Life Doesn't Wait Until You're Ready

I learned this the hard way so you don't have to

I once had to drive my Dad and check him into rehab.

Talk about an experience you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.

I can still remember the feeling.

The highway drive.

The quiet.

It felt backwards.

These were the types of experiences that typically go the other way.

The wise dad driving his struggling son to go get help.

But life has a funny way of working.

We don’t get to choose our struggles, or our challenges, or prepare for them.

We get thrown into them. Fight or flight.

Play the victim—or take accountability.

In this case, there was no time to think about anything other than how to get my Dad the help he needed.

This drive was a decade in the making.

I was in high school when it started.

Now I was a few years into my career.

As the oldest in the family, the responsibility fell to me.

Not because I could handle it—because there was no other choice.

So I made the calls.

Found a place just north of the city.

We packed up the car.

Stopped a few minutes away at a gas station so my Dad could grab a few cartons of Juicy Fruit.

(There was no way he could go months without it.)

I walked him in.

Signed the papers.

Walked out.

And drove back to the city alone.

The whole thing was bizarre.

His stint in rehab was moderately successful.

We visited a few times—he seemed okay, but not great.

(Turns out rehab often takes a few kicks at the can before it sticks. We learned that the hard way.)

It was a few more years… a few more scares… and many more difficult conversations before he finally got sober.

What finally registered with him was the idea that he would have grandchildren one day, and that we wanted him around to be a big part of their lives.

Now it’s been almost a decade. Which is wild to think about.

But that experience taught me a few things early on that I’ll carry forever:

1. Ask for help. You don’t have to go after it alone.

2. Life is precious. Every day is a gift. Presence is the most important skill you can build.

3. Everyone has a story. Outside of a few friends and close family, no one knew what I was dealing with—and that’s true for most people. Be kind. You have no idea what someone’s carrying.

4. You can do hard things and stay positive. I could’ve played the victim, sulked, justified poor work performance. People would have understood. But success comes from facing the hard stuff and choosing faith over fear.

There are so many men out there right now quietly headed down a similar path to my Dad.

Two decades of struggle. Shame. Loss.

And everything in between.

Helping guys avoid that path is one of my deepest motivations in the work I do.

Because it’s entirely avoidable.

But it requires facing your fears.

Taking a risk.

Sharing the things you’ve buried for way too long.

That’s scary as hell.

But it’s not nearly as scary as doing nothing—and wondering where the best years of your life went.

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Next Thursday I’ll be having an open conversation with my Dad streaming live for the first time ever.

You’re not going to want to miss this vulnerable chat with the man who inspired me in ways he doesn’t even realize.

Mark your calendars for Thursday, July 3 at 12 PM EST and send me a message below to get on the invite list.