10 Apr Year 53: The Curveball That Became the Comeback
As I sit here on the eve of a new milestone—my birthday—I’m reminded just how incredible this past year has been.
Not just good.
Not just hard.
Incredible.
And not because it was all smooth sailing.
But because it wasn’t.
It started in the valley.
Year 53.
A year I didn’t expect.
A year I wasn’t looking for.
A year that found me anyway—kind of like a stranger knocking on your door holding a mirror you didn’t ask for.
5 + 3 = 8.
And 8, for those who know, means new beginnings.
But let me be clear: New beginnings rarely feel like fresh starts.
Sometimes they feel like blood pressure that’s too high.
Like doctors looking at you sideways.
Like hearing the word “diabetes” and realizing that somewhere along the line, you stopped listening to your own body.
That was me.
This time last year.
In a silent war with myself.
Then something shifted.
I didn’t make a dramatic announcement.
Didn’t stage a comeback with confetti.
I just started moving.
Started choosing.
Started showing up for myself in quiet ways.
And now?
75 pounds lighter.
Blood pressure normal.
No medication.
Diabetes—gone.
Not managed. Not monitored.
Gone.
By the grace of God, I’m not just standing.
I’m running.
And more importantly—I know where I’m going.
But the story doesn’t end with healing.
It only begins there.
I came out of retirement—again.
Launched major campaigns.
Acquired companies.
Rebuilt what was salvageable.
Shut down what was not.
Made room for new ideas, new energy, new fire.
Somewhere in the middle of all that business…
I found joy again.
In music.
In strategy.
In the quiet moments.
In me.
Of course, there were losses.
There always are.
I lost some people.
I lost some money.
I lost some relationships.
I lost illusions I didn’t know I was still holding onto.
I lost comfort zones that had become cages.
But what I gained?
Priceless.
Wisdom.
Clarity.
Peace.
I became an elder.
Not just in age, but in presence.
I became a mentor.
Not just in title, but in service.
I became the one who pours into others what was once poured into me—cup by cup.
And I’m still pouring.
Gratitude ain’t big enough of a word.
But it’s what I’ve got.
Grateful to God.
To my family.
To my tribe.
To my clients, my customers, my circle.
Grateful for the safe spaces that let me be honest.
Grateful for the prayers.
For the encouragement.
For the pushes.
For the people who stood silently beside me when I didn’t have the words.
And now?
Now I walk into Year 54.
Not timid.
Not unsure.
But rooted.
Reflective.
Rebuilt.
I carry a deeper understanding of who I am.
A clearer vision for what’s ahead.
And the full power of BeOlogy—The Science of BEing in my hands.
I don’t know what the future holds.
But I know Who holds me.
And I’m running toward it with everything I’ve got.
Let me pause and say this.
To Kasey Brown and The HUB family—wow.
To Lamar Tyler and the TSP family—wow.
To D.J. Boyd and the St. Luke’s family—wow.
To Bishop AJ Wright and the Manifest family—wow.
To James L. Walker Jr. and my Walker & Associates fam—wow.
To all the Byrd boys and their families—WOW and THANK YOU.
To all of my “Daughters, Nieces, Lil Sis, and Mentees”—wow and thank you.
To my wife—SMH… there are no words. I love you.
There are too many to name.
But if you’re reading this and you’ve stood with me—
Please know this:
You mattered.
You ministered.
You made space.
So as I celebrate this birthday…
I just want to say:
Thank you.
Thank you for riding with me.
Thank you for believing in me.
Thank you for helping me find my way back to myself.
Let’s keep going.
Let’s keep building.
Let’s keep BEing.
Because Year 54?
It’s not just another lap around the sun.
It’s a full-out sprint into legacy.