There’s a misconception about transformation—that it’s some grand, sweeping moment where everything changes all at once. But for me, it was a slow climb, often two steps forward and one step back. Rebuilding a life isn’t about perfection; it’s about persistence.

This is about the climb—the struggles, the unexpected moments of light, and the choices that began to pull me out of the darkness. If you’re in that place, trying to find your way up, I want you to know that it’s possible. Hard, yes. Painful, definitely. But possible.

The First Steps

I didn’t wake up one morning and suddenly decide to change everything. It happened at a breaking point, a low of lows.  It was only after I had threatened  my mom with physical violets and she cried for my dad fearing for her life, I was high on meth and it was then I knew I needed help. I was sent to Los Angels to stay with my aunt and detox till they could decided how to best care for me. 

They later decided I needed intensive care, and took me to a rehab in Tucson Arizona.

The Role of Community

Community is a funny thing. When you’re in a dark place, it’s easy to isolate, to convince yourself that no one would understand. But the truth is, we’re not meant to do this alone. It was in rehab I was first exposed to the adult world. 

It was in this context that I realized that I wasn’t as broken as some of these people who had been doing drugs for as long as I had been alive. I was still lost, just in a physically safe place, fast-forward 10 years, a divorce, partner to a raped fiancé, my son was taken from me, only then did the momentum of YEARS  of work start to take hold. I found tools and finally things started to change for the better but not in the way I was expecting. 

Redefining Strength

For most of my life, I thought strength was about power—dominating the room, winning the fight, being the toughest guy in the pack. But as I began to heal, I realized that real strength is quieter. It’s in showing up, even when you don’t feel like it. It’s in asking for help, admitting you’re wrong, and choosing vulnerability over pride.

I started to realize I was angry; I was hurt, I was always fronting to hide my pain and shame. 

I started to define healing different, it wasn’t about getting better at that point it was about letting go. 

You cant build a new foundation of character on the same identity as the original. 

Building New Habits

Habits are the building blocks of change. In the early days, I clung to small routines like a lifeline. Morning walks. Journaling. Reading books that challenged my perspective. Those habits became anchors, grounding me when the waves of self-doubt threatened to pull me under.

One habit, in particular, changed everything: gratitude. At first, it felt forced. What did I have to be grateful for? But over time, I realized that even in my lowest moments, there were glimmers of good—the sound of my son’s laughter, the warmth of the sun on my face, the kindness of a stranger. Focusing on those moments didn’t erase the pain, but it made the climb feel a little less steep.

Turning Pain into Purpose

Pain has a way of carving out space in your soul. For years, I let that space fill with anger, shame, and despair. But as I started to heal, I realized that space could be filled with something else: purpose. The things I’d been through, the lessons I’d learned, weren’t just for me. They were for the people I’d meet, the ones still lost in their own darkness.

A Message to Those Climbing

If you’re reading this and you feel like you’re at the bottom, know this: the climb is worth it. It’s not easy, and it’s not quick. But every step you take is a victory. Every small choice to move forward is a testament to your strength.

You don’t have to have it all figured out. You just have to keep going. Keep showing up. Keep choosing hope, even when it feels like a whisper. The climb is hard, but the view from the top? It’s worth every step.