01: I kept quiet, and it almost killed me

For a long time, I was the guy who had it together.

On paper? I looked solid.

Former college athlete, division 1 All American who had a shot at the pros, straight A student. Successful. Focused. Disciplined.

But underneath? I was a slow-motion collapse.

One that started when I was a kid—and got buried under years of silence, shame, and pretending.

I was groomed when I was twelve years old.

By a man who was trusted, admired, and convincing.

It started with compliments. With attention. With “you’re special.” With promises I would make it big.

Then came the manipulation.

The pressure.

The things I still don’t like saying out loud.

I didn’t tell anyone. Not then. Not for years.

I thought it was my fault.

I thought I had something to protect—my family, my image, my own sanity.

So I shut it down.

I built a life around silence.

Performed well. Played hard. Smiled big.

And underneath that performance, I carried everything.

Football gave me structure, purpose, and identity until my body gave out.

An undiagnosed hip injury spiraled into painkillers.

Painkillers turned into addiction.

Addiction turned into shame.

And shame kept telling me:

“Don’t tell anyone. You’ve already ruined everything.”

Even after I got clean, the silence wasn’t gone.

It was just quieter.

It looked like overworking. Like isolation. Like pretending I was okay.

But I wasn’t.

It took years—years—for me to understand something simple:

You can’t heal what you keep hidden.

I didn’t get better overnight. I don’t have all the answers.

But I know what it’s like to lose yourself and slowly find your way back.

That’s what this space is for.

Not to lecture. Not to perform.

Just to tell the truth.

About healing. About addiction. About abuse. About shame. About identity.

And about how it’s possible to build something better after the quiet ends.

If you’re here, and you’re carrying something you’ve never said out loud—

I get it.

If you’re trying to rebuild while no one’s watching—

I get that too.

You don’t have to be fixed to show up.

You don’t need to have the right words.

You just have to keep going.

I’ll be here doing the same.

If life broke you wide open, you can build something better from the pieces. I promise.

If this resonated with you, I’d be honored if you shared it—or just told someone you trust.
That’s how the silence breaks.