It’s hard to watch something once great become... average.
As I take a walk and think through what the next year might look like — maybe moving to the U.S., maybe spending more time in Spain — I keep circling back to this one thought: things used to feel more hopeful. More ambitious. And that shaped me.
When I was coming up in my career, Alberta — and Canada as a whole — felt different. We were financially prudent. Multiculturalism wasn’t just a buzzword, it worked. Alberta was debt-free. We had oil dividends, a massive heritage fund, and a belief that the province was building something lasting. Today, that belief feels hollow. The descent from excellence to just “okay” has been tough to watch — and even tougher to live through.
And it’s not just a nostalgic lament. It’s about what that decline does to ambition.
It’s drained the desire to create something beyond just the day-to-day. It’s hard to take risks, to build something meaningful, when the ecosystem doesn’t seem to reward it — or worse, seems indifferent to it.
Don’t get me wrong: I understand that to many new Canadians, this country still feels like the best place on earth. And I respect that. But as someone who’s been here long enough to remember what it was, I can’t ignore the contrast.
As a husband, a father, and a business owner, the past decade has chipped away at the energy I used to have to build boldly. The political system is a mess. Our healthcare and tax systems are tangled and sluggish. And as a business owner, I’m constantly asking: Is this worth it?
Not just financially. Existentially. Is it worth pouring effort into building something here, when the return on that effort — in growth, impact, and fulfillment — feels capped?
My team faces their own challenges too. The cost of living is rising. Wages can’t keep pace. And I feel caught in the middle — wanting to provide more, but constrained by what the system will allow.
And so, I’ve been thinking seriously: maybe it’s time to do hard things in a place that rewards hard things.
What That Might Look Like
Over the past couple years, we’ve spent time in Spain. We volunteer with a church that’s doing powerful work: opening Montessori-style preschools in communities that desperately need them. We’ve helped fund that effort, and we’d like to do more.
It’s meaningful work. It gives us a place to gather as a family, to reconnect. And that matters to me as my five kids start launching their own lives.
On the other side of the ocean, the U.S. — especially places like Austin — still feels like it holds a version of the American Dream. A place where ambition is welcomed. Where effort has upside. And that’s why I’m considering applying for an E-2 visa: to invest in a U.S. business and build something new.
Maybe it’s expanding my startup. Maybe it’s starting a new construction company. Either way, it’s going to take planning, capital, and courage. But if I’m honest, the idea of surrounding myself with ambitious people in a place that supports growth feels like a breath of fresh air.
My ideal? Six months in the U.S., three in Spain, three in Canada — keeping my commitments, staying rooted, but building in places that feel alive.
Still, There's Work To Do Here
I haven’t written off Calgary.
Our business here is stable, growing, and supports a great team. And this year, my goal is to build it so it doesn’t need me. That means better systems, better leadership, and giving my team the tools — and the space — to thrive without me constantly in the mix.
I dug up my old copy of The E-Myth. It’s time to revisit the fundamentals and make sure I’m not missing anything obvious.
And while I know there’s no magic operator or miracle GM waiting in the wings, I do believe that a strong collective can run this company better than I can alone. I want to build a team that wins — and free myself to pursue what’s next.
So, Should I Stay or Should I Go?
Right now? It’s a go day.
I’m not sure if that means launching in Texas, funding more schools in Spain, or building a remote life that lets me do both — but I know I can’t keep trying to build something extraordinary in a place that doesn’t feel like it wants extraordinary anymore.
Maybe this resonates with you. Maybe you’re feeling the same pull — and wrestling with whether you’re just burnt out, or if the soil you’re planting in is no longer fertile.
I’ll be sharing more in upcoming posts — especially about the tax considerations, the E-2 visa process, and what city might make the most sense. (Snow is officially off the list, by the way.)
But for today, I’m making a note: I want to be somewhere that still believes in building bold things. I want to put my energy where it has a chance to multiply.
And if you’re feeling that too, maybe it’s time to ask: What would your version of a go day look like?
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