Lokey

These past few weeks, I’ve reached the lowest point of my life. Drowning feels like an understatement. Words don’t help anymore—not from friends, not even from professionals. I’ve failed before, but never fallen this deep.

New anxieties have crept in. Sometimes I can barely breathe, my body drenched in sweat, vision blurring. There are moments I literally collapse. The trigger is deeply personal—something I can’t share, but significant enough that I can’t focus on anything else. My mind is consumed, thoughts constantly swirling, suffocating me.

I know this fear is real, and it’s huge. I’m exhausted from fighting it. I can’t control when it hits. The more I want these thoughts to disappear, the harder they slam back. This isn’t something I can brush off with “just let it go”—it’s something I need to rebuild. Not instant, and it’s going to hurt, but I’m holding onto hope that the outcome will be worth it.

First, I had to acknowledge my mistakes. Most of it comes down to arrogance. When I was successful, I started underestimating things I shouldn’t have. It’s clear now—I wasn’t grateful when I had everything. And I hate myself for that.

The hardest part? Recognizing how my cockiness probably irritated everyone around me. It was my fault. Now I’m starting with small things, like appreciating what I have right now. But this time, I’m doing it with professional help, because I’m human. I need someone to help pull me out of this.

When I was on top, all I cared about was accumulating more—no limits. Greed took over. The consequences were everything I built, but one of the most obvious things I neglected was myself.

Late-night binge eating, no routine, complete disregard for my appearance. I gained weight, stopped caring how I looked. My reasoning? “I have everything—why bother when I’m winning?”

That mindset is how you lose everything.

Last week, I took a hard look in the mirror and didn’t recognize who was staring back. No wonder everything fell apart.

So now I’m fixing that. I’ve invested in proper equipment, established morning and evening routines, started focusing on my health again. Why? Because I want it all back.

Consistency. Right now, I have a clear goal—to rebuild everything. But what happens when I reach it? Will I slip back into old patterns and lose it all again? Is this just another cycle waiting to repeat?

No.

With everything I have, I’m making sure I never hit this point again. I’ve been humbled by my mistakes. I have a brain, and I’m using it this time. I won’t forget this feeling—this uncertainty, this heartbreak, this suffocating anxiety.

I am not a coward. Not about the things I want. If I have the power and resources, I will push forward, even if it takes a mental or physical toll.

I won’t stop fighting.

I won’t give up.

The wake-up call has sounded. Now it’s time to answer.