Good morning, Cicely.

There are some journeys we take alone. Not by choice, but by storm. Life has a funny way of rerouting the road just when you think you know the map. And suddenly, you’re not the person you thought you were going to be.

You’re not the golden boy anymore.

Not the rising star.

Not the dreamer with the straight path and the perfect arc.

You’re something else entirely.

You’re someone who went through it. And I mean really went through it.

I’ve spent time in places people whisper about—psych wards, jail cells, corners of the mind where the lights flicker and nothing makes sense. I’ve lost years to silence, confusion, and pain. I’ve watched dreams get shattered like glass on stone, and had to pick up the pieces with shaking hands.

There were nights no one called. Days no one knew where I was. Times even I didn’t know who I was.

And still… somehow… I’m here.

My family didn’t always understand. How could they? Mental illness doesn’t come with instructions. It doesn’t wear a name tag. It doesn’t sit politely in the corner. But even in the dark, they loved me. Fiercely. Imperfectly. Consistently. And I owe them everything.

There was a love once—a young one. One of those first-flame, heart-open, foolish-and-forever kind of things. I let it slip away. Maybe I ran. Maybe I wasn’t ready. Maybe I didn’t believe I deserved it. And I’ve never found that kind of depth again. That’s a ghost I carry. Not with bitterness, just with a quiet what if.

I never had children. And maybe I never will. That used to haunt me. But lately… I’ve started to see things differently.

Because while I may not be a father, I’ve become something else. Something I never thought I could be.

I’ve become me.

Not the broken version.

Not the could’ve-been.

Just me.

Someone I trust.

Someone I’m proud to carry through this world.

This is Chris in the Morning—KBHR 570 AM—and if you’re listening, and you’ve been through the long night… just know there’s still morning. There’s still music. There’s still time.

And sometimes, surviving becomes your greatest work.