Life Isn't Easy, and for Me, It Never Truly Was.
Throughout much of my life, I have struggled and experienced more trauma than I ever imagined I would. There have been times when the world got its rounds in, but somewhere inside me, I always knew the fight wasn't over.
I grew up experiencing divorce and later went through a divorce of my own. I have lived through suicide and suicide attempts within my family and experienced losses that fundamentally changed me. If there is anything those experiences have taught me, it is this: life does not stop.
The deck of cards in your hand may be what life gave you, but how you choose to play that hand is ultimately up to you.
If my history has shown me anything, it is that you are the captain of your own ship, regardless of circumstance, status, or situation. Circumstances can alter your course. Other people's opinions can influence your thinking. Motivation can determine the speed of your engine. But ultimately, you are still responsible for where you steer.
Sometimes in life, you have to make a decision that no one else truly understands because only you can see the end game, the bigger picture, or the golden carrot in the distance. When you believe deeply enough in that vision, you find resources you didn't know you had. You adapt. You sacrifice. You figure things out because somewhere inside, you know what needs to be done, even when nobody else can see it.
In choosing to pursue your own version of carpe diem, you will lose things. You will make sacrifices. You will question yourself, particularly during periods of uncertainty.
Trust me, I know.
In my pursuit of the bigger picture, I lost relationships, friendships, and time with people I loved. At times, I found myself alone, navigating completely uncharted waters.
The strange thing about navigating in the dark is that sometimes you eventually discover that you possess the light you need to find your way through it.
Easier said than done, of course.
Walking Away From the Life I Knew
I was a career changer in my mid-30s when I decided to walk away from corporate America and pursue my lifelong dream of becoming a professional pilot.
After approximately ten years of the traditional 9-to-5 life, I knew I wanted more. I had also reached a point personally where life had taken a significant toll on me. My uncle died by suicide. My father survived a suicide attempt. Another uncle passed away in front of me. At the same time, my marriage was struggling.
Eventually, I simply had enough.
I realized it was time to save myself, not selfishly, but because I believed I needed to become the man I wanted to be for the greater good of my family and my children.
My wife at the time did not support my career change. That hurt deeply. But I found a way forward and ultimately left the career I had spent a decade building to pursue flight training.
About a year later, I had accomplished what I set out to do.
But life wasn't finished dealing its cards.
Around Thanksgiving that year, my wife told me she wanted to separate, and I moved back in with my parents. I was heartbroken. After approximately nine months of training and everything I had invested in becoming a pilot, I walked away from flying because I needed to preserve myself during an incredibly uncertain period in my life.
Then COVID happened.
It felt as though the entire world stopped.
I went to work overnight at Amazon, moving packages for nearly a year, simply trying to make ends meet and, as I often say, keep the music going.
In front of my children, I tried to remain the captain. I reassured them that everything was going to be okay.
Inside, I was merely trying to survive.
Finding My Way Back
About a year later, I met a family at a gym who recognized my ability to connect with people and build relationships. They offered me an opportunity to work as a mate aboard their yacht on the South Shore of Long Island.
I grew up around boating, so I decided to take a chance.
Something unexpected happened.
Working on that yacht started bringing me back to life.
I loved preparing the vessel for departure, taking care of guests, being on the water, helping with catering, cleaning, changing the oil, and doing whatever needed to be done. I became a jack-of-all-trades, and I loved every minute of it.
More importantly, I fell in love with the people and the work.
Slowly, I was rebuilding pieces of myself that I thought I had lost.
Eventually, I decided to give flying another chance. After more than a year away, I regained the proficiency and currency I needed to work as a flight instructor.
I found a small flight school on Long Island, New York. I wasn't making much money, but I genuinely cared about the people who ran the school because they always found a way to take care of me.
Still, the bills kept coming. My children needed things. Life didn't pause simply because I was rebuilding a career.
So I worked.
I instructed students.
I continued working at Amazon.
I continued working aboard the yacht.
It was exhausting. It required discipline, coordination, and sometimes operating on very little reserve.
But I kept going.
A Birthday That Changed My Life
One day, after finishing a flight, I decided to stick around and help the flight school park airplanes.
It seemed insignificant at the time.
It wasn't.
That was when I met my mentor, Dan Ragan.
Dan saw something in my energy and in the way I interacted with people. Even though he barely knew me, he took a chance on me and offered me an opportunity to sit in the right seat of a private jet.
On my birthday, May 17, 2022, I had the honor of sitting in that right seat alongside Dan and the aircraft's owner.
I still remind Dan that he gave me one of the greatest birthday gifts of my life.
Over the following year, we flew around the country together, and Dan taught me lessons that extended far beyond the airplane.
He taught me professionalism.
He taught me things no textbook could teach.
And perhaps most importantly, Dan showed me grace during a period of my life when I desperately needed it.
His impact on my life is something I will never forget. I consider him a mentor, a friend, and, in many ways, a surrogate father.
Becoming the Teacher
About a year later, I joined a well-known charter company in the Northeast and spent the next three years continuing to build my professional flying career.
During that period, my divorce was finalized. My ex-wife wanted to relocate to New Jersey with our children and her husband. Knowing that the demands of my aviation schedule would make the existing parenting arrangement difficult, I decided to compromise.
Today, there are parts of that decision I regret.
But I also know my children have a happy and healthy life, and they remain one of the biggest reasons I keep going.
During my time at the charter company, I had the honor of serving as a First Officer, Captain, and eventually as a simulator and ground instructor.
Teaching became my favorite role.
I loved helping pilots become the best versions of themselves and reminding them never to give up. Aviation can deliver plenty of difficult days, but I learned that sometimes the right moment can make all of those difficult days worthwhile.
There was something uniquely rewarding about watching people I had trained put on their uniforms and pursue the careers they had worked so hard to achieve.
It was one of the few times when someone else's success genuinely felt like my own.
And yet, while I was doing all of this, I was still trying to keep the music going.
I continued working on the yacht. I looked for side work. I stayed busy because work gave me structure and purpose.
People had opinions.
Some probably thought I was crazy.
But I kept reminding myself:
I am the captain.
I knew my limitations. I knew what I could and couldn't do. And I kept going because I still believed there was a bigger picture ahead of me.
One thought followed me everywhere:
Do what you need to do. No one is coming to save you.
The Person I Forgot
Eventually, however, I realized something uncomfortable.
While taking care of trainees, colleagues, friends, my children, my relationship, and seemingly everyone around me, I had slowly forgotten about the one person I was also responsible for taking care of:
Me.
So I decided to go after myself one more time.
I chose to pursue my dream of becoming an airline pilot, and today I am working my way through an airline training program.
Airline pilot training is not for the faint of heart. There are difficult days, frustrating days, and days that force you to question yourself.
But once again, the lesson keeps coming back.
You persevere.
You use every resource available to you.
You play the cards you've been dealt.
And somehow, some way, you keep going.
Playing the Hand You're Dealt
For me, this story has become about self-discipline. It's about seeing something that perhaps nobody else can see yet and having enough conviction to keep moving toward it.
These last five years have taught me more about character, discipline, humility, resilience, sacrifice, and myself than I ever expected to learn.
Had I simply stayed on the safe path years ago, I don't know that I would understand those lessons the way I do today.
Changing careers was terrifying.
Going through divorce was devastating.
Losing the version of fatherhood I once imagined has been an ongoing challenge.
Rebuilding financially has been difficult.
And chasing a dream has cost far more than money.
But I have learned something through all of it:
You can save yourself.
You can play the hand you've been given.
You can endure.
You can change course.
You can rebuild.
And you can always look for another way forward.
My life isn't perfect.
I'm still figuring things out. Some days, I honestly feel like I'm hanging onto the tail of the airplane while it takes off.
But I'm still holding on.
I made a choice years ago to pursue something more for my life.
Along the way, I've also had to make another choice:
To keep figuring it out.
Sometimes my path has been unconventional. Sometimes I have questioned it. Sometimes life has dealt me cards I absolutely did not want.
But perhaps that's the lesson in all of this.
You don't always get to choose the cards.
You do get to decide how you play the hand.
—Frank John Cestaro
Father, Pilot, Professional
