You don’t really wake up one day and say, “I’m healed.”
You just notice that the noise is gone.
And for the first time in a long time, you can breathe without guilt.
That’s when you start to see it -the crack wasn’t a curse.
It was a gift.
"Your greatest mistake isn’t losing yourself.
It’s trying to become the man you used to be."
Because if you could lose yourself, then that lost version of you was never the real one.
He was scaffolding.
Temporary.
A construction phase that was never meant to last.
But I get it.
You miss him -the guy who used to wake up hungry, decisive, certain. The one who could turn chaos into order before breakfast.
Now you look at him like an old friend who stopped calling.
So you chase after him.
You read old journals.
You replay old wins.
You go through old routines hoping muscle memory will summon his ghost.
But it doesn’t.
And that’s the point.
The old you was the cocoon, not the butterfly.
He had to fall apart so something truer could crawl out of the wreckage.
The problem is, you’re trying to revive the cocoon’s shell.
You didn’t lose yourself -you outgrew yourself.
And God, in His mercy, refused to let you keep pretending.
Because that man, as capable as he was...
He wasn’t built for the weight of what’s next.
He was forged for a different battlefield.
He did a good job.
He could build walls and chase goals...
But he couldn’t carry glory.
So heaven let him collapse.
That breakdown?
That burnout?
That fog you thought would never lift?
It was demolition day.
A sacred teardown.
An ending disguised as exhaustion.
The truth is, the loss wasn’t the tragedy.
The tragedy would’ve been surviving the rest of your life as half that man, thinking that was all you’d ever be.
There’s a reason they call a broke man broke.
Something cracked him.
And virtue leaked out -the kind that makes a man rise early, hunt, provide, build.
Some call it pride.
Some call it ego.
But what really leaked out was certainty.
The money didn’t vanish first -the man did.
The lack of money was just a symptom.
But here’s the good news...
It is mercy to break.
Because if the identity you built was REAL, it would’ve held. (See why I couldn't be bitter at my wife? She literally helped me)
A lion doesn’t stop being a lion just because it’s starving.
But a false identity? That one can crack.
The breaking is proof the old version of you was never built to last.
And that’s the gift -the chance to rebuild into something that can never be broken again.
What is dead may never die.
So yeah, it hurt.
You felt hollow.
Directionless.
Like someone turned the color off life.
But if you listen closely, there’s something stirring inside the emptiness.
A pulse.
A flicker.
The start of a new frequency.
Not the old drive — something deeper.
It doesn’t roar; it hums.
It’s not desperate to become again.
It’s learning to be.
And that’s where the repair truly begins.