Last week I fulfilled a life-long dream of being on the Today Show. 

 

Instinctively, I knew I’d cry at some point that morning. 

 

I even tried to force it early — sorting through my folder of artifacts in the green room: a class photo of me with my 5th grade students, a picture of Emily, Hoda, and me from 14 years earlier, and a snapshot from my first visit to the Today Show in 2001. Nothing. I didn’t want to cry right before showtime. 

 

And yet, I did.

 

 

Four minutes until air: Everyone else had left the greenroom — my wife, my book publicist, my manager, and the Today Show segment producer. We had finished our pre-show meeting and watched the other live segments. My segment was finally next. It was my turn to head in to the studio. I lingered at the door, then darted back for a paper towel, knowing what was coming.

 

On the escalator to Studio 1A, the emotional avalanche hit. For months, I’d held it together — balancing book marketing, media interviews, teaching, and fatherhood. I’d stayed sharp, present. The night before, we’d had an event to celebrate my first book officially being published. But this — this moment at 30 Rock — was my release. Clutching my crumpled paper towel, I wiped my eyes and took in the vestibule: the burgundy walls, the gold-framed artwork. For years, I’d looked at this space from the outside. Today, I was inside.

 

“This is just a really big deal,” I said to Emily and my manager, April, with tears streaming down my face.

 

Studio 1A. The beating heart of morning television. A place I first stood outside of in July 2001, peering through the glass, dreaming of what might be. Since 1952, The Today Show has been a television institution. And Rockefeller Center? My favorite spot in all of New York City. It’s where energy, history, and magic collide. And now, I was about to walk into that magic and talk about my debut book. I tangibly felt like I’d made it.

 

“It’s okay,” April replied. “Just let it out.”

 

 

 

Three minutes until air: My segment producer, Emily, saw the tears. A flicker of panic crossed her face. “I’m sorry,” I said. “This is a really big deal.”

 

She nodded and smiled. “We’re going to walk through the studio doors, put on your mic, and you’ll have a moment to center yourself. Look around. Take it in. Ground yourself.” 

 

Her calm words steadied me.

 

 

Two minutes until air: I was walked over to the segment tables to review my props. Among them was a sock monkey my Great-Grandma Mabel had sewn for me as a child. Seeing it, along with other familiar objects, calmed me. I asked my wife to bring over my folder of artifacts. 

 

 

One minute until air: The producer updated me on last-minute changes. “We’re scrapping the graphic and shifting the flow. Are you ready?”

 

“Yes,” I replied, as Hoda Kotb and Jenna Bush Hagar walked over. I opened my folder and showed Jenna the photo of my class, knowing her own teaching background would connect us. I showed Hoda the picture of my wife and me meeting her 14 years earlier, the day after we signed our first NYC apartment lease. It was Hoda’s last week on the show, and the moment felt full circle. 

 

These moments of conversation and connection further calmed me, and in the final minute before airtime, let me practice my on-camera banter.

 

 

Thirty seconds until air: The taped introduction began playing. Images of our daughters playing in our apartment flashed on the monitor. I heard my mental health struggles being shared with a national audience. My tears welled up again. I had 30 seconds to feel and let it go. To move forward, fully present.

 

Jenna’s voice broke through: “It’s amazing to see how much you’ve changed,” she said, resting her hand on my arm. She smiled. 

 

And she was right. I took a deep breath, shook my head, and it was air time!

 

 

As Tidy Dad, and more importantly, as Tyler, I’ve learned to sit with the mess— both mental and physical. I’ve learned to feel what I need to feel. I’ve learned to apply my four-step decluttering process: clear, sort, assess, plan. In that brief moment, I followed all four steps, moving from tears to action.

 

As the segment began, standing in Studio 1A under the bright lights, I felt something unexpected: peace. The kind that sometimes only comes after a mess, and the tears.

 

P.S.  “Tidy Up Your Life ”  is HERE! 

I'd be honored and grateful if you'd snag your copy now!