If you’re optimizing for growth, you need ecomm tactics that actually work. Not mushy strategies.

Go-to-Millions is the ecommerce growth newsletter from Ari Murray, packed with tactical insights, smart creative, and marketing that drives revenue.

Every issue is built for operators: clear, punchy, and grounded in what’s working, from product strategy to paid media to conversion lifts.

Subscribe for free and get your next growth unlock delivered weekly.

Sign up now

Hullo, friends.

Jennie was already planning to come to Charlotte in August.

She usually visits a few times a year, and this trip had an extra reason behind it: her daughter, Sydni, was completing her ER rotation here in Charlotte, as opposed to Asheville, before graduating as a Physician Assistant later this year. It meant Jennie could spend time with both of us.

But then life changed.

By the time Jennie arrived to help me plan Kenna’s Celebration of Life, she had already made a decision about August.

She informed me…before she even left Arizona…that I was going to need to move some doctor appointments. 😂

She was taking me away.

The new August plan for the week?

Sunday to Wednesday: Myrtle Beach, and there would be no working. No trying to squeeze productivity into the cracks. No hours on the laptop. No late night work when we returned to the room. No writing, no emails, no planning sessions, and definitely no meetings.

This was supposed to be rest.

Relaxation.

Renewal.

And somehow, it became even more than that.

It gave me a few days where I could simply be and remember that even in the middle of a life I never wanted to be living, there are still moments where joy can be found.

More than I ever could have imagined.

🩷 Nicole

The last time Jennie and I took a trip alone together was March 28, 2008.

We had planned a spa weekend in Asheville.

The day before we left, I tried to get my first husband to go to couples counseling with me. He refused. And I told him we were done.

That night, after he left, the kids convinced me to go outside and socialize with the neighbors.

And that’s when I met Sam.

So when I say Jennie and I hadn’t taken a trip alone together since the weekend I met Sam, I mean that literally.

Then in June of 2008, Sam and I took our first trip together. We chose Myrtle Beach for the destination. He'd rarely traveled, and I was playing Aladdin, ready to show him the world. 

The first day we were there, it stormed. So he sat on the balcony while I baked cookies. Then we ate them and watched the storm together. 

It felt like fate. 

Eighteen years passed.

There was a divorce, a marriage, kids growing up, Kenna, careers, moves, illnesses and a million ordinary days.

Only there was nothing ordinary about the last twelve months where I lost a vehicle to lightning, the marriage to Sam ended, and Kenna passed away.

Everything changed, so naturally, the plans for Jennie's August visit did too.

Jennie would fly in Saturday. We would leave for Myrtle Beach Sunday and return on Wednesday.

I wanted to embrace the changes, but I wasn’t ready to leave Kenna behind.

So I didn’t. And Jennie didn't think it weird. She simply accepted Kenna was coming. And I needed that more than I realized. 

Sunday morning, before leaving town, we met Sydni for wedding dress shopping.

Jennie bought us Team Bride shirts and little signs so we could rate the dresses.

Sydni found her dress.

Then we had lunch at Hawkers, where I ate bao and soup dumplings for the first time. 

As we sat at the table, I couldn't help but note Sydni was at the beginning of a marriage. I was at the end of one. And Jennie was there for us.

Then we drove to Myrtle Beach. Jennie planned and paid for everything: the condo, three nights of dinner reservations, activities for each day, and all I had to do was be. Honestly, ever since I'd lost Kenna, being was hard enough. 

The condo was perfect.

Pastels. Gold. Llamas. Exactly the right amount of whimsy and luxe.

The meals were comfort, cuisine, and celebration. 

Sunday we ate at Crave, an Italian restaurant.

Arancini. Gnocchi in vodka sauce. A salad.

And a bread basket with focaccia, garlic knots, and Italian bread because this was the quintessential Italian experience.

Monday was Hook and Barrel, a steak and seafood restaurant.

Homemade crackers with pimento cheese. Short ribs with whipped potatoes and asparagus.

I immediately decided I now need to learn how to make those crackers at home, even though I'm supposed to be gluten free.

Tuesday was a luau. Yes. Myrtle Beach has a luau.

There were leis and cocktails, plus a buffet with huli huli chicken, fish with lemon and capers, pulled pork with a little kick, and yeast rolls. 

What kind of fish? The kind with lemon and capers. I will eat almost anything with enough lemon and capers.

The people sitting at our table were lovely. The performers were incredible.

Please do not ask for photos. There are none. 

Mostly because no flash photography was allowed, and I couldn't guarantee some weird mishap wouldn’t result in me blinding a performer, and someone taking a flaming torch to the face. 

Some memories are better left undocumented.

For activities, we walked the beach. We read books in lounge chairs shaded by palm trees. We rode tubes in the lazy river. We shopped. We went to the movies. We packed a lot of living into our stay.

The author in me saw the parallels and full circle moments.

Like Sunday night, after dinner, when a huge storm rolled in.

I baked half a dozen break-and-bake cookies we had brought with us. Salted caramel and chocolate chunk. We sat on the balcony eating them and sipping wine while watching the lightning.

Same beach. Same storm. Same cookies. Completely different life.

And on Monday, while we shopped, I had one goal: find a pink Christmas ornament.

See, divorce cost me all holiday decor, including ornaments.

Mine. Kenna’s. And the travel souvenirs of places we had been and memories we had made.

Nothing felt more important than finding a first travel ornament from this trip. So I bought a pink Christmas tree made from jingle shells.

It wasn't just about Myrtle Beach with Jennie.

This trip was proof I didn't have to wait until I was healed before I was allowed to live.

I'm still grieving.

The divorce still isn’t final.

I still have to rebuild my life and business.

And yet, I learned that grief and joy can exist together.

Evidence. Not escape.

The last time Jennie and I went away together, I unknowingly stood at the beginning of an eighteen-year chapter of my life.

This time, I don’t know what this new beginning looks like yet or how much time I have.

What I know for certain:

Joy still exists.

And sometimes you have to grieve and go.

The Phoenix Reset Challenge is your gentle reset system for rebuilding from burnout, heartbreak, overwhelm, or a season that changed you.

It’s here when:

With the Phoenix Reset Challenge, you stop spinning in overwhelm—and start rebuilding with calm, clarity, and momentum.