Craving Life: The One Thing That Finally Pulled Me Back From the Edge.
I love a great challenge, who doesn’t? I’ve never been a great speller and I’ve always heard, “You write like you speak.” Grammar? Not my strong point. Growing up, I was told over and over that I wasn’t good enough or smart enough to achieve anything. “You wear your emotions on your shoulder!”that was a favorite. And my personal favorite: “You aren’t a leader, you’re a follower!”
It doesn’t even matter who said those things anymore. What mattered was the loop those words created in my head. The self-doubt was suffocating. People would tell me, “One day I’m going to turn on the TV and you’ll be there,” or “You’re such a talented chef, you just have to believe in yourself!” But here’s the truth: I never believed in myself. I second-guessed every decision. And I committed the highest crime against myself—self-sabotage.
Sure, maybe some of those people thought they were using reverse psychology to motivate me. I’ll never know. But I do know this: there comes a point when you can no longer blame the trauma that hurt you. The negative voices in your past do not get to dictate your future.
My turning point came in October 2003, when my ex-wife asked for a divorce. That moment set me on a journey to find myself. Twenty years later, I’m still on that ride, and what a roller coaster it has been.
My addiction to food ran so deep I was willing to let it kill me, even though I have a daughter I want to be here for as long as I can. For years I couldn’t understand why my father never changed his ways to stay alive for us. When I was finally diagnosed with food addiction, I recognized how much food had controlled him too. It was his coping mechanism, his only refuge in the storm.
And I see it everywhere people wrestling with addictions that rule their lives, people who really need just one thing: someone to listen.
When I was eighteen, thinking about ending it all, I had no one to turn to. When I finally told my parents what I had almost done, my father’s response was brutal: “He’s just looking for attention!” I wasn’t looking for attention, I was screaming for help. I wanted to be heard, to be seen, to be acknowledged.
Years later, after Chef Bourdain took his life, I stood in front of hundreds of strangers and told part of my story. That night I realized how much I needed to share it.
I didn’t write this book for awards or accolades. I wrote it for the people who believe they’re walking through hell alone. Some have told me, “I could never be that open,” while others have said, “You tell too much, you shouldn’t.” Honestly, I have no fucks to give about that. I don’t even know who buys the book or reads it, until I get the texts, emails, and phone calls.
Not long ago, a friend, family now, called me and said, “I didn’t know who else to call. I’m ready to jump off the edge.” I heard the pain in their voice. Then they said, “I read your posts. I see you. Everything you’ve been through, and you keep going.”
That hit me hard. It reminded me that the real work is to keep finding the silver lining and just keep going. It’s not about giving up, it’s about learning how to learn from the world. And I’ve learned who truly supports you and who shows up no matter what.
Last August, I launched the book. This June, it was honored as one of the best mental health books in the world. Over 222 countries submitted entries, and mine was among them. Shocked doesn’t even begin to cover it.
But the real reward is the messages I get: “Thank you. You saved me.” Listen, I haven’t saved anyone. I’ve simply helped guide them toward saving themselves.
To everyone who has purchased the book, sent me a message, or reached out: you got this. Thank you for seeing me, I see you.
If you haven’t picked up the book yet and want to know more, you can find it here: https://a.co/d/4wjNlIF.
