My Culinary Journey - I surround myself with people who have been treated negatively yet still have a positive mind!

Yes, I know we are in the middle of a Pandemic. But, right now, in the US, we have an epidemic going on. It is the 10th leading cause of death in the United States. Today, September 10th, is International Suicide Prevention Day, and that is why I am so passionate about this subject. It is a part of who I am. In 1988, I was eighteen years old. I can remember this like it was yesterday. I was standing in the kitchen, and my father was arguing with me about the SATs and school. He repeatedly told me that I would account for nothing. I would be nothing. Basically, I was being told that I was a piece of shit. Later that night, after work, I did not drive home but to a local marina. I went there with the intent to end it.

I was going to show my father. I was going to put myself through hell to make sure I stuck it to him! I was going to drive my car into the intercoastal—death by drowning. It happened as the car went down the ramp, and the water began to enter the car. I had this image pop into my head. It was my grandfather. He was going through kidney cancer, and if I did this, I would kill him. I slammed my brakes just in time. The back end started to float a little. I began to panic a little. The car's rear wheels grabbed, and I was able to back up. I did not want my grandfather's death on my soul.

In 2018, I told an abbreviated version of that story, never how I was going to do it. In fact, I have never told that story. I never told the therapist, not even my parents. I just told them I tried. There is a correlation with that year; Chef Anthony Bourdain completed suicide. 

I have been reflecting on why I haven't spoken about it. It is not like I haven't had some hard times since then. Back in 2003, my ex-father-in-law completed suicide. It was his third attempt. Ironically enough, I found out some interesting stuff about my family at that time. You see, one side of my family was asking in-depth questions. The other side was more silent. I found out that the quiet side had not one but two relatives who committed suicide. We lost my Great Uncle and great-grandmother to suicide. I was always told stories about my uncle and how he saved lives. He was a Dr. I did not learn the truth about his death until I was thirty-three.

I feel more compelled to speak outwardly about mental health because of Chef Bourdain. Here is the quintessential thing about Chef: he was the most extraordinary culinary storyteller of our time. He brought people from different backgrounds and used a common denominator to find something to start a conversation. Food was that denominator. Chef taught us and taught me the power food has. Think about this: whenever some great event happens in history, I bet it was over great food. Chef had everything except peace from his demons. We, chefs, looked at Chef as one of us. We let him into our home to listen, to watch. He was like a buddy we would hang out with every week. To this day, his death affects me more than my father's death. I forgive my father for the way I let him treat me as a child. You read that right. Forgiving is power, and I forgive myself for beating myself up. In essence, Chef Bourdain lit a spark under my ass to tell my story. His death may be his most extraordinary story yet. His last story, his death, started a movement about mental health, one that has now spread to many. Think about this: his gift would be to save so many lives. We now have to start the conversation.

Today, September 10th marks International Suicide Prevention. Today, at your family meals, tell a story. Hell, tell mine. Let your staff know it's okay not to be okay. Have this open conversation with your team. Mental health needs to be talked about like any other medical condition.

If real men can eat quiche, then real men can express their emotions. Sharing Our Stories will help chefs and others. It is just about starting the conversation.  

Hello, I am Jeffrey Schlissel, and I almost took my life at the age of eighteen. I am grateful that I am here to tell my story. I have and still am making a wonderful life not just for my family but for others. Those others need to know they are not alone. You are not the only ones to have ever thought this way. You are not a coward for feeling this way. No, you are not insane. You need to express yourself to someone who can help. The reason you think this way is because of how society dedicates MENTAL HEALTH. The perception that culture has currently is what we need to change. "It's okay not to be okay." should be the new norm.

Those of us who have attempted are like the Phoenix. We are alive once more from the ashes of our old life to the fire of this new one.

Life has several ups and downs. It is how we recover from the downs that are our wins. Funny thing, we never have to recover from a win!

Sautéing the Past: A Recipe for Mental Health Vindication

Vindication, much like a perfectly crafted dish, is the art of clearing someone of blame or suspicion, marinating in the proof that someone or something is right, reasonable, or justified. Have you ever pondered the daunting task of having to prove your innocence, like trying to convince a stubborn soufflé to rise or a skeptical steak to reach the perfect medium-rare?

Imagine facing your abuser head-on, like a skilled chef confronting a burnt dish. Picture yourself speaking your truth, your words sizzling in the pan of confrontation until they're well done and ready to be served. How would that make you feel? It's a rare dish indeed, but one that could satisfy the hunger of your soul.

I think back to my own experience, leaving behind the bitter taste of resentment towards my father. He finally heard my simmering emotions, and that, my friends, is the main ingredient in this recipe for healing. After seven long years, I've come to realize that forgiveness isn't just for him—it's for the child within me who yearns for a nurturing presence.

Vindication is like lifting the heavy lid off a pressure cooker, releasing the pent-up steam of past grievances. It's shedding the weight of self-doubt and inadequacy that others have heaped upon us like unwanted toppings on a pizza. They will never truly grasp the depth of our struggles, the flavors of darkness that swirl in our minds, or the intricate layers of pain we've endured.

It's as if the world has lifted off our shoulders, allowing us to float freely like a perfectly whipped meringue. It's the feeling of being on a culinary high, where every flavor is harmonious, and every bite is pure bliss. It's emerging from the dark cave of self-doubt into the warm glow of self-acceptance, where each breath is a sweet aroma of freedom.

So let's sauté the past, my friends, and cook up a feast of vindication and independence. Let's savor the flavors of self-discovery and self-love, knowing that we are the chefs of our own destinies, creating a masterpiece of mental health and well-being.

Bon appétit to a life free of burdens and full of delicious possibilities!

36 Years Later: Reflections on My Suicide Attempt

In the hazy summer of 1988, a storm brewed within me, sparked by harsh words and shattered dreams. As I stood on the brink of despair, contemplating an irreversible choice, a sudden image flashed before my eyes - my grandfather, a beacon of strength amidst my turmoil. In that moment of reckoning, as my car teetered on the edge of darkness, a glimmer of hope flickered within me, urging me to reverse the tide of fate.

It was a pivotal juncture, a turning point that echoed with the thunderous beats of my racing heart. Amidst the turmoil of emotions, a wave of realization washed over me—the stark selfishness of my actions and the poignant guilt that gnawed at my soul. I sought not an end but a cry for help, a plea for understanding in a world fraught with pain and uncertainty.

In the aftermath of that fateful day, I embarked on a journey of healing and introspection, guided by the unwavering light of resilience and perseverance. Through therapy and self-discovery, I navigated the tangled web of emotions, unraveling the tapestry of my past to forge a path towards a brighter future.

As the years unfurled like a tapestry of memories, I found solace in the art of reflection, a profound exercise in understanding the depths of my being. Through this process, I unearthed the roots of my struggles, delving into the tangled emotions that shaped my journey.

Recently, as I delved into the realms of culinary exploration and self-discovery, I was reminded of the transformative power of storytelling. In crafting a hybrid book that intertwined recipes with personal narratives, I found a cathartic avenue to explore my past and embrace the complexities of my journey.

Through sharing my story, I sought to illuminate the shadows of mental health struggles to offer a beacon of hope to those navigating their own stormy seas. In each presentation, each podcast episode, and each TikTok post, I endeavored to spark conversations about mental wellness and resilience to foster a community of support and understanding.

In the tapestry of life, woven with threads of joy and sorrow, triumphs and tribulations, I have discovered a profound truth - the most precious gift we possess is time. It is a currency of infinite value, a tapestry of moments waiting to be cherished and savored.

As I gaze upon the tapestry of my life, woven with threads of resilience and redemption, I am reminded of the profound impact of a single choice, a single moment of clarity that altered the course of my existence. In the tapestry of my life, I found not just survival but a beacon of hope, a testament to the power of resilience and the enduring strength of the human spirit.

As I reflect upon the twists and turns of my journey, I am filled with gratitude for the chance at a second act, a second chance to rewrite the narrative of my life. Through the lens of reflection, I have learned to embrace the scars of my past and to weave them into the fabric of my being with grace and acceptance.

In the symphony of life, I have found my voice, a voice that speaks of resilience, compassion, and the enduring power of human connection. With each word spoken and each story shared, I strive to be a beacon of hope, a light in the darkness for those who walk a similar path.

As I look towards the horizon, I am filled with a sense of purpose and a deep-seated conviction to make a difference in the lives of others. For in the tapestry of our shared humanity, each thread of kindness, each stitch of compassion, weaves a tapestry of resilience and hope.

In the end, as I reflect upon the tapestry of my life, I am reminded of the profound truth that within the depths of darkness, there lies a glimmer of light, a beacon of hope that guides us through the storm. And so, I embrace each moment, each memory, with a renewed sense of purpose and gratitude, knowing that in the tapestry of life, every thread, every stitch, is a testament to the enduring strength of the human spirit.

This article describes the author's recovery journey and provides helpful information on the topics discussed. The opinions and any advice or recommendations included in this article are NOT INTENDED TO REPLACE THE SERVICES OF TRAINED HEALTH PROFESSIONALS AND ARE NOT TO BE CONSIDERED AS MEDICAL ADVICE OR USED TO DIAGNOSE OR TREAT ANY MEDICAL OR MENTAL HEALTH CONDITION. THIS ARTICLE IS NOT INTENDED TO AND SHOULD NOT BE USED BY THOSE UNDER THE AGE OF 18.

The author and publisher are not and do not hold themselves out to be a doctor/physician, nurse, physician's assistant, advanced practice nurse, or any other medical professional ("Medical Provider"), psychiatrist, psychologist, therapist, counselor, or social worker ("Mental Health Provider"), registered dietician or licensed nutritionist, member of the clergy, provider of legal services or any other type of professional advice.

Confronting Ignorance and Denial: A Call to Remember, Learn, and Stand Against Racism

Yesterday, I came across an article where a political commentator and show host made a dismissive remark about the unimaginable atrocities of the past, questioning the validity of well-documented historical events. Their statement, suggesting that heinous acts like human experimentation were mere "bizarre propaganda," is deeply troubling, especially coming from someone who belongs to a minority group and should, therefore, be more sensitive to such matters.

In a world where antisemitism is on the rise and the memories of World War II are fading, it is essential to confront ignorance and denial with facts and empathy. The horrors of the Holocaust, including the unthinkable experiments of figures like Dr. Josef Mengele, were meticulously documented by various sources, leaving a trail of evidence that cannot be ignored or dismissed as mere fabrication.

I identify as Jewish and have faced firsthand encounters with antisemitism; I find it both heartbreaking and infuriating to witness the rewriting of true history. The need to acknowledge and learn from the past is more crucial now than ever as we strive to combat prejudice and injustice in all its forms.

In a society where division and hatred often overshadow unity and compassion, it is vital to stand firm against bigotry and misinformation. Education, understanding, and a commitment to truth are our greatest tools in dismantling the walls of ignorance and intolerance that threaten to divide us.

It is high time for individuals like Candace Owens to delve deeper into history and broaden their perspectives beyond the confines of ignorance. Racism, in all its forms, stems from a lack of understanding and empathy, and it is so important to educate ourselves and others to build a more inclusive and equitable world for all. Prejudice has no place in a society that values freedom, equality, and human dignity above all else.

Racism is the religion of the ignorant. What we fear, we must destroy!  

First They Came For… 

by Pastor Martin Niemöller 

Martin Niemöller is best known for writing First They Came, but he is a complicated figure. Initially an antisemitic Nazi supporter, his views changed when he was imprisoned in a concentration camp for speaking out against Nazi control of churches.

First, they came for the Communists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Communist

Then they came for the Socialists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Socialist

Then they came for the trade unionists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a trade unionist

Then they came for the Jews

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Jew

Then they came for me

And there was no one left

To speak out for me

We all owe it to speak out about antagonist hate because if we do not, who will speak for us when they come?

Embracing Imperfection: A Culinary Journey of Self-Discovery

I have never been one who, when you tell me I am no good at X, you should give up. Nope, what I am great at is self-sabotage. Do you think it gets to me if someone says, "Hey, I didn't like the flavor profile of the collards!" Why should I get upset? That person may be used to how they grew up eating them, which is fair. They may flat-out hate how I cooked them, which is also okay. Let me fuck the dish up, and then it is game on. That is when it all comes out. That voice in your mind comes forward with their proper uptight English accent and says, "Oh, that was a rookie mistake! Didn't I tell you that that would happen if you do it this way?" The best is when you are in the middle of that conversation; you have an order of Self Doubt come in; I meant ten orders of Self Doubt. You start questioning, "What the hell were you thinking? Wait, were you thinking?" You begin to think, "How many times have you made this, and now you fuck it up!" 

I recently started baking again, using my starter, Obi-Wan Ke Dough Bi. He is now a beast, and the flavor profile of that sour is so forward. I decided to make two different recipes. One recipe used just Obi, and the other was a Levain. I also had the third dough recipe for English muffins. I was doing the podcast and came home. I should have cooked the dough on Thursday, but I did not. The following day, I started. I started cooking the English muffins, and I went too quickly; I didn't let the pan heat up first to where I thought it needed to be; why?

Maybe I subconsciously wanted to give me a shitty day; who knows. When I did the first batch, and they didn't get the rise I wanted to, I just kept going. I tried one and was like, WTF. The sourness, that texture, it was euphoric. It could have been better than what Meg Ryan's character, Sally, had at the deli. It was not that good; well, almost! The next batch is perfect. I am not saying I was perfect at the second batch; the second batch when I cooked them was perfect. What happened? Why didn't I start "beating"  myself up? Simple, I was not doing brain surgery, and no one died at the end of the cooking process; that's a good thing. Here is the real reason - Someone once told me, "COOK THE BREAD." The other thing I am trying to train my brain to remember - is that you are human, and we all make mistakes. The only perfect thing is your image of g-d. Every bread is different, even if the recipe is the same. Let me pause here and ask a question. Do you want to know the truth about why some chefs don't get into baking and pastry? If you do, you must choose the red or blue pill. If you take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I will show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. If you take the blue pill, the story ends, and you wake up in bed and believe whatever you want.

Oh, I see. You took the red pill and want to tumble down the rabbit hole. Most savory chefs do not have the bandwidth to bake. In the above statement, every bread or bake is different. There truly is no constant in baking. "What do you mean?" you may ask. There are hundreds upon hundreds of recipes for bread. How could you say that? Remember the rabbit hole; it is time to open your eyes to the why! When it comes to baking, things are alive. Not the little weevils in the flour, nope. I am talking about the yeast we use to make things rise and give structure and texture. Let us not forget about the water and the minerals in the water. What about the temperature of the water when one cooks? Then there are all those cooking techniques that you have to learn and all those damn ratios. Wait, what about remembering what gets baking soda and baking powder? What about all those ratios you must know and all that math you must do? You then have to remember to steam, egg wash, or straight bake. You also have to know about the protein within the flour, what each one does, how to mix their ratios, and so on. The long and the short of it all: Most savory chefs do not want to do the math or the science involved to learn to become a great baker or pastry chef. I can save the end dish if I mess up and put too much salt into a savory recipe. When you add too much salt to a baking recipe, start over.  

I went to culinary school a long time ago—much, much, long ago! I went to school thinking, "I wanted to become a great chef!" I have questioned myself every day since then, and no, I didn't. I love my career! I then asked, "What makes a chef great?" I thought it was that a chef has to master the craft, and to do so is to learn both savory and sweet. I poured straight into the mixing bowl and absorbed all that I could. 

Today, I am who I am supposed to become and realize certain things. I have learned this with the help of my daughter, who has no idea how much she has helped us since she came into our lives. Teaching her how to ride a bike, ride healies, ride roller skates, and learn to crawl, walk or run, I have always said, "It takes practice, it takes patience, and you never give up!" Why is it, then, when we fuck up a dish or whatever, we automatically go into "You dumbass, what the fuck were you thinking mode!" So, how do we stop Agent Smith from destroying Sion? Remember, it's cooking, and you are forever the student. You are the master of nothing. You are only a guide, and the ingredients and the cooking techniques you use let you master the dish you are preparing. Ultimately, if you cook craveable food, respect the process, and cook passionately for YOUR food, you have created YOUR masterpiece.

Do not let anyone tell you you can't make desserts or bake. Keep learning, keep pushing. I once told Amaury Guichon, "Thank you for what you do?" He looked at me and asked if I was a pastry chef, and I answered with this, "No, I am more savory, but what you do pushes me to learn more about the sweet side of food because it makes you a better chef. You dial in so you can create taste-bud-blowing experiences."

Never stop being a student; learn and keep learning all you can. Stop those voices in your head. Remember, things happen when you attempt to learn and perfect your craft. Those things are supposed to happen because you are forever the student... 

Culinary Philosophy: Party of One!

I just had a light bulb moment. I have them once every so often, like that comet that comes around every few years. No, this is not your run-of-the-mill DING fries are done moment. This is more like a “four minutes to Wapner” revelation—like hitting the golf ball with that perfect PING! Sound.

One of the top five questions people ask me is, “Where the hell do you come up with that stuff?” Let me expand a bit so you can get a sense of my thought process. I have always been a creature of WHY? Ask my mother, and she’ll tell you! Her go-to response was, “Why? Because it’s a crooked letter!” I’d be like, WTF does that have to do with my question? It was like when I was younger and asked, “What’s for dinner?” and she’d say, “18:30!” Yup, honest to God.

Eventually, I caught on and started asking, “What time is dinner?” Her reply? “Chicken Parm!” I digress… I have always wondered who came up to eat the things we eat today. For instance, who came up with foie gras? Go look it up; it’s a really Kool story. When I was in culinary school, I constantly asked why. I have no idea why {see what I did there}, but I’m that guy. So, getting back on track {ADHD much?}, I would always ask cooks why they did things a certain way, like why they washed rice a certain number of times or why dry and wet ingredients are mixed separately before combining.

One vivid memory I have is from working at a large Asian-themed restaurant. I was being introduced to a new cooking style, and the trainer, Lou, had probably fifty years on me. I remember watching his technique during one chaotic Friday night shift. The kitchen was a whirlwind of activity—tickets printing, no stop off the wheel, and cooks moving like there was no tomorrow. But Lou moved like Neo dodging bullets in slow motion. His movements were graceful, purposeful, and mesmerizing. He wasn’t chaotic; he deeply respected the food he was cooking. It might not have been his style, but it was American Chinese cuisine, and that was who he was.

We had a family meal each day in most kitchens I’ve worked in or run. To this day, it’s one of my favorite meals. Every day, someone took a shot at introducing the rest of us to their cuisine, representing where they were from, their upbringing, and their style. You get to learn who a cook is through their family meal. The difference between their restaurant food and family meal is LOVE. They cook from their heart, sharing their most craveable dishes and personal stories.

I would sit, eat, ask questions, and learn about their cuisine. I realized that the sparkle in their eyes when they talked about their dishes reflected their memories, respect, and history. I will never consider myself a master of anything. A master is someone who believes they know everything, and that’s not me. I can never fully replicate another culture’s cuisine; I’m not from there and wasn’t raised there. I can only show respect for it.

I have a buddy, Chef Jason F. Lynn—follow him, he’s a great guy. We have deep conversations, and he always says, “Always the student, forever learning our craft!” I look back at the cook I was and the experiences that shaped me, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. I’m from Florida, raised in HollyHood, and have worked in Miami up to Tampa, where I am now. I’ve played with so many different cultures in the kitchen, adding flavors to my arsenal that I didn’t know existed.

Recently, on our podcast, The Walk-in Talk, I did a flan challenge. Carl had his Cuban mother-in-law make her flan, and I made mine. My buddy Chef Robert Gonzalez, who was a contestant on the Food Network’s Spring Baking Championship, gave me his recipe. I don’t do anything the normal way. During the podcast, Carl said, “The flan was great, but it’s not Cuban flan.” He made a comment about tradition, and I responded, “I will never do traditional because I wasn’t raised in that culture. It would be disrespectful for me to label their food as such. Instead, I show respect by blending their flavors with my style. That’s the only way I know to honor their cuisine.” I’m just a cook who asks questions and experiments, all while trying to pay my respects to the diverse culinary traditions I encounter.

The dish I prepared for this trigger was to pay respects to my family, who is from Jamaica. People think the national dish is Jerk Chicken, and you couldn’t be more wrong. My mother-in-law is one of fourteen kids, Chinese Jamaican. There is a whole lot of flavor in that family. I was introduced to this dish when my wife and I started dating. Now, I want to state that I was not aware of this dish, and all of you cooks from Jamaica that never told me about it, you {I cannot say what me want to say}! I remember when I was asked if I wanted Ackee and Saltfish. I was like, “What’s Ackee? What is this thing called BAMMY?” Here is the thing: when I said that, her mom looked at me and was like “Well, him going to find out!” It wasn’t that—it was the joy, that dare I say, a twinkle of “I get to show someone a dish from my country.”The whole family was so excited. I learned quickly why they were.

The Dish

Ackee and Yum
Jerk marinated grouper | pineapple vinegar infused mango chutney | coconut milk marinated bammy seared | stewed tomatoes | caramelized onions | Ackee | coconut butter crumb | coconut rum lemongrass infused reduction | lemon jerk curd | roasted broccoli puree

Electric Emotions: Healing Through Vulnerability

If I could post my mental state today, it would be: "Today's forecast calls for partly melancholy with severe winds and heavy fog!" ADHD can feel like both a blessing and a curse. For those who don’t struggle with it, imagine driving down a street; suddenly, a stiff wind causes power lines to cross. There’s a massive crack, a voltage surge, and then a bolt of lightning. Once the wires separate, everything seems normal. You might call it a "squirrel moment," but I call it "wires crossed." At that moment, I short-circuited, and everything that was floating around in my mind burst forth.

It's not ADHD causing my feelings today; it’s the toll of the past few weeks. I've been focused on helping others and neglecting what’s most important: me. Through my food addiction journey, I’ve learned I need to manage my emotions positively. In the past, I would have turned to substances or food to cope. Now, I strive to be impeccable with my words, avoid taking things personally, and not make assumptions.

Today, my ADHD is in hyperdrive. After hearing about "Cupcake," I reached out to the chefs we used to hang out with and kept hearing, "This cannot be good!" It wasn’t. I felt like an awful person. Cupcake and I had many conversations, especially after they lost their fiancée to cancer. When I got the news of Cupcake’s passing, my first thought was, "How did they die?" Life happens, and I realized we had lost touch. I’m not jumping to conclusions but letting my emotions wash over me.

Throughout my journey, I’ve learned what benefits my mental health. I’ve set boundaries to protect myself. I feel like I let someone down, but I know I can’t save everyone. I understand that while some stories end, mine continues. Cupcake’s passing reminded me of my "family" from my old company. So much happened during my eight and a half years there: my mother’s cancer, my daughter’s birth, my father’s death. COVID hit me hardest; I lost my passion for food and sought more from life. It became the villain once I left that job, and those "family" members became collateral damage. I recognize I was wrong, and I will change that. I know Cupcake would have forgiven me; that’s the type of person they were. Their death has brought us back together, and I’m committed to keeping those ties.

What you just read reflects my journey in learning to cope with emotions. I wrote this without a filter to show how my mind works. I want you, the readers, to see my raw, vulnerable thoughts. Vulnerability isn’t a weakness; it’s one of the greatest gifts we can share. If you don’t believe me, watch Jon Bon Jovi save that woman’s life on the bridge.

The Roller Coaster of Entrepreneurship: Navigating the Storms of Self-Doubt and Success

Sometimes, life feels like drifting in the sea of the unknown. The current moves you as you rise and fall on the waves, while the wind brings life and direction. I sit here trying to think what to type next and how to communicate what I want you, the reader, to feel. The sea and the wind have created a vortex. My emotions are spinning, and I feel I am being pulled under. I feel like Jacob Marley, with chains wrapped around me and cement blocks. I think, "Please don't let me..." It happens. I feel myself drifting straight down into the darkness. I feel the weight all over my body, crushing me. What light was there is fading rapidly, and I am left alone in silence. A deafening silence! I am left with my heartbeat, my doubts, my should of, my could of, and my would of's.

Music plays, my eyes open, the alarm is going off, and I survive another day. I go about my day constantly, thinking about what hell will be around the corner today. What obstacle is the universe going to throw at me today? What phone call is going to punch in the dick! You hear those faint voices, "Does he really know what the hell he is doing?" You realize those voices are in your head. You move about your day, checking off your checklist and seeming like you are in control. Then you hear, "Are you keeping busy to forget about that..." Your phone rings, and the dread and despair fall over you as you see the name; it's that call!

Welcome to the glist and glamor of entrepreneurship! Well, this is my version; yours may be different. You may ask yourself why the hell would you{{or anyone else for that matter]] do that to themselves.? Simple, it's mine. Okay, it's not that simple. You have to be absolutely in fucking insane to want to be in charge. "It's the American dream!" Yes, yes, it is, but it comes with a lot of risks. The burden it puts on your family unit, HELLO! The toll it takes on you, your mental health. Your bank account!

Why do I do it? I want my daughter to have a legacy. I want to show her that you can achieve anything if you put your mind to it. I do this because I believe in myself. I see myself as those around me support me! The biggest failure for an entrepreneur is THEMSELVES! More specifically, the fear of the unknown. Can I, ME, CAN I REALLY DO THIS! Self-doubt kills a dream quicker than anything. “But I can't do that. Something like that already exists! Really, did that stop Netflix from taking down Blockbuster? We all thought there would be nothing but Microsoft. How's that going? We all thought we would be singing "Hello MOTO." You get the point! Life is not easy, so why do you sabotage yourself? See yourself as those support you see you! Do what I have been doing lately. I keep telling myself, "It is not a sprint but a marathon!" Life is like baking sourdough. It takes time, nourishment, time, support, time, stretching, time, seasoning or time, heat, steam, structure, you get the point. When you screw up, as someone once told me, “Just bake the bread!” I think another flaw is getting in your own way. Listen, just do it, learn from it mostly stay out of your own damn way. More importantly, stay out of my way!

Feeling the same ups and downs of life, entrepreneurship, and self-doubt? You’re not alone. Whether you’re navigating your own storms or facing the unknown with fear, remember—it’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon. Take the next step toward clarity and growth. Join me on this journey of self-belief and resilience by subscribing to my newsletter for more insights, or let’s connect directly for personalized coaching. Don’t let doubt stop you from building the life or legacy you dream of—start now.

I’m my own gatekeeper!

For some reason, I feel different. As I lay here reflecting on my day, a thought hits me—my doubt didn’t come from anywhere else but me. My father planted it, but I’ve been the one watering it all these years. If I had the power to break the cycle of his abuse, why haven’t I stopped myself from abusing me?

I’ve always seen triggers like an overpowering flavor—something that needs balance, something I have to tame. And in some strange, fucked-up way, I think I didn’t want to let go of that feeling. Like Neo seeing the Matrix for what it really is, I suddenly see my patterns for what they are. And now, a part of me is screaming, What do I do now?

The answer? Live!

For the first time in a long time, I feel comfortable. Balanced. At peace.

I realize now that I’ve been the one standing in my own way. I blamed everything and everyone around me because it was easier than looking at the real cause—me. That truth is both sobering and freeing. Because if I was the one holding myself back, I can be the one to set myself free. And I am.

I used to fear letting go of who I was, clinging to the version of me that felt familiar—even when it hurt. But I have a tattoo of a Phoenix for a reason. The old Jeff has burned away. And from the ashes, I rise into the person I was always meant to be.

I finally understand that one voice can make a difference. And I will make mine heard.

What limiting belief have you been holding on to? What’s stopping you from becoming who you were meant to be? Drop a comment—I’d love to hear your thoughts.

#TEDx #MindfulTransformation #RiseLikeAPhoenix #BreakTheCycle #MentalHealthMatters #OvercomeYourDoubt #OwnYourStory #CraveableObsessed #FromFireToFreedom

Finding the Win!

I’ve been working through a lot recently—more than I’d care to admit. There’s a post I’ve seen floating around about how January is like a Mulligan, how the year doesn’t really start until February. And honestly? I get it.

The truth is, I wrote something recently that completely rocked me to my core. I shared it with a friend, and they said, “You have to post this.” But for the first time, I hesitated. I didn’t want my journey to be seen. The words were there, but the courage to say them aloud wasn’t.

We all carry our own battles. Some of us bottle them up, while others wear them on our sleeves. I don’t judge anyone for how they cope. But when judgment is directed at me, that’s when my boundaries kick in. My passion is food; my lifeblood is mental health. Combining the two feels like my purpose—breaking bread, telling stories, and reminding people it’s OK not to be OK.

That brings me back to what I wrote. I was reflecting on a day that felt like a complete shit show. The kind of day where everything seemed to go wrong. As I sat down to find the “win” for the day, I came up blank. Nothing. Nada. I rubbed my temples, trying to make sense of it all, replaying every moment. And then it hit me: I survived.

That was my win—I survived the day. It wasn’t glamorous or earth-shattering. But it was real. That realization brought up emotions I hadn’t felt in years. It was like giving myself permission to just be—to exist in that messy space without needing to tie it up in a bow.

Sometimes, the win is just surviving. And that’s OK. Because even on the hardest days, finding just one lifeline—a small victory, a deep breath, washing the day away with a shower, or even a moment of stillness—can be the thing that keeps us going.

So if today feels heavy, know this: surviving is enough. You are enough. And tomorrow is another chance to find your win.

The Power of Knowing: Turning Struggles into Strength

Life is funny. You always hear these stories that people learn later in their lives. You have to wonder how they didn't know that, like didn't they have a feeling? When I heard stories like that, I always wondered, "How did they not know!!" Then, it happened not once, not twice, and probably will never stop. In my book, I mentioned that I have known of ten people who completed suicide, two of those people being my great-grandmother and great-uncle. I found out that truth when my Ex-father-in-law completed his life in 2003. For thirty-three years, I heard that my Uncle saved people during some subway accident, only to learn that he took his life by jumping in front of one. In my twenties, when I was going to college, I found out that I was diagnosed with dyslexia. When I was being tested as an adult, the therapist told me he knew exactly what was wrong with me.

Let me dive a little deeper for you. I was given puzzle pieces to put together, and they gradually became more arduous, and I was being timed. It was one of the last puzzles, with many pieces, no outline, and just wood tone. I had no reference point either. I had one piece in my hand and couldn't figure out what was before me. The doctor looked at me and said, "I know what your issue is!" I was like, "Okay, want to let me know!!!" He explained, "The harder something is, the easier it is for you!" I was like, "Whatcha you talking about, Willis?" Basically, Einstein's theory of relativity is easier for me to understand than 2+2=4. Once it was determined I had dyslexia, I started this CSI investigation into "How come I didn't t know this???" I went to my pediatrician and asked him; I got, "I-I did not want you to use that as a crutch!" Let's just say what came out of my mouth was superlative four-letter words. At first, I was angry. I kept telling myself, "What would have been different for me growing up knowing I had this? Would my relationship with my father be different knowing that?

Now, I just found out that I was diagnosed with adult ADHD. A lot of you may say, DUH, we all knew that. I felt something was wrong, but I didn't know exactly what. I don't have all the symptoms of ADHD, but the ones I do have, let's just say A+++. Last year, I was evaluated, and the therapist never got back to me. I moved on with my life, and this past Friday, my new therapist told me that I was diagnosed. Again, I can sit here and play the victim, but what has happened can never be changed. I cannot let my past dedicate my present or my future. The only change I can make for my future is to focus on my present.

Yes, it sucks that I didn't know what I know now. I have lived 53 years of my life and have a choice to make. I could either wallow in my shit and play the woe is me game or be grateful. Honestly, I see this as true human grit and spirit. I went through all that schooling and did all of these things without knowing. I overcame my adversity without knowing I had it. Now that I have been diagnosed, my new journey of healing can begin. My thoughts are about what I now can accomplish with having the tools to become who I was to become.

I look forward to what is in store for me. I will no longer think, "How much is in my tank," but "I cannot wait to see" what I can accomplish. Sitting here thinking about how to end this, I think about martial arts and what the most challenging belt to achieve is. I believe it is the white belt. The most intense battle is choosing to start that martial art form. Mental health, the most challenging aspect, is actually saying you need help and getting it.

Recently, I talked to a friend who has been going through a lot. I said, "What if you knew you would end your journey on X date? How would you live your life?" They thought and said, "I would stop drinking!" That got me to think, 'Why wait until you know when you will die? Why not think tomorrow is your last? Think about being the best version of yourself that you can be!" Exploring your emotions and knowing that you can manage them is extremely powerful. What is powerless, having your emotions control you? We must teach ourselves the correct positive coping mechanisms to get through life. Life is already hard, so why do you want to throw more fuel on that fire? Take back your power to manage your emotions and watch what YOU can achieve. #justonelife