The Moment I Realized I Needed to Breathe Again

How a nose-to-nose staredown with mortality can shape a man...

I opened my eyes as I shot up out of bed. I started frantically looking for my phone. It was the middle of the night and my heart was beating out of my chest. My first thought was I was still in a nightmare, and I’d wake up for real any moment, but my stomach was doing backflips, and my palms were sweaty and 8 Mile jokes aside, I didn’t even get a bowl of mom’s spaghetti. I was focused on just trying to breathe and remember where the hell I put my phone.

I slowly tossed the covers aside and stumbled my way to the toilet, banging into and sliding across every wall like I had just drunk a 26 of whiskey. I did my business, got up to wash my hands and try to warm them up under the water. I turned around, kissed the door frame harder than an old ex, and the next thing I knew, I was lying in the hall outside my bathroom in a daze. Was this how it was supposed to end? Lonely? Defeated? Alone…?

I mean, it kinda made sense.

Headlines would read, “37-year-old man found dead. Cardiac arrest. Survived by his three best friends; his parents and his dog. Oh… and not one, but TWO estranged siblings, with whom he couldn’t win their love. A legacy of second place.”

All my life, I worked so hard to prove them all wrong. Doctors. Coaches. Teachers. Colleagues. Friends. Enemies. It was in my DNA to prove people wrong. And for what? I just ended up face down in my single-bedroom apartment, helpless, alone, ashamed, and with nothing to show but my child-like imagination, useless accomplishments and credentials that now seemed obsolete as I couldn’t even pick myself up off the floor…
All my wildest dreams, now ever-so-close to the edge of forgotten. I truly did think I could do anything. I was Superman after all. My world was dangerously close to being stripped of all that I had still to do.

I had to find my phone and get out of this nightmare. I managed to pick myself up, the taste of determination flooding my mouth. Or was that just blood from the fall…?

I found it on my production workstation, aptly named, of course, and I stumbled my way back to my bed where I placed an emergency call that quite possibly saved my life.

EMS arrived, and at that point I was in a full-blown panic attack. Adrenaline dumped into my veins like the river Nile, I was engulfed in full body shivers, two hoodies couldn’t warm me up, but the paramedics said my stats read fine. I was rushed to the hospital anyway. The next two days I spent reflecting on life while refusing to eat the processed bullshit they call food, and making calls to those who I love. It was a good opportunity for me to figure my shit out. Here’s what I came up with…

I was moving fast. Too fast.
And I had no idea I was running in circles.

At the time, I thought I was productive. But really?
I was just filling space—staying busy to avoid sitting with the truth.

And it nearly cost me my life…

You see, most people don’t need more motivation.
They need a pause—a moment where the noise stops, and clarity finally has space to land.

On March 23, I’m creating that space.
No selling. No pitching. If you feel like you need it, you already know.

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