Chances are that if you know who I am at this point, you follow me on one of a number social platforms or we know each other in actual life. So, as most of you probably know already, I’m currently a full time student in chiropractic school, I’m a personal trainer, I’m an online fitness coach, I’m a boyfriend, I’m a parent of two fur children, I’m most of all…. Busy.

 

I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting lately.  Been thinking about my time at Palmer West, the journey of how I got to the present, the triumphs and failures, all of it. To be honest, I don’t really know why I’ve been reflecting so much. It’s brought up a lot of happy times, and it’s brought up a lot of painful times. I have had some really good days where I look at this pandemic and it’s effects as a challenge for me to try to “win” for lack of a better term. I’ve also had some really bad days, where all I could think about was some of the most painful emotional experiences I have been through. All in all, I think it has been rather productive. The business of the world in which I live my life can easily distract me from some of these experiences.  Some of which I have avoided thinking about.

 

I have also been thinking quite a lot about my mission in life, my mission as an online fitness coach, my mission as a future chiro, etc… Reflecting on these things has brought back into focus my end goal which has for sure helped me to stay on top of my academics and helped to re-center myself even on those tough days. Part of the mission I have is to share my experiences and what they taught me with others in hopes to bring some guidance to anyone who may need it. I think one of the best ways I can start doing that is by sharing my story this far, which is what I’m about to do.

 

As a forewarning, I haven’t had the easiest life. Some of the stories and situations I’m going to share are not easy to read. I will not think of you any less for not wanting to continue if at any point it’s too much to handle. But sincerely, thank you for taking the time to read some of what I have to say. By doing so you have helped me continue my mission. If you would like to see the video I posted a while back discussing some of this click here.

 

To understand who I am now requires an understanding of my whole story. There is no better place to start this than from the beginning. I was born in April of 1993 to two of the greatest parents a kid could ever ask for.  My dad is and has been a clinical psychologist, which has a very undefined path.  He’s done things from continually running his own private practice to working at an underprivileged high school in the Sacramento area, to even teaching in a PhD program for future psychologists. My mom was a CPA (certified public accountant) and worked her tail off. I grew up in a city called Rocklin that sits between Sacramento and Tahoe. It’s a great area and incredible spot to raise a family. I’m preceded by my older sister, and followed up by my younger brother.

 

Growing up in Rocklin basically consisted of my parents trying to get my brother and I to burn through our excessive amounts of energy by enrolling us in every sport they could think of. Over the time I lived in Rocklin I played soccer, baseball, basketball, cross country, track and field, wrestling, and flag football. My brother basically was doing the same amount of sports that I was. So we were constantly busy.

 

As far back as I can remember, I’ve always felt as if I was an underdog.  I felt this way in school, in sports, and as strange as it sounds, with people too. As kids grow up they usually start differentiating their friend groups based on mutual interests and experiences. A lot of the kids I grew up with ended up in a different friend group and we slowly drifted apart. This happens, it’s completely expected. But the problem for me as I always thought this was because of me. Right about that age of puberty, I got very aware of how self conscious I was. Looking back now, I realize how much bullying I went through.  Although never physically being bullied, I can still remember experiences from 4th, 5th, and 6th grade in which I was being picked on. The worst part was as I entered middle school it started coming from myself too. It was around middle school that I really started feeling different from my peers. As my friends started chasing girls and expanding their social circles, I dove more into my academics and my athletics.

 

Towards the end of 7th grade my middle school pulled all the homerooms together in an academic awards ceremony to recognize high performers in each of the classes.  This assembly is one of those memories that just sticks out in my mind for two reasons. The first reason was it was one of the first times I had been recognized for the amount of effort I put into something. Every teacher would go to the front of the room and say a little something about their class whether it be biology, math, history etc. and then call up the students that they were recognizing for having the highest grades in the class. After they did their speech and recognized the boy and girl student with the highest grades they would have the students go back to their seats and then move on to the next teacher and subject. I got called up for every single class.  This also meant I had to keep getting up to the front of this room to receive the award, then go back to my seat and repeat. I remember feeling super embarrassed and bashful taking the little printed awards from the teachers. I also remember after being called up the second time students around me making comments. This is the second reason I really remember this event so much. These student comments started with things like “congratulations!!” quickly followed by a high five or two. Then these comments started shifting to a different tone after I got called up the second time. I can see now that the comments I started hearing might have been based in their own insecurities and maybe in their disappointment that they didn’t achieve the award. But for a 12 year old kid who’s already self conscious I began to feel ashamed every time I would take my seat again.

 

Another critical turning point in this 7th grade year came in the winter. Basketball tryouts came around for the school team. I had been playing for years so I was super excited to be able to play in middle school. Long story short, the names for the kids that made the team got posted after the two days of tryouts and my name was nowhere to be seen. I remember barely holding the tears back enough to get to the parking lot before I broke down. Basketball at this point had been my favorite sport. After I got over the initial heartbreak of not making the school team I had my parents enroll me in a recreational league.  The nice thing about middle school and high school is if you don’t make a team for one sport and you still want to try a sport there is other options for the season. My opportunity came at lunch one day when I saw a flyer posted in the lunch room for the wrestling team. I can’t tell you why, but It really peaked my interest. The next couple days I thought about it and ended up talking to my parents about it. Of course it scared the shit out of my mom… but I made the decision to go out and try it out. Over the next week at school I was talking with friends about the opportunity and they told me they were going to wrestle. When I informed them I was too I got made fun of.

 

I genetically have a more narrow frame, and I was quite skinny. Because of this people made my decision to wrestle into a joke and would laugh about how “the skinny kid thinks he can wrestle”.  After school, my mom came and picked me up in our gold mini van (yeah… gold…) and I couldn’t stop crying.  My mom told me “you don’t have two wrestle if you don’t want to” but the thing was, I did. I just didn’t want to have to deal with those external voices that were becoming my internal voice.  Although these comments cut deep, I decided to follow through on it anyway. A decision that later on probably saved me. That first year of wrestling was not a good one for me. There are so many kids on the wrestling team in middle school, you get almost no one on one coaching, which leaves you to wrestling with your partner who is in the same weight class as you. In my case, this partner wasn’t great at coaching the moves, just better at drilling them which didn’t help me. Needless to say, I was not very good. I wasn’t very strong, I didn’t understand the techniques, and I lost every wrestle off. For those of you reading that don’t know what a wrestle off is here’s an explanation. Wrestle offs happen when there are multiple guys/gals in a weight class and they are trying to decide who is going to be able to wrestle in the meet. The top two on the team for each weight class at our school would wrestle in the meet. I only wrestled in one meet my 7th grade year, and it wasn’t because I won the wrestle off.  The guys in my weight class were both out of town that week.  That one meet I wrestled in, I got pinned in less than a minute. The season ended and I moved on to my next sport. Moving on to 8th grade I had grown a little bit. I got a bit more confidence and gained some strength. I actually ended up doing pretty well that year. Which I’m very thankful I did because it convinced me to continue while in high school. All those negative self conversations were still going on, but that is kind of expected at that age. We are all a little awkward and uncomfortable at that stage in life.

 

After not making the basketball team in middle school my main sport became soccer. I started playing at a higher level and started getting a lot better through all the practices and games. Moving into high school, with soccer being a fall sport, I had tryouts the first week of school.  I trained all summer to make sure I showed well.  Unfortunately I never try out well. The doubt that I had in myself at this point from those experiences I listed above would always penetrate tryouts.  I think that it had to do with the fact that I was trying to prove my worth to someone who didn’t even know me, my work ethic, or how I could play without the scrutiny of a tryout. Remember how I had been training all summer for this? Well the very last part of the tryouts is where I got to shine. We had to do a 1.5 mile run for time and it was something that I knew I could do well at…. But didn’t do as well as I could have…. On my very last lap I was ahead of the 2nd place guy by well over 100 meters. Now keep in mind, in Rocklin during the summer and fall the temperature outdoors rarely fell below 90. This was one of those days where it decided to be extra hot, and we were running a ton during the tryout. So naturally, I was drinking a TON of water. I had this gallon jug of water that I would tow around to every soccer game and practice… well yeah I had basically finished the whole thing at this point. So here I am on my last lap and about half way through the first turn of the track I realized if I ran for another 10 seconds I was going to piss myself. I ran off the track, this might be too much detail but I was peeing for well over a minute. As soon as I was done I ran back to the track and almost caught up to the guy that was behind me initially and I got 2nd place. My coach of course asked me if I was throwing up because of the heat and all.  He laughed his ass off when I told him the real reason I disappeared for that time period.

 

Anyways after this run was finished and we cooled down the coach started calling the names of everyone who made the team. He asked to speak to me individually after everyone left. We walked into his office and he told me he wasn’t sure what to do with me.  He saw my work ethic and he saw I was competent enough to play. His words still play in my head from time to time, “I need to know what you want. Based on tryouts you are a bubble player. It could go either way.  If you are ok with sitting the bench to start the season and bring the effort you did to tryouts to our practices I’d love to have you on the team”.  Most people aren’t willing to do that, but I didn’t hesitate. I told him I was there because I like to play soccer and whether that’s on the bench or on the field I still get to play. I took the jersey and moved on.  As the season went on, his perception of my skills changed and after being put on the field I rarely came out. Even though I proved myself and my skills in the season, I now perpetually saw myself as not good enough.

 

As soccer season finished, my next sport began. I came into high school not sure if I wanted to continue wrestling after my experiences in middle school. So when I got to high school I made it clear to the coach (same guy as my soccer coach), but he encouraged me to go out for the team anyway, and if I didn’t like it, then I could quit later on. Deciding to start wrestling that season became one of the best decisions I made all of high school. In my first practice I got paired with 2 of the top guys on our team because my coach said he, “wanted to see what I got”. He was impressed with my ability to adapt to the situations I got in, and the work ethic I had.  Finally I got a little confidence.  I continued through the year, finishing the season as a varsity substitute (wasn’t ready to be an actual varsity level wrestler) and had decided to continue and do it again the following year.

 

After wrestling season finished, it was track and field season. Looking back now and thinking about the events that I run I realize something. I chose the event I wanted to run because of my social anxiety. I had friends that were running distance so I just joined them. Although I enjoyed it the challenge that a 2 mile race presented me with, I quickly realized I was not meant for distance running. I was frequently last place or close to it, and it was not for lack of effort. Fast forward a couple years to my senior year, I changed events, which changed the coach I was working with. After practice one day, the new coach came up to me rather upset. I thought I had done something wrong, but it turns out he was upset because he had timed my sprint during that workout and was upset I hadn’t been running with the short distance team since my freshman year. Rewind again…. After completing my first season of track and field, I realized I was not going to ever be good at that event, but I stayed with it. This realization took a toll on my confidence.

That summer break was rather uneventful. My friends had started hanging out with new groups of people, and my social anxiety held me back from hanging out with new people. I used to sit in my room just running through “what if” scenarios which prevented me from feeling comfortable with anyone other than the friends I had forever, the same ones that were trying to socialize and meet more people.

 

As my sophomore year started, I fell back into my routine.  Unknown to me, my life was about to change direction forever. Part way through the first semester of my sophomore year, my grandfather passed away.  He had been battling some form of dementia type disease, ended up falling and breaking something, then passing shortly after. I remember my mom getting the call that he had fallen. I was sitting down in the grass at my middle school’s track watching my brothers baseball practice. She picked up the phone and all of a sudden I heard something for the first time in my life coming from her direction. She started crying, she turned away from me, and tried to compose herself. I just remember this feeling of dread spread over my whole body because I knew things were worse than she was letting on. We had an amazing service for him, and there were hundreds in attendance.  This was my first exposure to the idea of legacy.  He had such a positive impact on so many people that he had hundreds to pay their respects and say their final goodbyes.  I realized that I could only hope to have that same kind of an impact throughout my life, but I’d be damned if I didn’t try.

 

After laying my grandpa to rest, life had seemed to be getting back on track to some degree. I had been getting back to my normal self, and then one Saturday morning, my entire world stopped. My brother and I were sitting at the kitchen table eating eggs and some of those Jimmy Dean microwavable sausage links, yes I know sounds super appetizing. To be honest, they taste delicious….But we were both a little groggy from just waking up, and I was looking out the window into our rather large backyard.  It was so sunny that day and things looked so peaceful outside. My mom came and sat next to us at the table and started trying to engage us in conversation, to which Kevin and I were only somewhat responsive, both of us with mouthfuls of eggs.  All of a sudden we heard the worst phrase you can ever hear from anyone you care about, “… so I have to talk to you”. My stomach sank instantly.  Every time I hear this phrase my anxiety kicks in, and it always has. Something about not knowing what’s going to come out of the persons mouth next, and the way it’s used in movies and such, it can be either really good, or really bad. This time, the following sentences were NOT the really good ones. My mom hesitated and then said, “So I’ve been getting some tests done at the hospital.  I found a lump in my breast and they had to do a biopsy.  I didn’t want to tell you guys until I had a definitive answer, but…” and then she started choking up and my body turned off, I knew the only thing that could come next was the dreaded “C” word. She was able to force out the words “I have breast cancer”. Now let me tell you, seeing the woman who raised you barely able to contain herself while trying to give us this news is one of the most awful experiences I have ever been through. I froze. I had no response. Right before she started to give us the news, I had made a stupid joke, as I always do, and stuffed my mouth with more eggs and sausage, which was now sitting in my mouth. I could not get myself to chew or swallow. I stared directly out the window and couldn’t move. She asked if we were okay and I just nodded while continuing to stare out the window. I asked if I could be dismissed and I walked upstairs. I had a garbage can in my room and I had to spit my mouthful of food out into that because I still couldn’t get myself to swallow. Instinctually I grabbed my iPod Shuffle, changed into running clothes, and laced up my shoes. I walked out the front door after telling my dad I was going on a run. As soon as the front door shut behind me tears erupted from my eyes.

 

Right after getting the news, I did the only thing I knew how to do and that was push my body through exercise. I ran upwards of 10 miles that morning. Alternating between walking, running, sprinting, crying, sitting and getting lost in my own thoughts. All I could thing was “Why?! Why?!” I had such a hard time understanding and accepting it that I even was saying things out loud like “my mom has cancer” trying to make it real in my own head. It was hours before I got home. As I got closer to home, I was waiting at an intersection near my high school. The cross walk button was on a short pole in the sidewalk, it was about 4 feet tall. I crossed my arms over it, and put my forehead on my arms. I was trying to contain the tears, trying to catch my breath, and trying to make sense of everything. Just as I started crying again, a couple of girls my age were driving past me and for some reason one of them rolled down her window and leaned out.  All I heard was a young girls voice saying “you can do it, you’re going to make it”, and I looked up to see her crawling back inside her window. That girl, to this day, is a hero of mine. She was yelling at me, most likely, because she was just being a young teenager who thought it would be fun to yell out the car and give some words of encouragement for someone who was running. But her words meant so much more to me than that. Those words allowed me to return home and try to process everything.

 

The next day I was talking with my mom about things, and she had asked me not to tell people about what was going on, as she wanted to be able to share the news with people slowly as to not become overwhelmed.  I took this as I was not allowed to tell anyone. Bottling up this news and retreating into myself was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I felt like the only person I could hang out with was my sister, Jessica, and my brother, Kevin, because they knew what was going on, and how I was feeling. I became alienated and distant from people at school. The little social interaction I had maintained was the youth group I started attending with my friend, Matt.  I met people from other high schools there, and became closer friends with those who went to my school.

 

One night after youth group, I was texting with my friend Julia (shoutout to JUUUUUJ) and she knew something was off because I was just quiet all night.  She was asking me what was going on and what was wrong. Earlier that night she had hurt her ankle during an activity at youth group and was at the doctor getting it taken care of. I told her I couldn’t tell anyone, and she made me see that everyone needs to be able to talk about what they have going on. So I ended up finally telling her the news. I remember the tears in my eyes falling on the keyboard of my phone as I was typing out the text message. She responded with so much love and reassurance. She had started crying at the doctor because of the message I sent her, which the doctor had thought was because of her ankle and confused him. She was one of the few people I told myself. My mom had informed the youth group leaders, and other people found out as they talked with others who were informed of our situation.

 

Over the next couple months, we were receiving so much love and affection from so many people. There was an amazing program that my aunt, an oncology nurse at Stanford, helped my mom set up called “helping hands” where my mom could update people on the status of her condition, how treatments were going, and where people could sign up to donate meals to us so we wouldn’t have to worry about cooking and cleaning.  It was truly an amazing program, and I have never had so much lasagna in my life. Being 15 years old, I felt so helpless. I couldn’t work a job to bring in money, luckily we weren’t in a position to need it, I couldn’t go discover a cure for cancer, I couldn’t change her cancer, I couldn’t stop her from losing her hair, I couldn’t stop her from worrying about the future. So I just read…. A lot. I searched for things like “what can I do to help my mom with her cancer?” And everything I saw said versions of the same thing. Keep her in high spirits, live my life, be happy myself, show lots of love, and enjoy time together. So I did my best to do that. Unfortunately, I was faking the ‘be happy myself’ part. It was at this point that my insecurities, anxiety, sadness from the loss of my grandpa, and the fear and sadness around my mom’s diagnosis that culminated in me having a pretty severe depression.

 

Nobody at my school knew what I was going through. They couldn’t understand, and I never expected anyone to. But because of the things I had experienced those couple of months, I began to feel different than everyone else. I became distant, I thought people didn’t want to talk to me or be around me because I was sad and withdrawn all the time, but in reality, nobody knew what to say or how to comfort me. But this is a perfect example of how your perceptions are your reality. I legitimately thought nobody wanted to be around me. I became angry at the world, angry at people I used to be friends with, and I would lash out for small things.  I remember sending a text to someone I used to play soccer with that I deeply regret. I just exploded on him through texts and told him to say what he had to me in person and it would be a big mistake. Long story short, I was manipulated by a girl on a trip, she began to ignore me when we got back, and I didn’t understand why. I had seen my first real shot of having a social life again and so I kept trying to make plans with these people, only to find out that whatever was going on there was a situational thing on our trip. After this distant friend called me out and then called me a creep for continuing to try to pursue making plans, I lost it. Things like this happened a couple of times. Nobody knew what was going on in my head, and I was constantly at my breaking point, so little things would set me off. If you’re one of those people I blew up on in high school and you’re reading this, I apologize. My words were driven by fear, anger, and depression.

 

A couple months after my mom had given us the news of her diagnosis, I began to get somewhat accustomed to my new life. I was sustaining myself, I was doing the things I needed to for school, I was playing my sports, going to practices, etc. And then bam. Another piece of horrible news. Sunday night, I’m texting Julia and she sends me a text that says “Nan He died”. Nan He was a girl in our class.  We weren’t the closest of friends, but she was always such a bright light.  Always had great insight, she was funny, and she made classes interesting. Over the course of 6 months, I had now experienced the loss of my grandpa, the diagnosis of my mom’s cancer, and the loss of a friend. My depression spiraled into a deep and dark place. My life at this point became very routine. Wake up, shower, breakfast, school, practice, homework, sleep, and repeat 5 days a week. To give you some insight to how misguided a person’s thoughts can be in this type of depression, I had convinced myself of something horrible. I had noticed that after I started feeling like things were okay again after each of these events, somebody else got hurt or died. So, I had convinced myself that my happiness was somehow linked to these sad events. I would text Julia things like “I’d rather be sad the rest of my life than people continue getting hurt”. Yes it sounds absolutely absurd, but it made sense in the frame of mind I was in.

 

If I didn’t have my sports during this time of my life, I can’t tell you if I’d even be here today. I was able to take out my anger and frustration at wrestling practice, run the sadness away at track and field, and try to enjoy myself through soccer. Even with these sports, and the outpouring of love I had received, I still ended up in a very dark place. One night I was driving back to school for our wrestling meet, and I had over turned the car, and was facing the wetlands and a creek about 10 feet below. For some reason I just stepped on the gas while still facing the creek. At the last second I turned and drove to school. It wasn’t until months later I realized what had happened. I made a stronger attempt to control my feelings and have positive experiences after this. Fast forward another year, I’m still suffering from my depression. I hated how I looked, especially after all the times I’d been made fun of for being small and skinny. I finally dove into the gym. I did everything wrong, BUT, I began to feel like I was making something positive out of the negative emotions I was feeling.

 

Lets fast forward again to my senior year. I had finally started to come out of my depression. I got accepted to college, I had friends from school and youth group, and I was doing more than just surviving. Graduating from high school was such a huge moment for me, not because I was graduating, but because for the previous two years I was scared my mom wouldn’t be there to see me graduate.  After graduating I moved up to Sonoma State and began the next phase of my life.

 

College was interesting and a major growth period of my life. I met tons of people, made some really strong friendships, grew into a better version of myself, and really found my voice.  I ended up meeting a girl, who later became my first kiss, first girlfriend, first love and all of that young love nonsense. Long story short, after being cheated on for the entirety of our almost 2 year relationship, I broke things off. All the cheating that I found out about made me feel like there was something wrong with me. My confidence took a major hit again, and I didn’t think that girls would ever want to talk to me, that is until they found out I was single and people were more forward about these things. I was not a “player” by any means. Frequently pursuing a potential relationship to have it crash and burn. Amongst some of the crash and burn connections, I got a text from a high school friend. They had asked me if I saw the news on Heidi, one of our track/cross country teammates. I said yes, as I thought they were referring to her full ride scholarship offer to run in college and I said how amazing it was for her.  They were unfortunately not referring to that news. Heidi had been found collapsed and unconscious at the bottom of her stairs in her home. After being rushed to the hospital, it was found that she had a blood clot that had become loose and moved into her lungs, causing her to enter a coma. I was broken hearted at this news. Heidi was always one of the most encouraging, positive and funny runners on our team.  You couldn’t help but smile in her presence. News of this tore me up. I was in contact with her family via social media posts, and was informed three days later that she had passed away. Shortly after her passing, they discovered that she had a rare genetic condition, and quickly tested her siblings.  Her sister, who was pregnant, tested positive for the same condition.  Because of Heidi’s diagnosis, they were able to save the life of both her sister and the baby. As hard as it was to come to terms with what had happened, I felt relief that they were able to save her sister as well.

 

Fast forward again, and finally the end of my senior year came, and graduation was upon us. Again, I felt an immense sense of pride because my mom was able to now see me graduate not just from high school, but now from college as well. That fact alone was worth so much more than the paper I had worked for the previous 4 years.

 

After school, with a 6 month intermission in which I worked at a dog daycare, I began working as a personal trainer at 24 Hour Fitness. Right before starting at 24 Hour Fitness, I received some awful news. Trevor, one of my brothers friends, had suddenly passed away. Two years before He had been diagnosed with Neuroblastoma.  Trevor was the goofiest kid I had ever met. During our PE period, him and his friend Nate knew of me through Kevin and their sports in which I’d frequently be at and watching. They would act so goofy in those mornings when we would line up for roll call, joking and saying things like “CHRIS WHALEN I’M YOUR BIGGEST FAN” and they would argue back and forth about who was the bigger fan.  Even in my darkest days, they could still get me to laugh or crack a smile.  After the news of his passing, I was again, very sad and just felt like it should have been anyone but him. Attending his memorial service was very eye opening. I saw my high school soccer coach, who was his high school coach as well, make a heart filled speech, and then I saw another man take the stage who I did not know. He was the coach of the college who, while knowing Trevor had cancer, had offered him a spot as their goalkeeper. They had already given him a jersey, a number, and a spot in their hearts. This University coach retired Trevor’s jersey, because after knowing him for only a couple of months, he knew how special Trevor was. Unfortunately I at this point had become used to getting bad news almost yearly.

 

Starting at 24 Hour Fitness right after Trevor’s memorial service I quickly realized I did not fit in the mold of what they wanted. I was trying to handle my personal life, and wasn’t ready to dedicate my entire soul to the company. I had to learn sales, which I hated, I was constantly being talked to as I wasn’t hitting the numbers they wanted me to, and they kept trying to get me to do sales the way that worked for them, which is why I continued failing. Then about 6 months into working at the company, when I was working with my client Nicole on her deadlifts and squats, my life again would change forever.

 

It was about 11 am on this Saturday, the gym was pretty empty which was great because Nicole and I had plenty of space to do what we wanted for our session. I started getting phone calls from my dad’s phone, then from my mom’s phone. My heart began to sink into my stomach. I knew something had to be wrong. I thought, since my brother had just started school at Cal Poly SLO something might have happened to him because I was getting calls from both my mom and my dad. As soon as my session finished I listened to the voicemail my dad left and I was paralyzed. I could hear the fear and heartache in his voice. I was sitting at one of our intake desks when I called him back. As he began to talk, I knew something had happened, not to my brother, but to my mom. He was barely able to choke out the words that my mom was in the hospital. She had suffered from a massive hemorrhagic stroke from a ruptured brain aneurysm. I instantly started crying, and my dad had asked me to come home. I packed my stuff, told my client I won’t be in for our next session, told my boss, and I left. I drove to the 24 Hour Fitness my girlfriend was working at to tell her what was going on, and she ended up coming with me. After I got home and packed a bag, I called my brother’s best friend because he knew a little of what was going on, but I wanted him to know so Kevin wouldn’t have to tell him, and he would be prepared.  He had also been a part of our “family” since him and Kevin were little kids. We drove back to Rocklin, I dropped her off at my house, then ran to the hospital. My dad met me outside and we hugged each other and just started crying. I walked into the hospital room to find my sister, her two best friends, my aunt, and my other aunt and uncle. My brother was not there yet as he was driving back from SLO and had a 4 hour drive. I had called my dad before leaving my house to get more information. He didn’t tell me what was going on other than what had happened. I needed to know if there was even a chance of her recovering or if it was goodbye. It was goodbye.

 

Sitting there by her hospital bed, holding her hand, my aunt (the nurse) was trying to explain to me what was going on. She said there’s so much pressure from the bleed that it’s compressing her brain, and we might see her move as a neurological response but it’s nothing more than that.  She wanted to make sure we didn’t get false hope that she was waking up or anything.  She said it’s still debated if people in my mom’s position have an awareness of what’s going on around them. After my brother showed up, I just held him for a couple minutes as we both began to cry again. Prior to him showing up, as he was the last one there due to distance, my mom’s heart rate was at 185 or more beats per minute. The minute my brother sat down and held her hand, signaling we were all there, I watched her heart rate slow to 80 beats per minute for a couple of minutes. I knew at that moment that my mom knew we were all there by her side and she was going to be okay. We sat there swapping stories, holding my mom’s hand, and being with my family for what was about 2 hours. Finally we got to discussing what’s going to come next. My dad mentioned that we would need to set up her funeral, and figure out who’s going to be speaking.  I instantly told him I would do it. I thought that doing her eulogy, which I shared with my Aunt Kathy, was the best way I could send her off and honor her memory. Finally it was time. My mom had had this discussion with my dad before about what to do in case something like this happened. She did not want to stay on life support, and with 0% chance she could ever come off life support, we knew that we needed to let her go to rest and be with her dad, my grandpa in their permanent resting place.

 

As expected, I again fell into a depression. The next couple weeks were a blur. Between driving back and forth from Sonoma county back to Rocklin, working during the week, spending time on the weekends with my dad planning her funeral, updating everyone on details, and making sure we communicated with who we needed to, I got lost in the day to day. They all blurred together. A few weeks after my mom had passed, we were able to finally have her memorial service. Tissues in hand, standing shoulder to shoulder with my brother, sister, and aunt, I stepped up to the podium. I felt so blessed, looking out into the crowd, I saw the diverse community in which my mom had spread her legacy. Similar to my grandfather’s service, I was amazed at how many lives she had touched. In the back left corner of the church, I saw a group of my fraternity brothers and roommates who had driven two and a half hours to come and support me. In front of me, I saw the entire neighborhood, my aunts and uncles, cousins, and our family friends. I saw coworkers of my mom’s from years before, friends of her and my dad’s, and I knew she was up there smiling down at all of us. I was able to get control over myself and found some peace in this view I had, and I began to start my eulogy. I started this journey cracking a joke before my mom gave us the news of her diagnosis, it was only fitting I put a cap on it with another joke to start the speech. It was a beautiful service, we drove to the cemetery, and I was able to carry my mom to her final resting place. After prayers were said, there were roses to be placed on my mom’s coffin. I laid down my rose and placed my hand on her coffin saying a final prayer. I will never forget the texture of the coffin, so smooth, and after being warmed by the sun it felt like we were sending her off with the perfect day.

 

After many tears, stories, beers, and hugs at the reception, we went home and hosted an “afterparty” for the friends who had become family and my extended family. We were able to share laughter, love, and enjoy each other’s presence. I even grabbed my mom’s wigs that she wore after losing her hair, and put them on the two bald dads in the family friends group. I was glad we were all able to laugh. I realized that I needed some alone time to just breathe. Since that morning I had been ushered around and driven places, surrounded by people, and didn’t have a second to myself. I went up to my parent’s room, and I laid down on my mom’s side of the bed. This was about 4pm. I woke up the next morning at 8am. I had finally been able to release some of the stress I had been holding in, and it was so tiresome that I slept for 16 hours. I was later told that lots of people had come up to try to say goodbye and I was so deeply asleep I wouldn’t wake up.

 

I wish I could leave my story at this point. However, it continues. I can’t imagine what It was like for my girlfriend to go through seeing me in that state knowing there was nothing she could do to help.  I commend her for the support she was able to give me. After the service, and my return to Sonoma county, I retreated into myself like I had in high school. I blacked out my room and I was either at work, or in my room almost exclusively. After returning to work, I was faced with a couple of situations that made me basically give the finger to the company and how they did things. I began to really not appreciate some of the pressure I was given, I as talked to in ways that were hurtful and disrespectful, and so I started going things my own way. I began to listen to podcasts, read more information, and ultimately make myself better at my job, but neglected my relationships with both my girlfriend and my friends. After my girlfriend had finished school for the summer, I took some time off and drove home to LA with her, then flew home. She wanted to spend time with family and get away from Sonoma County for her summer. Little did I know this was the beginning of the end.

 

Shortly after returning home, she initiated a “break”. Long story short, she started seeing someone else after going home, that ended, we started again, then she met someone else and we ended again.  For our initial break, I was told that I wasn’t myself anymore and I needed to figure out what I was doing. This killed me. I was already depressed about losing my mom, and now I’m losing the one I thought I had a future with. During this break, not only did I lose her, I lost myself. I began chasing the idea of who I wanted her to be. I neglected myself, hid from the world, sat in misery, and became further depressed. Initially I lost 15 pounds in the first week as I was so stressed I was unable to eat. After that I convinced myself that I just needed food so I would resort to fast food like McDonald’s breakfast sandwiches and burritos. I knew they were designed to taste good and be easy to eat, so I justified that as the reason I could go and eat those things everyday. After about two months, I looked at myself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person I saw. I was disheveled, I had gained a large amount of body fat, I had bags under my eyes, and I looked like a completely different person. I hated it.

 

I then started the VERY long process of trying to live for myself again, and not for the idea of a girl who had proved to me that she wasn’t who I thought she was, multiple times. Eventually I was able to get over her, and move on. It was not easy, especially since we had the same friend groups. But I did it. In this process I also became very good at my job. I quickly went from one of the worst performers, to one of the top trainers in my gym. I think more important than the success I had was the level to which I was able to foster a sense of community between the trainers and all of their clients and the rest of the people at the gym.  There was one special older woman, Carol, who had the longest list of bodily issues I had ever seen. Her and I quickly became friends as she had little to no filter, and would say what she wanted.  I loved this about her. She was not one of my clients, but every time I saw her I made a point to sit down and chat with her, even if it was just a couple minutes.  In this time I had really emerged as the movement specialist of the gym.  When people had aches and pains, past injuries, or overall issues with their body I became the go to person. Carol with her list of issues, began to consult with me to help her and her trainer develop some stuff for her.  After months of developing this relationship she came in one day.  She was in a lot of pain, due to her numerous things going on. I told her to pull up a chair and sit with me in the 10 minutes before my client showed up. She got a very serious look on her face and told me to stop joking around for a minute. After a few minutes, Carol said something that has driven me to this day. At this point my client had showed up and checked in. I told him I’d meet him at the squat rack in a second.  She looked at him and said I need one minute with him before he comes to see you. So he obliged and she grabbed my arm, looked me in the eye, and proceeded to thank me for the love and support I had given her. She said how much she appreciated that I would sit down with her and take the time to actually listen. She then told me “Chris, you are one of the best personal trainers I have ever seen. You have truly found a calling. Not only are you good with the training, but you understand people. You are meant for amazing things, don’t sell yourself short EVER. You have an amazing future ahead of you, and you are just starting it now”. I thanked her and gave her a huge hug. I was tearing up, as this was one of the biggest compliments I had ever received. She even told me she knows my mom would be proud of me, because she was. This was the last time I ever saw Carol. A couple days after this conversation is when the Tubbs Fire swept through Sonoma County in October of 2017.  Carol did not make it out of the fires. I took her passing very hard. Even writing about it now, I am tearing up. She was something special, and she made me feel special. Our last conversation is one of the things that continues to motivate me to this day.

 

Hearing just how much someone, who was not my family, really believed in me and the potential I have, made me want to work so much harder. I developed this thirst for more knowledge, a new and invigorated interest in business, and then got the role of assistant manager for my personal training team. After a couple months, I realized I was unable to grow more in the company.  I was basically maxed out on the amount of sessions I was willing to train (between 140-160 per month) and working as assistant manager. I took a hard look at my future and what I wanted for it.

 

It was also about this time that I reconnected with a friend from college. This beautiful dirty blonde with as much sass as me. We hit it off after seeing each other at the bars one night, and started seeing each other. Never had I felt so much love and support. I told her I wanted to look at applying to physical therapy school, as it was my original path. When my mom passed I stopped thinking about that path. Her and I were researching schools and discussing my options together, so every time I had thought about doing it again, it brought back the reminder that my mom was no longer with me. After doing some quick research, I realized the next application period was shortly ending, and I needed to take the GRE and submit my scores to the schools I was applying to. For those of you who know what the GRE is, I’m sorry and I hope you didn’t have to cram for three weeks like I did before taking it. I scored in the middle for both the math and reading portions, but I scored in the 95th percentile for my writing. Long story short, I didn’t get into any schools. I was discouraged, but Sam, my now girlfriend, was very encouraging and supportive.

 

After some time, I was ready to start applying to schools again.  Around this time we had scheduled a Spartan Race in San Jose.  A couple amazing things happened on this trip. I was able to have an incredible couple days hanging out with my grandma who lived in San Jose at the time, and I got to meet Dr. Justin Brink. Dr. Brink is a chiropractor who had been mentioned loads of times on my favorite podcast, Mind Pump. He has a clinic in the south side of San Jose, and since I was going to be in town, I figured I’d shoot my shot to make a connection to him. After all the amazing things I had heard about him on this podcast, I knew I would be able to learn some stuff from him, while also improving my body. After experiencing the first appointment with him, we discussed what I was doing and he encouraged me to apply to Palmer West, where he went, as he saw the lines between chiropractic and physical therapy beginning to blend. He said it might be a more time and money efficient option to get my future started.

 

I took the next step, applied to two chiropractic schools and got accepted to both. Before getting the phone calls from the schools offering me a spot in their programs I wasn’t sure that chiropractic was the right decision.  This uncertainty quickly dissipated as the first acceptance call I got was on my mom’s birthday. It was then I knew that I needed to go all in for chiropractic school. That brings us to where I am today. After all the pain, both self inflicted through anxiety and overthinking, to the pain caused by others and their actions, to the numerous times I’ve felt the loss of a loved one, I am writing this to you to let you know, YOU WILL MAKE IT.

 

I know how hard life can be. My purpose for sharing the depth of my experiences with life is to show you that no matter how bad your current situation is, things will get better. You will become stronger, you will become a better version of yourself, and you will see more clearly where your life is going than those who haven’t had the struggles. Although the amount of pain I’ve been through is immeasurable, I would not change any of it. Every self deprecating thought, all of the bullying, all of the loss has sculpted me into the man I am today. And I am damn proud of the man I have become. I now know what I want out of this life, and things have become so clear to me. Trust me, they will for you as well.

 

If you ever need to talk to someone, and don’t feel like you can talk to anyone, just know that my inbox is always open. Your struggles and experiences will be different than mine, that does not however mean they were less significant or not as hard as mine. We each have an individual ability to handle suffering and life experience. The more you go through, the bigger the callus becomes, and the better you learn how to handle life.

 

If you’ve made it this far into my story, I want to say a few things to you. First of all, thank you for allowing me to share my story. Although it’s really not easy, I broke down crying multiple times writing these words, it’s very therapeutic for me to be able to share my experiences. I tried to condense my story, as this could have been much longer. Secondly, you are amazing. You are worth someone’s time. You are worth the effort. You are worthy of love. You are worthy of opportunity. Read that again. It is true, and if you don’t believe it yet, that is okay, you will in time.  And lastly, you’ve already blessed me so much by reading my words, but I have one more favor to ask of you. Please, share this to anyone you know that might be going through a hard time. I hope and wish my story can not only shed some light on mental health, but also inspire people to get excited for their future, no matter how bleak it may seem.

 

Love you,

 

Chris.

Author: Chris whalen