THE CLIMB: Personal Responsibility

It is up to me. No one will do this work for me.

These entries come from several mornings of journaling. When I read them together, I realized they tell a single story — not just about addiction, but about identity, fear, healing, and personal responsibility. This is that story.

Riggo

I see where my path is.

Next, I must begin connecting with people, being brave, speaking to what and who I am, getting in front of people and delivering my message. The fear of that is in front of me.

My belief must be greater than my fear.

Not everyone will follow. Not everyone is ready to hear.

My acceptance can't outweigh my belief. My need for acceptance is the resistance.

Who does that live inside? What part holds that?

Riggo comes to my heart.

He is my teenager who just wants to belong. He is afraid of being vulnerable, of being seen. At the same time he desperately wants love.

He was the brave one who stood up to addiction, who stood up to the trauma, who said, “I want out,” and spoke our truth for the first time.

It came out of him without his knowing. He could not stop. The power of his truth was greater than his fear.

It came out before he could recognize what he was doing, as if the story was not his.

Where did it come from?

The story had never even been thought of. Never repeated in his mind. It was like it had never happened.

The addict was barely twenty-four hours out of him from a medicated form. The window was barely cracked.

The words saw the opening and made it real again, no longer buried.

It just flew out of him as if his survival depended on it.

It and he were free.

Until they weren't.

Big Daddy

Eventually the story was buried again.

Life came — marriage, children, becoming an adult. Life came fast.

The addict reappeared in another form.

Food became the vice.

The story was buried.

Riggo gave up and handed life to Big Daddy.

Food, anger, resentment — these became how we survived.

That story was buried for decades.

Life begins slowing down.

Divorce. Kids grown. His family crumbling. His life emptying.

His anger led him to control everything, and everyone was isolating him.

No wife.

No family, at least not strong family ties.

No more dating.

Friends who accepted his anger. Friends who bought into his stories.

He clung to these relationships for survival.

Coach Cory

Coach became the new me.

The identity to take on life. The part to take over the internal team.

He took on the addict without knowing it, as if Riggo had shown him how.

Coach began working through the vices.

Substances were already gone.

Food had controlled the years before.

Now the work began differently.

Weight was lost.

Discipline appeared.

The body changed.

Life changed.

Coach began walking a different path.

Carnivore.

Training.

Spiritual work.

Meditation.

Journaling.

Experimenting with tools that quiet the mind and calm anxiety.

And then one day the realization came clearly.

I don't need this.

I need to feel the pain.

No more numbing.

No more avoiding.

The story that had once been spoken and buried for decades began rising again.

The Confrontation

This is a very deep, heavy, dark morning.

My parts are loud.

It feels like they all have a turn speaking.

Then the addict appears.

Visual.

Almost like a possessed person — a demonic head with anger and fangs turning furiously in every direction.

Fear rises inside me.

At first it is not clear why.

My body reacts.

Heat spreads through me.

I am almost sweating.

My urge is to run.

To do anything other than sit here.

But I tell my parts we will sit in this.

We will feel it fully.

During meditation many past events come through.

Judgments toward others doing similar work.

Doubts.

Thoughts.

Visions.

It is a roller coaster.

The ego is relentless.

Trying everything to destroy my peace.

Trying to stop me from being with my parts and allowing them to be heard.

The addict fights like someone possessed in a movie being exorcised.

As if he is trying to keep control.

And he is not happy.

He fights with everything he has.

I keep returning to my heart.

Listening.

Speaking with my parts.

Allowing the addict to throw his tantrums.

Then the message becomes clear.

Fear.

They are afraid of failing.

Afraid we will not achieve.

Afraid we will become the same old version of ourselves again.

So I ask them:

What if we fail?

What if the book is a flop?

What if the podcast never takes off?

What then?

Have we not failed before and still survived?

So what then?

Can we learn?

Can we keep going?

If this truly is our path, if we are here to help others, then we find a way.

We work harder.

We do not quit.

And slowly the storm settles.

Compassion appears.

Understanding that our work is not to get everyone where we are.

Our work is to meet people where they are.

We all grow differently.

We want different things.

We take steps when we are ready.

That is where I come in.

Not to fix them.

Not to heal them.

Simply to guide.

To help them find what already exists inside themselves.

It is their journey.

Their walk.

Their lift.

That is my work.

My body begins to calm.

The heat fades.

My breathing returns to normal.

Quite the ride.

The Shift to Personal Responsibility

And then the realization lands clearly.

It is up to me.

No one will do this work for me.

No one will hand me my life.

If I want financial independence, I must build it.

If I want to be a top podcaster, I must hone my craft.

If I want to write a bestselling book, I must learn to write.

If I want the relationships I desire, I must do the work on myself.

Intentions mean nothing without effort.

I see another pattern clearly.

I still take shortcuts.

Sometimes I let tools do the work without fully engaging.

Then I get frustrated.

But who am I really mad at?

Myself.

When I feel poorly about my actions, I lash out.

I try to control what is around me.

Even meditation.

The same pattern everywhere.

The real question becomes:

Can I pause?

Can I breathe before reacting?

Because in the end it is all a reflection of me.

No one will give me the life I want.

I must build it.

I must take responsibility.

The work never ends.

The climb continues.