Category Archives: Uncategorized

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

— Psalm 46:10

Day 3.

I have to stop looking at my mistakes with anger.

I have to stop becoming hyper-focused on negativity — in myself, in others, in life.

That negativity is the very thing that pushes me toward destruction.

I seek relief from how I feel, and how I feel comes from how I think.

If my mind is full of chaos, of criticism, of noise… then of course I run toward escape.

So the real work is not just avoiding temptation.

The real work is silencing the storm inside my own head.

Even if I look stupid sitting there with no thoughts, I prefer that.

I prefer stillness over a mind filled with millions of thoughts running wild, tearing me apart from the inside.

I must silence my mind.

I must silence myself.

So I’m taking a new approach:

• No more criticizing myself.

• No more criticizing others.

• No more complaining.

• No more condemning.

• No more reacting.

• No more noise.

Silence.

Silence as healing.

Silence as power.

Silence as discipline.

Silence as rebirth.

The less I say, the more I hear.

The less I think, the more I understand.

The quieter I become, the stronger I become.

This is the new version of me —

not fighting thought with thought,

but calming everything down until temptation has nowhere to hide.

Silence my mind.

Silence my spirit.

Silence my path.

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

— Psalm 46:10

Day 3.

I have to stop looking at my mistakes with anger.

I have to stop becoming hyper-focused on negativity — in myself, in others, in life.

That negativity is the very thing that pushes me toward destruction.

I seek relief from how I feel, and how I feel comes from how I think.

If my mind is full of chaos, of criticism, of noise… then of course I run toward escape.

So the real work is not just avoiding temptation.

The real work is silencing the storm inside my own head.

Even if I look stupid sitting there with no thoughts, I prefer that.

I prefer stillness over a mind filled with millions of thoughts running wild, tearing me apart from the inside.

I must silence my mind.

I must silence myself.

So I’m taking a new approach:

• No more criticizing myself.

• No more criticizing others.

• No more complaining.

• No more condemning.

• No more reacting.

• No more noise.

Silence.

Silence as healing.

Silence as power.

Silence as discipline.

Silence as rebirth.

The less I say, the more I hear.

The less I think, the more I understand.

The quieter I become, the stronger I become.

This is the new version of me —

not fighting thought with thought,

but calming everything down until temptation has nowhere to hide.

Silence my mind.

Silence my spirit.

Silence my path.

“In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength.”

— Isaiah 30:15

Day 2.

I have to remove this erratic behavior — this “one time,” “just this once,” “just a little bit” mentality.

That mindset is poison.

It’s the doorway to temptation, the crack where the old self enters.

I’m done giving into emotion, impulse, and self-indulgence.

I’m done acting from weakness, from sudden urges, from the desire for quick pleasure.

I choose calmness.

I choose peace.

I choose stillness over chaos, discipline over desire, silence over noise.

For the next 90 days:

• I will speak the least, but communicate the most.

No wasted words.

No trying to prove anything.

No unnecessary explanations.

My presence will speak for me.

My discipline will speak for me.

My results will speak for me.

• I will not exert force, but I will radiate power.

People will feel my energy without me pushing it.

They will feel my focus, my silence, my intention.

Calmness is strength.

Stillness is control.

• I will move the least, but create the most motion.

My inner change will create outer change.

My silence will create momentum.

My discipline will create transformation.

No more erratic movements.

No more sudden collapses.

No more “just this once.”

This is no longer a fight of impulses —

this is a becoming.

For the next 90 days, I step into a new state of being:

calm, centered, disciplined, controlled, radiant.

This is Day 2.

And the energy is shifting.

If you want, I can help you craft a 90-day vow, a personal manifesto you’ll read every morning to lock this mindset in.

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”

— Psalm 73:26

Day one again.

I’ve failed again.

Ten years of trying, and I still find myself trapped in the same cycle — temptation, surrender, regret, recovery. It’s exhausting. It’s heartbreaking.

I’ve lost relationships, opportunities, friendships — even parts of myself — to this habit. Each failure chips away at something, and yet I still rise to try again.

But I believe something deep: I’m standing on the frontier of human growth. This battle against digital temptation — this fight between pleasure and peace — it’s something millions face but few truly confront. I’m in that war.

What makes it so hard is not just resisting temptation — it’s having to resist it every single day.

Why do we have to fight temptation at all?

Why can’t we just be free from it?

That’s what I want: freedom. Real, lasting, inner freedom.

This time, I’m going to accomplish it — not just for myself, but for everyone who’s trying. For everyone who’s tired of falling, of being ruled by something smaller than their soul.

And when I reach those milestones — 30 days, 60 days, 90 days — I will appreciate them deeply. I won’t take them for granted. Nothing and no one will take that away from me.

Day one.

But not the same as before.

This one begins with purpose

“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.”

— Psalm 51:10

Day 4.

I smoked a little weed.

I’m not proud of it, but I’m not running from it either. I’m looking at it honestly.

Lately, I’ve been trying my best to stay off my phone.

Not even TV.

And when I talk to people, I’m practicing not judging them.

It feels awkward.

It feels unnatural.

It feels slow, tedious, and strange — like learning how to walk again.

But I know that not judging others takes energy, discipline, and a decision to look at people with grace instead of reflexively comparing or criticizing.

I believe that in God’s name, in Jesus’ name, the more I practice it, the more fluent I will become.

I’ve also been practicing silence — truly silencing my mind.

And last night, as I lay in bed after smoking, I realized something deep:

Even after removing all my external entertainment…

I was still entertaining myself with my own mind.

I was closing my eyes and imagining anything except my real life.

I was escaping into fantasies, scenarios, dreams, memories — anything to avoid facing the present moment.

My own mind had become the last source of entertainment.

The last escape.

And like every other form of entertainment I’ve used, it has consequences.

I realized last night:

I’ve been running away from my life inside my own head.

So now, the work continues:

I must silence my mind even at night.

I must stop escaping into imagination.

I must face my life fully, clearly, without noise — external or internal.

This is why I’m searching for silence and peace.

Not just outside of me, but inside of me.

Because peace doesn’t come from removing distractions —

it comes from no longer needing them.

Day 4.

And the silence is beginning to reveal truth.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”

— Matthew 5:4

Times like this remind me of the people who loved me — people who are no longer here. I think about them often.

I don’t know if we’re truly meant to appreciate the moment when we’re in it, because now I see how much I took my time with them for granted. They loved me, they really did. And I feel like I let them down.

This addiction, this cycle, kept me trapped inside myself. While they needed me, I was somewhere else — in my head, in my shame, in my habits. I wasn’t present. I wasn’t really there for them.

That realization hurts deeply. It breaks my heart to know that people who loved me were calling out for connection, and I was too lost to hear it.

But I can’t change the past. What I can do is honor them by becoming the man they believed I could be.

I have to stop this.

Not just for me, but for the ones who are still here — the ones who still need me, who still love me.

I can’t make the same mistake twice.

I have to live awake.

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”

— Psalm 139:23-24

Today I need to be honest:

I have been dishonest.

I have lacked honor.

I have spoken things in vain.

It’s painful to admit, but necessary. Because integrity isn’t something you declare—it’s something you live. Every time I twist the truth or speak without meaning, I feel that same inner conflict I’ve been trying to escape. My words lose power. My spirit feels scattered.

I want to rebuild myself with truth.

To say only what I mean.

To act only in ways that align with my values.

To make my word and my walk one and the same.

Maybe this is what real freedom is: not doing whatever I want, but being clean inside—so that I no longer owe myself any explanation.

“A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.”

— James 1:8

I started listening to a book about alcohol. I needed to, because my relationship with drinking isn’t good at all. Every time I drink, I run amok — I lose control, and I don’t like who I become.

It’s like alcohol flips a switch inside me. When I drink, I feel like I have to go all out — to be wild, sinful, reckless — just to feel something, just to find some kind of relief. But that relief never lasts. The next day I feel worse: more stressed, more ashamed, less healthy, less alive.

What really caught my attention in the book was something called cognitive dissonance — that inner conflict between what I believe and what I do. And I realized that this isn’t just about alcohol. It’s everywhere.

Porn creates it. Masturbation creates it. Even certain social habits, fast food, and phone use create it.

That inner conflict is what drains me. It’s why my art feels blocked. It’s why my relationships feel off. It’s why I can’t find peace even in good moments — because inside me, there’s always noise, always tension between two selves fighting for control.

Now that I finally understand what it is, I know what I need to do:

To become one mind, with one goal, and one truth.

To live in alignment — not perfection, but unity.

That’s my focus now. No more divided energy. No more self-betrayal.

Just one clear path forward

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”

— Galatians 6:9

Day 7.

Sometimes I realize that staying away from negative environments and bad habits brings these little bonuses — moments of clarity, small victories, unexpected peace. It’s like life starts handing out quiet rewards when I’m consistent.

When I was in a worse place, those small blessings didn’t mean anything. I was too clouded, too caught in my own cycle to even notice them. But now I can feel them. They’re subtle, but real — like signs that I’m finally moving in the right direction.

And it shows me something important:

I have to stay in the flow.

I have to stay consistent. Because when I do, the blessings come naturally — not through force or luck, but through alignment.

The fruit doesn’t grow overnight. But if I keep watering the tree — with discipline, with patience, with purpose — it will come.

“Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.”

— Ephesians 5:15-16

Today I did deliveries. I did good. I picked up good momentum.

By 1 p.m. I was done — a full day’s work finished early. The sun was out, the air was light, and I had the rest of the day to myself. It could’ve been great. It was great — for a while.

Then the night came.

And without even realizing it, I was drinking again. Not just a little — I drank the whole day, little by little, until it caught up to me. And by the end of it, I was filled with that same heavy feeling — depression, regret, shame.

The next morning, I woke up and it hit me hard:

I’m living in circles. I do well, I build momentum, I feel proud — and then I tear it down again. It’s like watching myself take two steps forward and three steps back.

I hate that feeling — that cycle of regret that waits at the end of every escape.

I need to know what to do with my time. Because when I don’t, the void fills itself. When there’s no direction, temptation becomes direction.

I can’t live like that anymore.

I have to use my time as if it were my life — because it is.

“So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me.”

— Romans 7:21

Day 5.

I went to school today. I did good — and that made me happy.

Some girls approached me, and it felt good too. But it also made me realize something important: my shame and regret from pornography have been shaping my relationships for years. Every time I meet someone I’m attracted to, something feels wrong inside me — like I’m not enough, or like I’m carrying something dirty that I can’t show.

Now that I’m 31, I have to face that clearly.

I have to see myself as I am — not as a victim, but as a man who is learning to rebuild his mind.

I’m cutting down on scrolling. I’m not watching porn. I’m starting to reclaim time and energy. But I still have one chain I need to break — drinking.

Saturday night I went out. Every place I went to, I had to have a drink. It wasn’t optional. It felt like a compulsion. The book I read calls it running amok — and that’s exactly what it feels like. When I drink, I want to let loose, go here, go there, chase that feeling of being free. But instead of actually being free, I get trapped — trapped in my own head, overthinking, disconnected.

I can see it now:

Porn, drinking, fast food, scrolling — they all come from the same place. A restless spirit looking for peace in all the wrong ways.

I have to stop drinking for a while.

I need to see what life looks like without escape.

Maybe that’s where real peace begins — not in the release, but in the restraint.