The following essay appeared first on LinkedIn.

We can quickly become prisoners of a narrative created by past misdeeds, mistakes, errors in judgment, and actions we would love to erase from our memory. 

It doesn’t matter whether it happened long ago or recently; we can find ourselves overwhelmed by the narrative that follows. You can be labeled untrustworthy or unreliable, or, worse, deemed so radioactive that you no longer deserve to be a productive member of society (who makes up these rules?).

I bring this up because I’ve recently been reflecting on my nearly fifteen years to the date of sobriety, my 2024 graduation at seventy-five, Summa Cum Laude, from a university, the ambition to launch a new career at my age, and the vitality of a life that, well, I honestly can’t complain about. 

To quote my life partner, who has been with me for forty-one years, “Life is Good.”

Then, suddenly, without warning, my life was changed by a stroke. 

I can still function physically and mentally. Hampered a little, okay, sometimes a lot, by short-term memory loss and some physical imbalances, but comparatively speaking, I’m doing a hell of a lot better than I expected. 

Prior to this event on February 25, 2026, my road to that moment had been marked by large potholes, really canyons, detours, and mountain ranges of icy, sharp-edged dangers. Many of these were created by my past addictions and the resulting bad behavior.

Amid these dangers, despite them, I have lived a life of positive accomplishments, whether in radio or television production, national and community organizing, youth mentoring, journalism, small business development, or a dozen other career highlights I can proudly spotlight.

Both the highs and the lows, individually and collectively, contributed to a narrative about me that others too often create. My experience is that this narrative, which is never just one, is based on limited encounters with a person. 

Sometimes, all it takes is one encounter or a bit of unreliable gossip about a person to write a narrative so far from the truth that it would make our heads spin. Worse still, an event from fifty or forty years ago can continue to haunt a person’s narrative into the present.

I am focused on this because, at seventy-seven and recovering from my stroke, I’ve decided that the only narrative that matters now is the one I meticulously author through positive actions, despite my limitations. If anything, I’m even more committed to creating a narrative that fits my goals. My life.

The person who drowned himself in forty-five years of drugs and alcohol will not be allowed to haunt me. I am no longer that person. 

Today, I find myself challenged by my stroke and my past to evolve, demanding higher standards conscientiously. That drive comes from my conclusion that I no longer have time to waste. I’ve done enough of that over the past seventy-seven years.

The stroke was the punctuation mark accompanying that realization. 

I often joke that I have too many places to go and too many things to do, and that every day needs to be a full day of doing good things for myself and others (including quiet, relaxing time). 

The narrative I’m creating is based on life goals, not only career goals. It’s about living more fully and learning more about myself, the people close to me, the world around me, and the universe. 

Every day must be a spontaneous event driven by this motivation. Open to the universe, yet wary of people, events, and decisions that may lie in wait as traps on the road. 

Been there, done that.

The narrative I am living and endeavor to build my life around is that of a human being who has had positive opportunities presented to them and has taken advantage of them. 

The result has been not only knowledge gained through experience but also, with age and time, wisdom. The insight gained didn’t come solely from all the good actions in my life. 

I can honestly say that all the crapola actions have taught me some important lessons. I burned my finger, and I learned not to put my hands near that stovetop again. 

Okay, in my case, it took several burns, plastic surgery, and several more burns before it finally kicked my brain into gear. Don’t do that again because the next time, you will die. 

Yeah, that was a thing.

All those lessons, life experiences, and painful burns have formed a critical foundation for who I see myself as today and for the narrative I embrace. Once I relieved myself of the burdens of addiction, I could focus on the mental health issues underpinning those addictions, which have plagued me for decades and kept me from rebuilding my life. 

Nearly fifteen years after going sober, I can comfortably say that every day is an adventure (rather than a struggle), filled with surprises, insight, opportunities for positivity, and a desire to do good rather than be a prisoner of negativity. 

This doesn’t mean I don’t have demons or suffer from the effects of the stroke. I must battle each day, just not on the scale I faced decades ago.

What does all this mean for the present and for my future? As I often tell folks, I got this. If I’m sure of anything, it’s that I oversee my narrative, am sincere in my motivation, open to the support around me, and, equally important, receptive to the networks that surround me every day, building two-way relationships that benefit both sides. 

You receive more when you give more. It can really be that simple.

If this sounds arrogant or a little too self-serving, trust me, it isn’t. As I wrote earlier, my days are limited by the realities of aging and my stroke. I don’t have time to waste when I could be living life to the fullest. 

The truth is that we must all find a path to a truly fulfilling life in our hearts and minds. Work on that narrative, and all else will follow. 

Amen.