Burnt out, broken, betrayed, brave, and, back again!

Introduction

This isn’t a press release. It’s not a pitch. It’s not some polished social media update written to impress.

This is real. This is raw. This is mine.

Over the last decade I went through something that nearly broke me—and in many ways, it did. What came after was messy, painful, terrifying, and somehow... beautiful. This blog is where I unpack it all. Not just for you—but for me.

If you’re struggling, if you’ve ever felt lost, if you’ve ever been in pain you couldn’t explain—this space is for you, too.

Now, let’s start where it really began.

1. The Post That Started It All

This was meant to be a Facebook post—but it quickly became something more. Instead, I decided to launch this blog—a space to document the full spectrum of my journey: the past trauma, the hard lessons, the wins, the losses, the breakdowns, and the breakthroughs. This is where I’ll track it all as I dive deeper into an extraordinary, positive, and mostly happy life with random episodes of unexplained chaos. The chaos that developed late in my life from underlying issues and experiences that I had no idea could or did affect me—a pile of unorganized neuro-pathways, underlying pain and trauma.

Nicole, my family, and close friends have recently witnessed my relentless curiosity—my obsession with understanding what happened to me and why. I’ve become consumed by the science, the psychology, and the patterns behind pain, mental health, addiction, and the deafening silence that often surrounds them.

As I step into new programs, healing spaces, and conversations around health and happiness, I’ll be sharing everything I find. Tools, products, teachings, uncomfortable truths—and maybe even a few life hacks worth stealing.

I’ve also been invited to be part of a podcast and other projects I’m fired up about. But before we get there… we start here. We start by finding out where the happy go lucky, kind and genourous, hopeless romantic, loving father and partner that was up for anything and any adventure dissapered to. We find out why my closest circles started to ask me if I was ok because they wanted their Jesse back. Why certain friends started distancing and I didnt even notice nor care? Why Nic did the same?

2. The Facebook Flare-Up

I have a lot of “friends” on Facebook. Which means a lot of people saw the moment I broke.

I posted something awful. Something written in a state of confusion, anger, despair—and worst of all, blackout. I don’t even remember doing it. It was up for only minutes, but the damage was done. I hurt people, especially Nicole.

What the fuck was I thinking? I wasn’t. Now there are always reasons and catalysts for actions. Every action has a reaction and the next blog will recap a lot of these.

But, I was in the middle of a full-blown burnout: anxiety, depression, trauma, relapse into alcoholism—everything crashing down at once. There was a sequence of very harsh happenings, betrayal, and events that lead me to a place like that.

But the post wasn’t just wrong. It was partially false. And I’ll never stop being sorry to my best friend and partner on this planet. Nic, I am genuinely sorry.  Regardless of the hurt and sadness I was feeling that day from what I was dealing with and discovering, that was not the right way to adress it.

But that post also helped wake me up when I found out I posted it.  As terrible and painful as it was and as horrified and embarassed as I was when realizing it there was a purpose. Still though that feeling of remourse and regret I dont think will ever go away. It was an epic fail and every tear from it was as sharp as a knife to my heart.

3. Ego Is Not Your Amigo / Vulnerability: The Power Move We Never Talk About

This post is about calling it like it is. It’s about vulnerability—which I’ve learned is another word for courage. Vulnerability is the foundation of creativity, innovation, and change—three things I’ve always done exceptionally well. Without being vulnerable we will never find connection.

So, I’m using that skillset to effect change again. I want to create words that resonate and build solutions in the future.

I could sit here and throw myself a pity party over everything that led to this. But the truth is pretty simple: mental illness, pain, and neglect. Then came my complete refusal to admit anything was wrong. Add a sprinkle of ego, pride, and deeply buried insecurities. Severe trauma. Chronic pain—both physical and emotional—and boom.

This isn’t about some luxury vacation or big win. This is about the breakdown behind the highlight reel. The collapse that crept in while I was still “winning.”

This is about ego—the friend that pats you on the back while quietly leading you off a cliff.

Ego told me to smile. Insecurity told me to hide. Trauma told me I was fine. And all the while, I was on fire—burning down everything I loved with a grin on my face.

Until it was too late.

4. Judgment and Grace

When I crashed, some people leaned in. They didn’t rush to judge. They asked how.

They checked in. They showed up. They held space. They said the words that saved me: "We got you"

That mattered more than they’ll ever know. In the middle of the darkness, a few people saw the light in me—and it helped me remember who I was.

During my breakdown—when the pain, despair, and hopelessness became too heavy to carry—I witnessed something I’ll never forget. I saw real love. I saw humanity. I saw people getting all the facts to understand and not rush to judgment.

Friends showed up. People called, checked in, and sat with me in the dark. Some cried with me. Some just held space. They didn’t come with judgment or assumptions—they came with open hearts and the most powerful words anyone in pain can hear: “How can I help?”

And you did help. Every call, every hug, every act of quiet kindness mattered more than you’ll ever know. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

You saw past the chaos and pain in my eyes. You looked at my family and remembered who I was. Remembered what we had and the best parts of what you witnessed in our lives. You didn’t push your story onto mine—you stood by and offered support. That’s what love looks like. That’s what friendship feels like when it’s real. That's what family does. You are my heroes.

To the ones who called the kids and reassured them that I would be OK—you are the best. The boys are with me here now, happy that Dad is back and safe and healthy again.

5. When They Didn’t Show Up

But not everyone showed up with kindness. There were others—people who didn’t reach out, didn’t call, didn’t ask questions. I can’t even understand the motive behind that, but I know it hurts.

Some people choose to protect, gather facts, and see the whole picture before passing judgment. But others? They assumed, speculated, and spread narratives that suited their perspective. And that’s a heavy thing to witness when you're barely holding on. People that instead of digging deeper took pieces of the scenario and situation and found comfort in a bias narrative that suited what ever classless agenda or personal interests and fucked up opinion they might have needed to validate.

I was even told to kill myself—that everyone and my family would be happier if I were dead. That I was hated. That I wasn’t loved. All in my most exposed and dangerous moment when I literally begged them for help that was what response I got. That level of cruelty? I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

I want to believe they were trying to help in their own twisted way, that maybe their minds told them it was the right thing to do. But I still have to ask: was it really about concern? Or was it about drama, control, a personal agenda, and self-righteousness? I can only assume that the pain and hurt was so extreme it led them to say things like that. Things that you would assume should never be said to any human regardless of any situation.

It was sad to see people who were there for the wins and the good times scatter like cockroaches when the lights came on. But I have to have compassion and I have to look at it from all sides. I can only control me. I can only keep my side of the street clean.

6. Forgiveness Isn’t Weakness

Still, despite everything, I hold no grudges. I forgive you. Because forgiveness is the only thing that frees us. It doesn’t erase what happened—but it allows me to move forward without carrying your weight, too.

Forgiveness is not weakness—it’s healing. And I need all the healing I can get right now. Everyone on this planet needs to be a little more compassionate. Me included.

We can’t control time. We can’t undo the past. But we can decide how we carry it.

And I choose to carry it lighter. I prefer to live in a mindset that I can manage today and only today. It's the only way to avoid the "What ifs" and live a present and positive life. Learning to let go and be in the now was one of the best things I recently discovered. It's full of freedom from fear. I feel that carrying a ledger of the past that you can reference for argument or tactical vindication of a dispute is a demon of mental illness on its own.

I just hope for today.

Living life on life’s terms.

7. The Empire and the Burnout

Nicole and I—over 24 years—turned an ashtray full of loose change ( I was not smart with my snowboarding earnings;)) and a dream into something extraordinary. Out of love, passion, and a shared vision, we built an empire: homes, businesses, memories, and most importantly, a family. Best friends. We’ve been each other's person from day one.

Sixteen businesses across four countries. Fifteen real estate ventures. Countless moves, flips, builds. Two beautiful kids. A TV show. It’s a list that goes on and on. We crushed it. We did what most people only dream of—and we did it together, side by side. It was never just about success. It was about the adventure. The fire. The challenge. We loved to dream big, and we loved even more to chase those dreams.

Even more incredible? We did it all while being life partners. We truly loved, adored, and respected each other unconditionally, no matter how hard it got.

Most people can’t work with their partner or build a life and legacy together while maintaining any sort of success and narmalcy as a couple.. And yet, we did. We continued through laughter, tears, fear, wins, losses, breakdowns, short term seperations,and breakthroughs—even when it felt impossible. Even when we were hanging by a thread.

Yes, sometimes we gave up. We’d crash, we’d fight, we’d fall apart. But somehow, we always found our way back to each other. We always remembered the love. The magnets. The flip.

8. The Pressure and the Resentment

But here's what most people don’t see:

No one truly knows what we’ve been through—what we still go through—because only we were there for every moment, good and bad. A few close friends who have been there for 24 years had backstage access. They witnessed some of the highs and the heartbreaks. But most? Most only got a highlight reel. Maybe a quick glimpse behind the curtain, if they were lucky. Not even our immediate families saw the whole story. Not even close.

It was a hard journey. But we got good at surviving it. We’d tell ourselves, "We’ve been through worse. It’s not our first rodeo," and then laugh it off. Or we’d hit the reset button and keep going. Or we would say, "F**k. This is bad... how are we going to make it?" How are we going to land this one? Then stomp! We made it! Whew. Some things that really hurt us and divided us actually made us stroger and more united at the end of the challenge.

But somewhere along the way, we forgot something important: time. Time for us. Time to breathe, reconnect, laugh, heal, and just be.

We lost sight of the love behind the journey. We failed to protect the foundation—the fundamentals. We became so distracted by all these little things that we failed to properly address and communicated poorly. Death by a thousand cuts—and we were running out of band-aids.

It didn’t matter how big the house was or how many projects we finished. Whether rich or broke, healthy or sick—we just kept pushing. And the cost? Time. Connection. Presence. Joy and worst of all parenthood.

If you’ve never studied cognitive distortions, I highly recommend it. But don’t just look at what they are—research how to manage them. It’s a tool I recently discovered, and it’s been a game-changer.

Our 60–90 hour workweeks and the pressure of everything we’d taken on were unsustainable, especially for me. I was burning out.

9. The Snow Globe Illusion

I always used to say that Nic was the pessimist—glass half empty—while I was the one who stayed positive, always focused on the good. The happy memories. The wins. The adventure.

And yes, I was great at looking further down the road and talking each other down. We both walked each other back from chaos more times than I can count.

But in truth? My brain was tricking me. It was a coping mechanism. My mind was rewiring the narrative to protect me from a reality I couldn’t handle. Meanwhile, Nic felt the weight of the reality I refused to see. She was seeing the pain, the struggle, the disconnect.

I was stuck in a fantasy snow globe of my own making—writing my version of the story, convinced everything was fine, while being utterly oblivious to what was actually happening around me.

I’ve listened back to how I spoke during those days. The tone. The shifts. The emotional whiplash. And I see it now:

I was Jekyll and Hyde. Flipping between charm and rage, denial and despair. No wonder our communication broke down. We were both walking on eggshells. Especially her.

All symptoms of these unknown and unattended issues I was blindly dealing with internally. I literally didn’t see the changes—didn’t recognize the tones, the body language, the words flying out of my mouth.

It was incredibly confusing for her and for others. Because sometimes, in different environments, I was the super caring, complimenting, helpful, kind Jesse. And then... I wasn’t.

And yet, somehow—even amidst the chaos and confusion—we were still achieving. Still building. Still pushing the limits of what two people could create together. We were breaking through impossible barriers, solving problems most wouldn’t dare take on.

But it came at a cost. A massive one.

Because while we were out there conquering the world, we were losing ourselves. We had no time to rest, no space to heal, and no bandwidth to reflect. Our health, our joy, our relationship—all of it was being chipped away with every unchecked box, every new venture, every sleepless night.

10. Cracks and the First Real Vacation

It wasn’t until last year that we finally had our very first true family vacation—just the four of us. No meetings. No events. No obligations. Just us.

And even that trip started like a scene from a comedy. We missed two flights. A kid lost a passport. We left key fobs for the banking in a mall at the passport office and spent three days delayed and stuck in an airport hotel. But somehow, it was perfect.

It was one of the happiest times of my life. Because it was real, it was ours. For once, we weren’t juggling a dozen things—we were just a family in one place at the same time with nothing but room service, the pool, and each other.

Louis is now 14. Fourteen years. And it took that fucking long to get a memory like that. I’m not saying we didn’t have great trips or beautiful experiences over the years—we did. We're blessed and very grateful. But they were always tangled up in work, responsibility, or social obligations. There was no "off switch." No reset. No time to just be.

And no matter what we were doing, if a work emergency came up, we had to put it on hold and focus on that. Which usually ended up causing stress and taking the attention we needed to spend on each other away.

It wasn’t until that vacation—chaotic and beautiful and simple—that I realized what we had been missing all along: stillness. Time together. The kind of presence that doesn’t come with a phone buzzing, a meeting looming, or a deadline hanging over your head.

I felt so much anger and regret from that realization. But something still was going on. I was happy sometimes, but I couldn't be completely happy. I couldn't stop being depressed, ruminating, stressing, or being able to feel completely comfortable. I was just off. I was catastrophizing the dumbest shit.

11. The COVID Unraveling

COVID didn’t just disrupt our world—it exploded it wide fucking open. It hit like a tidal wave, flooding every part of our lives. Suddenly, everything stopped. Everything we’d buried under momentum and noise came rushing to the surface.

For me, it wasn’t just isolation or uncertainty. It was a full-blown unraveling.

If you were alive and old enough to understand what was happening, then chances are you’re carrying some version of trauma from that time, too. And if you’re telling yourself you’re not? You might want to look a little closer. Everyone is.

COVID fucked me up. Full stop. It stripped away every distraction I had built to keep the pain buried. With no more travel, no more events, no more external validation, no more revenue—and a state of helplessness and exposure I have never felt—I had to sit with myself. And I wasn’t ready for what I found there.

I also had to do it at a cottage on an island with nothing to do and a tiny social circle. On top of that, I was dealing with something called "Busy Brain Syndrome"—and COVID pushed it to the limit. I burned wood, and drank myself to 240 pounds.

We tried to keep busy. We made some happy memories. When we had company, it felt like Christmas. But I was not happy. Internally, I was imploding and hiding it well.

Nicole was a rock. She tried to keep it light. Reinforced adventure. I thought I was doing the same. But the truth? I was falling apart. So was my Crypto portfolio, my future, our business and the industry in which I had everything sitting on the line. We had no idea what the future held. We just did our best to keep the staff paid, rack up a ton of debt that ultimately forced us to sell our homes and push me into my first effort at rehab in order to clean up before we had to get serious about coming back on line and start operating again with no resources back into a shattered business. Oh the stress.

12. A Body Screaming for Help

Mental health wasn’t just something I struggled with—it was something I was unknowingly drowning in. Slowly. Quietly. And then all at once. And I didn't even see the signs. Didn't believe it or recognize it and blamed everything else to avoid it.

"Nah, I'm fine," I would say. "Don't you know who I think I am?"

Never once did I say: "Hi, my name is Jesse and my problem is Jesse."

One day while we were there, half my face sagged and went numb. The doctors thought it might be a stroke. They tried to get me a medevac by chopper. No helicopter available, so Nicole rushed me to the hospital.

MRI. CAT scan. Blood work. Neurological exams. Everything came back normal. No diagnosis. No explanation. They said it was likely stress or anxiety.

Well, that’s easy to fix. Have some drinks. Calm the hell down. Right?

Wrong.

But that was the mindset. Still refusing to face the truth.

The diagnosis I eventually just recently received hit me like a freight train:

• Severe stage 4 PTSD

• Depression

• Anxiety

• Combined ADHD specification

• Chronic physical and emotional pain

• Trauma-related disorders

• Adjustment disorder

• Inner child syndrome

• Abandonment issues

• Self-destructive disorder

• Mortality sustainability disorder

• And close to fatal levels of extreme stress

  
  

It read like a psychological report of burnout and breakdown. And no—I’m not crazy. I’m not “losing my shit.” I’m not insane. So knock that BS off. These are real, common, manageable issues.

But stacked all together? It’s a fucking time bomb when ignored.

The crazy part? Many of these diagnoses actually contributed to some of the best things I’ve ever built. I didn’t know I was in the top 2.5% of brain processing speeds. I had no idea how different I really was. No one ever told me. I never went to university—I was winging it with intuition, grit, and survival.

And my brain? It was both the rocket fuel and the wrecking ball.

The mind is like a computer. Without updates and maintenance, it gets viruses. Crashes. Freezes. Burns out. And mine? Mine was overdue for a full system reboot. This doesn't even touch on the CTE situation but that is a whole different story for another post later about concussions.

12.5 The Hardest Pill to Swallow: Forgiving Myself (And Facing What We All Ignore)

But right now, my biggest challenge—the hardest pill to swallow—is trying to honestly forgive myself.

And if I’m being real?

That feels fucking impossible.

Every specialist, every top-tier doctor I’ve seen tells me the same thing:

“Jesse, it’s not your fault.”“You can’t blame yourself.”“It’s not as bad as you think.”“People can heal from this—but you can’t heal if you die.”

They talk about trauma, genetics, neurochemistry, environmental triggers.They show me brain scans, data, and patterns.They explain that my decisions weren’t based in malice or neglect—they were survival mechanisms, built from years of pain, fear, pressure, and untreated trauma.

And yet…

No matter how many letters are behind their names or how much science they lay in front of me, it still feels like my fault. Because I lived it. I made the calls. I caused the damage.I hurt people.Especially the ones I love the most.

My brain turned against me. It warped my reality. It fed me lies I didn’t even know were lies.

And if you’ve ever lived through that kind of internal sabotage, you’ll know how terrifying it is.

Your mind—the very thing you rely on to make decisions—suddenly becomes unreliable.

The worst part? You don’t know it’s happening.You think you’re doing your best. You think you’re getting by. But I wasn’t. I was breaking. The Doctors and speacialists all stated that I had no chance of sobriety with the conditions I was diagnosed with. It would have literally been impossible for me. Regardless of how hard I tried and how committed I was.

And here’s where I need to call out something important—especially for men:

We’ll go to the doctor once a year to get a finger up our ass for a prostate check. We’ll go in for cancer screenings.We’ll get bloodwork, cholesterol tests, check our nuts, even take pills for our dick...

But hell will freeze over before most guys step into a clinic and say:

“I think something’s wrong with my mind.”“I’m not coping.”“I feel off.”

We don’t want to seem weak.We don’t want to spend money on something that “should be free.”We don’t want to admit that we’re scared of our own thoughts.

Because God forbid our noodle isn’t perfect.

And yes—this is Canada. Health care is supposed to be universal, right?

But mental health care? It’s barely accessible, rarely affordable, and so deeply misunderstood that most people don’t even know where to begin.

That’s another reason why I’m writing this. Because the brain—the thing that controls every single part of who we are—gets the least amount of attention.

How we speak.What we hear. What we see. Our choices. Our pain. Our compassion. Our anger. Our joy. Our resentment. Our love.

All of it starts in the mind.

And yet we brush it off with, “I’m fine. Just tired.”Or “I’ll deal with it later.”Or worse… “It’s not that bad.”

So yeah—I’m standing up and talking about it. Because if more of us did, maybe fewer people would crash and burn like I did. Maybe fewer families would break. Maybe fewer kids would grow up believing that silence equals strength.

13. Mental Health vs. High Performance

It turns out that people who live fast-paced lives and perform under enormous pressure—athletes, doctors, lawyers, project managers, EMS workers, entrepreneurs, creators—are often the ones most at risk.

The ones who can’t slow down. The ones who internalize their pain. The ones who learn to perform through it until something gives.

And they medicate. With whatever the fuck they can find to just be. To turn it off and stop the noise and pain.

Hence, the high rate of combined mental and addiction factors. All stemming from unbearable pain.

Stress, I’ve learned, is the root of it all. It creeps into everything. If you don’t deal with it, it deals with you. It shapes how you think, how you feel, how you show up in your relationships, and how you treat yourself.

If you’re feeling it—if it’s always humming in the background—I beg you: pause. Breathe. Start a routine. Meditate. Set boundaries. Not for other people—for yourself.

It's deadly. It's way more deadly than you think. It is by far one of the worst gateways to mental illness, dementia, diabetes, heart issues, life chaos—you name it.

But here's the wild part: I recently learned you can actually flip stress into something helpful—fuel for growth, clarity, and purpose. But only if you recognize it before it breaks you.

I didn’t know that. I had to crash to learn it.

Stress, if properly managed, can be shifted into a powerful tool. And now, thank God, I’ve learned how to use it—at least some of the time.

“Check Your Head”: The Wake-Up Call I Didn’t See Coming

It was acyually someone else noticed what I couldn’t.

My sponsor—a guy who’s worked with NHL players and people who’ve lived through all kinds of high-pressure, high-stakes lives—started seeing a pattern.

He picked up on the highs, the lows, the crash-and-burn cycles, the compulsions, the justifications, the blame, and the normalization. He saw the manic productivity followed by complete emotional shutdown. The chaos hidden behind the charm. The fire masked by function.

And one day, while I was on a solid sober stretch, he looked at me and said:

“Jesse, it’s time for a little check your head.”

I cracked a joke—“The Beastie Boys album?”He didn’t laugh.

“No, seriously. If you’re acting like this while sober… there’s something deeper going on. I’ve seen it before. You need an assessment. And probably treatment. This isn’t just addiction anymore.”

That hit me like a brick to the chest. This was a guy I admired. Respected. Loved.

He wasn’t coming at me with judgment. He wasn’t checking a box or pushing an agenda.

He was calling me out because he loved me and wanted to save me.

And he had no stake in the game—other than my life.

He was also a fellow entrepreneur. Started as a dishwasher. Built a nine-figure empire. Fell. Came back. Saw the same demons in my eyes that had once haunted his. And when word got out in my sober circle that I was finally getting checked, something wild happened:

Dozens of others reached out.

People I never expected to share this kind of truth with— renound pro athletes, doctors, lawyers, film producers, contractors, bikers, union bosses, even a minister—all came forward.

One by one.

Each with the same story in different packaging.

The same storm in a different town.

It turns out this thing I thought made me “unique”… wasn’t unique at all.

This was a shared experience, hiding in plain sight.

And finally—finally—I was ready. But my crash came before I had the chance to do it my way. Literally 30 hours before. I had booked the docter on the 10th. I flailed on the 22nd. I was so hurt by anothers actions and the weeks events I fell off the wagon and spiralled. My survival and protective instincs burnt whatever I could down. I had never got the understanding or support I needed for this in the past so why wait a day to manage a civil plan? Thats what I was thinking. When someone is trying to be sober they need to put their sobriety first. And as hard as that is to understand you need to respect, participate and support. If you love them as painful as some of their boundaries and routines / programs are they need your understanding and caompassion. It's not taking your place or more imortant to them from a love standpoint. Quite the opposite. If you ever put anything ahead of your health and sobriety you will loose it so for them to put sobriety first and foremost as the most important thing in their lives its becuase they have to apinfully do that work and have that life to protect everything they value. And come on here. Its easier than Chemo or parkinsons or Alsheiemerz. Its a fucking terrible disease.

14. Ambition Can Mask Destruction

And here’s another layer that complicated things: I’m naturally an acute thinker and problem solver. I think fast. I process faster. My mind is sharp and nimble, constantly looking for angles, fixes, and outcomes. It’s one of my greatest gifts—but also one of my greatest curses.

Funny enough, the doctors told me that many of the conditions combined were considerable factors in my life's best and most successful ventures. I didn’t know I was in the top 2.5% of brain processors on the planet. How would I? Other than life lessons and being self-taught, I never had the chance to push my mind in an organized manner like university. I was just winging it. Well I found all that out this time around during my assessments for treatment.

When your brain is wired to analyze, respond, and outmaneuver every problem thrown at you, it doesn’t know when to stop. It doesn’t know how to surrender. It tricks you into thinking you can think your way out of anything—even your own breakdown.

Often I would get frustrated in situations where people couldn’t see what I was seeing. Nic often said, "Your brain doesn’t work like ours. You have to simplify that." I didn’t understand how people couldn’t see what was right there. I would get extremely frustrated and sometimes be condescending or harsh with my responses to them. Now I know why. If I had of known that it would have totally changed my aopproach or reaction. By being ignorant to so many of these things I missed out on hundreds of potentially better responses and could have avoided toxic and negative discussions and moments. This lack of understanding is just one more reason that I needed to write this post incase there are others that can maybe find some commonalities and take the proper steps. I would have if I had known.

But you can’t logic your way through trauma. You can’t outsmart burnout. You can’t hustle your way around healing. I tried for years. And it almost destroyed me.

So, as much as those traits have served me—creatively, professionally, athletically, strategically and financially—they also helped build the perfect mental trap. One I had no idea I was living inside until it caved in on itself.

15. Surrender Isn’t Weakness

You can’t hustle your way through healing. You can’t logic your way out of PTSD. You can’t outthink burnout.

I tried. I failed.

But in that failure—I found surrender. And surrender saved me.

For the longest time, I was clinging to the addiction narrative because it was easier for people to accept. Say “I’m an alcoholic,” and people nod. They applaud your bravery. They call you strong. They make you feel proud and show support, love and understanding. Things I was starving for.

Say “I’m battling mental illness. I’m afraid of my own mind. I don’t trust my thoughts.” That makes people uncomfortable. That makes people back away.

So I stuck to the version that made others feel safe—even though it wasn’t the whole truth. The room goes quiet when you talk about the mind and mental wellness.

Because the truth? Addiction was just a symptom. The deeper problem was my mind. My trauma. My re-wiring. And hiding from that part nearly cost me everything.

I tried everything to stay sober—meetings, sponsors, journaling, therapy, personal coaches, programs. And some of it worked—for a while. But I kept relapsing. Not because I didn’t want to be sober, but because I wasn’t treating the real wound. The best most happy times of my life were sober. I truly and honestly feel at my best when I am or was sober. Its incredible to get happiness out of the little things. To feel so good everyday.

But when I finally broke—again—it wasn’t the booze that scared me. It was how fast I spiraled. How deeply I collapsed. How completely I disappeared.

Ten days of darkness. Of chaos. Of saying and doing things I couldn’t take back. I was barfing up so many painful comments, experinces and pain. It was like that scene in the Green Mile where the MIchael Clarke Duncan lets all the sickess out of his mouth. But my actions werent black insects. They were razorblades of words and actions. I was consuming whatever I could get my hands on and in a state of trauma fuelled intoxicated psychosis. I literally missed an entire week. I thought it was the Tuesday and It was the next Sunday.

People I loved got hurt. Especially Nicole. The person I once adored and loved more than anyone in my life. And it was devastating.

I had to stop pretending I was okay. I had to stop minimizing what was happening.

And in that rock-bottom moment—my horrible, chaotic, self-destructive spiral—something deep inside finally screamed:

Enough! I surrender!

And when I was done I literally had little recollection of what was said or done. There were so many gaps and foggy thoughts. It’s wild to look back and realize I’ve spent over $150,000 on treatment, therapy, specialists, and programs trying to make sense of this pain and heal what I didn’t understand for a decade. People don't buy their dream home a year away from retiring to live the rest of their lives in peace and happiness to grow old with the family they love and always wanted and then destroy it on purpose... unless they are truly sick. I was very sick.

And the truth? Most of what I’ve learned—the real gold—could’ve come from $4,000 in focused therapy and a few fucking pills a day if I had known sooner. Had I just put pride, ego and pressure aside for once? Fucking idiot.

16. How Do You Like Them Apples?

    
    

But this is where I ended up. This is my expensive education. It was like that scene in Goodwill hunting when Matt Damon tells the snotty harvard student he spent 100k on an education that could have cost him 2.50 in late charges at the local library. UGH.

I didn’t finish high school—not even close. And yet, somehow, I still managed to spend the same amount of money (if not more) as a university education trying to figure out what the hell was wrong, how to fix it, and how to live again.

I’ve learned so much. And here’s what I’ll end on.

People are starving for approval. They’re more impressionable than ever. Obsessed with social status and perception. They’re out here listening to the stories of others and assuming theirs will be the same.

No two situations or personal experiences should ever be used to make a life decision. That’s insane to me. What happened to one person will never be a blueprint for your own journey. Comparing like that is a recipe for regret, confusion, and fear.

And that fear—that rumination over “what-ifs”—is deeply concerning.

Fuck other people’s opinions. Go heart, not head. Because the head will overthink you into catastrophe. It pushes for reaction, not reflection. We need to do better at responding not reacting. And the world is full of people whose own insecurity is overflowing and leaking into others. Haters will hate—and then convince you it’s okay. It's not.

Opinions are just that. Opinions. And 99% of the time, you don’t need the negative ones. That “justification” some people hang onto? That’s usually their own inner mess trying to spill onto you. People validating themselves by tearing others down. That’s the trap. And it’s everywhere.

Worse yet—it’s infecting younger and younger minds. While they’re still developing. It’s reshaping them permanently and creating massive future issues. Screen addiction is real. And when those highs wear off and they start trying harder stuff—drugs, alcohol—it's game over.

At the treatment center I was in, there were 20-year-olds there for the second time. One month for addiction. A year clean. Then back again for mental health because they couldn’t cope with reality. Trying to live sober and sane in a broken system? Another 100K bill.

THC levels are so high now that they’re warping kids’ minds into psychosis. Foggy brains that may never recover. Paranoid schizophrenia is on the rise. And it’s not rare. These drugs are literally killing kids. Suicide is off the charts.

And we can do something about it.

We can talk about it.We can push Canada to educate and offer real support—because right now, there's barely any.We can be the ones who bring this stuff into the light.

17. The Most Powerful Tool? Positivity.

When it comes to healing, growth, and impact, positive thinking is the most powerful tool we’ve got. You can only control yourself—but by showing up with facts, kindness, and compassion, you can still be a light for others.

You can get that same validation—without the negativity. Without the destruction.

That’s where I finally am.I think like that now. In all my affairs. It’s surreal. It’s humbling. And I’m damn grateful for it.I love humility.

I used to be numb to feeling—completely black and white. I had gear one and gear six. Gears two through five? Gone. Poof.

Now?

I’ve got them all back.

A full rainbow of emotion, and all of it in HD.

And I’m so grateful for it—because it saved my life.

More importantly? It might help me save someone else’s.

18. The Fulton Flip

We all have to accept the things we cannot change, find the courage to change the things we can, and gather the wisdom to know the damn difference.

If there were ever a true FULTON FLIP, this would be it.Or maybe it’s just a Mole Role. Whatever makes you happy.

I’m just finally able to be glad—either way.

This isn’t about a snowboard trick or a business move. This is about flipping the entire narrative. Taking the chaos, the wreckage, the addiction, the shame—and using it as fuel.

Because now? I’m finally living. Fully. Presently. Gratefully.

I don’t need a deal to chase, a stage to stand on, or a disaster to fix in order to feel worthy. I don’t need alcohol to be fun. I don’t need chaos to feel alive. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone anymore.

I’ve got nothing to hide—and everything to share.

I’m here to talk about the hard shit. To help other people talk about it too.

Because silence kills. And stories save.

If even one person reading this sees themselves in my words—if one person says “me too,” or “I need help,” or even just feels less alone—then all the pain had purpose.

This blog isn’t the end of my story. It’s the beginning of something new.

A new life. A new rhythm. A new mission.

And I’ll close with the words that remind me why I’m still here:

We have to accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Welcome to the real Fulton Flip.

I’m finally back. And this time, I’m here to stay.

So…Do you like apples?Because I finally got my number.

How do you like them apples?

Watch this: