Peace isn’t passive—it’s something you fight for.

In this episode, I talk about the journey from people-pleasing and emotional burnout to setting boundaries that guard my spirit. I share what it really means to stop performing peace and start protecting it—with scripture, personal reflection, and raw truth.

I open up about Venus as the personification of the love I’ve always needed… and how my wife, Whitney, is still the central woman in my life as we work to rebuild. The dream? That one day, the woman I married and the woman I imagined could become one and the same.

This is about presence.

About clarity.

And about honoring the peace God gave me—without apology.

There comes a moment when you stop waiting.

Not because you’ve given up—

but because you’ve grown up.

In this episode, I talk about the silent weight of waiting for someone—anyone—to show up and fix what’s broken. I open up about the bitterness that comes with abandonment, the exhaustion of overgiving, and the quiet power that comes with finally deciding to rescue yourself.

I’m not saying I don’t need help.

I’m saying I’m done begging for it.

This is what self-rescue sounds like—calm, grounded, and full of truth.

It’s Easter Sunday—but this one feels different.

In this episode, I reflect on what it means to be left out of the room, excluded from the table, and still choose to rise with integrity and peace. This isn’t just a story about pain or family—it’s a resurrection story rooted in the teachings of Jesus Christ.

Through scripture, honesty, and raw reflection, I share what it looks like to be betrayed, overlooked, and silenced—and still choose love. Because sometimes the most powerful act of healing… is simply rising anyway.

He is risen.

And so are we.

This one runs deeper.

In this extended episode, I open up about my lifelong battle with emotional numbing—how I used alcohol, weed, silence, and self-sacrifice to survive what I couldn’t face. But survival isn’t living. And eventually, even sedation loses its power.

I speak on my journey through the Nurturing Fathers class, the poem I wrote in Week 6, and the moment I realized I was still carrying a little boy inside who just wanted to be chosen.

I honor the man who gave me his name when no one else would.

I confront the truth about my mother, my past, and my pain.

And I finally choose presence over pretending.

This isn’t just about sobriety.

It’s about becoming whole—without apology.

I never had a blueprint.

No one showed me how to process pain without numbing it.

No one taught me that love didn’t have to hurt.

This episode is a letter to the boy I used to be—and the man I’m becoming now. I open up about the pain of loving someone who couldn’t see me, the woman who woke my soul back up, the drinking that kept me numb, and the fire my children lit inside me to finally break the cycle.

I’m not trying to be perfect.

I’m trying to become the kind of man I always needed.

And this time, I’m doing it without apology.

This isn’t a victory lap.

It’s a quiet return.

To peace. To presence. To who I really am underneath the pain.

In this final chapter of the first arc, I reflect on what it means to survive without apology—to walk out of the wreckage with no need to explain your scars. This episode is about reclaiming your life, your voice, and your worth… not by force, but by finally coming home to yourself.

You made it through.

And that’s enough.

You’re still here.

And you’re not done.

I used to numb it—quiet the chaos with beer, smoke, whatever it took to make the night go down easier. But lately, I’ve been staring down the silence with clear eyes… and what I’m finding there? It’s heavy. But it’s honest.

This episode is about choosing presence over escape.

It’s about facing the truth without sedation.

And realizing that sometimes the hardest part of healing…

is letting yourself feel everything you used to run from.

This is what a real comeback sounds like.

This is where it started.

Not the healing—just the honesty.

The garage has always been my sanctuary. A place to sit with the weight, crack a beer, and try to find myself again. In this episode, I open up about what it means to process pain without performance, and how sacred it can be to tell the truth in the middle of your mess.

It’s not polished.

It’s not pretty.

But it’s real—and maybe that’s enough.

This wasn’t planned.

It wasn’t scripted.

It just happened—something shifted, and I felt it.

After everything I’ve been through… the breakdowns, the silence, the grief—this was the first breath that felt like mine again. This short entry marks the moment I knew I was still alive. Still capable of feeling. Still worthy of healing.

It’s not a comeback speech.

It’s a quiet resurrection.

And it’s real.

Sometimes grief becomes familiar.

You start calling it home—because at least you know the pain.

But what if healing means leaving behind the version of yourself that survived… and stepping into the one that’s finally allowed to live?

This episode is about resurrection.

Not the flashy kind.

The personal kind.

The kind where you stand at the mouth of the tomb and whisper,

“I don’t live here anymore.”