When you lose everything, you have nothing left - to lose.

There are so many lessons I've learned in my long - or short - life, however you look at it.

I've learned how valuable time is: the most precious of commodities that, no matter how hard you try, you can't slow it down or stop it; it continues forward.?

I've learned to be grateful for the time I have here and for each person who crosses my path on this journey.

Like all of us, I've had my ups, and I've taken my share of lumps.

If someone had told me that I would live the majority of my life in, of all places, South Florida, I would have told them they were crazy. If someone had told me that I'd be a published author and an actor, I would never have believed them. If someone had told me that I would be raising two boys on my own as a single father - not a chance.

But, like all of us, there are certain parts of life that are completely unexpected.

Along the way, I have received a lot of advice. Some of it I took to heart, coming just when I needed it most. A lot of it, while well-intentioned, I took with a grain of salt.

From a professional perspective, many people told me that I should remove my acting career from my resume because it is not "professional" and may not be viewed favorably. The same advice applied to my being a writer.

As a parent, I received advice from almost everyone - especially because, as a male, it was, particularly then, not seen as natural for me to be the primary caregiver. I learned to have thick skin, which helped tremendously when I quite unexpectedly fell into acting.

There are two life skills that, more than any others, are transferable, whether in personal relationships or professional settings. Both being a single parent and acting taught me more than probably anything else in my life.

In acting, it's just you and the camera. You stare each other down, and the camera never lies. It takes willpower to stand in front of it and deliver your lines.

Being a single parent was not something I ever wanted, wished for, or thought I would find myself doing. The same with acting. But I made the best of both.

Another piece of advice I received was not to talk about certain things, especially in a professional setting; mental health was considered taboo.

Both of my kids had their fair share of struggles, and they taught me how courageous so many people are for all their challenges and the pain they suffer that no one ever sees. I talk openly about both my kids' lives and their deaths. It's not only important; it's my mission to speak about mental health, suicide, and overdose.

All of these topics are politicized, and many of us think we have answers, but none of us really has all the answers - or, better said, a solution.

What I haven't talked about with the same candor is my own mental health. But there's something I also learned as one of the hardest-hitting lessons anyone ever will: when you lose everything, you have nothing left - to lose.

There's almost a freedom in losing everything because no one - or nothing - has control over you anymore. What can anyone possibly do that would be worse than what I've already?been through???

When you've experienced the unthinkable, not only once but twice, there's no way it can't change you.

One reason I'm so good at my job is that I truly care about the physicians I partner with; I truly care about my colleagues and coworkers.

Right now, physicians are experiencing burnout at such an incredible rate. When a physician opens up to me and tells me their story, I want to not only hear them but feel it. I'm so invested in being a champion for physicians experiencing burnout because I've been there myself.

I ended up in the emergency room because of it. And over the last couple of years, after my kids' deaths, I've had episodes of panic attacks. It's important for me to share, fully, because I very much embody the Ted Lasso character.

I'm someone who's always smiling, positive, and leads with a sense of humor. There's such an intense episode of Ted Lasso where he experiences a panic attack, very reminiscent of ones I've had, and I'm so glad they had the courage to go there.

I'm someone no one would ever expect to struggle, but that's why it's vital for me to be open and share in as public a forum as possible. To be able to get up front and center of a crowd exposes my greatest vulnerabilities in hopes that it will support someone, somewhere.

I'm often asked, "How do you stay upright?" after losing both your children. The answer is much more complicated than anything I could ever convey in a single sentence. In fact, it would take a novel to truly delve into it.

What I can say is that, whether personally or professionally, I've always had an unshakable conviction - and that is to BELIEVE in myself.

I'm unapologetic about being a single father. The same goes for having the courage to take a complete detour from my professional career, going in a completely opposite direction, and not only dipping my toe into acting but being a working actor for three years.

We like to live in a world of simplicity, in an arithmetic formula of 1+1=2, but life is so much more algebra and calculus than it will ever be arithmetic - at least for some of us. I do bear the burden of not one but two negative outcomes regarding my adult children. But I will always say that they were two of the most brilliant and amazing people to ever grace this precious earth.

When I was first married, I had so much to lose - most notably, my pride. I'd never before been around anyone involved with drugs. When it turned out to be someone I lived with, I came from a very old-fashioned belief that you don't give up; you don't quit; and you don't get a divorce - no matter the circumstances.

I lived a very isolated existence, lost most of my friends, and really relied on myself (my sister, and music) to get me through. There is, though, someone who was my guardian angel. She is someone I will never forget, and today, I honor her as someone who made a huge impact on my life.

When I moved to Michigan, I knew no one. I was married; we were living with her best friend, and I really didn't talk to anyone. That was, except for Catherine, who became so much a part of my family that I came to call her "Aunt Catherine," even though she was one of my best friend's aunts, whom he introduced me to upon my arrival as a stranger in a strange land.

The boys and I met her one weekend afternoon. Ryan was still a baby, and for years later, Aunt Catherine would remind me that she didn't think I would survive that winter. It was a time when I'm not sure exactly how I survived. Considering the lack of sleep, that I wasn't eating, and feeling so embarrassed about even being in the situation that I didn't pick up the phone to call anyone outside my family other than Aunt Catherine.

When the boys and I left and made our way together on what was the next chapter of all our lives, I never forgot what Aunt Catherine meant to me. I called her religiously every week without fail from that point forward until she passed away several years ago.

Like Ted Lasso, I like to see the best in everyone. My former wife (I don't like to use the word "ex") she, like all of us, did the best she could.

At the end of the day, even if we lose everything, sometimes all we have is time. Time can either be our friend, or it can be the most cruel enemy of all.

I am grateful for my time - all the time I had with my children, with my past, and my time acting as well as every other career detour I have taken. And, in those times when it becomes overwhelming and I do experience a panic attack, something I keep repeating in my mind is that I'm grateful that it is happening to me - that it isn't anyone else, because I know it is merely my body's way of telling me it has had enough.

It is just a bit over the edge, and through it all, I visualize myself almost like a strengthening exercise, and that I'm getting stronger, not weaker.

Life may get the better of me, but every day -? in every way - I'm getting better and better.