I’m a writer and transformation coach based in Santa Monica, CA, exploring identity, healing, and what it means to live authentically. I’m drawn to what we bury, what we carry, and what brings us back to ourselves.
I founded Goodyear for Change, a trauma-informed coaching practice that helps people navigate identity, transition, and personal transformation.
I write because it’s time.
Coming of age in Midwest suburbia in the late ’80s and early ’90s, I grew up in a working-class family striving to project a middle-class image — while addiction, control, and volatility shaped life behind closed doors in a fractured household.
I was the first and only out queer kid at my high school, navigating housing insecurity, bullying, and brushes with the law. A powerful and generous lesbian community embraced me and offered safety, consistency, and my first real experience of stability and chosen family to carry me into adulthood.
But sexuality wasn’t the only truth I needed to face.
In my mid-twenties, I transitioned. I stepped into manhood — and into Corporate America — and right back into the closet.
Living as a stealth trans man for the decades that followed, I chased the white-collar dream while numbing trauma I didn’t yet have the words for. Carrying unidentified shame and the pressure to perform, lifestyle drinking became central to how I moved through the world.
Eventually, the way I was living became unsustainable. My “live fast, die young” mentality nearly became a self-fulfilling prophecy.
A midlife awakening sparked a journey toward healing, recovery, and self-actualization — and a renewed commitment to living authentically.
From the Midwest to Manhattan boardrooms and bar rooms to the Pacific coast, my story moves across geography and identity — always in search of safety, belonging, and a place to land.
Now I write about what it means to come home to yourself after lifetime of seeking...
— and what it means to arrive.
My current project is a hybrid memoir told in fragments, essays, and pieces of personal archive. It’s intentionally structured the way memory feels — nonlinear, layered, and marked by what we hold, what we carry, and what we leave behind.
The story moves across gender, class, addiction, recovery, and the ways we choose to shape ourselves. The form mirrors life: part voice, part ephemera, part reckoning.
My first published piece, Nothing to See Here, offers a glimpse into that world.
I’m beginning to explore publishing opportunities and am open to thoughtful connections with editors, publishers, and agents drawn to hybrid memoir and committed to elevating transmasculine voices.
Copyright © 2025 Nik Goodyear - All Rights Reserved.
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