My Life. My Rules.
A mortgage application isn't really about buying a house. At least, not for me. It's about finally choosing to build the life I want instead of the life everyone else thinks I should have. Almost dying has a way of clarifying things. I'm done waiting for retirement to start living. The life I want begins now.
We Speak the Same Language
There are some things in life that can't be explained. They can only be understood by someone who's walked the same road. After years of believing recovery was a path I had to walk alone, I finally met someone who already spoke the language my soul had been trying to translate.
The Door Was Already There
She kept telling me this was just the honeymoon phase. That eventually we'd settle down and those overwhelming feelings would fade. I don't think she's right. Not because I believe infatuation lasts forever. Because I don't think this is infatuation. I think we simply opened a door and discovered love had been patiently waiting for us all along.
A Healer’s Words
For years, Kerry has been helping put my body back together. Now she's telling me that my words might help put someone else's spirit back together. That's a humbling thing to hear from someone who has dedicated her life to helping others heal.
Twenty-Five Years Later
Twenty-five years after walking through the doors of this institution, I found myself sitting in a leadership class for first-time managers, raising my hand just to remind people I existed. It wasn't the training that bothered me. It wasn't even being overlooked. It was the realization that after decades of service, battles fought, and lessons learned the hard way, I'm still standing in the same place saying, "Excuse me, I'm over here." Maybe that's the lesson. Maybe after twenty-five years, it's finally time to stop asking for a seat at the table and build a new one.
The World Quiets Down
Last weekend, I rode to Colorado to see a woman who told me she loved me. What followed was a weekend of uncertainty, vulnerability, reconnection, and a realization that some people don't bring excitement into your life; they bring peace.
Necroptic Vision
Ever since the accident, people seem smaller to me. The ones I used to fear. The ones I thought were powerful. Maybe death changed my vision. Maybe I developed some kind of necroptic sight that lets me see through bravado and ego straight into the fragile little souls underneath.
The Ones Who Get It
Some people don’t do small talk. They don’t skim the surface or fill silence with noise. They go straight to the things that matter. When you find one of those people… you know.
I Had to Tighten My Left Boot Today
Recovery doesn’t always announce itself with milestones and applause. Sometimes it shows up in the smallest, most unassuming ways, like the moment you realize your left motorcycle boot is finally loose. After months of swelling, loss, replacement, and rebuilding, tightening that boot became proof that healing is still happening.
The Toll For The Road Less Travelled
As I sit in my wheelchair, caught between boredom and a one-sided texting war with someone I thought was a friend, I find myself still looking forward to tomorrow. The world is testing me in every direction right now, but I’m stubbornly optimistic that the day after tomorrow will be amazing. Maybe this accident was a cosmic cleansing — a toll paid to take the road less traveled.