Rediscovering My Faith: A Journey Through Darkness to Light
Life is rarely a straight line. It’s a chaotic path marked by twists, turns, and moments that can shake you to your core. In 2010, I lost my mother. It wasn’t just a loss—it was a seismic shift that shattered the foundations of my faith, my principles, and my sense of self. I turned my back on God, convinced there was no plan, no guiding hand, and certainly no reason for the pain I was experiencing.
What followed was a decade of wandering in the wilderness. I was lost, unmoored, and adrift in a sea of bad decisions. But even in those moments of chaos, something was quietly at work, guiding me back toward the light. I just couldn’t see it yet.
Losing Faith and Losing Myself
When my mother passed away, I didn’t just lose her—I lost myself. She had been a cornerstone of my faith, an unwavering example of grace and resilience. Without her, my connection to God felt severed. I blamed Him, renounced Him, and decided that I was better off navigating life alone.
But life without faith is a slippery slope. Without an anchor, I spiraled. I sought comfort in all the wrong places: toxic relationships, excessive drinking, and a lifestyle that prioritized instant gratification over lasting fulfillment. I avoided hard truths and clung to easy outs. The worst part? I knew better. Deep down, I understood that I was sabotaging myself, but I couldn’t find the strength to change.
The Guiding Hand I Couldn’t See
Looking back now, I can see the stepping stones that God laid before me. They weren’t obvious—at least not at the time—but they were there. Little nudges, tiny moments of clarity, and the quiet pull of something greater.
At first, they were subtle. A conversation with a friend that struck a chord. A book that seemed to appear out of nowhere but resonated deeply. A moment of peace amidst the chaos that I couldn’t explain. Slowly, these moments began to add up, planting seeds of hope and possibility. They were the first faint whispers of a voice I hadn’t listened to in years.
Splitting Myself in Two
Even as I started to change, it wasn’t an overnight transformation. For a long time, I lived a double life. I tried to be better—to be kinder, more disciplined, and more honest—but I was still tethered to the habits and relationships that held me back. I was one person in public and another in private, constantly at war with myself.
It wasn’t sustainable. The tension between who I was and who I wanted to be grew unbearable. I knew I had to make a choice: keep living a lie or fully commit to the life I knew I was meant to lead.
A Life-Altering Choice: Breaking Free from Darkness
One of the hardest decisions I ever made was ending a long-term toxic relationship. It wasn’t just a breakup; it was a complete disentangling of our lives—emotionally, financially, and logistically. We were deeply intertwined, and my partner’s proclivity for lying made the situation even more precarious. I worried about the repercussions, about what might happen if I left.
But I knew I couldn’t stay. There was a weight, a darkness in that relationship that I now believe was more than emotional or psychological—it was spiritual. I felt as though I had opened myself to demons, that the relationship, the people, the places, and the things were dragging me further into damnation. There were things done, not done, said, and not said that, in hindsight, were undeniably evil.
One moment stands out starkly in my memory. We were passing through an airport, and I had a holy medal from Lourdes that my late mother had given me. It was one of my most treasured possessions, a tangible connection to her and her faith. For some reason, I was made to remove it at airport security, and when I went to retrieve my belongings, the medal was gone. Stolen.
I was devastated, but more than that, I felt vulnerable. That medal had been a form of protection, and its loss felt symbolic—as though the shield of heaven had been removed, leaving me exposed to darker influences. It was a turning point. I knew I needed to break free, not just for my own sake but for my soul.
It took careful planning and an immense amount of courage, but I ended the relationship. Shortly after, I met someone else—someone who was good, kind, and honest. I made a solemn promise to God: I would be the best partner I could possibly be. No excuses, no compromises. And if I ever failed, I gave Him full power to enact whatever justice He deemed necessary.
The Turning Point: A Return to Faith
Ending that toxic chapter of my life was like stepping out of a storm and into the light. For the first time in years, I could see a path forward. I started praying again—not just in moments of desperation, but consistently. I asked for help, for guidance, and for the strength to rebuild my life.
And things began to change.
Relationships improved. Opportunities appeared. My health, which had deteriorated during the worst years, started to recover. I began working out, finding solace and strength in physical activity. What started as a way to feel better physically became a stepping stone to something much greater. It was the beginning of Hard Way Fitness.
A Father’s Faith
The real turning point came when I became a father during COVID-19. Those were some of the hardest times of my life, filled with uncertainty, fear, and the weight of responsibility. I prayed more in those days than I ever had before—not just for myself, but for my children, my wife, and our future.
Something shifted. Prayer stopped being a lifeline I reached for in times of desperation and became a daily practice, a constant conversation with God. It wasn’t just about asking for help anymore—it was about gratitude, guidance, and the simple act of staying connected.
Building a Life of Faith, Brick by Brick
Faith isn’t something you stumble into. It’s something you build, one day at a time. For me, it started with small steps: setting aside time for prayer each morning, attending church more regularly, and making conscious choices that aligned with my values. It wasn’t always easy, but it was always worth it.
I began to see the impact of faith not just in my personal life, but in every area—my relationships, my work, and my health. It gave me clarity and purpose, reminding me of who I wanted to be and why.
Hard Way Fitness: Faith in Action
This journey back to faith didn’t just transform me—it inspired the creation of Hard Way Fitness. For years, I had approached fitness the same way I had approached life: chasing quick fixes and avoiding the hard work. But true fitness, like true faith, requires discipline, resilience, and a willingness to embrace discomfort for the sake of growth.
Hard Way Fitness isn’t just about building stronger bodies—it’s about building stronger spirits. It’s a community where we support each other, hold each other accountable, and strive to live with integrity. It’s a reflection of the lessons I’ve learned on my journey: that strength comes from struggle, that growth requires faith, and that we are never truly alone.
Living With Faith
Rediscovering my faith hasn’t been a destination—it’s a journey I’m still on. There are days when I falter, when doubt creeps in, and when the old habits try to resurface. But now, I know where to turn. I know that I am guided, loved, and capable of more than I ever thought possible.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that faith isn’t about being perfect—it’s about showing up, every day, with an open heart and a willingness to try. It’s about trusting the process, even when you can’t see the full picture. And it’s about recognizing that the hard way—the way of discipline, perseverance, and faith—is the way worth taking.