The Sunrise Warrior

“When people feel unsafe in their bodies, they turn to external regulation—food, alcohol, drugs, or compulsive behaviors to manage their internal state.”
— Bessel van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score

For years, that was me.

I abused food. I abused alcohol. I even abused drugs as a teenager. I ran myself into the ground.

I was constantly at war with myself, stranded on an island of my own making. I refused to let anyone in. Instead of reaching out, I hid behind a smile.

People told me I was a good man. A good dad. A good husband. A good friend. A good businessman.

And maybe I was.

But I was only operating at 55%.

That missing 45% was buried under layers of self-doubt, self-loathing, and unhealed wounds. And I didn’t even know it.

Even at 55%, I built a good life. But I was at war within.

The Mask of Survival

When the world tells you that you’ve arrived—that you’re accomplished, successful, “together”—you start believing it. Or at least you pretend to.

I was present, but not fully present. Not with my kids. Not in my marriage. Not in my friendships. Not in my business. Not in my community.

And sure as hell, not with myself.

I never set out to shortchange the people I loved. But they became collateral damage.

The person I was truly failing was me.

Because when you don’t respect the person staring back at you in the mirror, it bleeds into everything.

The Selfie Project

That’s why, for the past three years, I’ve taken a selfie every single day.

On the surface, it might seem narcissistic. But it’s not.

It’s proof.

Proof of the journey I’ve been on for 12 years. Proof that I showed up. Proof that I didn’t let the weight of the past keep me stuck.

Each photo tells a story.

A reminder that I didn’t stay buried in shame. A reminder that I’m no longer hiding. A reminder that self-love—true, deep, earned self-love—is possible.

The Turning Point

For nine years, I did the work quietly. I tore myself down to the foundation and rebuilt, brick by brick. I nearly broke in the process.

And then people started noticing.

They saw something in me before I fully saw it in myself. They told me I gave them hope.

That hit me hard. Because I remember when I almost ran out of hope myself.

Hope is a precious commodity. And I know what it’s like to be running low.

That’s when I started sharing more. Even though I wanted to hide my journey, just like I had for decades.

But here’s the thing about owning your story—it attracts the right people.

Because when you heal, you unconsciously give permission for others to do the same.

Healing in Public

For a man who spent most of his life hating his reflection, sharing these selfies is like standing in front of a crowded room completely exposed.

Open for judgment. Open for ridicule.

But I don’t care.

Because I know the work I’ve done.

I know the nights I didn’t drink. I know the walks I took instead of picking up the bottle. I know the mornings I got up early to journal. I know the tears I shed in therapy. I know the forgiveness I gave to the child I used to be.

I know the strength it took to break a generational cycle and become a protector, not a perpetrator.

From Trauma to Transformation

I didn’t choose what happened to me. I didn’t ask to carry the weight of childhood sexual abuse.

But I do choose what happens next.

I choose to reclaim my health. I choose to show up with purpose. I choose to end the silence.

And I choose to live—not just survive.

“Trauma survivors have a different nervous system. The very event that starts as a trauma can later become an engine for growth and resilience, if we learn to process and integrate it.” — Bessel van der Kolk

That’s what this is about.

Not perfection. Not performance. But growth. Resilience. Integration.

Every time I take a photo, I see the map.

The map back to myself.

It’s like I’m leaving breadcrumbs for the days when the fog rolls back in.

Because life still gets foggy. But now, I have tools. I have people. I have perspective.

And I have the sunrise.

Final Thoughts: Keep Going

If you’re reading this and you feel like you’re on that same island…

Stranded. Smiling through the pain. Operating at 55% or less.

I see you. I’ve been you.

And I want you to know there is more waiting on the other side.

Keep going.

Get support. Tell the truth. Start small.

One sunrise at a time, you can reclaim what was stolen.

The world needs you whole. But more than that, you deserve to feel whole.

Today, I’m no longer just surviving. I’m thriving.

And I’m rooting for you to do the same.

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I look forward to our collective sharing and growth together as thrivers!