From Traps to Tools
There are no prescriptions. But there are tools that will help.
Chapters in this Guide
The Traps Keeping You Stuck
The Tools
I often wonder how I would have handled Chloe’s death if Cindy hadn’t died first. Or how I would have reacted if I had been the man I was when Cindy died, instead of the man I was when I lost Chloe. I’ll never know for sure, but there’s a good chance it would have destroyed me.
But that’s not how it happened. Cindy’s death set my life on a path I couldn’t have predicted. It didn’t change me overnight. It took five years before I got unstuck and began to grow. And before any of that could happen, I had to quit drinking.
Six months into sobriety, I could see my life shifting—fast. At first, it was the simple things, like waking up without a crushing hangover. But it went deeper than that. My outlook on life was different. I was more optimistic and present. And for the first time in a long time, I realized people actually liked the sober me.
I was working as a senior leader in a manufacturing plant—about as blue-collar as it gets—and I loved it. But the place was struggling. We were losing money, and there was a deep us vs. them divide between frontline workers and management.
One day, out of the blue, I decided to share more of my story. When you’re in the thick of it, it’s easy to convince yourself you’re the only one struggling. I sure did. But with time and distance, it became obvious—so many others were in the same boat.
So, I cracked open my laptop and started typing. One simple page—straight to the point. I wrote about my drinking problem and how much better life had been since I got sober. I ended it with an open invite: if anyone wanted to talk, I was there. Then I printed a stack of copies and headed down to the shop floor. My plan was to post them on the bulletin boards around the plant.
As I got closer to the first board, a wave of nerves hit me. Was this a huge mistake? Were people going to think I was a complete loser? Would this wreck my credibility as a leader? Were they going to stand around and talk shit about me behind my back?
Something made me push through. So I swallowed the nerves and posted the damn thing anyway. I walked from board to board, thumbtacking my messy past for everyone to see. And you know what? The exact opposite of what I feared happened.
Within an hour, the first person came up to me and said, "Thank you." Then they opened up about their own struggle with booze—something I never would’ve guessed. This was a guy I passed every day, nothing more than a quick "Good morning." And now? We were standing there, talking, one human to another.
And damn, it felt incredible. Then it happened again. And again. And again.
Over the next few months, work started to feel different—better. I was having more real conversations, connecting with people in ways I never had before. We talked about things that actually mattered, not just the usual surface-level bullshit. Even work conversations got easier—less tense, more natural.
I remember thinking, "Why didn’t anyone ever tell me how powerful being myself could be?" Such a simple question, but I thought about it for months. And then it hit me—because most people don’t know it themselves. We’re all too busy wearing the mask we think the world expects us to wear.
So I wrote a book about vulnerability—not as some soft, feel-good idea, but as a tool for strength. I wanted other dads to see that opening up about their struggles doesn’t make them weak. It does the opposite. It makes them stronger, wiser, and more resilient.
Somewhere along the way, I met an amazingguy who was launching a coaching business for dads. He asked me to join him, and for the last nine years, we’ve been running groups for men. We help them become better husbands, fathers, and business owners. I still feel grateful every day I get to do this work.
In the process, I learned a hell of a lot about being a better man myself. And I’ve passed those lessons on to thousands of guys. I’ve taught them how to communicate what they’re going through without making the other person defensive. How to handle high-emotion situations without blowing them up. And how to focus on what’s in their control and let go of what isn’t. And plenty more.
Cindy’s suicide sent my life in a direction I never could have imagined. Her death was a tragedy, no question. But in its wake, I found gifts I never expected. Hard-earned lessons. A new way of seeing myself and the world. And, most importantly, the tools to keep moving forward.
And now, in some cruel twist of fate, I get to see firsthand the difference these tools and ideas make. Losing Chloe has given me an unwanted side-by-side comparison. Two versions of me, both facing two unimaginable losses.
The first time, I was stuck, plain and simple. I wasn’t fighting, I wasn’t moving. I was an animal caught in a trap, too exhausted to chew my leg off, too hopeless to even try. My way of dealing with it was pretending I wasn’t caught in the first place. But the thing about traps? Ignoring them doesn’t make them disappear. It would have been easier to fight my way free than to stay there suffering.
This time, the weight is even heavier. The pain is more intense. But I’m not trapped in it. I’m not shutting people out. I’m not self-destructing. I have tools now—ways to make sense of things, ways to make meaning, ways to keep moving forward.
But let’s be clear—tools don’t make the pain go away. They don’t erase the memories. They don’t bring Chloe back. What they do is give me a way to pry open the trap before it swallows me whole. They keep me from getting stuck all over again. They don’t make grief easy. They make it possible.
And don’t get me wrong—I still take a knee. There are days when the weight of it all floors me. I still catch myself slipping into old patterns, forgetting to use the very tools I know can help.
The difference now? I don’t stay there as long. The turnaround time is shorter. I don’t let the downward spiral take me out the way it used to. And every time I pull myself back, every time I reach for the tools instead of the traps, I get a little stronger.
What’s Coming Next: The Tools to Move Forward
You might be reading this and thinking, "That’s great for you dickhead, but my situation is different. None of this will work for me." I get it. I would’ve said the same thing when I was in the thick of it. And if I’d stayed in that mindset, I’d still be stuck—or worse.
I’m not going to tell you this will be easy. But I will tell you this—you have more strength than you think. You’re not meant to stay stuck. You have the ability to move forward, to find your footing, and to reclaim your life.
These tools won’t do the work for you. But when you’re ready to take that first step, they’ll be here to help you find the way. You don’t have to take every step, and you don’t have to do it all at once. But when you’re ready, you won’t be standing there empty-handed."
These aren’t step-by-step instructions. Grief is too personal for that. What worked for me won’t work the same way for you. But I’ve learned that having the right tools—even if you don’t use them all, even if you don’t use them perfectly—makes all the difference. Some of these will fit. Some won’t. The point isn’t to follow a blueprint. The point is to have options, so when you’re ready to move, you’re not sitting there stuck, with no idea where to start.
Here’s what’s coming next:
How to break out of survival mode so grief doesn’t control your life.
How to take back control by focusing on what you can change.
How to stop emotional spirals before they destroy your day
How to deal with grief in your body, not just your head.
How to handle hard emotions without letting them wreck you.
How to communicate what you’re going through in a way that actually helps.
How to lean on the right people instead of shutting down.
How to rebuild meaning and purpose when everything feels pointless.
Grief is going to be part of your life forever. But it doesn’t have to own you. The right tools can help you carry it in a way that doesn’t crush you.
The fight isn’t over. Let’s get to work.
YOUR NEXT STEPS: Learn The Most Important Relationship Skill You Were Never Taught
Ever been in a conversation where someone was grieving, upset, or overwhelmed—and you had no idea what to say?
Maybe you tried to cheer them up, offered advice they didn’t want, or just froze, unsure of how to help. And afterward, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you could’ve shown up better.
💡 You’re not alone. Most people struggle with this—not because they don’t care, but because no one ever taught them how.
That’s why I created The LEAD Model Training—so you can stop second-guessing yourself and start being the person people turn to in their hardest moments.
Here’s What You’ll Walk Away With:
✅ A simple, repeatable framework (Label, Explore, Acknowledge, Decide) that works in any emotional conversation.
✅ Confidence in what to say (and what NOT to say) so you never feel awkward or unsure again.
✅ Proven techniques that make people feel deeply heard—without forcing them to open up.
✅ Real-world role-play scenarios so you’re not just learning, you’re practicing.
Most people:
🚫 Jump to fixing before someone is ready.
🚫 Say things that make people shut down without realizing it.
🚫 Avoid tough conversations altogether out of fear of saying the wrong thing.
But the people who get this right? They build deeper relationships, gain unshakable trust, and become the person others turn to when it truly matters.
🔥 If you’re ready to stop feeling helpless in emotional conversations, join the LEAD Model Training today.
Real and raw, man. Keep writing, Jason!