2025: Health, Loss, and Learning the Hard Way

Oh man. Where do I even begin?

I’m really against setting a negative tone right out of the gate, but honestly, that wouldn’t be authentic. The truth is, 2025 put me through the wringer.

I came into this year fresh off losing my grandmother, someone incredibly close to me and nearly losing my dog shortly after. From there, the streak of loss just … kept going. Before I get too far ahead of myself, I’ll jump to the end and work backward:

There are a few things in life that are incredibly fragile. Relationships are at the top of that list. If you don’t nurture them, don’t expect them to stick around long enough for you to enjoy much of anything. That’s a hard lesson I had to learn.

So… where do we begin?

Content warning: Some of what follows may be difficult to read. If you struggle with anxiety, depression, or health-related anxiety, please consider skipping this for now and coming back when you’re in a better headspace.

I talk pretty openly about my personal life on this blog, and sometimes about mental health here and on LinkedIn. This year tested both my mental and physical health in ways I wasn’t prepared for.

At 42 years old, I genuinely felt that without drastic change, I might not see my 50s. I know how melodramatic that sounds. It’s uncomfortable to read. But you know that feeling when you’re sick with the flu and you tell someone you love, “I don’t feel good,” and you really mean it? That’s where I was.

Whether someone believes you or not doesn’t determine what’s true. If you don’t feel good, you don’t feel good and that matters far more than we tend to admit.

Between keeping busy, cleaning the house, taking care of animals, paying bills, helping my parents, supporting my brother, and constantly showing up for other people, it became incredibly easy to stay distracted. When work makes up the majority of your time, other parts of life quietly fall apart.

To be clear: work is important. In 2025, it was a top priority. I mostly kept within normal working hours, like any salaried role. But what happens over time is subtle: you start blaming personal problems on professional ones, when in reality your whole life is one tangled ball of yarn. Getting anywhere requires slowly, carefully unwinding it.

At the time of writing this, it’s Christmas Eve. There are moments where I’d rather be at work. When negativity runs deep, it kills things you once found joyful.

Q1 2025: Damage Control

Q1 felt like damage control. Coming off a tough year, I thought it would be a bounce-back season. Work started strong at my organization, then slid into a cycle of growth, maintenance, and reduction, something a lot of people experienced this year.

But as hard as work was, it didn’t compare to what was happening at home.

My mental health declined significantly. My [REDACTED] fractured in ways I won’t fully detail here. I navigated suicidal ideation from someone close to me. I tried to support people who were deeply unhappy themselves and I made mistakes along the way.

I spent much of 2025 rebuilding, but some moments from this year didn’t just shape me, they scarred me. 

I'll share some positive highlights in here, because there were good things that happened. Like this....

In January I saved a baby kitty on our apartment steps and reunited him with his family.

And at some point we shared a lobster dinner with my parents. I took notes and photos so I could properly document the process for later.

Finally I built and installed new Lego shelves in my office, with a little help from Moonpie we made some upgrades to the display.

Q2 2025: When Everything Collapsed

Q2 didn’t get better. If anything, it got worse. But first a few positive highlights...

My brother and I saw Disturbed in Portland, OR. One of our favorite bands. Nothing More and Daughtry opened and it was a phenomenal experience + show.

A large family trip positioned as a “one last big getaway”was disastrous on nearly every front. Misalignment, control issues, negativity, and friction turned what should have been two weeks of fishing into people hiding in cabins, avoiding each other.

Logistics failed. The place we’d gone to for decades no longer provided boats consistently. Our usual Friday arrival turned into waiting until Wednesday to fish. That alone threw the entire trip off balance.

Then my dad fell while walking alone, re-injuring his shoulder in multiple places. That effectively ended the trip. Somehow, with sciatica and all, he managed to get himself up off a gravel bank by himself.

That evening while at my campsite, I had a bad feeling. No cell service. I told my wife we needed to go look for him. We found him back at the cabin, his arm slumped, grimacing in pain. I knew right then the trip was over.

We stayed a few more days. I managed to get him out on a boat once, which only led to more embarrassment: because of weight limits, I couldn’t fish with my dad, my nieces, my nephews, or my brother. I never got to fish with my dad on what was likely our last big trip. That shame stuck with me. A situation that could’ve been avoided if I were healthier. If we were healthier.

The trip ended a week early. Tensions exploded between families. My brother left altogether. The fantasy of one last big family fishing trip collapsed and it nearly took the heart out of a place I’d loved my whole life.

On top of that? Mice in the cabins. Steep stairs no one could navigate. Beds on the floor. Bugs everywhere. It was exhausting, uncomfortable, and expensive.

Between families, the trip cost roughly $40,000. Factoring in surgeries and recovery? Closer to $100,000. It ended Q2 and drained the energy out of Q3 before it even began.

Q3 2025: Rediscovery

Somewhere between Q2 and Q3, I started counseling. [REDACTED] counseling briefly, then individual therapy which I began after June.

I don’t strive for perfection, but I do want to be the best version of myself. After everything that happened, I knew I had to protect my mental health more aggressively.

Having engaged with HealthyGamer the year prior, I knew therapy was the first step in building a care team. I needed people around me who cared because when I know people care about me, I treat myself better.

Sharing all of this leaves me deeply exposed to family, friends, and professionals. But honestly, I don’t feel like I have much to lose. If something here inspires even one person to take action, it’s worth it.

I don’t have a terminal illness. But I have received warnings that if things don’t change, I won’t be around much longer. So I’m sharing what I can, while respecting others’ privacy, in hopes it helps someone.

Therapy, Health, and the Wake-Up Call

Therapy has been incredible. I found a great organization in Vancouver that takes our insurance. From Q3 into mid-Q4, things felt like they were improving holistically.

I started walking on the treadmill. Counting calories. Learning what my body can do at 42.

Then I quit caffeine cold turkey. I’d been drinking 40–80 ounces of mochas a day for months.

Quitting caffeine outright was both a great idea and one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done. My body had no idea how to react. Combined with stress from work, home, and health, I spiraled.

Shortness of breath. Chest pain. Tingling. Moments of unconsciousness.

And I told no one.

Shame kept me silent. Shame about my health. Shame about knowing I needed to change. Through Thanksgiving, I suffered quietly.

Eventually, with encouragement from my therapist, I scheduled a primary care appointment. I came in with a new mindset: doctors aren’t judges, they're part of my care team.

That changed everything.

In Q3, I stayed active and took care of some important activities. I properly disposed and dismantled 15 deer trophies using the service of a taxidermist we've used for 30 years.

Later in the Summer I went to two more concerts. Death Cab for Cutie and Linkin Park. Both were tremendous.

And Sariah took home multiple awards from the Clark County Fair for her collage art.

Q4 2025: The Tests

Appointments piled up: dentist, doctor, physical therapy, bloodwork, X-rays, eye exams. When I went in for bloodwork, I expected a quick in-and-out. Instead, I saw eight vials.

I panicked.

They struggled to find a vein for nearly 40 minutes. Four vials done. Come back tomorrow. Turns out you’re supposed to drink water when fasting. I hadn’t.

The next day went better. And the results?

To my shock: mostly normal. Not diabetic. Blood sugar fine. The main issue? Cholesterol. Then came testosterone.

My levels were essentially zero single digits. Far below normal for a 42-year-old man.

Low testosterone explains so much: weight issues, depression, emotional regulation, cardiovascular risk, intimacy problems.

Eye exams revealed slight bleeding in both eyes likely from chronic high blood pressure. My eye doctor suggested I see a cardiologist. Possibly even a minor stroke at some point.

In November, I checked a lot of those boxes.

Where I Am Now

Hormone therapy will begin in 2026. Adjustments are happening slowly, imperfectly, but happening.

The last five days have been especially hard. I don’t know where I’ll be living in six months. I don’t know what success looks like yet. I don’t know what relationships will survive the change. But I refuse to let negativity drag me back into a depression I can’t come back from.

If you’re reading this and you’ve faced similar challenges and haven’t acted this is my gift to you:

Do something.

It’s better to know. Better to decide. Doing nothing nearly cost me my life. There is so much left to do. So much love to give. So many people who want to help.

Here’s to a 2026 devoted to real, meaningful change. I wish you happiness, health, and fulfillment.

And if you feel like you have nobody you have me. Please don’t hesitate to reach out.

Let’s fight back together.

I'll leave you with a few photos from December - my first hockey game and the first time I've seen a big city Christmas tree.