My Journey: Starting Over in My 50s
From loss and survival to rebuilding and hope
Before you read
This page and website are my personal story, my personal experience – nothing here is medical advice. I’m not a doctor or a financial professional—just someone documenting what happened to start all of this, and what I’m learning as I rebuild.
Last Updated: February 19, 2026
Table of Contents
I Didn’t Plan to Be Here
In my 50s, I’m working a steady job, building this blog in my spare time, and learning how to live well after triple bypass surgery.
This isn’t where I thought I’d be.
But it’s where I am.
And I’m grateful I’m still here to keep going.
If you’re starting over too—after loss, burnout, health problems, or a rough season you didn’t see coming—I hope this page and website helps you feel a little less alone.
The Timeline
2010: Losing My Father, My Wife, and Becoming a Single Dad Overnight
January: Losing My Father
My dad had a stroke when I was still pretty young. He lost the use of his right arm and leg and most of his speech. Before the stroke he was loud and opinionated and didn’t hold back. After, the only word that came out clearly was “bullshit.” That was it. That was all he had left. And in a strange way, it still sounded like him.
He came home from the hospital and we took care of him the best we could — changing him, cleaning him, doing what needed done. Insurance covered a few hours of help each day but the rest was on us. My mom watched him while I was at work. Then she had a heart attack. Lost her job because of the time she missed. After that she became his full-time caregiver and that was just the shape our family took from then on.
My dad died in January 2010. It hit hard. Losing a parent changes something in you that you don’t fully understand until it happens.
I didn’t know it then, but that was the start of me learning how fast life can change.
August: Losing My Wife
Seven months later, my wife passed away.
We had already separated back in 2008, and the divorce was final before she passed. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hit hard. She was still the mother of my three kids. When she died in August 2010, whatever complicated feelings existed between us didn’t matter — what mattered was that my kids lost their mom.
The Aftermath: Single Dad of Three
When my wife passed, I didn’t just lose her. I became the only parent to three kids overnight.
I had help — their grandmothers stepped in and helped me raise them. Without them, I honestly don’t know how I would have done it. But at the end of the day, it was still on me. Working, keeping a roof over our heads, trying to hold it together for my kids while barely holding it together myself.
The years after 2010 were about surviving more than living. I went through the motions — worked, paid bills, kept the kids fed, kept going. But I wasn’t building anything. I was just trying to stay standing.
I didn’t talk about it much. I still don’t. There’s a kind of grief that doesn’t fit into words, and this was that kind.
But looking back now, 2010 taught me something I didn’t realize until much later: I know how to rebuild. Not because I’m tough or special — but because there was no other option. When everything fell apart again years later, some part of me already knew the drill. You grieve. You sit in it. And then eventually, you start putting one foot in front of the other.
2023: More Loss and Upheaval
January: Losing My Mother
My mom started forgetting things. Small stuff at first, easy to explain away. Then she got in a car accident and the insurance company totaled the car. That was probably a blessing, though it didn’t feel like one at the time.
Without a car she’d ask the neighbors for rides to the store. She’d go two, three times a day sometimes, buying the same things over and over. I installed alarms on the doors because she’d leave in the middle of the night. I’d wake up to the alarm going off and find her trying to get out in the dark.
The hoarding started around the same time. She hid boxes of snack cakes and Diet Cokes under her bed and in the closet. I don’t know what she thought was going to happen to them. I don’t think she knew either.
Eventually she stopped walking on her own. Needed more and more help just to get around. Toward the end she couldn’t get out of bed at all, and we were back to taking care of her the same way we’d taken care of dad — changing her, cleaning her, doing what needed done. We went through hospital visits, then a nursing home, then hospice.
Watching someone you love fade a little at a time is a kind of grief that doesn’t wrap up neatly. By the time she passed in January of 2023, dementia had already taken so much. Most days she didn’t know who we were anymore. She kept asking to go home. Over and over, she wanted to go home. But I never knew which home she meant. Not this house. Somewhere from before. Her parents’ place maybe, or the trailer she grew up in. Wherever it was, she never got there.
When she passed I felt deep loss — and also relief that she was finally at peace and no longer trapped in that disease.
Spring: Leaving an Unhealthy Work Situation
In the spring, I walked away from a job I’d been at for eight years — a place I honestly thought I’d retire from.
But leadership changed, and the place changed with it. The standards shifted. The atmosphere got tense. It started to feel like “say one thing, do another,” and some days I was walking on eggshells.
I tried to ride it out. I really did. But after everything I’d been through, I couldn’t keep paying that price. My stress kept climbing, and it was costing me my peace.
I didn’t leave with a perfect plan. I left because staying was costing me too much.
Starting over in my 50s wasn’t something I wanted. It was simply what life handed me.
The Reset
When my mom passed, there was the grief — and there were also the bills and the practical stuff that had to be handled.
I sold the stock I’d built up at my old company to cover her funeral. Later, when I finally walked away for good, I cashed out my 401(k) and took my pension. I used it to settle what I could — her remaining bills, and then my own — and to give myself a short runway to breathe while I figured out what came next.
That wasn’t a victory lap. It was survival. It was me trying to keep the lights on and make the next right move.
The House and My Mom’s Room
Some of that runway went straight into the house. I bought the wood to replace the floors.
The first room I worked on was my mom’s room.
I left it untouched for months because I wasn’t ready to change anything. When I finally started, I packed her things slowly — one box at a time. Most of it is still in containers. I’m not rushing that part.
Spring to Fall: Rebuilding in Small Pieces
For months, I focused on what I could control.
I worked on my house, room by room—pulling up old floors, replacing what I could, learning as I went. Some rooms got finished. Some didn’t. Progress was slow, but it was real.
During that same stretch of time, I started building this blog. I learned WordPress. I learned how to write again. I tried to figure out what I even wanted to say.
September: My First Real Post
In September 2023, I wrote my first real post—one that felt honest. I was trying to make sense of life, purpose, and “spiritual health” in a way that fit me.
No polished answers. Just real searching.
Late 2023: Back to Work
Later that year, I took a steady job again. Not a dream job. But it paid the bills and gave me structure while I tried to rebuild.
2024: The Year My Body Started Warning Me — And I Didn’t Know It Yet
2024 looked quieter from the outside. No big turning point like the year before.
But something was off.
I kept working. I kept trying to improve the site. I wrote when I could.
Some days I felt hopeful about where this was going. Some days I felt behind.
Both were true — but there was something else happening that I didn’t understand yet.
And my body started sending signals I couldn’t ignore.
I was tired in ways that didn’t make sense. Doctor visits turned up nothing concrete. No clear answers. Just a growing sense that something wasn’t right.
I kept showing up. Kept working. Kept going.
But 2024 wasn’t quiet. It was the year my body was trying to tell me something was seriously wrong — I just didn’t know it yet.
The Storms & Fallen Tree
Early in the year, during overnight storms, the old maple tree in my yard fell on top of my ’93 Blazer.
2025: Triple Bypass Surgery and Learning to Start Over Again
In February 2025, a routine check turned into something serious.
Not long after, I had triple bypass surgery.
I didn’t have a heart attack. But I had dangerous blockages that could have changed everything fast. That test likely saved my life.
Recovery: Learning to Live Again
Recovery wasn’t glamorous. It was humbling.
It was rebuilding strength little by little, rehab and appointments, new routines, learning limits, learning patience.
Life didn’t pause because I was healing. Bills and stress were still there.
So in the summer of 2025, while I was still under doctors’ orders with a 10-pound weight limit, I started cutting up the tree and tearing down the shed. Not because I was ready. Because I had to.
I tried to keep the blog going. Some weeks I had energy. Some weeks I didn’t.
Returning to Work
Later in 2025, I went back to work because I needed income.
Life didn’t reset.
I just kept going.
2026: Life After Heart Surgery — What I’m Doing Now
It’s February 2026 now—one year after surgery.
I’m still working. Still rebuilding. Still finishing the house slower than I want to.
But I’m alive.
And I’m paying attention now—because I know how fast things can change.
What I’m focused on now
Right now, my life centers around four things.
Health is non-negotiable. I’m protecting my heart, keeping steady routines, and continuing to move in the right direction. Recovery isn’t a finish line — it’s a daily choice.
Content creation is where I’m building something real. Writing weekly, posting consistently, and laying a real foundation over time instead of chasing quick wins.
Finances are tight, but I’m tracking every dollar and working toward stability one decision at a time. It’s not glamorous, but it’s progress.
And I’m using the Level 10 Life framework to keep improving the areas that matter most — health, home, learning, relationships, and purpose. It’s simple, but it keeps me honest about where I’m making progress and where I’m coasting.
My goal
Right now, I’m working toward getting this blog to pay for itself – covering hosting, tools, and the costs of running it.
The bigger dream? That all of this – the blog, Instagram, YouTube, and everything I’m building across platforms – eventually adds up to enough income that I’m not depending on a job I don’t want to do forever.
Nothing flashy. Just steady work toward something better—for my family, for my health, and for anyone else looking to prove it’s never too late to start over.
“Healthspan isn’t just how long you live — it’s how well you live. Lifespan is the length. Healthspan is the quality. And a Level 10 Life is my framework for intentionally improving both.”
Why I built this — and why I’m sharing it
This site exists for two reasons, and I want to be honest about both of them.
Reason one: I needed a place to put it all.
After everything — losing both parents, triple bypass surgery, starting over in my 50s — I started writing. Not because I had answers. Because I needed somewhere to process what was happening and document what I was learning.
This page is part of that. It’s a living record of my life. I add to it as things change.
Reason two: I wanted to build something useful.
Healthspan. Lifespan. Intentional living. The difference between how long you live and how well you live. I spent years piecing together information on those topics from a dozen different sources — books, studies, podcasts, trial and error.
Getting here wasn’t easy.
This site is my attempt to pull it into one place. Everything I find on extending healthspan, improving lifespan, and building what I call a Level 10 Life — a simple framework for deliberately improving the areas that matter most. Not a course. Not a coaching program. Just a well-organized reference that keeps growing as I keep learning.
I had old books on HTML from around 2013. A decade later, the web had moved on and I hadn’t. I spent a long time searching YouTube and forums, fighting with free themes, starting over. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt like mine.
Eventually I found WordPress with Bluehost — what everyone said was the right move — and a theme bundle called Creativo with Elementor built in. The site finally started to take shape. But I was still searching for everything: how pages should be laid out, what content made sense, what I even wanted to say.
Then I found ChatGPT. And things started moving.
Instead of digging through search results hoping to land on the right page, I could ask a direct question and get a direct answer. It also helped me find research on healthspan, lifespan, and intentional living that would have taken me hours to track down on my own.
More recently, Claude and Caspian came into the workflow. Content that used to take days now takes hours. I’m learning faster. Building faster. For the first time, the site and my social media feel like they’re actually going somewhere.
I’m still learning. Probably always will be. But I’m not doing it alone anymore — and that’s made all the difference.
If you’re in your 40s or 50s and rebuilding — after loss, a health scare, burnout, or just a hard season you didn’t see coming, I hope this site feels useful—and maybe a little less lonely.
There are a lot of people quietly going through this. I’m writing it down as I go. If it helps somebody else who’s rebuilding too, that’s a bonus.
Where to go next
New here? Start with Start Here
My heart story: My Unexpected Journey to Triple Bypass Surgery
My framework: A Level 10 Life: What It Is and How I Use It
My current plan: My 2026 Plan: Rebuilding
Recommended gear/resources: Recommended Gear
Disclosure: Some links are affiliate links. If you buy through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.
Follow Along
If you want to keep in touch, Instagram , Facebook, and Threads are the easiest places to follow along. I usually share the same updates across all three—small wins, hard days, and what I’m learning as I rebuild.
The blog is where I slow down and go deeper—more detail, more context, and what I’m trying next.
No perfection here — just progress.