From rock bottom, to Lubbock, Texas

How I finally started living again - and why I'll never quit.

I haven’t been giving myself enough credit lately.

The things I’ve done, and the changes I’ve made, since I started receiving disability in 2021, have taken incredible faith, vision, persistence, strength, and courage — and I have not stopped to recognize how far I’ve come, or how much I’ve accomplished, in such a short amount of time.

It’s truly remarkable what I’ve achieved.

The years when I nearly disappeared

I lived with undiagnosed PTSD, depression, and anxiety, for the better parts of 18 years leading up to the day I got disability. (I probably lived with depression and anxiety even longer than that, but my PTSD didn’t come on until my last year in the Navy, when we deployed for Operation Iraqi Freedom.)

I’d spent 12 of those 18 years, trying to give up the fight… trying to hide from all my pain… trying to fade into oblivion.

Maybe you’ve known that feeling. That slow, uncomfortable belief that there’s no way out, that there’s no hope at all. I lived there for over a decade.

Even when I applied for disability, in 2019, it wasn’t because I believed life could get better. I did it to appease my mom — and a stubborn therapist who wouldn’t shut up about how I really needed to apply, and just see what the VA would say.

I never expected them to say yes.

In fact, when I first applied, they denied my claim. I waited nine months to appeal the decision… and again, I only did it so my mom and my therapist would leave me alone. So I could tell them, “I’ve done everything I can, and look: it didn’t work.”

I’d been in therapy, off and on, since the summer of 2016. But not because I wanted to change — I just wanted someone to validate how screwed up I’d become, and tell me it’s okay to give up on myself, because clearly I’m never going to get any better, anyway.

I used to spend weeks at a time locked in my room at Mom and Dad’s, hiding from the world, watching Netflix and eating Kit Kats and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, using caffeine, nicotine, and pornography, to keep myself numb… keep myself from being able to realize what a mess my life had become… or worse, to realize that I didn’t want to do anything at all, to try and change it.

I wanted God to let me die.

I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t dead, already. Why I hadn’t died in the Gulf, like I’d wanted to.

And I didn’t know how to handle that, so I just shut down. I withdrew, and I kept withdrawing, until I couldn’t even handle having a real conversation with my own parents — the same parents who were keeping me afloat, and giving me a place to stay.

To their credit, they did everything they could to help me. They didn’t know how to handle PTSD. I didn’t either. I just thought I was broken. I didn’t suspect there was an actual condition behind it all.

But Mom and Dad kept me alive… until I was finally able to get the help I needed.

The day I stopped waiting to die

Those years at their house were some of the darkest of my life.

I felt like I was drowning every day — and instead of swimming for shore, I kept pouring more water in the pool.

For 12 years… and even a little while after… I believed there was no hope for me. No chance of improvement. No future worth fighting for.

I genuinely thought I was going to die in that room in my parents’ house, alone, withdrawn, and entirely forgotten. I lived with that fear daily, and I did nothing to try and change…

But then, in 2021, something shifted.

I can’t explain it fully… but for the first time in years, I let myself believe that maybe… just maybe… life didn’t have to end this way.

I’d been out of work since Christmas of 2008, and in a mental-emotional state where I truly was not capable of providing for myself. Now, almost 13 years later, I finally had my own income again.

A lot of income.

Enough that I could theoretically support myself, and move out of Mom and Dad’s, reclaim my independence, and reboot my entire existence.

And immediately, I began to take steps to create a better future for myself.

I told myself (and I know this is true) that God was giving me a second chance at life, and that He was guiding me to a better future. I knew He was making that future happen already… and all I needed to do was follow Him… to go where He asked me to go… and to do what He asked me to do…

And I knew (and still know today) that if I’ll simply do that — if I’ll just do what God wants me to do — everything else will take care of itself.

And it has! And it still is.

And my life today is nothing short of a miracle.

It wasn’t just God, though. And it wasn’t just me.

All of the glory obviously goes to God. He saved me, after all. He put me back on a better path.

He showed me that we’re never too far gone to find our way back to Him. And I know this, and I believe it, and I live this truth, with every fiber of my being!

I’m not the type to push my religion on others — I believe every individual has to choose their own belief. But I would be a liar if I said I did all of this without God.

He gave me the second chance.

But I’m the one who chose to act on it.

I accepted what He offered me. I implemented the steps to move to Lubbock. I found the courage — and the hope — to walk the hard road from miserable, isolated, and withdrawn… to happy, connected, and engaged in building a life I actually want to live.

I had to dig deep inside myself to find the faith to follow God’s plan for me.

It hasn’t been easy. No part of it has been easy!

But it’s all been worth it.

When I look at how far I’ve come since October 2021, when I finally started drawing disability, and striving to create a life worth living… I’m amazed at what God has done for me.

I don’t always feel worthy, if I’m honest. But I do always feel grateful… and reverent… and willing to take upon me, whatever assignment God sees fit to give. It only seems fair, after all He’s done for me, that I would turn around and dedicate this chapter of my life to Him.

Who else could’ve plucked me out of the jaws of Hell, and put me back on a path to real happiness, meaning, purpose, direction, and joy?

I never would’ve done it by myself. I couldn’t have. I didn’t know how.

Every time I tried to put the pieces back together, I wound up with more broken pieces than I started with.

Here’s what I did do right, though

Two years ago, I put myself in an environment where I would have to change, in order to survive. And I believe that making the choice to do so is why I have changed.

Had I not moved… had I chosen to remain at my parent’s house… to keep that safety net about me… even if I had still gone to therapy, learned to manage my money, worked on my diet and exercise, and otherwise tried to create a “better,” more meaningful life for myself…

I would not have grown the same way that I have by moving halfway across the country and intentionally putting myself in a situation where I have to change… where I have to keep growing… keep evolving…

Where I’m never satisfied with my current state for more than a few minutes…

Because I know deep in my soul that I’m meant for more than what I’ve settled for…

If I was still living with Mom and Dad, I never could have ignited this passion inside… this drive to succeed… this ambition to create something… to make a real impact in my community…

If I were to choose comfort over change, it would be impossible for me to thrive in Lubbock.

If I was focused on “comfortable,” I wouldn’t be willing to keep making the hard choices that make real and lasting change possible.

And here’s what only God could have done for me

Only God could have put me on the path I’m on now. And I know that, and I freely give Him all the glory, and all the recognition He deserves.

I only hope I can continue to live up to my end of it all, and to keep reaching the people He wants me to reach, and to show them, through my own messy example, what’s possible when you simply allow yourself to believe again.

Not even in Him, at first, if that’s too much of a stretch.

But in something.

In anything that gives you hope, that lifts you up, that helps you put one foot back on the right path.

You have to believe in something. We all do.

So why not believe in something good?

Why not believe that there’s still time for you to change? That there’s still a chance for you to get the lifestyle you’ve always wanted?

As long as there’s breath in your body, it’s never too late.

You can come back from anything. I know, because I did. And I’m just getting started.

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Small steps for big change

You don’t climb out of rock bottom overnight. But you can start shifting your story, one small act of courage at a time.

Here are 5 simple ways to begin:

1. Name what you’ve survived

You’ve made it this far — that matters.

“I made it through ______________.”

Say it out loud. Write it down. Let yourself see the strength you’ve carried, even in the dark.

2. Imagine your second chance

If life handed you a fresh start today, what would you do with it?

Don’t get stuck in logistics. Just let yourself picture it. Hope starts with imagination.

3. Find one small win

It doesn’t have to be flashy.

Maybe you got out of bed. Maybe you made a call you were dreading. Maybe you’re reading this newsletter — and that means you haven’t given up.

Claim it. It counts.

4. Believe in something good

It doesn’t have to be God, if that’s not for you.

But pick something to believe in this week:

• A future you want

• A tiny truth about your worth

• A quiet possibility you can’t shake

The smallest belief is a seed. Plant it.

5. Ask for the next step

Even if you don’t know where you’re headed, you can ask for the next right step.

Pray. Journal. Sit in silence.

“Show me what to do next.”

Trust that the answers you need will come, when you need them.

Small steps. Quiet hope. That’s how it starts. Soon, you’ll be back on your way.

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Self-reflection: how to reclaim your story

This isn’t about fixing everything overnight. It’s about pausing… noticing… and making space for hope again.

Take your time with these. There’s no right answer — just your honest one.

1. What part of my story am I still carrying shame or hopelessness about?

We all have chapters we avoid — parts we wish didn’t happen, or that still make us feel broken or behind.

Where are you holding onto shame, regret, or the belief that “this can never get better”?

Write your answer.

2. Where have I already shown strength — even if I didn’t give myself credit?

Survival is strength. So is showing up.

Think back… Where did you push through, endure, or keep going — even when it felt impossible?

Write your answer.

3. What does my version of a second chance look like?

Forget the movies. Forget what other people say.

If life quietly handed you a second chance — right now — what would it look like?

What would change? How would you feel? What tiny thing might shift?

Write your answer.

4. What’s one small thing I can believe in this week — about myself, about life, or about the future?

You don’t have to believe the whole story yet.

But is there one thing you can lean toward?

Maybe…

• I’m still here, and that means something.

• People can change — maybe even me.

• There’s hope, even if I can’t see it clearly yet.

Pick your one small belief.

Write your answer.

Your story isn’t finished. The next chapter is still unwritten. You get a say in what happens next.

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Final Thought

For a long time, I didn’t believe there was any way forward for me.

I thought the best I could hope for was survival — and even that felt impossible some days.

I used to sit in my room, convinced that life had passed me by. That God was done with me… or worse, that He’d never had a plan for me to begin with.

It’s a hard place to live — carrying that kind of hopelessness. It changes how you see yourself. It changes what you believe is possible.

It keeps you stuck.

But here’s the truth I couldn’t see back then — and maybe the truth you need to hear today: it’s never too late.

There’s no such thing as “too far gone.”

There’s no version of your story where God gives up on you, even if you’ve given up on yourself.

And there’s no deadline on healing, growth, or becoming the person you were meant to be.

I’m living proof of that. And I’m not special. I’m not stronger, wiser, or more deserving than anyone reading this right now. The only thing I did — when that second chance finally came — was say yes.

So wherever you’re standing today — whether you’re stuck in the dark, clawing your way back to the surface, or already walking your own second-chance path — I hope you’ll remember this:

It’s okay to start small. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to not have it all figured out.

Just… believe in something good. Say yes to the next quiet invitation that crosses your path. And trust that you’re not out of time.

You’re just getting started.