From the moment my life changed five years ago, my only goal
was to find purpose in the pain. The sleepless nights, the tears that came
without warning, and the dark thoughts that whispered I might be better off
gone — they all had to mean something. I refused to believe that
everything I endured was for nothing. I needed to find a way to make sure
others didn’t feel as lost, broken, or invisible as I once did.
When I began the podcast, I knew I wouldn’t change the
world. Some people would scroll past, some would never care to listen — and
that’s okay. I couldn’t heal every person with a brain injury. I couldn’t erase
their pain or restore what was lost. But I never focused on what I couldn’t
do. I focused on the how.
How could I use my story to shine a light on millions living
quietly with pain, memory loss, and hopelessness? How could I help the world
sit up and take notice — not of me, but of them?
At one point, another survivor told me I was wasting my
time. He said no one wanted to hear about brain injuries — that I couldn’t help
everyone. And you know what? He was right. I can’t help everyone. But he was
also wrong — because I have helped someone. In fact, I’ve helped many
“someones.” I’ve received messages from people who once resisted hearing the
message, only to later thank me for not giving up. For showing them they
weren’t alone.
I don’t do this for praise. Truth be told, I’m not half the
man some people think I am — but I’m working on it. If you’ve read my book, you
know the hurdles I’ve faced. I’m still learning to offer myself the same grace
I freely give to others. I’m still a work in progress. But then again, aren’t
we all?
This morning, I woke up to an email that said, “Congratulations
on 50,000 views.”
Then, as if life wanted to remind me how far we’ve come, my Facebook memories
popped up — showing that exactly one year ago, we had just hit 9,000.
That moment didn’t fill me with pride as much as it did
gratitude. I was overwhelmed — not by the numbers, but by the stories behind
them. Every view represents a person — someone out there who needed a word of
hope, a reminder that they still matter.
Yes, I’m proud of what my cohost Ashley and I have built.
But it’s not about plaques, awards, or money (which, for the record, there
isn’t any). It’s about people — real people — who once believed no one cared
enough to tell their story.
That’s what it’s all about.
If you’re reading this for the first time, or if you just
discovered Life Rewired, the greatest compliment you could ever give us
is to share our message. Subscribe to the channel, tell a friend who needs
encouragement, and help us spread what truly matters — hope, love, and faith.
Because even in pain, there is purpose. And sometimes, all
it takes is one voice to remind another that they’re not alone.