The Founder’s Transformation Journey

Journal Entry #1: November 25, 2024

Today is the start of a new me. A healthy me. A me who doesn’t flinch at his reflection. A me who can confidently walk shirtless at the pool without clutching pillows against my stomach to hide the “happy” marriage weight I’ve gained. While the physical aspect is only one quarter of this challenge, it is the part of my life that feels most out of balance right now.

I believe this holistic approach can benefit not just me, but anyone willing to embrace it. When I eat well and exercise daily, I won’t only feel healthier—I’ll look healthier too, which can naturally strengthen my day-to-day confidence. But I know this challenge also demands something I desperately need more of: discipline.

One of my biggest fears is failing: failing to follow through, remain accountable, or become the role model this challenge needs. As someone who helped create the concept, I feel pressure. If I can’t complete it, what right do I have to champion it for others? I believe the system works. I’m the variable that could compromise its success.

I’ve never felt this combination of excitement and nervousness about taking care of myself. Thankfully, I am not doing it alone. My wife, best friends, and the people brave enough to join the challenge can help keep me accountable, just as I hope to do for them.

This has real potential for good. It could offer people a practical way to develop discipline and healthy, consistent routines. I’ve never journaled before, but this already feels more like a blog. As I write, I wonder what might happen if I followed my own organization’s advice and exercised something even more difficult than my body: vulnerability.

Journal Entry #2: November 26, 2024

Full transparency: I did not want to get out of bed this morning. Faith and I decided that consistency requires finding time inside our already busy schedule, which means waking up at 5:40 a.m. for the gym. I used to enjoy early workouts with my father in high school—until I remembered that was eight years ago and no longer a normal part of my life.

I am sore. I am sick of water. I also knew this would not be easy. Many things look simple until you actually try them and discover how demanding they are. Despite that, I remain optimistic.

I want this journal to hold more than my experience with the 77-Day Challenge. I want it to include life updates and whatever thoughts populate my inner dialogue. Today someone said, “I am sad,” and I instinctively asked what was wrong. They answered, “Wow, you sounded like a therapist who actually cares.” That made me laugh.

I enjoy my career even though I have no idea how I arrived here. It was never the path I expected, but I genuinely love helping people through ministry, social work, and mental-health advocacy while also using my creativity. I still wonder what my future might look like if I returned to school to become a therapist—not simply attend therapy myself, though I think I desperately could use it. Writing that feels hypocritical.

I would rather picture myself on one side of the couch than the other because freely exposing my past sounds terrifying. I got a taste of that fear during a meeting with the child-placement agency as Faith and I began our foster-parenting journey. The process includes detailed questions about childhood, caregivers, and how we understand our upbringing. Faith spoke openly while I felt dread knowing my turn was next.

I hate talking about early experiences because some moments still feel impossible to escape. I hate feeling like a victim, yet I cannot describe parts of the past without sounding like one. Maybe I have not accepted that I was a victim of abandonment, loss, and stolen innocence. I know repression will not help, but I do not know how to confront it. Sometimes I wonder whether my tireless pursuit of success is an attempt to outrun those memories—even though I cannot clearly define what success means to me.

Journal Entry #3: November 27, 2024

Today was a good day. I remain optimistic about this challenge, and ideas keep arriving. My worry is whether those ideas will ever move from my mind into reality. Half of me wants to pour every ounce of determination into launching Unmasked Culture successfully. The other half is paralyzed by fear of failure.

No one but me is holding me to such impossible standards. I know I am the one creating these expectations, yet I keep setting myself up to feel like I have failed. I believe some of my ideas could genuinely help people, but I am sometimes afraid to begin—or I battle an internal voice saying that I am full of myself and none of it will matter.

I had a meaningful conversation with my friend during our podcast, another project I believe can help people. At least there, I have taken the first step, and we keep working consistently. The episodes we recorded tonight were good but difficult. I shared some recent journal reflections and realized how much I value putting thoughts on paper.

My biggest concern in mental-health advocacy is the hypocrisy I sometimes feel. I am skilled at helping other people listen to their emotions and work through difficult circumstances, yet I struggle to offer myself the same care.

It is okay to struggle while helping others. Honesty about our imperfections can make support more human, not less credible.

A professor once helped me rethink the passage about pointing out a splinter in someone else’s eye while ignoring the log in your own. The problem is not noticing the splinter; it is pretending the log is not there. I try to remain aware of my imperfections instead of presenting myself as completely healed. I often find greater comfort in knowing that others are still working through things too and that we can support one another along the way.

Journal Entry #4: November 28, 2024

I am thankful to be here. I am thankful to be alive. There was a time when I could not imagine myself saying something so simple, but it is true: I am thankful to be alive.

On Thanksgiving, I am reminded of the old hymn from my church upbringing that invites us to count our blessings. I do not have enough paper for all of mine, but a few come immediately to mind.

I am thankful for a loving and grace-filled Father in heaven who gives me hope, strength, forgiveness, breath, a beating heart, and the assurance of eternity with Him.

I am thankful for my wife, who supports me through the highs, lows, inspired moments, and times when I want to give up. I am thankful for my parents, who raised me, encouraged me, and showed unconditional love. I am thankful for friends who let me be myself, listen to my far-fetched ideas, and remain present when I simply need someone there.

I am thankful for my dogs warming my feet and greeting me as if I have been gone for years. I am thankful for my fish, even when trying to be a good fish dad stresses me out. I am thankful for my church family and for my grandparents, both those still here and those who have passed.

Looking back to darker times, I wish I could have opened my eyes to these blessings. It is difficult to see good things when darkness creates a vignette around your vision and keeps your eyes down.

I need to return to these thoughts when darkness hovers. I need to remember who I am, who stands in my corner, who gives me strength, and that I do not need to push through alone. I need to practice thanksgiving every day—not only as worship, but as a reminder to myself.

Happy Thanksgiving.