came.

Why would anyone stay with someone who treats them like chopped liver?

✅ Because guilt is stronger than anger.✅ Because the need to belong is stronger than the need for safety.✅ Because walking away feels like failure.

And that’s the trap Jean Pormanove lived in until it killed him.

What finally broke the spell for me was realizing this:

The only way those people felt “big” was by keeping me small.

Without me beneath them, their status collapsed.

Their “confidence” was fake—propped up by my submission.

That was the proof.

If their approval required my humiliation, their approval was worthless.

If they withheld acceptance to keep me chasing, then acceptance was never really on the table.

👉 Never go to a party where you’re not invited.

You’re not going to win over the crowd.

You’re only setting yourself up for rejection.

👉 And — I need you to listen closely on this one — NEVER dine at a restaurant where you’re on the menu.

Because the only people who want you there…

Are the ones who think you taste delicious.

Until next time,

Dancer, Writer, Buddhist.

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Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

When someone treats you like dirt…

Do you pretend you didn’t notice?

All people-pleasers do it.

You may even smile and laugh…

Like you’re some joke.

I used to live like that.

Looking back, I see a professional doormat.

With my father, my ex, my colleagues.

I told myself:They made a mistake.They didn’t mean it.They’d do better next time.

I gave them the endless benefit of the doubt.

Because that was easier than seeing the truth.

If I acknowledged the truth… I’d have to do something about it.

So, whenever someone disrespected me, I would laugh it off…

And they spit in my face every time.

There’s a reason for this.

Because you’re teaching them that you’re FINE with disrespect.

This treatment is acceptable.

You deserve it.

(Otherwise, why would you accept it?)

I finally decided: if you cross me, you lose my goodwill.

I got this from a mentor who once said:

“I have your back—until you devalue me. Then you’re dead to me.”

No second chances.

Divorce gave me that same clarity.

No more hoping people would change.

No more praying to be seen someday…

It’s no longer optional to take me seriously.

I could finally see things as they were, not as I wanted them to be.

I wasn’t two steps behind anymore…

I was two steps ahead.

In life, you get what you tolerate.

And once you stop tolerating b******t, life gets WAY better.

The parasites scatter, and you realize how much energy you wasted trying to make everyone else feel comfortable at your expense.

Every laugh at a put-down is a debt you’ll pay later.

Here’s the rule I live by now:

* If you respect me, you get my loyalty.

* If you cross me, you’re dead to me.

Nothing in between.

That doesn’t make me cruel. It makes me clear.

Because boundaries aren’t about punishing other people. Boundaries are about refusing to self-destruct just to keep them comfortable.

Once you really see that, you can’t unsee it.

When you stop tolerating b******t, you find out who belongs in your life.

Those who respect your boundaries stick around…

The ones who lived off your people-pleasing fall away. Fast.

And when they’re gone, you realize you didn’t lose a thing. You just stopped feeding parasites.

Don’t smile through disrespect.

Don’t pretend betrayal didn’t happen.

Wipe that dumb grin off your face.

You don’t have to execute perfectly.

Just make sure that when someone f***s with you…

You don’t sit there and take it.

This is a recipe for learned helplessness.

The moment you stop tolerating b******t…

You take your power back.

Until next time,

Dancer, Writer, Buddhist.

Permission to be Powerful is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Editor’s Note: I’ve lined up some excellent nonfiction books from indie authors that you can get for free. 👉 Click here to get your free books.

Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

Jackie’s son went to prison.For SIX MONTHS.Not for fentanyl.Not for meth.No.Just weed.

Did he really deserve that?

Millions of people took Jackie’s side, as he publicly disowned his son.Overnight, Jaycee became a case study on excess and privilege.

When I first heard about this story, I pictured a giant operation.A Breaking Bad-style basement stacked with bags of weed from floor to ceiling.

In reality?

A hundred grams of weed ≠ El Chapo.It’s Snoop Dogg’s weekend stash.

The crime wasn’t the weed.The crime was being Jackie Chan’s son.

Would any of this have happened if Jaycee had a different father?

The story blew up because he was Jackie’s kid.

It’s literally his fault.

But besides that…

As a parent, you don’t switch sides.

You don’t become the prosecutor’s snitch.

You stand beside your kid.

Even if you’re angry.Even if you’re embarrassed.Even if you’re disappointed.

That’s loyalty.That’s love.

Think about it: if your spouse gets sued, you don’t testify for the other side.If your parent gets cancer, you don’t write them off.

Family means you show up when they’re vulnerable.

I’m not saying you should enable them…

Or prevent them from suffering the consequences of their actions.

But in their time of need, you don’t set them on fire and piss on the ashes.

Jackie chose image over family.

Reputation over blood.

Listen to the way he talks about his son:All pride or shame.“If you succeed, you’re mine. If you fail, you’re not mine.”

No empathy.

That’s narcissistic parenting in a nutshell.

Yes, Chinese culture plays a role.

But would YOU disown your kid in front of a billion people over a paper bag of weed?

This was a cruel and unusual punishment.

Celebrities are the worst.

They get away with murder.

While Jackie’s image is protected, Jaycee will have to live with the shame for the rest of his life.

Contrast that with Eminem, who gave up millions at the height of his career to stay present in his daughter’s life.

Fame isn’t an excuse—it’s a choice.

And let’s not forget:

Jackie was a government-appointed anti-drug ambassador at the time.

His whole image depended on condemning drugs.

I get that he was embarrassed.

But in the grand scheme of things—if you’re going to disown your own child over marijuana, do you even deserve to be a parent?

With family like this, who needs enemies?

Now line up the red flags:

A father who brags about his daily beatings as a child.A world-class expert in violence.Completely absent — Jaycee only saw his father two weeks a year. Zero empathy — publicly disowning his son.

Sounds like a recipe for child abuse.

I can’t imagine what getting your ass whooped by Jackie Chan could have been like.

And I’m not saying I know for sure that Jackie abused anyone.

But something in the buttermilk ain’t clean.

We’re told to “respect our elders”…

To honor our parents.

Even when they treat you horribly.

Jackie Chan chose his reputation over his own son.

This is weakness, not strength.

Until next time,

Dancer, Writer, Buddhist.

P.S. I’ve lined up some excellent nonfiction books from indie authors that you can get for free. 👉 Click here to get your free books.

Permission to be Powerful is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

We’re taught to believe in “being good enough.”

Work hard. Play nice. Do well.

And maybe… one day… you’ll be rewarded.

It’s the biggest scam in history—

A lie to keep you paying your dues until you die.

Like a good sheep.

Because power is never given.

The King didn’t build America for the Founding Fathers.

Your boss won’t hand you what you’re worth.

No one gives their heart just because you want it.

Power is taken.

And taking it demands courage—and risk.

Often, it comes from saying the thing that makes the room go silent.

Stop waiting.Stop hoping.No one will ever anoint you.No endorsement will make you feel “enough.”

At some point, you have to say it:

F**K the haters.

I accept that I’m controversial.I accept that some people don’t like me.

Have the courage to be disliked.Find values worth being rejected for.Never abandon yourself to maintain appearances.

Ironically, when you claim your power…You often get the respect you’ve been craving all along.

But even then, it’s just a bonus.Because your self-respect will always be worth more.

If you’re not open to me, I’m not open to you.

I waste zero energy on the wrong people…And make space for the right ones to show themselves.

So—what power can you take back right now?Where is your agency?What do you control today?

You control who gets access to you.And some people don’t deserve it.But you’re handing it to them anyway.

In life, you get what you tolerate.You teach people how to treat you.

Pirates don’t wait for a royal pardon.They take the gold. Burn the ship.And they never ask for permission.

Until next time,

Dancer, Writer, Buddhist.

P.S.: I’ve got 30 free nonfiction books just for you. Take your pick.

Permission to be Powerful is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.