How to Become “Unrecognizable” in 90 Days (Without Becoming Someone You’re Not)
“Give me 90 days and we’re going to change your life.”
That’s how Codie Sanchez opened her video, How to Become Unrecognizable in 2026, and it landed on me harder than I expected. I didn’t just hear it as a YouTube hook; I heard it as a challenge to look at where I’ve tried to change my life, where I’ve missed the mark, and where doing the work still paid off in ways I couldn’t see at the time.
Most of my real work happens far away from stages and book drafts. It’s in the day-to-day of leading a team of dedicated professionals in the travel industry and serving the advisors and entrepreneurs who trust us. The speaking and writing are just how I process what we’re learning together.
This post is a thank you to Codie for the spark, and a field report from someone who has lived with many of these principles—imperfectly, inconsistently, but long enough to see what happens when you keep going anyway.
Obsession, But Make It Sustainable
Codie says obsessed people win—the ones who treat their work like play and keep going when everything is trying to break them.
There have been seasons in my life where I’ve been fully obsessed:
Writing a 55,000-word manuscript while leading teams and traveling for work, squeezing words into every margin of the day.
Building a personal brand in the travel industry, saying yes to panels, webinars, and late-night deck revisions that no one saw but everyone felt.
There have also been seasons when obsession blurred into burnout—when every project felt urgent, every email felt existential, and rest looked suspicious. That version of obsession is not heroic; it’s brittle.
The reason I push myself on focus and discipline isn’t to collect achievements. It’s because the people who read this, and the colleagues and advisors who trust me, deserve a version of me that is present, prepared, and honest. When I’ve treated my work that way—obsessed, but sustainable—the opportunities that followed (new collaborations, deeper relationships, creative momentum) felt less like trophies and more like shared wins.
Cleaning Closets Without Erasing Color
Codie starts with something deceptively simple: clean your closet, upgrade your wardrobe, and dress like the future version of you.
I’ve done my own version of this more than once—but for me, it wasn’t about muting myself, it was about getting more intentional about the costumes I wear for each chapter of my life.
As I shifted deeper into strategy and leadership, I didn’t abandon the sparkly, flamboyant outfits I’m known for; I learned when to turn the volume up and when to let a more understated look carry the moment. Both versions are me.
As I stepped more seriously into authorship and speaking, I started asking, “Does this outfit support the story I’m trying to tell?” Sometimes that means sequins and bold colors; other times it means something simpler, so the words can be the loudest thing in the room.
Decluttering my closet hasn’t been about becoming less “me,” but about releasing what belongs to older versions of me—and keeping the pieces that help the current version walk into rooms with clarity, confidence, and a little bit of joy.
One Money Goal, Many Lessons
Codie pushes for one clear financial goal over 90 days: one way to make money, one measurable outcome.
In different seasons, my “one thing” has looked like:
Launching a specific program and committing to a defined revenue target rather than a vague “grow the business.”
Focusing on one primary client or audience segment instead of trying to be everything to everyone.
I have absolutely had quarters where I tried to stack too many “one things” on top of each other—new offers, new markets, new content series—all at once. That kind of fragmentation looks ambitious on paper and disappointing in a spreadsheet.
But when I’ve narrowed the focus to a single, honest financial outcome and aligned my days around it, the work has not only performed better—it has reinforced a deeper identity: “I am someone who keeps their word to themselves.” That internal shift is the real payout.
Rewriting the Story While Still in the Mess
Codie talks about writing your life like a script—making yourself the hero and intentionally outlining your acts, challenges, and transformations.
That idea is baked directly into my own work:
The manuscript I’m writing about Japanese principles and the thriving travel entrepreneur is, in many ways, me rewriting my own story in public.
The blog posts and talks I’ve shared about failure, reinvention, and leadership are attempts to say, “This is who I am becoming,” even while I’m still in the becoming.
If this all sounds very polished, please know it isn’t. I miss the mark on these principles all the time. I forget my own advice, get distracted, and doubt myself. The only difference now is that I’m more interested in becoming useful than becoming impressive.
Every time I’ve published something honest—about burnout, about doubt, about restarting—I’ve been met with people who say, “That’s exactly where I am.” Those connections have led to collaborations, clients, and deeper clarity about what my work is actually for.
Leverage, Not Just Hustle
Codie frames leverage as audience, team, capital, and code—ways of multiplying your effort beyond your own hours.
In my world, leverage has looked like:
Treating content as a force multiplier: one keynote, one article, or one podcast episode that reaches far beyond the room or conversation where the idea was born.
Building systems, frameworks, and templates that advisors, teams, or collaborators can keep using long after the initial engagement is over.
There were years when I tried to manually will everything into existence—every email, every deck, every answer custom-crafted from scratch. That’s craftsmanship, but without leverage it becomes a ceiling.
Learning to let tools (yes, including AI), frameworks, and repeatable processes carry some of the load has freed up energy for the work only I can do—writing, vision, and high-trust conversations. That’s where the real transformation happens.
The Not-To-Do List
Codie encourages a “not-to-do list” as a way to do fewer things, better.
My own not-to-do list has quietly evolved to include:
Not saying yes to every “quick” meeting that dilutes deep work time.
Not chasing every shiny marketing tactic that doesn’t align with my core message or audience.
I’ve definitely had phases of overcommitting—so many helpful yeses that I became less helpful to the work that actually matters.
Every clear “no” has become a louder “yes” to the book, to the core clients, to the body of work I want to look back on in 10 years and recognize as mine. Focus, in that sense, has been a form of self-respect.
Distraction, Discipline, and the First 15 Minutes
Codie talks about eliminating distractions, using constraints (like grayscale screens and timers), and protecting the first 15 minutes of the day.
My relationship with distraction has been… human:
There have been mornings when the phone wins before my own thoughts do.
There have been evenings when scrolling swallowed the space that was meant for writing or music.
I know exactly what it feels like to let other people’s content outrun my own calling.
On the mornings I protect the first focused block for writing, planning, or silent thinking, the entire day feels different. The work moves. The book grows. The business sharpens. That small window has an outsized impact.
Moving in Silence, Sharing in Truth
Codie suggests moving in silence—doing the work quietly before inviting the world in.
Many of my biggest shifts started privately:
Quiet edits to how I lead, long before anyone saw the updated title or website.
Silent seasons of learning, listening, and iterating where the only audience was a notebook.
Sometimes I’ve overshared too early—announcing projects before they were structurally sound, letting external reactions shape something that needed more time to marinate.
When the work is real—when there are pages, products, or processes behind the promise—sharing becomes powerful. It’s no longer about validation; it’s about service. That’s where the blog, the book, and the podcasts all intersect: not as announcements of what might be, but as invitations into what is already being built.
When You Miss the Mark—and Why That’s Okay
Codie’s framework is sharp, disciplined, and unapologetic. Mine has been messier. There are chapters where I did not outwork everyone, where distractions won, where the closet stayed cluttered a little too long, and it even spilled out into the lounge, much to my family’s dismay.
But here’s what experience has taught me:
Missing the mark does not erase the compound interest of previous focused seasons.
Coming back to the work—again and again, with a little more wisdom each time—is often where the biggest breakthroughs hide.
The payoff I’m most grateful for isn’t titles or events. It’s the quiet evidence that the work is helping someone else move forward—whether that’s a travel advisor building their business, a teammate trying something new, or a reader who feels a little less alone.
If you watch Codie’s video and feel both inspired and slightly called out, you’re not alone. Try the principles. Miss the mark. Adjust. Try again. Ninety days from now, you might not be unrecognizable to everyone else—but you will absolutely recognize a stronger version of yourself.
