Facing IT!

"The Current I Couldn't Control"

7/20/2026 @ 9:01 AM

There are moments in life when one mistake exposes something much deeper than the mistake itself.

Taking my sister Ellen to the airport should have been simple.

The night before, I promised her I'd be ready at 3:00 a.m. She asked me several times if I was sure. Each time I answered with confidence.

"Don't worry. I've got it."

I believed it.

For the past nine months, waking up around 2:00 a.m. had become routine. Most people would assume I wake up that early because my job requires it.

It doesn't.

My job requires something much different.

It requires that my plan works.

For more than twenty-five years, transportation has taught me to think several moves ahead. I don't simply dispatch trucks. I build plans that have to survive real life. One extra pallet can overload a trailer. One driver's delay can ripple through an entire day. Weather changes. Equipment fails. Customers add orders. Capacity disappears.

Every decision affects another decision.

My mind never really stops playing that game.

Long after I leave work, I'm still solving problems that haven't happened yet.

I thought that made me prepared.

That night proved otherwise.

I climbed into bed exhausted. My wife suggested I pack before going to sleep.

"I'll do it in the morning," I said.

I laid there for hours with my thoughts racing. Eight o'clock became ten. Ten became midnight. I couldn't seem to fall asleep.

The next thing I remember was someone pushing my shoulder.

It was 3:15 a.m.

It was Ellen.

I had slept through my alarm.

In an instant, I went from complete confidence to complete chaos.

I apologized over and over while trying to wake my body. I stumbled through the house, rushed through a shower, forgot my keys, woke my wife, and became furious with myself.

Then came the thought that hit me harder than anything else.

"You're so lazy."

I believed it.

At least for a few minutes.

Then I started replaying the previous evening in my mind.

The long workdays.

The constant planning.

The endless mental chess match.

The weeks...

The months...

The years of carrying responsibility home with me.

Suddenly, another thought replaced the first one.

"Maybe I'm not lazy."

Maybe...

I'm exhausted.

There is a difference.

That realization didn't excuse my mistake.

I still overslept.

I still wasn't prepared.

I still let people down.

But it changed the way I looked at myself.

For years, I had measured strength by how much I could carry.

If I was tired, I pushed harder.

If I made a mistake, I criticized myself before anyone else could.

If I felt overwhelmed, I convinced myself I simply needed to work more.

I never stopped to ask whether the load itself had become too heavy.

Later that morning, as I drove home alone, I thought about the tides along the South Carolina coast.

Fish don't fight every current.

When the tide comes in, they move with it.

When it goes out, they adjust again.

They don't waste energy trying to prove the water wrong.

Nature understands something I've spent much of my life forgetting.

Strength isn't fighting every current.

Strength is knowing which currents deserve your energy.

For years, I fought exhaustion as though it were an enemy.

Maybe it wasn't.

Maybe it was my body trying to tell me something my mind refused to hear.

Facing it wasn't admitting defeat.

Facing it was admitting I am human.

I can plan routes.

I can solve problems.

I can think several moves ahead.

But I cannot outrun exhaustion forever.

Sometimes the strongest thing we can do isn't push harder.

Sometimes the strongest thing we can do is finally face the truth we've been carrying all along.

I wasn't lazy.

I was exhausted.

There is a difference. ✌️ 

Facing IT! — Looking Past Our Differences

by Bert Russell

Date and Time: 7/6/2026 @ 7:54 AM

There are some questions that never seem to leave my mind.

The older I become, the less interested I am in proving that I am right and the more interested I become in understanding why we believe what we believe.

Our world is filled with different races, religions, languages, cultures, and traditions. Some people see those differences as barriers. I see them as opportunities to learn.

Growing up, I learned the story of Adam and Eve. Later, I learned about science, genetics, and the history of civilizations. Did I find all the answers?

No.

I found more questions.

And I'm okay with that.

One thing I have learned is that questions don't divide us. Pride does.

Whether you believe humanity began with Adam and Eve, evolved over countless generations, or hold another belief entirely, we all wake up each morning with many of the same needs.

We all want to be loved.

We all want to belong.

We all experience joy, loss, fear, hope, disappointment, and happiness.

We all leave footprints behind.

So why do we spend so much time focusing on the things that separate us?

Why is someone's race more important than their character?

Why is someone's religion more important than how they treat other people?

Why does a language, a nationality, or a family heritage become a reason to hate?

These are questions I cannot answer.

But I believe we have to be willing to face them.

Maybe the greatest challenge isn't changing the world.

Maybe it's changing ourselves.

Facing our own assumptions.

Facing our own fears.

Facing the moments when we judge before we understand.

Facing the temptation to place people into groups instead of seeing them as individuals.

Peace doesn't begin in a government building.

It doesn't begin on social media.

It doesn't begin by winning an argument.

It begins when one person decides to treat another human being with dignity and respect—even when they disagree.

That's not weakness.

That's courage.

The world may never agree on every belief, every religion, every culture, or every tradition.

And perhaps it never will.

But we can choose something greater.

We can choose kindness over contempt.

Understanding over assumption.

Conversation over conflict.

Respect over hatred.

Sometimes the hardest person to face...

is ourselves.

That's where peace begins. ✌ 

FACING IT! End of the Month of May

Review

 

Facing It! – End of the Month Summary

by Bert Russell

Date and Time:  5/31/2026 @ 8:01 AM

At the end of this month, I asked myself a simple question: Did I take a step forward, or did I take a step backward?

Looking back honestly, I took a step forward. Not because my problems disappeared, my anxiety vanished, or life suddenly became easier. I moved forward because I faced what was in front of me instead of turning away from it.

This month taught me that peace of mind, body, and soul is not achieved by eliminating uncertainty, frustration, or fear. It is developed by learning how to live with them without allowing them to control my direction. Through anxiety, difficult decisions, self-reflection, nature, and quiet moments of awareness, I began to understand that peace is not a destination waiting somewhere in the future. It is a choice I make each day.

The waves continued to roll. The breeze continued to blow. The birds searched, the ants adapted, the turtles floated, and the snake followed its path through the unknown. Nature never demanded certainty before moving forward, and neither should I.

The greatest lesson I learned this month is that growth does not always look like giant leaps. Sometimes growth is simply becoming more aware of my thoughts, my actions, my reactions, and the subtle signals life sends along the way.

I did not become perfect this month.

I became more present.

 

And that may be the most important step forward of all. ✌️

FRUSTRATION AND FIRE - 5/24/2026 @ 8:22 PM

The smoker erupted into flames again over Memorial weekend, even after Martha and I tore it apart cleaning grease, ash, smoke, and every hidden corner we could reach. She scrubbed the grilles while I scraped the smoke stack and drip tray clean, both of us thinking calmer water was finally ahead. But life has a strange way of sending another wave the second you think you’ve reached shore.

Facing It! means realizing some fires are not there to destroy you — they are there to test whether you’ll abandon the boat or grab the wheel tighter. So while the smoke rolled through the backyard and frustration burned hotter than the coals, we stood there together like two surfers caught in rough water… knowing the next wave was still coming, but paddling back out anyway. 

 

Failure only wins when the ocean convinces you to stop swimming. ✌️

 

New Entry 5-14-2026 (6:14 AM)

FACING IT! — “Lines Under Tension”

 

There’s a certain silence that hits different

when your bank account is low,

the bills are due,

and your paycheck already has destinations

before it even touches your hands.

 

You start stretching dollars

like old fishing line that’s been frayed too many seasons —

pulling it tighter…

and tighter…

hoping it doesn’t snap in the middle of the fight.

 

One bill gets paid.

Two more surface like shadows beneath dark water.

 

So you cut corners.

Skip meals.

Delay repairs.

Convince yourself the strange engine noise

“can wait another month.”

 

You start fishing with whatever life leaves in the bucket —

half-torn worms, rusted hooks, bargain-bin tackle,

dreams patched together with duct tape and stubbornness.

 

And still…

you cast.

 

Because quitting doesn’t feed anybody.

Quitting doesn’t stop the current.

Quitting doesn’t silence the pressure squeezing your chest

at 2:13 in the morning while the ceiling fan spins like a helicopter above a battlefield.

 

Then one day, it happens.

 

The line jerks hard.

 

Not a nibble.

Not false hope.

Something massive.

 

Life digs deep into the water

and grabs hold with everything it has.

 

The rod bends so hard

you swear it’s going to break in half.

 

That’s the moment most people panic.

 

But peace…

real peace…

isn’t calm water.

 

Peace is learning how to breathe

while the boat rocks violently beneath your feet.

 

It’s understanding that fear pulls harder

when you fight against every wave emotionally.

 

So instead of yanking the rod in desperation,

you steady yourself.

 

You loosen your grip.

Adjust the drag.

Trust your balance.

 

And suddenly the fight changes.

 

Not because life got easier —

but because you stopped letting desperation steer the boat.

 

The bills are still there.

The opportunities still feel small.

The current still pulls hard enough to drown weak minds.

 

But somewhere between the exhaustion and the sunrise,

you realize something powerful:

 

The fish was never trying to destroy you.

 

The fight was teaching you

how strong your hands really are.

 

And peace?

 

Peace was never sitting safely on the shoreline.

 

Peace was finding calmness

with the line still under tension. ✌️ 

 

Why don’t fish ever pay bills?

Because they already live below net income. ✌️

Looking for more - Head to "Written Waves" at www.lakelife4u.com 

5-13-2026 - Entry - (4:13 am)

Facing IT! — Peace becomes a trouble factor when life keeps cutting across your path like a boat throwing hard wakes into calm water. Bills crash from one side, mortgages from the other, and every wave seems designed to pull you under before you ever find your balance. Degrees that once promised smooth water now feel like old ski ropes frayed by time, while salaries drift farther away from the weight people carry. Skill and performance no longer guarantee a steady pull from the boat; too often politics decides who stays upright and who sinks beneath the surface.

Water skiing teaches a brutal truth about crossing wakes with limited speed. If the boat slows down too much, the skier loses lift and the skis begin to sink. Fear creeps in when the wake rises ahead like a wall of water, and instinct tells you to lean back, stiffen up, or let go of the rope entirely. But crossing wakes requires controlled balance, bent knees, and trust in forward motion even when the water is fighting against you. Panic creates instability. Tension digs the ski edge too deep into the wake and throws the skier sideways.

Life works the same way. Peace is not the absence of waves — it is learning how to absorb the impact without surrendering your direction. A person with limited means often feels like they are skiing with barely enough pull to stay above water, constantly crossing the wakes created by inflation, debt, expectations, and disappointment. Yet survival comes from learning how to angle through the turbulence instead of trying to outrun it. The wake may slam against you, spray may blind you for a moment, but the shoreline is still ahead.

Facing IT! means understanding that rough water does not always mean failure. Sometimes the hardest wakes are proof you are still moving forward. ✌ 

5-3-2026 - Entry - (1:27 am)

Facing It! (start — direct, confrontational)

The water hasn’t even moved yet—and you’re already thinking about letting go.

That’s the temptation no one talks about.

Not the fall.
Not the crash.

But the quiet decision to quit before anything even begins.

You feel it in your grip on the rope.
Too tight. Too unsure.
Your legs aren’t failing—you just don’t trust them yet.

So you lean wrong on purpose.
You let your balance slip.
You tell yourself, “See? I knew I couldn’t do it.”

But the truth is harder than that.

You didn’t fall.

You let go.

The current doesn’t wait. Neither should you.

→ But understanding that doesn’t calm the water inside you…

→ Continue in Written Waves

 

4-27-2026 - Final Weekend Entry (6:20 am)

Forgiving yourself - The Hardest part - Facing the Truth!

Message:

FACING IT!!!

FACING IT!!!

Wakeboarding doesn’t lie.

The boat pulls at a constant speed.
The rope stays tight.
The water reacts the same way—every time.

If you’re off balance, you feel it immediately.
If you pull too hard, you get dragged.
If you lean back too far, the board slips.

The facts don’t change.

Only you do.

 

---

 

I’ve hit a wall again.

But this time… it’s different.

This isn’t failure.

This is the moment right before you get up.

 

---

 

For 31.4 years, I’ve been running.

Holding on the wrong way.
Fighting the pull instead of working with it.
Thinking effort alone would get me there.

And just like wakeboarding—

That’s not how it works.

 

---

 

You don’t get up by pulling harder.

You get up by setting your feet,
bending your knees,
keeping your arms steady,
and letting the boat lift you.

You stay centered.

You stay grounded.

You let the system work.

 

---

 

That’s what I’ve been missing.

Not strength.

Alignment.

 

---

 

So now I’m facing it.

Not running.

Not avoiding.

Not overthinking the next move.

 

---

 

Do you know what I’m facing?

Maybe not.

Do you know who I am?

Maybe not yet.

But you will.

 

---

 

Because this time, I’m not letting go.

This time, I’m learning how to stand.

 

---

 

July 1, 2026.

That’s the line.

That’s the shoreline.

That’s where this ride leads.

 

---

 

This isn’t the end of something.

This is the first time I’ve actually done it right. not perfect, but actually making a full effort without stopping... Giving it my all...

CHECK - OUT

The Sneak peek PREVIEW

of

"THE LAST DISPATCH"

 

---

 

And when it clicks—

You don’t question it.

You ride it.

If you enjoy my Philosophies catch me on/at? www.lakelife4u.com or www.H2Olifestyles4u.com

Coming Soon! the Shoreline - The Last Dispatch!

Peace of MIND, BODY, and SOUL. ✌ 

4-27-2026 - Triumph and Failure

Message: 

FACING IT!!!

I used to chase waves the hard way.

Head down. Arms burning. Freestyle.
Fighting the ocean like it owed me something.

Every time I got close—
my left pinky toe would cramp.
My rhythm would break.
And the wave would pass.

Same ending. Different day.

I thought the problem was effort.

So I pushed harder.

For two years.

Harder didn’t fix it.
It just repeated it.

 

---

 

Then I went back.

Not to the ocean—
to the beginning.

To being a kid with my father,
learning to body surf on small waves.

No fight.
No force.
Just timing.

Feel the pull.
Let the wave lift you.
Move with it.

 

---

 

So I changed.

Lifted my head. Slowed down.
Switched to a stroke that felt natural again.

Breaststroke.

Not weaker—
truer.

 

---

 

The wave didn’t change.

I did.

 

---

 

And that’s when I felt it.

Not the ride.

The alignment.

 

---

 

Facing it isn’t about fighting harder.

It’s about seeing what’s not working,
letting go of the wrong way,
and returning to what’s real.

Again and again.

Until it clicks.

 

---

 

Because the wave isn’t the lesson.

The way you meet it is.

 

---

 

And when you finally stop fighting it—

You don’t just catch it.

You understand it.  

Want more catch me at www.lakelife4u.com or www.h2olifestyles.com

Peace of mind, body, and soul. ✌ 

4-22-2026 - ANXIETY

FACING IT!

You’re in the water again.
But this time—it’s louder inside your head than outside.

Board drifting. Rope in your hands.
And already—you’ve seen it.

The fall.

Not real… but vivid.
Your mind runs it like a highlight reel:
The handle rips from your grip.
Your body snaps forward.
Cold water slams your face.
Silence. Failure. Reset.

It hasn’t happened—
but it feels like it already did.

Your chest tightens.
Your tongue tastes like metal.
Your fingers twitch around the handle.

The boat revs.

And right there—right before the pull—
you’re split in two:

One voice says:
“Don’t go. You already know how this ends.”

The other is quieter…
but sharper:

“Do it anyway.”

---

The rope snaps tight.

You get yanked forward—hard.
Water explodes around you.
Your arms scream to clamp down, to control it, to survive it.

And that mental image?
It comes rushing back mid-pull—

You see yourself eating it.
Feel it before it happens.

That’s when most people lose it.

They fight.
They panic.
They confirm the fall before it even arrives.

---

But not this time.

Something in you snaps back.

Not fear—
determination.

A raw, stubborn refusal to let the imagined fall become real.

You don’t overpower it.
You don’t win clean.

You just… decide.

And that changes everything.

---

Your grip loosens—just enough.
Your breath punches back into your lungs.
Messy. Uneven. But it’s there.

You stop trying to control every inch of the pull.
You stop arguing with the moment.

You let the rope be strong.
You let your body adjust.

The board chatters… then steadies.
Your legs stop shaking—just a little.

And that mental image?

It fades.

Not because you erased it—
but because you outlived it.

---

You’re up.

Heart still pounding.
Arms still burning.
But you’re riding.

And now you know something deeper than confidence:

The fall in your mind isn’t the truth.
It’s just noise under pressure.

Message To self:

You imagine the worst

---

You don’t beat anxiety by eliminating fear.

You beat it by proving—again and again—
that even when your mind shows you the fall…

You can still rise.

---

Next time that image hits—don’t push it away. Push through it!

---

 

And hey… worst case? You fall, get soaked, and look like a legend doing it 😏✌️

Beyond on the Ordinary

4-21-2026

Written Waves: Surfing the Impossible

Some waves are never meant to be ridden—at least that’s what they tell you from the safety of the shore. Too high. Too wild. Too dangerous. Impossible. But I have learned that the word impossible often comes from people who have never paddled into deep water.

I could smell the salt in the wind before I ever saw the swell rising. The sky darkened like a warning, and the horizon stood up taller than fear itself. My hands gripped the board, wax rough beneath my fingertips, while the cold water bit at my skin. In that moment, I could taste adrenaline sharper than the ocean on my lips.

The wave coming for me looked bigger than anything I had faced—failure, doubt, loss, judgment, pain—all of it rising at once. Every instinct said turn back. Every voice from the beach said I would wipe out.

But impossible has a strange weakness: it only lives until someone drops in.

So I paddled forward.

And what happened next became the story the shore never saw.

 

Message to Self:

Never let the comfort of the shore define the limits of your ocean. Those who call it impossible often speak from dry sand, not deep water. Trust the sting of the salt, the shake in your hands, and the fear in your chest—they are signs you are alive and paddling toward something greater.

The wave was never sent to destroy you. It came to show you that courage is born the moment you move forward when every voice says retreat.

Keep paddling. The shore does not get to tell your story.

FACING IT!

4-18-2026

Facing the Different Road

I spent years wondering why my road looked harder than everyone else’s. Why simple things took more effort, why learning came differently, and why progress sometimes felt slower than it should. Dyslexia gave me challenges I never asked for—but it also gave me strengths I never expected.

It taught me patience when others rushed. It taught me problem-solving when others followed instructions. It taught me grit when quitting would have been easier. While others traveled smooth pavement, I learned how to walk rough ground.

For a long time, I saw the different road as punishment. Now I see it as preparation. Every obstacle trained me. Every frustration sharpened me. Every detour built endurance.

I no longer ask why my road was different. I ask what it was trying to teach me.

Because the truth is, the harder road did not break me—it built me. And once I faced the different road, I realized it had been leading me exactly where I needed to go all along.

 

Message to self: 

What once felt like struggle may have been guiding me toward wholeness. Peace often arrives not when life becomes perfect, but when I became aligned with who I am.

 

True peace comes when I stop resisting my journey and I start flowing with it.
Instead of fighting every hardship, detour, or difference, I have learned to accept my path and grow through it. ✌