The Day I Stopped Surviving: What It Really Means to Start Healing

I Was Alive—But I Wasn’t Living

I was paying bills. Showing up. Checking the boxes.

To the outside world, I looked functional. Reliable. Strong.
Inside? I was exhausted, emotionally disconnected, and walking through life like a ghost in my own skin.

I wasn’t depressed in the way people picture it.
I wasn’t crying on the floor or curled up in bed.
I was just… numb.
Detached. Drained. Quietly surviving. Every. Single. Day.

Survival Is a Skill—But It’s Not a Life

Survival is smart. It's what your nervous system learned to do.
And for a long time, it worked.

You kept moving.
You pushed through.
You made it.

But here’s the hard truth: what keeps you alive in trauma will eventually keep you from living fully.

You can’t build love, peace, or joy on a foundation of fear and emotional shutdown.
And one day, I realized—I wasn’t actually living. I was enduring.

And I was tired.

The Moment That Broke Me Open

It didn’t come with drama. It came with a baby.

My youngest son had just been born. He was helpless, innocent—and I was furious.

Why was I angry at a baby who couldn’t communicate?
Why was I losing it over crying, diapers, and broken sleep?

Why was my rage erupting in a house full of people I love?
Why were my other children catching shrapnel from explosions they didn’t cause?

Why was I withdrawing from my wife—the most loving, caring, patient human I’ve ever known?

Why couldn’t I be present?

I came home from Iraq in 2004.
But mentally, I didn’t come home until 2022.

That’s when I finally started healing.

And as I looked into the eyes of my family—eyes filled with fear, confusion, sadness, and disappointment—mine finally opened.

Because it wasn’t just hurting me anymore.
It was hurting them.

And when I realized that… everything changed.

What Surviving Actually Looks Like

You might still be in survival mode if:

• You snap at people you love and regret it five minutes later... or maybe you don't because you're still enraged

• You numb out with alcohol, food, work, or distraction

• You feel irritated by everything and don’t know why

• You avoid silence, rest, or connection

• You haven’t felt joy—or peace—in years

• You love your family, but feel miles away from them

• You keep telling yourself, “I will be fine”

This is survival. Not failure. But it’s not living.

So What Does “Starting to Heal” Actually Look Like?

Let’s get one thing straight:
Healing isn’t a straight line.
It’s not one therapy session or one inspirational quote.
It’s not suddenly becoming the “best version of yourself.”

It’s messy. Inconsistent. Brave.

It looks like:

• Crying for the first time in years—and not choking it back

• Getting angry and not hurting anyone

• Sitting still without needing to escape

• Saying “I need help” and not adding a joke after

• Letting someone hug you—and actually letting it in

Healing is learning how to live in your body again.
Not as a battlefield. But as home.

The Cost of Pretending

Let’s stop pretending that functioning is the same as fulfillment.
That being busy means being okay.
That being the “strong one” means you’re not suffering.

Because while you're surviving:

• Your relationships stay shallow or strained

• Your kids grow up watching emotional suppression and learning that love means distance

• Your body keeps score through pain, fatigue, or illness

• Your anger explodes over the smallest things—traffic, tone, toys on the floor—because the real pain never gets voiced

• Your purpose gets lost under the weight of performance

Survival keeps you safe.
Healing sets you free.

Why Grace Matters

When I started healing, I kept waiting to “get it right.”
To do it perfectly. To fix myself.

But healing isn’t about perfection.
It’s about grace.

Grace says:

• You’re allowed to fall apart and still be worthy

• You’re allowed to be angry, tired, messy, confused—and still healing

• You’re allowed to feel anger—but it won’t look the same as it did before

  • My surviving anger was loud, explosive, and scary

  • My healing anger is slower, safer, and more aware

  • It doesn’t lash out—it leans in

  • That difference is everything

Grace lets you grow at your own pace.
Without shame. Without a stopwatch.

Before vs After: What Changed?

Before healing:

• I was always on edge

• I felt alone in rooms full of people

• Every question felt like a threat

• I kept people at arm’s length because I didn’t know how to trust safety

After starting the work:

• I still get triggered—but I recover faster

• I can name what I feel without weaponizing it

• I see my kids, my wife, myself—and I stay present

• I finally believe I’m not broken—just rebuilding

Am I perfect now? No.
Do I still make mistakes? All the time.
Will I ever be perfect? Nope—and neither will you. We’re human.

But now…
Do I recognize when I screw up? Yes. Eh, more often than not.
Do I know what I need to work on? Most of the time.
Am I getting better? I try—every damn day—to be better than I was yesterday.

That’s growth.
That’s grace.
That’s what healing looks like in real life.

A Message to the Voice in Your Head

If there’s a voice saying, “This isn’t for you. You’ve screwed up too much. You’re too far gone.”—
Let me tell you something:

That’s not your voice. That’s your pain talking.

You’re not too late.
You’re not too broken.
You’re not the worst thing you’ve done while surviving.

You are here.
You are breathing.
You are not alone.

And you are not beyond healing.

Call to Action

If this post cracked something open, don’t slam it shut again.

This isn’t just about your pain. It’s about:

• Your son knowing how to express emotion without shame

• Your daughter knowing that love doesn’t mean walking on eggshells

• Your partner finally feeling emotionally safe around you

• You knowing peace, purpose, and presence—for the first time in decades

You’ve survived long enough.
It’s time to come home.

Reach out. The door’s open. The G2 Connection is here.