August 2012.

I still remember that morning

I woke up early.

Around 6.

My head felt like it was going to explode.

I didn’t sleep well.

I couldn’t.

I knew I had to go to court that day.

It wasn’t my first time.

I had been there before.

Asking for more time.

Trying to hold things together.

The year before that…

I fought hard.

I borrowed money.

I worked.

I tried to sell more.

I committed to something I thought I could handle.

$18,000 a month in repayment.

I told myself…

“I can do this.”

“I’m talented.”

“I’m resourceful.”

But reality didn’t listen.

The pressure didn’t ease.

It grew.

Every day felt heavy.

Like something was sitting on my chest.

My body started breaking.

Psoriasis spread.

From 20%…

to almost my whole body.

I was shaking.

Inside.

Outside.

And no matter how hard I tried…

It wasn’t enough.

That morning…

I prayed.

“Lord, save me.”

“Tell me what to do.”

And what I felt was this:

Let go.

I remembered a story.

A man hanging off a cliff.

Crying out to God.

God said:

“Let go.”

And the man said:

“Is there anyone else out there?”

I didn’t want to be that man.

So I said:

“Okay, God… I’ll let go.”

And I fell asleep. Soundly.

When I woke up…

It was over.

I missed the court timing.

I was declared bankrupt.

Just like that.

Everything I built…

Gone.

I was earning over $100,000 a year.

I had a team.

I had a future.

Director.

That was the next step.

And then…

nothing.

I lost my career.

I was terminated.

And I remember asking God:

“You told me to let go…”

“But now I’m worse.”

That was the beginning.

Not of freedom.

But of a very long fall.

I fell into depression.

A hole so deep…

I thought I would never come out.

Years passed.

I shrank.

From a five-room flat…

to a small 1 room 1 hall with my mom.

From someone leading people…

to someone hiding from life.

My girlfriend…

she stayed.

She was younger.

Working.

Studying.

And still…

she paid for our meals.

I let her.

That shame…

I still remember it.

She believed in me.

For years.

We got married.

We had a daughter.

But I didn’t change.

I became angry.

I blamed everything.

Especially myself.

She kept trying.

Encouraging.

Supporting.

Until one day…

she said:

“I’m tired.”

Ten years.

She gave me one more year.

“If you don’t change… we divorce.”

She left for the US.

With our daughter.

And I stayed.

Driving.

Dreaming.

But not doing.

When they came back…

I already knew.

It was over.

Around that time…

anxiety came.

I used to think…

“It’s all in the mind.”

It’s not.

It takes over you.

Just like depression.

And all those years…

I kept asking:

“God, why haven’t You helped me?”

But if I’m honest…

I wasn’t moving.

People helped me.

A lot.

Money.

Time.

Opportunities.

My ex-wife.

She never gave up.

But I did.

I chose self-pity.

Again and again.

Until I became someone…

I didn’t even recognise.

The only thing that kept me going…

was my daughter.

Her smile.

Her voice.

Her hand in mine.

Now she’s older.

And she asks me:

“Why are you a bankrupt, Daddy?”

“Why can’t you travel with us?”

Those questions…

they hit differently.

I’m turning 52 soon.

And for the first time in a long time…

I’m asking myself honestly:

What am I doing?

I don’t blame anyone anymore.

Not my ex-wife.

Not the past.

Not even the people involved.

I take responsibility.

And maybe…

that’s where rebuilding begins.

I don’t know if I can fully recover.

But I know this:

I cannot stay here anymore.

So I’m starting.

Not big.

Just small steps.

Work.

Build.

Try again.

Because if not for me…

then for my daughter.

So one day…

she can look at me and say:

“My dad tried.”

📖 SCRIPTURE

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened,

and I will give you rest.”

— Matthew 11:28

Truth

Letting go is not the end.

But what you do after that…

determines everything.

Moving Forward

I wasted years not moving.

I won’t waste today.

Even if it’s slow.

Even if it’s messy.

I will move.