Control What You Can Control

A sound mind in a sound body is a short but full description of a happy state in this world.
— W.H. Auden

For years, I thought my greatest challenge was back pain.

It wasn't.

There was a period of my life—nearly a decade—when everything seemed to be falling apart at once.

I lived with chronic pain that dictated nearly every decision I made. I carried a Theracane everywhere. I covered myself in lidocaine and Salonpas patches. I took ibuprofen almost daily just to get through work. I woke in the middle of the night with pain so intense it sometimes triggered panic attacks.

There were nights when I wandered the streets at 3 a.m. because I couldn't sleep.

From the outside, I looked healthy. I was working. Most people—actually, no one—had any idea I was barely hanging on.

At the same time, I was trying to build a business, pay off debt, navigate difficult living circumstances, and figure out who I wanted to become.

My world became incredibly small.

Every decision revolved around managing symptoms.

Can I sit through this meeting?

Can I drive there?

Will my neck lock up if I turn my head?

Will my back go out if I sneeze?

What treatment can I afford?

Can anyone help me?

I spent years searching for relief.

Chiropractic care.

Massage therapy.

Physical therapy.

Acupuncture.

Graston.

Active Release.

Rolfing.

Each one helped—for a while.

But I was renting relief, not owning my healing.

The real transformation didn't come from finding the perfect treatment.

It began when I slowly stopped asking,

"Who is going to fix me?"

and realized the answer was...

No one.

No one but me.

I am the thinker of my thoughts, the feeler of my feelings, and the person living inside this body.

Looking back, I don't think I recovered because I became tougher.

I recovered because I developed greater capacity.

The capacity to tolerate discomfort.

The capacity to pay attention.

The capacity to adapt.

The capacity to recover.

The capacity to influence how my own body organized itself.

In other words, I gradually discovered just how much agency I could develop over myself.

That realization changed everything.

It also shapes the way I teach today.

People often come to me because something hurts—and that's a perfectly reasonable place to start.

But my goal isn't simply to help someone hurt less.

My goal is to help them become more capable.

More aware.

More connected.

More adaptable.

More confident inside their own body.

Because when your capacity grows, your world grows with it.

Today, my life looks very different.

I no longer wake up wondering how I'll survive the day.

I'm building a business I believe in. I'm teaching. I'm hiking. I'm lifting weights. I'm traveling. I'm making plans for the future instead of simply trying to make it through another day.

Looking back, I realize those ten years weren't just about overcoming chronic pain.

They were a complete transformation—from the inside out.

If there's one lesson I carry forward, it's this:

You don't have to control everything.

You only have to keep learning how to better control the one thing you actually can.

Yourself.