Legacy Projects and Letting Go

I’ve spent the better part of my career building things—some big, some small, some messy, some magical. A few have made headlines. Others were just a shared Google Doc, a Slack channel, or a late-night whiteboard brainstorm that turned into something real.

But here’s the truth: not everything I’ve built still exists.
And that’s not a bad thing.

The Branded Car and the Open Road

From 2012 to 2016, I helped lead the Stupid Cancer Road Trip—an annual campaign where we drove across the country in a car wrapped bumper-to-bumper in our logo and mission. This wasn’t a quiet awareness effort. It was bold, loud, and impossible to miss.

We rolled through major metros and small towns—Washington, Chicago, Portland, Billings, Anchorage, Vegas—meeting young adults affected by cancer in hospital lobbies, dive bars, parking lots, and everywhere in between.

Those trips were never meant to last forever. They were meant to spark connection and show people that they weren’t alone.
And they did.

People still ask me, “What happened to the road trips?”
And I tell them: They did exactly what they needed to do.

The App That Came Before Its Time

Another one of those projects was Instapeer—the first-ever mobile app designed to connect cancer patients and survivors based on shared variables in their experience: diagnosis, age, treatment type, gender, identity, and more.

At the time, nothing like it existed. We weren’t just building an app; we were building digital empathy. A way for someone going through hell to find someone else who'd been there and made it out the other side. Peer support, but modern. Mobile. Human.

Instapeer was ahead of its time—built on heart and limited resources. We learned fast, failed fast, pivoted hard, and made thousands of meaningful matches. And while it’s no longer live today, I still hear from people who say it helped them feel seen when they needed it most.

The app didn’t need to last forever to matter.
It did what it came here to do.

Impact Doesn’t Always Mean Endurance

I’ve built internal systems and workflows, too—some with duct tape and prayer, others with APIs and strategy. Many are gone. And that’s fine.

Legacy isn’t always about maintenance.
It’s about meaning.

Did the thing serve the moment?
Did it change someone’s experience?
Did it make the work better, easier, or more human?

If yes, that’s success. Even if the servers get shut down or the van gets parked for good.

What I Choose to Keep

I’ve let go of logos, domains, passwords, platforms, and programs. But I’ve kept the lessons, the momentum, the people, and the purpose.

Letting go isn’t giving up.
It’s giving space.

And when I think back—whether to a wrapped road trip car or an app that let strangers become lifelines—I don’t feel loss. I feel gratitude.

The wheels stopped turning. The app stopped loading.
But the impact? Still moving.