Figure It Out

I’m tired. I’m cranky.

And, quite honestly, I’m 100% fed up with people.

So if you’re already rolling your eyes, you can probably stop reading now. This is my place. My little corner of the internet where I get to release some frustrations, say what’s on my mind, and hopefully walk away from the keyboard feeling a little better.

Today, I need a vacation.

And before somebody says, “Didn’t you just take one?”… technically, yes.

But here’s the thing about vacations when you own a business:

Sometimes they’re not vacations.

We closed the restaurant for a week so my family and employees could take some time off and enjoy their vacations. Normally, that would be enough for me. I’d consider it a sacrifice worth making.

Except I didn’t actually take a vacation.

I spent the entire week doing manual labor, fixing things around the house, taking care of household projects and doing all the things that apparently don’t magically disappear just because the restaurant doors are locked.

So, congratulations, me. I took a vacation from the restaurant so I could work at home.

Outstanding. And did I mention I’m tired? Because I’m really fucking tired.

Running a business is hard. Not the Instagram version of owning a business. Not the “Be your own boss!” motivational-poster version.

The real version. The version where the customer-to-employee ratio seems completely backwards.

Customers show up expecting everything to run perfectly. Meanwhile, I’m covering shifts, doing jobs that aren’t mine, fixing things that shouldn’t need fixing, and picking up the slack when somebody either can’t do something or simply doesn’t do it.

And eventually, that catches up with you. Down two cooks, a server and our dishwasher walked out mid-shift! Yeah, I’m wearing many hats.

I’m pretty resourceful. I’m pretty self-sufficient. If something needs done, I generally figure it out.

But there’s a problem with always being the person who can figure it out:

Everybody eventually assumes you’ll figure it out.

And when you’re constantly being pulled in three different directions, eventually there isn’t enough of you left to go around.

Then there’s home.

I’ve got a dog who is sick and requires medication, food and attention throughout the day. I’m literally going home every two hours to take care of him.

So my day isn’t just restaurant owner.

It’s cook. Manager. Maintenance man. Problem solver. Tech Support. Employee. Home repair guy. Dog nurse. Husband. Dad.

And whatever the hell else needs to be done that day.

At some point, something has to give.

I’ve been here before. In the past, when the stress and frustration started getting too heavy, I’d just leave.

Hocking Hills.

Atlanta.

Boston.

Vegas.

The destination was never really the point.

Sometimes I needed mountains. Sometimes I needed a city. Sometimes I needed lights, noise and complete sensory overload. Sometimes I needed absolutely nothing.

I’d pick a place based on what I needed at that particular moment, get away from everything, clear my head and come back ready to deal with life again.

And right now? I’m at that point. I’m ready to close it all down and walk away for a little while.

Before anyone panics, no… I’m not talking about permanently walking away from everything.

I’m talking about stepping away long enough to remember what it feels like to be a human being instead of the person everybody calls when something needs fixed.

And yes, I know everyone is stressed. I know everyone has problems. I know everyone is tired.

I’m not claiming that my problems are somehow more important than anybody else’s.

But here’s the difference:

You get to go home. You get to take your vacation. You get to have your time away.

And then there’s the guy who is still thinking about how can I cook, serve, wash dishes and take care of my dog while everyone else is relaxing.

The guy wondering who’s going to show up tomorrow or who isn’t!

The guy answering the emails.

The guy doing all the maintenance.

The guy filling the empty position.

The guy making sure the doors stay open.

And eventually, that guy gets tired too. So maybe it’s time I take my own advice.

My mental health is more important to me than your feelings.

That’s not selfish. That’s survival.

So when I decide it’s time to go, I’m going. Don’t panic. Don’t worry. Don’t ask where. Don’t ask when I’ll be back.

My goal isn’t adventure this time.

It’s peace.

Quiet.

Seclusion.

No schedule.

No problems that belong to somebody else.

No phone calls.

No texts.

No “Hey, real quick…”

No “Can you just…”

No “We need you to…”

Nope.

For a little while, I’m unavailable. If something goes wrong?

Figure it out.

If somebody needs something?

Figure it out.

If there’s a problem that absolutely cannot wait?

Well…

You guessed it.

Figure it out.

I’ll be back when I’m ready.

Because sometimes the person who spends all their time holding everything together needs to put it all down for a minute.

And maybe that’s okay.

Actually… Fuck it. I know it’s okay.

I just need to remember that I don’t have to be everything for everybody, every damn day.

So yeah.

I’m tired.

I’m cranky.

I’m fed up.

And I’m going to disappear for a little while. I’ll see you when I see you.

Until then…

Figure it out.

The Dangers of 2am….

When Everything Hits At Once

Today is one of the worst days since this neck issue started. Not because it’s getting worse… at least I don’t think it is. But because now I’ve got some kind of flu on top of it. And with it comes a cough, the kind that doesn’t just annoy you… it punishes you. Every time I cough, it feels like my head is going to fall off, like something inside my neck is failing.

The pain shoots from my neck into my shoulder, and then the pressure hits, followed by that intense pins and needles feeling flooding down my arm and into my hand. It’s violent. It’s immediate. And there’s no way to brace for it. And it’s going to be a long night.

I’m no closer to answers. No closer to a solution. Just stuck trying to figure out how to exist like this.

I tried to go into work today. That was a mistake. I can’t sit for more than a minute without the pain ramping up, which makes driving almost impossible. Honestly… today might’ve been the last time I try to drive anywhere for a while.

And that realization hits harder than I expected. Because now everything starts piling up.

The grass needs cut. The house needs attention. Coda needs walked, more than once. And then there’s work…. Where I’m useless. I walk around the building when it’s busy, unable to help the way I should. I can’t sit, I can’t focus, I can’t be who I’m supposed to be there. And that messes with you. Along with the fact that I’m killing my wife by making her go there every night to do my job… something doesn’t sit right about that!

I am not a religous person and I don’t believe in God or tests or blah blah blah, “He wouldn’t have given you this if you couldn’t handle it” shit! That doesn’t help. It doesn’t make this easier. It just sounds empty.

So I start wondering…. How is everyone else? Is life really working for you?

Are people actually out there sleeping, working just enough, taking care of their families, exercising, eating right, and then casually enjoying dessert like everything’s balanced and under control? Because that’s not what my life feels like.

This feels like falling behind in every area at once. And somewhere along the way… honestly, not until my fifties, I got hit with a realization I can’t shake: I don’t feel like I matter. I sit here and try to think of what I’ve actually done that’s meaningful… and I come up empty. No real accomplishments. No standout skills, other than cooking. And right now? I can’t even do that.

So what does that leave? I don’t see myself as someone people take seriously. I don’t see myself as a great friend, husband, or father. And yeah… maybe that’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s the constant pain. Maybe it’s the flu on top of everything else.

Or maybe this is just what the truth looks like when everything else is stripped away.

Either way… Right now, it’s winning. It’s 2am. No signs of sleep coming. I thought about going to the ER. But for what? Maybe they quiet the cough for a few hours… but the nerve pain? The neck? That’s mine to figure out. That’s mine to live with.

And I get it now… why people lose their minds from pain like this. Why they reach for anything that makes it stop, even for a little while. Chirst even Tiger Woods has an addiction problem. I get it. I won’t drive. So there’s one good decision in all of this.

But yeah… I’m rambling now. This is just where my head is tonight. This, writing, is about the only thing I can still do that doesn’t hurt. So, I’ve hung up the mountain biking for blogging.

So if you’re reading this… thanks for being here. And if you’re not Maybe you’re missing something. Or maybe you’re just one of the lucky ones.

The Obstacle Course We Call Healthcare

There comes a point where frustration stops being quiet.

The healthcare system, the one that’s supposed to help people heal, feels less like support and more like an obstacle course designed to wear you down. Every step forward requires another form, another referral, another approval, another wait. And somewhere along the way, it starts to feel less about patients getting better and more about systems staying profitable.

When you live with constant pain and very few answers, something else begins to creep in: exhaustion. Not just physical exhaustion, but mental exhaustion. The kind that makes you question whether continuing to seek help is even worth it. When every door feels locked and every appointment feels like starting over, hope becomes harder to hold onto.

I’m not famous. I’m not wealthy. I’m just a regular person trying to get medical care…. and that shouldn’t make access harder. Healthcare shouldn’t feel like a privilege reserved for people with status or endless resources. Yet too often, patients feel processed instead of treated, scheduled instead of seen.

Getting in front of the actual physician you were referred to feels increasingly rare. Physician assistants and layers of gatekeeping have become the norm, leaving many patients wondering where accountability lives. Who owns the outcome when care feels rushed, delayed, or disconnected?

Why does it take weeks or months to schedule imaging or labs that doctors themselves say are necessary? Why does every answer require three more appointments? Patients aren’t asking for miracles…. they’re asking for clarity, urgency, and compassion.

Right now, healthcare feels less like healing and more like survival inside a system too complicated to navigate while you’re already hurting.

And maybe that’s why people are angry.

People don’t expect perfection from healthcare. They expect effort, urgency, and humanity. Until those become priorities again, the loudest symptom patients will keep showing up with isn’t illness, it’s anger.

Happy 2026.

I’ve never really been a “New Year’s resolutions” guy. I don’t love arbitrary deadlines or fake fresh starts wrapped in champagne and wishful thinking.

But this year feels different.

This year, I’m choosing to make healthier choices, not as a resolution, but as an act of survival. I want a life where my family and my friends still get me. Present. Functional. Here.

I took my chronic kidney disease seriously for almost a year. And then… I didn’t.

I got busy. I got lazy. I slipped back into old habits. Heavy habits. Unhealthy habits. The kind that quietly convince you that “later” is guaranteed.

It isn’t.

There are other layers too. The gym and jiu-jitsu, two things that keep me grounded, have been on hold thanks to neck and back injuries. No insurance means no easy fixes. Surgery without coverage feels like signing over a second mortgage, and that’s just not an option.

Mobility is everything to me. It’s tied directly to my mental health, my physical health, and honestly, my will to keep pushing forward.

As of today, January 1st, I am one day sober.

And that feels like a damn good place to start. Yeah, we’ve been here before… the addicts motto, right?

My kidney disease demands a better lifestyle, and that begins with cutting alcohol out of the equation completely. Next comes clean eating and fasting, something I know works for me. I used to do 20-hour fasts daily, with a 40-hour fast once a month. That routine brought me closer to my ideal weight and, more importantly, a clearer head and a happier place mentally.

The struggle will be real.

I work in a place where I’m surrounded by food….. food that absolutely does not appear on my nephrologist’s diet plan. Add to that the nonstop parade of sweets people generously bring in to share… and yeah, my discipline hasn’t always been stellar.

But I’ll do better.

Home has its own challenges. My family isn’t on a restrictive lifestyle diet, and they shouldn’t be. That’s on me, not them. I’ll eat when I need to eat, make better choices for myself, and stay out of the way of the foods my wife and kids enjoy.

One day at a time. That’s the goal.

Over the past few days, I’ve read and heard about several people passing away…. all my age. All seemingly living healthier lives than I have lately. It’s a reminder we never really know how much time we’re given. I can’t control the clock, but I can stop sprinting toward the finish line.

This isn’t a resolution. It’s a revelation.

Change is necessary. I know it. The people around me know it. But this is my responsibility, and I don’t expect anyone else to carry it for me.

Just know this, having water, coffee, or oatmeal doesn’t mean I can’t still laugh with you while you’re having a steak and a couple IPAs or bourbons.

Cheers to a new year.

And cheers to the uphill battle of resisting bad food, bad habits, and the lie that “I’ll start tomorrow.”

Tomorrow is today.

The Life I Built… and the One I Lost in the Process

Today I woke up, and for the first time, I think I finally know what it feels like to lose your mind.

Could I actually be going crazy? Or am I just caught in a life rut so deep it swallowed me whole and now I can’t remember how to climb out?

Growing up, we’re told “life is short, don’t let it pass you by.”

Well, I didn’t. I lived a damn good life for a long time.

Maybe not by everyone’s standards, but by mine, it was wild, adventurous, unpredictable. Every weekend meant something new, somewhere new.

Now, it feels like I’m stuck in the movie Groundhog Day.

Every morning I wake up and live the same script. I order the same beer for the bar, pick up the same liquor order, and walk my dog through the same neighborhood…. three, sometimes six miles a day. That’s about forty miles a month of déjà vu.

People say your early years are for being reckless, for chasing things, failing at things, figuring out who you are. Then you’re supposed to build a life, settle down, start the family, take the vacations, eat the dinners together, and actually live.

I want that.

I want normalcy. I want family vacations and dinners around a table that isn’t covered in receipts or shift schedules. I want to see places I haven’t seen yet, and do it all with my wife.

But what I want feels galaxies away from what I have.

I figured out success in business….. it has its highs and lows, sure, but it’s good. What I didn’t figure out was how to make it self-sustaining. Someone always has to be there. The business can’t run without a heartbeat inside its walls.

And that someone is usually me.

So I’m trapped. Trapped in the world I built, the dream I chased, the thing I thought would bring me freedom, but instead holds me prisoner.

I watch other people with other careers, other lives, and they all seem to share something I don’t: time.

Time for long weekends. Time for family meals. Time to breathe.

My wife and I trade shifts like ships passing in night. One home, one at work, keeping the machine alive.

That sacrifice? It’s what’s slowly unspooling me. Because when you see others actually living, laughing at dinner, taking trips, making memories…. you start to wonder when you stopped doing the same.

And that’s what eats at me. That’s what drives me crazy.

I’ve got money in the bank, cash in my pocket, but I can’t spend it, because I can’t go anywhere. I have more cancelled trips this year due to work than I actually have planned.

So where do I go from here?

Because I sure as hell don’t feel like I’m living life to the fullest.

Most nights, I just sit in the garage watching hockey, surrounded by the ghosts of friends past. The ones who got out, who moved on, who somehow figured out how to make peace with the ticking clock.

And me? I’m still here.

Walking the same streets.

Buying the same beer.

Trying to remember how to feel alive again.

Tired Of It All

I used to think I was a strong person. A person who didn’t have stress or anxiety. I used to think I was a strong person…

I’m not sure what being a strong person is. Lately, I want to quit everything… I just want to go away, somewhere I can fit in and somewhere where I don’t have to be bothered, a place where no one will ask me questions or ask me to fix things. I don’t want to be the brains of everyone around me. I don’t want to have to do multiple jobs at once. I just don’t want to do anything anymore.

Being strong willed was something I may have used to be, but honestly, was I really strong willed? Or was I just pretending? Lately, I really fell like it was all a front.. as long as everyone around me thought I was stable, I must have been stable. Fucking chaos, is what it is. An energized ion…. that’s the feeling I have all the time. Walking at a snails pace, but living inside my head at warp speed.

I don’t know how to make it stop! I definitely don’t have the help or support around me to make it stop. I don’t have the help or support to pick up the slack.

See, I’m not strong at all…. I’m just another example of how one person can fool the world. I’m just me and it’s really not enough.