Prove Life Wrong: The Pain, The Push, and the People Who Keep You Going

November 1, 2025

Two Weeks Later: Still Standing (Mostly)

If you actually watched that clip, you’ll get it — that was me. Constantly calling for my wife’s help every few minutes, trying to shift, sit up, or reach something that suddenly felt a mile away. And honestly, I only stayed in bed because she demanded I do it — and yeah, she was right. I needed to stay put.

It’s been two weeks since my accident (you can read about that here), and though I’m healing, the pain still hits hard as the day goes on. By evening, I’m usually being strongly encouraged to crawl back into bed.

Lifting myself up is still brutal — fractured ribs don’t play nice — but sitting still is worse. That’s just not who I am. So, when I think back on that ridiculous scene from Walk Hard, I can’t help but laugh, and yes, it still HURTS to LAUGH. It perfectly captures how I’ve felt these past two weeks: dramatic, stubborn, and maybe a little too determined for my own good.

Still, over the past week, I’ve managed to get up early, shuffle into my office, and get a few things done before the rest of the house wakes up. There’s always this nagging sense of lost time — that I’m falling behind — but that’s the life of an independent creator. There’s always something waiting to be finished.

But before I get too far ahead of myself — there’s one thing I probably need to explain.
When the accident first happened, I didn’t just keep it private. I blogged about it.
And yeah… a few people thought I was joking.
So maybe it’s worth talking about why I decided to share it at all.

Why I posted about it anyway

When I posted about my accident, I knew it was a pretty personal thing to share. I tell friends personal stuff, sure — but I don’t usually put something that raw out there for the public to see. Still, it felt right. It tied directly into this new mantra and mindset I’ve been living by: Prove Life Wrong.

There was also a practical side to it — I knew I’d have to explain what happened a hundred times anyway. Rather than repeat the story over and over every time someone found out, I figured I’d write it once, tell it honestly, and let anyone who wanted details read the full account. That way, when they asked later, we could just skip to the highlights instead of reliving the whole ordeal.

Of course, the people who needed to know — my wife, my kids, my closest friends and family — heard about it first. I wasn’t about to drop something that traumatic on them through a public post. The blog was more for everyone else — the broader circle of people who follow my journey.

And like with everything these days, I try to find the humor in it. The bright side. The lesson tucked between the pain and the punchlines.

Take this for example: the morning of the accident, right before leaving our neighborhood, I texted my wife, “Okay, I’m out — love you.”
She replied, “Okay, please be careful. I love you too.”
Five minutes later (after calling first, of course), I had to send the follow-up: “I’ve wrecked. Please come get me.”

Later, we joked about it. She laughed and said, “See? I told you to be careful!”
I laughed too — and immediately regretted it because, well, fractured ribs don’t appreciate a good punchline.

But that’s the thing: even in moments like this, I’m determined to keep going, keep laughing, and keep proving life wrong.

Of course, just because I could laugh about it didn’t mean I suddenly got smart about it.
Resting has never been my strong suit — and as soon as I could shuffle more than ten feet without wincing, I started convincing myself I was fine.
Spoiler: I wasn’t.
But in true “prove life wrong” fashion, I decided that meant it was time to start riding faster than I should.

Riding Faster Than I Should

Just before the accident, I had updated my Household Planner task board. (Yes, I have a Microsoft Planner board for household stuff. I also have one for music projects, TTRPG tasks, development work, and—because I have a problem—one that helps me plan tasks for other task boards.)

That last one’s name? Alexa.
I use her to remind me to put something on a specific board later so I don’t forget it the moment it comes to mind.

Anyway—back to the board. I’d just finished setting up a whole list of organizing goals for the week: rearranging rooms, cleaning, decluttering. Then, of course, the accident happened and all that came to a screeching halt.

Once I started feeling even a little better, I tried to pick up where I left off. That didn’t last long. Turns out fractured ribs and “rearranging heavy stuff” don’t really mix. The energy just isn’t there yet.

So, I shifted to things I could do: music, job hunting, and creative planning. I’ve been working on assets for upcoming singles—some of which won’t even release until 2027—updating Patreon with new unreleased material for my supporters, prepping new TTRPG sessions for StartPlaying, and finally getting another session scheduled for one of my groups, the Farkin’ Follies.

I’m also drafting updates for the first of several official adventures and one-shots I’ll be publishing soon, and making progress on a super secret development project to keep my coding skills sharp.

But no matter how much I plan or organize, something new always pops into my head. Before I can get back to my “regularly scheduled list of tasks,” I’ve already created five new ones.

I know I’m pushing myself—probably harder than I should—but sitting still has never been my thing. Case in point: I’m literally writing this while half-lying in bed.

Oh, and speaking of writing, this marks the fourth post in this new Prove Life Wrong series—three of which I’ve published in just the past two weeks. I doubt I’ll keep that pace up (or at least I shouldn’t), but I’ve got a little extra time on my hands and plenty more to say along this journey.

Even now, I can feel myself getting ahead of myself.

So instead of fighting that restless urge to do something, I decided to redirect it.

If I couldn’t lift boxes or rearrange rooms without paying for it later, I could at least move ideas around.

Creating — whether it’s music, writing, or planning what’s next — has always been my therapy. It’s how I process, how I heal, and how I keep from slipping into the frustration of feeling stuck.

So I leaned into it — shifting my focus from recovery to creation.

Shifting Focus: From Recovery to Creation

I’ve technically already touched on this — the music projects, the TTRPG work, the constant stream of ideas — but right now, I’m more inspired than I’ve been in a long time. New songs, new adventures, new creative outlets… they’re all fighting for space in my head. I thrive on this kind of energy — maybe a little too much sometimes — but it’s my lifeblood. What else am I supposed to do?

For that next big project I keep hinting at — the massive, interwoven musical saga — most of the music is finished, and many of the assets are too. Still, it’ll be months before the full vision is ready to share publicly. In the meantime, I’ve been channeling my energy into the next single: submitting it to my distributor, building the video assets, designing banners, writing product descriptions, ad copy, and checking off task after task on my ever-growing list.

And honestly? That feeling of checking something off — that small, satisfying click of completion — it helps quiet the chaos in my head. Every task I finish opens mental space for the next idea waiting in line.

Of course, that means nearly every day brings a new “Why didn’t I think of that before?” moment, which usually ends with me rearranging half my schedule and shifting today’s goals to tomorrow’s already full list. But I love it. It keeps me moving, and that sense of momentum has been my best medicine while I’m still recovering and feeling a bit trapped physically.

While digging through my archives for the next Unreleased Music & Soundscapes post (here’s the latest one), I found even more inspiration — something old that deserves a second life, and something new that’s just waiting to be created.

And of course, none of this would be possible without my fans. Your support lately has meant more than you’ll ever know. Every message, every share, every stream — it’s fuel.

And through it all, my wife has been right beside me. She’s been helping with the business side of things — packaging vinyl and CDs, refining the review process, and just being there, like she always is. It’s become part of our morning rhythm now: coffee, conversation, and collaboration.

And honestly, through all of it — the pain, the planning, the late nights, the endless lists — she’s been there. Not just helping with orders or business tasks, but keeping me grounded when my mind starts racing faster than my body can handle. She’s the steady voice that reminds me to slow down, to heal, to laugh.

She really is my anchor beside me.

The Anchor Beside Me

What more can I say about my wife?
(According to her: “A lot more. You can say a lot more.”)
And she’s right, of course.

She really is that anchor. I don’t know what I’d be doing right now if it weren’t for her. It’s hard for me to just let someone take care of me — I can be stubborn, and occasionally stupid. And I know this hasn’t been easy for her. She deserves a lot of repayment once I’m fully back on my feet.

She’s the one constantly reminding me: “Hey idiot, you fractured three ribs. Slow the f** down. Rest now, so you don’t prolong your healing.”*
And she’s right (again). But she also knows how hard it is for me to actually do that.

Halloween is our favorite holiday together, and we had big plans this year — finishing the decorations in the yard and around the house the weekend I had my accident. We wanted to avoid the last-minute rush we had last year. Yeah… that didn’t happen.

So on Thursday, we finally got everything set up.
Okay, she did most of it — because I couldn’t bend, lift, or do much of anything else — but I was there beside her, offering “moral support” between my constant ouches and oooos and winces. I also threw in my husbandly “suggestions” about how she should do certain things… only for her to prove me wrong every time. I ate a lot of crow that day — but at least it was festive crow.

By Halloween night, though, everything was ready. We sat on the porch handing out candy, just like we love to do. I dressed as a scarecrow (which freaks out about 90% of the trick-or-treaters). For the little ones, though, I keep it friendly — with Misty, our dog, in my lap to show I’m not actually terrifying. The weather was perfect, the kids were excited, and for a few hours, everything just felt right again.

It wasn’t easy sitting out there that long in an uncomfortable chair, but I queued up a Halloween playlist — of course including my Dead Love soundtrack and other horror-inspired tracks like Whispers of the Witch — and we soaked it in. I’m just thankful that, even with the delays and pain, she still got to enjoy her favorite night of the year.

And on that note… I should probably wrap this up, because I’m currently at that stage of recovery where I need more blankets… and fewer blankets… at the same time.

Prove Life Wrong

Pain has a way of testing your patience — not just physically, but mentally. It slows you down, forces you to face limits you’d rather ignore, and makes every simple thing feel like a mountain. But it also reminds you that you’re alive.

The push? That’s the fire that keeps you climbing anyway. It’s the drive that whispers, “I’m not done yet.” It’s what makes me get up, even when I probably shouldn’t, and what keeps my mind spinning with new ideas when my body says no.

And the people — they’re the reason any of it matters. The ones who make you laugh when it hurts, who tell you to slow down when you won’t, and who stay by your side through every high, low, and “ouch.”

So yeah, I’m still sore. Still healing. Still learning when to push and when to pause.
But as long as I can laugh, create, and keep showing up with the people who ground me — I’ll keep doing what I set out to do from the very beginning:

Prove Life Wrong.

If you’d like to help me Prove Life Wrong, you can show your support by checking out the official merchandise — T-shirts, mugs, and more — available here:

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