I wrote this when I walked away. Five years later, it saved my life.

Five years ago, I wrote a Facebook post that scared me more than any death threat I ever received.

I told the world I was done. Done talking about gun violence, done giving speeches, done using my mother’s suicide as fuel for a movement I’d poured eight years into. Not because the work didn’t matter. Because I had never actually dealt with any of it.

I hit publish on April 1, 2021. No joke.

I’m sharing it again now because I still get messages from people who are where I was. Running on fumes. Using their pain as fuel without ever processing it. Afraid that if they stop, they’ll disappear. I want them to see what the other side looks like.

Here’s the original post, unedited. Then I’ll tell you what I think about it now.

---

TL;DR: In 2021, I stepped away from eight years of gun violence prevention advocacy because I had never actually processed my mother’s suicide. Therapy changed everything, including how I show up in relationships. Five years later, I’m getting married, running four markets, and sharing the original post so others know what the other side looks like.

The original post, April 1, 2021

I figured I would take this moment to say that this will be the last public interview/comment I will provide regarding gun violence, GVP, mental health, suicides, and my story for the foreseeable future. I have done this heartbreaking work for the last 8 years of my life. I have risked my safety and life in an effort to make the world a better place and to try to help save lives. I took the pain of my own tragedy of my mom’s gun suicide and used it as fuel to do the things I felt were and are important. But, in doing so, I failed to take the time to actually deal with her suicide and its impact on me and my life. And that was an active choice I made. I felt that if I allowed the pain to go on unchecked that it would allow me to be more raw and authentic when I gave a speech or told my story. The problem is that I failed to account for the other side of that equation… how am I feeling when the speech is done? It never registered for me, well until recently.

So, I have taken a big step back away from the movement in order to work on these internal issues of mine. You won’t see me talking about it at all until I get to a point where I am ready to do so again and I have no idea what that will look like or when it will happen.

Thankfully Everytown for Gun Safety was able to help me get the help I needed as I go on this journey of finally facing tragedy’s demon. I am forever grateful that I’ve been able to find a therapist that I like and that has the kind of training that can actually help me.

Yes, I am scared… scared of a life without the spotlight. But, I think I’m growing less interested in the public spectacle than I am about living a life where I can focus on being the best version of Khary, the best partner, the best dad, the best person. I want THAT spotlight. I had been so addicted to the rush that being on stage gave me that I neglected what it meant just to live and enjoy the private side of life.

I had no fear of death or the violence I was threatened with, but I was always afraid of facing those inner demons. I was afraid that I’d find that fewer people will engage with me because I’m no longer of value to them. I never hid from their threats but I always tried to hide from myself.

I’ve given HUNDREDS of speeches in front of thousands of people. I’ve been extremely vulnerable in front of so many. I’ve shared the absolute worst parts of my life. Yet I build walls around myself so few, if anyone, can get to me. I can tell a crowd anything. But I can’t in my private life. And that has cost me dearly.

Lastly, I hope there are more of you who read this who are willing to get help if you need it. You’re not weak or less of a person for getting help. You’re no less of a man or woman. You’re no less tough. We have to tear down the stigma that clouds mental health so more people feel empowered to get help vs being afraid. We clearly need to make sure more people have access to it as well. Mental healthcare shouldn’t only be available for those that can afford it or who know the right people. And yes, it should absolutely be easier to get mental healthcare than it is to get a gun.

“Be nice to each other. It’s really all that matters.” — Dawn Hochsprung

---

What I see now

Reading that five years later is strange. I know the guy who wrote it, but I’m not him anymore.

That post is a snapshot of how low I had gotten, but also how clearly I could finally see myself. I had been running for years, turning my pain into speeches, turning my grief into a public performance, and calling it purpose. It was purpose. But it was also avoidance, and I knew it. Writing that post was me admitting out loud what I’d been whispering to myself for months. Thank God I listened.

Here’s what therapy actually did for me. It didn’t fix me overnight. It didn’t give me some big breakthrough moment where the clouds parted. It showed up as a person. When I found Anne, I realized I was showing up differently than I ever had in a relationship. I was present. I was listening. I wasn’t performing. Before therapy, I wouldn’t have been ready for her. I know that for a fact. The emotional work I did in that room is the reason I’m getting married this November. That’s not a metaphor. That’s just what happened.

The guy who wrote that 2021 post and the guy sitting here in 2026, they’re connected, but they’re not the same person. I still like the spotlight. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. But I don’t need it to feel something anymore. I don’t need a crowd’s reaction to know I’m alive. My mind is clearer. I’m not reckless with myself the way I used to be. The things I value now are the things that should have always mattered, my kids, my family, my health. I used to call myself fearless like it was a badge. It wasn’t. It was just me not caring enough about my own life.

If I could say one thing to the version of me who was scared of “a life without the spotlight,” it would be this: you can be the center of attention in your own home, in your own family, in your own life. You don’t need a stage for that.

If you’re where I was

I wrote that post in 2021 because I wanted people to know it’s OK to get help. I’m writing this update because I want people to know what happens when you actually do.

You don’t disappear. The people who matter don’t leave. And the version of you that’s been buried under all that pain, all that performing, all that running? Go find that person. They’ve been waiting.

If you or someone you know is struggling, reach out. The 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline is available 24/7, call or text 988. You can also text HOME to 741741 to reach the Crisis Text Line. Veterans can call 988 and press 1.

You’re not weak for getting help. I spent years thinking I was too tough for therapy. I was wrong about that, and I’m glad I was.