Day 15 Sometimes,you have to look back

Hey…

Day 15.
And we’re back on this ledge again—
boots on the edge of the world,
breath hanging in the cold,
the rubble behind us still settling,
still whispering,
still reminding us where we crawled from.

Yesterday, I talked about not looking back.
About moving forward so fast the past can’t grab your ankle.
About momentum—
raw, fragile, precious momentum—
the kind you protect like fire in a windstorm.

But today…
today I need to say the part we skip over
when we try to sound strong.

Sometimes,
you have to look back.

Not to reopen the wounds—
not to bleed all over the memories
you’ve already survived—
but to acknowledge the moments
that rewired your entire soul.

The catalysts.
The earthquakes.
The days that tore you apart
so you could grow in a different direction.

For me,
that catalyst wasn’t gentle.
It came as a call no one wants to answer,
a scene no one forgets,
a friend whose story ended in a way
I still wish I could rewrite.

I was a first responder on his suicide.
A man I respected.
A man I thought was untouchable, unshakable—
the kind of person who looked like life itself bowed to him.
And then, in one shattering moment,
he was gone.

That day split my life open.
Left a scar that still hums under my skin.
But scars are strange things—
painful, permanent,
and somehow… guiding.

Because that moment
pushed me onto the path
I didn’t even know was waiting for me.

Yesterday, Facebook handed me a memory—
seven years ago, nearly to the day—
I walked into the work I’m in now.
Back then I was just a worker, a cleaner,
trying to stay afloat.
But I grew.
Into a business owner.
An employer.
Someone shaping something bigger
than the fear that built it.

And Stephanie…
I know your journey didn’t get the chapters
I hoped it would.
But your impact didn’t end with your life.
It echoed.
It redirected.
It built something in me.
And for that—
thank you.

This job hasn’t been easy.
The last few years tested every nail,
every beam,
every belief that I was meant to hold any of this together.
Some days I thought the whole structure
was coming down again.

And that fear—
that whisper of collapse—
that’s part of why these vlogs exist.
Not as a performance.
But as a lifeline.
As a way to speak through the shaking.

But here’s what I can say today with a steady voice:
that collapse hasn’t come.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
And I’m grateful for the space between now
and the breaking point
that never arrived.

So if you’re standing at the pass—
one foot in your past,
one foot in your future—
go ahead.
Look back.
But not at the wreckage.
Look at the spark.
Look at the moment that cracked you open
so something stronger could grow.

Find one thing back there
that deserves a quiet thank you.

Because today—
Day 15—
we’re still here.
Still standing.
Still rebuilding from the rubble.
Still staring into the wind and daring it
to push back.

Thanks for walking with me.

We keep going.