DJ Regy Reg, LLC

DJ Regy Reg, LLC DJ Regy Reg is a premier mobile DJ specializing in weddings, corporate events, and parties.

12/06/2025

| Birthday Reflection

Today, I turn 40. And when I look back on my 30s, the word that rises to the top is transformation — not because everything was easy, but because everything shaped me.

My journey through the last decade took me from boyhood to manhood in real time. I became a father to two incredible kids. I shifted careers and helped build a workforce program from the ground up. I grew my DJ business. I deepened my relationship with God. I coached youth. I learned myself. I lost pieces of who I thought I was and found stronger ones in return.

Every season — the highs, the disappointments, the pivots, the lessons — pushed me toward the man I’m becoming.

And the thing I’m most proud of from this journey?�The intent with which I lead my family.�I’m not perfect. I don’t always get it right.�But I’m consistent. I show up. I try.�I want my wife and kids to always expect the best from me, because I expect the best from myself.

The biggest lesson I’m carrying into 40 is simple:�Stop chasing perfection. Give your best effort. That’s enough.�That lesson didn’t come easy — but it came at the right time.

And the thing I’m leaving behind at 40?�Insecurity. The need to be accepted. The desire to prove myself.�I’m stepping fully into my “Who cares?” era — not reckless, not dismissive, but confident. Grounded. A man who knows his worth and walks in it.

This morning, I woke up loved. I had a meaningful conversation with my wife. My kids poured into me with the kind of joy that reminds me exactly why I work so hard. And it hit me:

Everything I’ve gone through brought me here — to this moment, this confidence, this clarity.

At 40, I want to feel empowered.�I want to take risks.�I want to chase my dreams with intention.�I want to build on the foundation of partnership, love, faith, and purpose that has carried me this far.

This is 40.�A new decade.�A new level.�A continuation of a journey that’s only just beginning.

12/05/2025

| “Do Your Homework.”

When I worked with the Fathers In Tech program, we ended every session the same way:
“Fellas… do your homework.”
And it wasn’t math, reading, or spreadsheets. It was nurturing yourself. Doing one thing—just one—that poured back into you.

The next week, we’d check in: “Did you do your homework?”
Because as fathers, men, husbands, partners… we give a lot away.
Our time. Our energy. Our attention. Our patience.
Sometimes our whole identity.

And somewhere in the middle of all that giving, you forget to take care of yourself.
This year, I had to relearn self-care. Not the trendy kind. Not the perfect routine.
Just something that was mine.

For me, that became exercise.
Not because I always enjoy it.
Not because I’m trying to be some fitness influencer.
But because for 20–30 minutes a day, that bike is my space.
My time.
My ritual.
No matter how I feel going in, I feel better coming out. Every single time.
That’s the thing about self-care:

It doesn’t have to be glamorous.
But it does have to be intentional.

And another lesson I’m finally learning as I approach 40? You can only control what you can control.

My partner always says, “Stay in your square.”
That message has saved me more times than I can count.
Because I love trying to fix everything.
Trying to manage outcomes.
Trying to take responsibility for things that were never mine to carry.
“Stay in your square” means this:
Focus on what’s yours.
Let life play out.

Take care of your mind, your body, your spirit, so you can show up in the rest of your life with strength and clarity.
So here’s my homework—today and moving forward:

Take care of myself.
Stay in my square.
And give the world the best version of me, not the leftovers.

12/04/2025

| Learning to Handle Change

Growing up, I never thought much about change. My family and I just moved from season to season, event to event, and made it work. I didn’t really feel change until I left home for Hampton University. That transition hit me hard. I wasn’t ready. And to this day, I still feel change in a very real way.

I’m an emotional person. When things shift, my anxiety jumps in first. I start worrying, imagining every possible outcome, and trying to grab onto any version of control. And the hard thing about change is… it doesn’t ask for your permission. It doesn’t care about your plans.

But this past year taught me something:
change doesn’t always show up in big dramatic moments — sometimes it shows up slowly, quietly, and all at once.
At work, at home, in my own expectations of myself — everything shifted. I was pushed to grow in ways I wasn’t used to. I was asked to lead better, listen deeper, and be more present for the people I love. My kids are growing into their own independence, and my wife needed more emotional partnership, not just physical availability. All of that required a different version of me.
And honestly? I’m living through one of the biggest seasons of change in my adult life right now.

But I’m still here.

Still growing.

Still figuring it out one day at a time.

What surprised me most is discovering strength I hadn’t given myself credit for:

A deeper relationship with God.

The humility to say, “I’m not okay” and seek help.

A community that holds me up, even when I’m wobbling.

Uncertainty used to mean fear for me. Now I’m learning it can also mean opportunity. I’ve started asking myself, “Is this real? Or is this just a story I made up in my head?” And more often than not, I realize I have everything I need to handle whatever is in front of me.

Heading into 40, I want to let go of fear — completely.

I want to stop bracing for the worst.
I want to embrace discomfort on purpose.
And I want my kids to see that change doesn’t have to knock you down — it can build you up.

If you can learn to adapt, you can thrive anywhere.


12/03/2025

| Reflections on My Parents
As I get closer to 40, I’ve been thinking a lot about my parents — who they were, who they are, and who I’ve become because of them.

I’ve always been a mama’s boy, and that hasn’t changed one bit. My mom has always been someone who gives — to her family, to her community, to her job. She didn’t just talk about helping people… she lived it. Growing up, I didn’t fully understand the weight of what she carried, but now, as a husband and father myself, I see it clearly. I see the sacrifice. I see the commitment. I see the love that showed up over and over again. My dad… he was the life of the party. Loud, fun, charismatic, and always ready to make a moment feel bigger. We didn’t always have the perfect relationship, but he was present. And presence matters more than we give it credit for. He did the best he could with what he had. As a kid, I didn’t understand that. As a man, I do.

Now he’s in a stage of life where conversations aren’t possible — late-stage dementia has a way of taking things slowly and suddenly at the same time. There are so many things I wish I could ask him now… but instead, I focus on valuing the moments I do get. Just sitting with him. Just being there. That’s enough. Becoming an adult — a real adult — has taught me this:
Being a parent is only one part of your life.
You’re raising kids while trying to grow professionally, build a marriage, stay healthy, hold onto your dreams, manage stress, and still be a whole person. Parents don’t come with all the answers. They figure it out as they go, the same way I’m doing now. Most of the good I’m trying to give my kids… I got from them.
And at almost 40, I’m grateful — deeply grateful — for who they were, what they modeled, and how they loved me through every version of myself.

This reflection isn’t about me.

It’s about them.
And I’m better because of who they chose to be.

12/02/2025

| Happy Birthday, Jeffrey

Today’s reflection is special because it’s my brother’s birthday — and honestly, celebrating him just feels right.

Growing up, even though we’re six years apart, I don’t remember a time when he wasn’t right there with me. I was the typical older brother — picking on him, getting jealous when my friends wanted to play with him — but underneath all that, he’s always been my best friend.

Now that we’re both husbands and fathers, our relationship has a different level of meaning. He’s the person I call when I need real advice. There’s a quiet confidence about him that I’ve always admired. I’m up and down, he’s steady… and somehow that balance has always worked for us.

Sometimes when my kids get into these silly moods — bouncing off the walls, making absolutely no sense — it reminds me of me and him growing up. And honestly, though it drives me crazy, it also makes me hope that my kids grow up with the same closeness we’ve always had.

What I admire most about Jeffrey is how solid he is. He doesn’t move through life trying to please everybody. He stays true to himself, takes care of his people, and doesn’t get rattled the way I do. I look up to him for that. I know he’s my younger brother, but he teaches me a lot about slowing down, giving myself grace, and focusing on what actually matters.

At almost 40, having a brother means having someone who gets me without me needing to explain anything. It’s knowing there’s somebody in your corner at all times, no questions asked.

And I want him — and his wife, Krista, whose birthday is this week too — to know how much I appreciate them both. They’re my favorite couple for a reason. The way they love each other, raise their kids, and build their life together… I’m proud of them. I enjoy being around them. I wish we lived closer so we could do it more often.

One of my favorite memories from this year was seeing them walk into the lobby at Disney World. I knew they were coming, but something about seeing them in that moment hit me. That’s my brother. That’s my family. And our kids get to grow up making memories together. That meant everything to me.

Jeffrey, I love you, man.

12/01/2025

| New Beginnings & Old Friends

Over the weekend, I went to a birthday celebration for a high school friend. My class never had an official reunion, so this felt like the closest thing to one. And honestly? It was exactly what I needed.

Walking in, I was excited — not nervous, not unsure — just excited. When you grow up in a small town, you form bonds without even realizing it. By middle school, most of us knew each other inside and out. We played on the same sports teams, went to the same churches, and navigated life together.

Seeing everyone again felt… refreshing. Folks hadn’t changed much. In some ways, it was like we had seen each other just a few weeks ago. A lot of familiar faces, familiar laughs, and familiar energy. It brought back memories I didn’t even realize I missed.

As you get older, you understand something: people change, but the love doesn’t always disappear. Sometimes life just takes you in different directions — you move, get married, have kids, chase careers, and do the best you can with the tools you have at the time. And back then? Most of us didn’t understand communication the way we do now. We didn’t know how to say what we felt. We didn’t know how to hold boundaries. And we definitely didn’t know how to extend grace.

But here’s the thing:
I’m not holding grudges anymore.
Not at this stage of my life.
Not with the growth I’ve done.
Not with everything I’ve survived and learned.

There was a time when I couldn’t say that. But today, I know that holding onto frustration doesn’t help me. It doesn’t take me forward. All it does is weigh me down. And the older I get, the more I realize that maturity isn’t about perfection — it’s about empathy. It’s about giving people the space to evolve and grow.

This weekend reminded me that reconnection is a gift.
That relationships don’t always end — sometimes they just pause.
That a little grace can reopen doors you thought were closed.

As a father, I want my kids to understand that relationships aren’t black and white. I want them to have reasonable expectations of people, to communicate clearly, to set healthy boundaries, and to understand the power of second chances.

And if there’s one lesson I’m carrying into 40, it’s this:

Keep the door cracked.
Not wide open — just cracked.
Don’t be so quick to cut people off.
Give yourself room to grow, and give others room to do the same.
Control what you can control. And let the rest be.

Here’s to new beginnings, old friendships, and the grace to let things evolve the way they’re supposed to.

11/28/2025

🦃 | Thanksgiving Evolution

Thanksgiving has changed so much throughout my life, but every version has taught me something about family, gratitude, and growing up.
When I think about the early years, I think about Lynchburg, VA. Every Thanksgiving, we drove down to my grandmother and great aunt’s house. We’d wake up early, pile in the car, and stop for breakfast at Hardee’s in Chesterfield — every single time. It was automatic. It was tradition.

And when we got there? We ate in the dining room — the formal dining room — the only day of the year that table got used. My great aunt didn’t play about manners either. We had to sit up straight, pass dishes the right way, and share what we were thankful for.

Washing dishes with my brother after dinner. Acting like wild kids on the car ride home. A little chaos, a lot of love, and everything I needed, even if I didn’t know it at the time.

Thanksgiving shifted when my grandmother sold her house and moved closer to my mom. It felt like the end of an era — like a chapter of my childhood officially closed. But nothing faded… it just evolved. My brother and sister-in-law became the new hosts, and somehow, we still leave on Thanksgiving morning and stop for food on the way. Some traditions follow you.

Now, as a husband and a father, Thanksgiving hits different.
I understand the importance of thankfulness and grace.I understand how precious time is. I understand that being present is the real gift.

And I love that my kids get to be part of this new version of Thanksgiving. Every year, we keep the tradition alive and ask them what they’re thankful for. Some years their answers are silly, some years they’re surprisingly deep — but every year they remind me why this holiday matters.

At 10 years old, Thanksgiving was about my immediate family. At almost 40, it’s about many families coming together.

I’m grateful for growth, for grace, and for the chance to keep evolving.
Happy Thanksgiving from my family to yours. 🧡



11/25/2025

When I think about my younger self, I picture me between 9 and 14 — that late elementary/middle school version. Outgoing, smart as hell, funny, dreaming of being athletic, dreaming of big things… and absolutely obsessed with WWE. I used to wake up early just to catch the reruns, and honestly, wrestling still has me in a chokehold today.

I had a supportive family and community. But looking back, the one thing I didn’t always have was self-assurance. I didn’t believe in myself the way other people believed in me, and that stuck with me longer than I’d like to admit.

There’s a moment I’ll never forget — punching a hole in the wall because I was mad at my dad. The hole is still there, and so is the reminder that he really was doing the best he could. I just didn’t have the maturity yet to understand that.

Truth is, I didn’t have to grow up fast. I was allowed to be a kid. The only person rushing me… was me.

I’ve always tried to be the “straight-A kid” in every room. Adaptable. Well-behaved. Prepared. And while that helped me survive a lot of situations, it also made me lose myself at times. I knew how to fit into a room — but not always how to be me in that room.

Becoming a father changed that. Watching my kids grow and move through their own stages reminds me that change is constant. You can’t avoid it. You can only decide how you show up in it.

At this stage of my life, I’m not trying to protect my inner child — I’m trying to free him. That part of me that doesn’t overthink everything. The part that says “you good… stop caring so much.” The part that laughs easily and doesn’t apologize for taking up space.

I want my kids to have what I didn’t fully have: a voice. Not because I was silenced — but because I didn’t always trust my own.

And honestly, a lot of that kid is still with me:
the silliness, the curiosity, the leadership, the independence, and yes… the part that’s still way too hard on himself.

Healing for me looks like being consistent.
Healing sounds like honesty.
Healing feels like intentional prayer.
Healing is telling my kids the truth and letting them learn from my mistakes.

If I could talk to that younger version of me, I’d tell him this:
You’ll walk into rooms with grace.
Your authenticity will be your superpower.
Your kids will adore you.
Your impact will stretch further than you realize.
People will speak your name in rooms you aren’t in.

And to other men: don’t close the door on who you used to be. There’s growth, healing, and truth in looking back — not to stay there, but to understand who you’ve become.

Today’s reminder: You can’t build the future you want if you ignore the kid who made you who you are.

11/21/2025

| Day 9: Being Present, Not Perfect

Perfection, for me, always meant doing the right thing every time. Not being right — just never disappointing anyone. But chasing perfection is a setup. You will always feel like you’re falling short.

For years, I compared my life to the families I grew up watching on TV. Perfect marriages. Perfect responses. Perfect holiday gifts picked out without anyone asking. I thought that’s what a “good man” did — he just knew. But no one is perfect — NO ONE, especially me. The cost of chasing perfection is constant disappointment.
What I’m learning now is that presence matters more than perfection ever will.

I’m most present in the kitchen. Cooking slows me down. It helps me focus, listen, and take in the moment instead of trying to control everything around it.
My kids teach me presence every day. When I think they’re not listening, they are. When I think they don’t see me, they do. Their attention is pure — and it reminds me that I have to lock in the same way.

The emotion I struggle with most is disappointment. When I miss the mark, I replay it over and over. Being present is helping me break that habit and move forward, rather than getting stuck.

Letting go of control has been another lesson. Everyone needs help. And receiving help requires releasing pride and letting others step into their strengths.
Being present means not worrying about yesterday or tomorrow. It means embracing what’s in front of you.

If I could tell younger me anything, it’s this: being busy is not the same as being productive. Sometimes, slowing down is the most productive thing you can do.
To other men: you can’t be perfect if you’re not present. And just being in the room doesn’t mean you’re truly there.

Today’s reminder: Presence is the real proof of love, leadership, and maturity.

11/20/2025

🧭 | Day 8: Lessons From DJ Life

I fell in love with DJing in middle school. There was something magical about hearing two songs blend together — like watching two different worlds form one new moment. That magic still hits me today.

DJing was the challenge — and the chance to create harmony. I love seeing people happy, and DJing lets me play a role in making that happen.

I don’t remember my first gig, but I remember the first time I felt like a real DJ. Freshman year at Hampton, opening for DJ Babeydrew at the soph/junior cab. The energy that night was unreal. My blends were tight, I got on the mic for the first time, and the party took.
I walked out thinking: “Yeah… I need more of this.”

DJing has taught me a lot about people.
Everyone wants to feel good — even if they can’t explain what that feeling is. As a DJ, you get to create that for them. You get to soundtrack someone’s core memory.

Reading a room is its own skill, too. I don’t look for the loudest people — the ones jumping around or trying to be seen. I watch the person on the side tapping a foot or bobbing their head. They’re the truth-tellers. They let me know exactly how the vibe is landing.

Life lesson: the loudest person isn’t always the one you should follow. Sometimes it’s the quiet one who sees the whole room.

And here’s the truth — even today, I still get nervous before every gig. Every single one.
But the moment I hit play? I’m home. I may not be the most technical DJ, but I know how to help people have fun.People book me to create an atmosphere, and I don’t take that lightly. My job is to give everything I have to bring their vision to life. And when folks tell me, “You kept the crowd dancing all night,” that’s fuel. Today’s reminder: Don’t dim your gift — lean into it.

Question to engage: What’s a song that instantly puts you in a good mood?

Hashtags:
LifeReflections MusicIsPower FatherFirstDJAlways

11/19/2025

🧭 | Day 7: Faith When Things Don’t Go as Planned

All my life, I’ve watched God protect me, provide for me, and fill my needs in ways I can’t explain.

Growing up, I never understood why my mom loved going to church the way she did. But now? I get it.

Walking into worship, hearing the choir, sitting under the Word — it resets me. It fills me back up. It gives me the strength to face life’s ups and downs with hope instead of fear.

I recently took a spiritual gifts assessment, and my top gifts were faith and helps — and when I look back, those gifts have been consistent throughout my life. Professionally, I’ve always been in roles that helped people transition from one chapter to another. Kids, adults, families — and in those moments, even when I didn’t feel confident, I always tried to champion belief and positivity. And God has carried me through transitions, too. In my mid-20s, I was living in Richmond while my girlfriend — now my wife — lived in Alexandria. I knew I needed to move, but I was worried. Worried I wouldn’t be able to provide. I interviewed everywhere. Got turned down everywhere.
Eventually, I decided to step out on faith anyway. I proposed on New Year’s Eve 2013 with no job offer, no plan… just belief.
By May, God blessed me with an incredible job and the opportunity to move closer to her. I didn’t know it then, but God was aligning things long before I understood them.

What I struggle with most is surrender — letting go and letting God take control. I fight with perfectionism. I want everything planned out, lined up, in place.
But God doesn’t work on my timeline.
His timing is perfect — even when it’s not aligned with my desires.
He’ll always provide what I need… but sometimes that means sacrificing what I want.

This season hasn’t taught me anything new — it’s reaffirmed what I already knew:
I am strong.
I am capable.
I just have to trust and believe. Today’s reminder: Surrender isn’t giving up — it’s giving God room to work.

What’s one moment where God showed up for you when you least expected it?



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