It’s often said that life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. But what about when those plans get derailed by something darker, something heavier—trauma?
We all carry the weight of our pasts in one form or another, often quietly tucked away. Yet, for many of us, trauma shapes more than just our past. It shapes our identity, decisions, and relationships. Today, I want to talk about moving beyond that narrative—about how we can grow through and beyond the trauma that tries to define us.
I grew up with more than my fair share of scars—physical, emotional, and spiritual. By 13, I was standing in the wreckage of my childhood, and I had no clue how to piece myself back together. My father was newly sober, my mother, still broken, and I was left trying to fill the shoes of the “man of the house.” Except, no one teaches you how to be a man when you’re still a child yourself.
Fast forward through a lifetime of mistakes, near misses, and painful lessons, and I’m still on that journey—still figuring out what manhood looks like, without the pain of my past dictating the terms.
One thing I’ve learned along the way is this: trauma doesn’t get to write our stories unless we let it. And here’s the truth—many men, myself included, have a habit of letting trauma hold the pen.
Breaking the Cycle
For most of us, trauma feels like a tether, something that binds us to an identity we never chose. The angry son. The boy who didn’t get the love he needed. The man who feels like no matter how hard he tries, he’s still fighting the same battles.
But growth—real, deep, and meaningful growth—means finding the courage to pick up the pen yourself. It’s about recognizing that while the past is part of your story, it’s not the whole story.
In my work with men, one thing that stands out is how many of us believe we have to be the same man today that we were yesterday. The same provider, the same protector, the same stoic figure who never shows weakness. It’s a lie that leads to stagnation, and worse—it leads to isolation.
The reality is, we all have the capacity to change, to evolve, and to grow beyond the trauma that shaped us. That’s the heart of the Fathership Program—giving men the tools and the support they need to redefine themselves on their own terms.
Finding Purpose Beyond Pain
It took me a long time to realize that my pain didn’t have to be my purpose. For years, I clung to it, because it felt familiar. But real purpose comes from growth, from stepping into the unknown and trusting that you have the strength to become someone new.
For me, that purpose was found in service. As Muhammad Ali once said, “Service is the rent we pay for the space we take on this earth.” When I stopped living for myself and started thinking about how I could help others, that’s when the healing truly began. The Fathership Program grew from that vision, from the idea that men deserve a place to heal, to grow, and to find their purpose beyond their pain.
The Work is Never Done
I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I’ve got it all figured out. I’m still learning, still healing, and still growing. But what I’ve learned, and what I want to share with you, is that the work of healing doesn’t end. It’s an ongoing process, and that’s okay.
Growth isn’t linear. There will be setbacks, days where you feel like you’re right back where you started. But every step forward, no matter how small, is still progress.
So, to every man out there who feels stuck, who feels like his trauma has him trapped—know this: you’re not alone, and you’re not defined by what’s happened to you. You have the power to grow beyond it, to become the author of your own story.
Let’s stop letting the past define who we are. Let’s embrace the journey of growth, healing, and self-discovery.
Work Cited
Ali, M. (n.d.). Service is the rent we pay for the space we take on this earth.
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