Let’s get this straight:
I’m not a life coach. I’m not a spiritual warrior. I’m not sober 20 years with a speaking gig and a bestselling memoir. I’m Jack.
And most of my life?
I was either running, lying, using — or barely hanging on.
I was six months clean when I became a father to four kids under 7. I tried. God knows I tried. But the damage was already in my bloodstream — passed down, acted out, and worn like a mask.
For 18 years, I stayed clean. But I was never truly free. When the kids grew up and left, so did the structure holding me together. I drifted. Drank a little. Smoked. Took pills. Never spiraled all the way again — but the fear of becoming that old version of me still stalks me.
I’ve owed money to mobsters and got away with it. I’ve buried friends. I’ve failed the woman I loved the most — more than once — and I’ll carry that forever.
And my son Sean...
He’s gone. And I’ll never stop thinking I should’ve saved him.
So why Becoming Jack?
Because I needed somewhere to put the truth.
Because the guilt, shame, and ache of it all won’t shut up.
Because I’m tired of pretending I’m fine to make everyone else feel better.
Because writing this might be the only thing that keeps me from going under again.
Because if even one man reads this and decides not to pick up, not to check out, not to quit — then it’s worth it.
If I had one post left before I died, it would just say:
“I’m sorry.”
But until then — I’m gonna write my ass off. And maybe, just maybe, figure out how to live with all of it.