When people hear “creative,” they usually picture the opposite of analytical: paint-splattered studios, free-flowing ideas, intuition over structure.

That’s not how my mind works.

I’ve always had an analytical streak.
Math and computer science shaped how I see the world, in patterns, systems, and cause-and-effect logic. For a long time, I thought that part of me made me less creative.

But as it turns out, it was the very thing that made me more creative.

The Early Years: Thinking in Systems

In my early days at the University of Waterloo, I loved the precision of math, the structure of programming, working with databases. There’s a certain satisfaction in writing code or solving an equation. The logic either works, or it doesn’t.

I liked that clarity.

What I didn’t realize then was that those same habits, breaking big problems into smaller parts, identifying patterns, and building from fundamentals, would become essential later in creative work.

At the time, though, I saw math and art as different worlds.
One was rigid. The other was expressive.
It took several career pivots to realize they were actually different languages describing the same thing.

The Shift: From Equations to Expression

When I left that analytical world and entered creative spaces, first through ministry, then branding, and eventually content strategy, I felt unprepared.

Creativity seemed like this unpredictable force that others just had.
I was used to formulas and logic, not intuition and flow.

But the more I worked in creative fields, the more I noticed something familiar: patterns.
Just like math had patterns, so did messaging, storytelling, and design.

I started seeing structure everywhere, in how ideas connect, how a brand evolves, how a story builds momentum.
And I realized that creativity wasn’t chaos.
It was organized energy.

The same brain that used to debugging code now worked on refining ideas, finding the logic behind the art.

The Realization: Creativity Needs a Framework

Here’s what most people miss:
Structure liberates creativity and doesn’t limit it.

When I began developing the REPURPOSE Framework, I noticed how much of it reflected my analytical roots. It’s a structured process designed to give creative people something to build on. It is a system that transforms messy inspiration into actionable outcomes.

That’s when I finally understood the connection:
My analytical side wasn’t fighting my creative side.
It was strengthening it.

Without structure, creativity can become exhausting.
Without creativity, structure becomes lifeless.
But together, they create something powerful: repeatable innovation.

The Lesson: Integration, Not Opposition

Today, I see every project, every brand, course, or piece of content, as a balance between those two worlds.

I approach creativity like a mathematician and analysis like an artist.
That’s what makes my process work.

When I help clients repurpose their content, it’s not just about making something look new. It’s about finding patterns, extracting value, and rebuilding it into something that performs better. That’s exactly how a good algorithm refines data to produce better results.

Creativity, at its best, is structured freedom.
And the more I embrace both sides of my brain, the more naturally that flow happens.

The Takeaway

So if you’ve ever told yourself you’re too analytical to be creative, think again.
Your brain might just be wired for a different kind of creativity, one that builds frameworks, identifies patterns, and connects ideas others might miss.

The truth is, the same logic that once helped me debug code now helps me refine stories.
And that’s what repurposing is all about. It’s taking what already exists and transforms it into something that serves a new purpose.

Because creativity doesn’t mean abandoning structure.
It means repurposing it.

There was a time when I thought “starting over” meant failure.
It meant something had gone wrong. That a chapter had closed for reasons beyond my control, and I was left to rebuild from scratch.

But over the years, I’ve realized something completely different.
You never really start over.
You repurpose.

I didn’t learn that in theory. I learned it the hard way, through three life moments that I thought were endings, but turned out to be transformations in disguise.

Life Change Repurposing Lesson 1:
When I Had to Leave the University of Waterloo

I was fortunate to get there because of how difficult it is to get accepted. It represented everything I thought I was supposed to become: fulfillment, direction, stability.
When I had to drop out because of my lack of responsibility, it felt like the floor fell out from under me.

I remember sitting and questioning, staring at the unfinished chapter that was difficult to acknowledge to anyone.
What I didn’t realize then was that nothing I had learned was lost. The principles, the curiosity, the drive, they didn’t vanish just because my environment changed.

Leaving school forced me to see learning differently. It wasn’t confined to classrooms or degrees. It was a mindset.
And that realization became the foundation for how I approached everything afterward: What I already know can be repurposed.

Life Change Repurposing Lesson 2:
When I Stepped Away from Full-Time Ministry

Years later, I faced another kind of loss. This time, not academic but personal.
Being a youth pastor was more than a job to me. It was a calling, and walking away was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made.

At first, it felt like purpose had left the room.
But again, life had other plans.

I began to see that the calling wasn’t gone. It had just changed format.
I still felt drawn to teach, to encourage, to help people grow. I just wasn’t standing in front of a youth group anymore.

Everything I learned in ministry, communicating ideas clearly, connecting deeply, helping people move from confusion to clarity, became the very tools I now use in my work helping others express their message and repurpose their content.

That’s when I realized something powerful: purpose can evolve without disappearing.

Life Change Repurposing Lesson 3:
When My Wife Became Disabled

Nothing prepares you for the kind of change that affects every corner of your life.
When my wife became disabled, everything slowed down, not by choice, but by necessity.

In that season, priorities changed. My time, energy, and even definition of success had to be repurposed.
There were days when I felt like everything was on hold. But looking back now, I can see that those days were reshaping my focus, quietly teaching me patience, empathy, and perspective.

Repurposing wasn’t about efficiency anymore. It was about meaning.
It was about seeing how love, responsibility, and purpose could take on new shapes without losing their substance.

What All Three Moments Taught Me

In each chapter, I thought I was losing something permanent.
But each time, I was being repurposed: my direction, my purpose, my understanding of what truly matters.

Life, I’ve found, is a lot like content.
We create it, live it, and sometimes outgrow it. But that doesn’t mean it’s wasted.
We can take the best parts, the lessons, the wisdom, the passion, and reshape them into something that fits the next version of who we are.

That’s why I no longer see change as an interruption.
It’s just the next phase of repurposing both in life and in the work I do now helping others repurpose their ideas, experiences, and messages into new forms that reach more people.

Every time something changes, I ask one question:
“What can I carry forward?”

Because there’s always something worth carrying.

Final Thought

If you’re standing in a season that feels uncertain, don’t rush to rebuild from zero.
Pause and look back at what still holds value.
Chances are, you’re not starting over. You’re just being repurposed for what’s next.