People look at my story and think it ended in victory:
“I lost 250 pounds.”
“I beat throat cancer twice.”
“Look how far he’s come.”

But here’s the truth nobody sees:

My body changed…
but my mind didn’t magically heal.
My spirit didn’t just snap into place.
The war inside me didn’t stop — in a lot of ways, it got louder.

Everyone talks about physical transformation like it’s the finish line.
But nobody tells you what happens the day after the weight is gone…
when you’re left standing there, looking in the mirror,
and the man staring back still feels broken, scared, unsure, and unfinished.

Nobody talks about the grief of losing your old self —
even the parts that were destroying you —
because they were familiar, predictable, known.

Nobody talks about what it feels like when your body moves into a new life
but your identity is still chained to the old one.

Nobody talks about trying to live a Christ-led life
when you’ve spent years surviving by relying on your own strength, pride, and pain.

I am not a man who “made it.”
I’m a man who survived what should’ve destroyed him
and woke up every day afterward fighting a mental and spiritual battle
that nobody could see.

I still battle the voice that says I’m not enough.
I still fight fear, shame, and insecurity.
I still struggle with self-worth.
I still catch myself reaching for old habits when life gets loud.
I still wrestle with surrender — real surrender —
the kind Christ asks for, the kind that requires letting go of who I was
to step into who I’m supposed to be.

I’m not fully rebuilt.
Not even close.