Bill of Health — Issue No. 1

Reflections on fitness, mental health, and the communities that help us stay on track.

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Wicker Park, Chicago, 2025

I think everybody hits a point where something just feels off.

Your mind won't shut up at night. Same worries. Same loops. You tell yourself you'll deal with it tomorrow — and then tomorrow shows up and nothing really changes.

That's how it was for me.

Those thoughts of how can I fix everything in my life would often hit right before bed. At the time I was grinding to make it as a sports anchor — always working, always strategizing, always thinking about what I needed to do next to get ahead. There was no off switch. Relaxing felt like falling behind. Sleep was hard for a long time. Reflection didn't bring relaxation — it triggered me. I was moving from one thing to the next, doing what needed to get done, without stopping to ask how I was actually doing. Because I knew. I was sad. I was angry. And I wasn't ready to face it — stuck in the gap between the life I was living and the one I wanted.

2009. Davenport, Iowa.

I'm lying in bed. Unemployed. Overweight. No girlfriend. I had just been laid off as a news producer, and my dream of becoming an on-air sports anchor felt like it was slipping away. I wasn't ready to go home. I didn't want to fail. I didn't want to admit that the life I had worked so hard to build wasn't working.

But underneath all of that was something I couldn't outrun. Two years earlier, my dad had a heart attack on a gym track while walking with my mom. He was 57 years old. I was 22. And I had no idea how to accept that.

What I kept coming back to was simple and devastating: if I just had my dad, things would be different. He would know what to say. He would steady me. Instead I felt unlucky, angry, and convinced that life was just fundamentally unfair. The world had taken something from me that I couldn't get back, right when I needed it most.

Grief is brutal. It changes you whether you want it to or not. I stayed in denial and anger for close to ten years — replaying old storylines, staying stuck, using food and alcohol to subdue the pain. It took a long time to accept the loss, work through the depression, and rebuild a life I actually enjoy living.

For years, I couldn't even look at a family photo without getting triggered. I loved my family. But the idea of my family without my dad — I wasn't prepared for that.

That stretch of my life — that version of me lying in that Davenport bed — is where Bill of Health starts. HeadBrand Fitness exists because of it.

My hope is simple: that something I share here helps someone who's stuck in their own head, their own grief, their own story. Confidence is a wonderful thing. But it takes work to build, and practice to keep.

Why health starts with your head

Real health starts from the inside out.

Your mindset can make or break you. Self-awareness drives your mental health, and your mental health shapes how you prioritize everything else — how you eat, how you move, how you show up for the people around you. When you're struggling and stressed, people feel it. When you're thriving, they feel that too.

I didn't understand that at 23. I thought 30 minutes of cardio was enough. I was motivating myself through self-criticism and shame, and I had no idea how much damage that was doing. You can't build a better life when your mind is working against you all day.

That's why true health starts with what you put into your head and how you maintain what I call mental fitness.

6 things I'd tell 23-year-old Bill

If I could give my younger self anything, it'd be this advice to get a head start on growing mental fortitude and overall resilience. Here's what I'd tell him.

Tip 1

It will get better.

Be open to the possibility that something good can happen. When you're down, everything feels permanent. You start treating the darkness today like it'll never lift. A lot of what scared me most — the unknown, the uncertainty — either worked itself out, got easier with time, or led somewhere better than I expected. Leave the victim mindset. Stop scripting worst-case scenarios. Time is the ultimate healer.

Tip 2

Let it go.

Forgiveness, empathy, and acceptance are hard — but the sooner you get there, the lighter you'll feel. For years I held onto storylines I wanted to be true but had no real chance of happening. I replayed things. I took everything personally. I stayed angry. I stayed stuck. Giving yourself and other people some grace doesn't mean what happened is okay. It means you're not letting the past ruin your present.

Tip 3

Give your mind a rest.

For years I thought I could think my way out of every problem. Sometimes the best thing you can do is stop thinking about it entirely. If your mind is racing, stop. Do nothing for ten minutes. No phone, no TV, no scrolling. Just breathe. If it's too loud in there, use your senses — sit on a bench, notice the tree, the dog, the sound of the train, the smell of coffee. Feel your body sitting still. Your brain needs rest the same way your muscles do after a workout. Meditation changed my life — Headspace is where I'd start, and Peloton's meditation and their sounds will really give you a meditation buzz.

Tip 4

Practice gratitude, even when you don't feel like it.

A gratitude journal sounds cheesy. It isn't — it's life-changing. Write down five things you're grateful for every day. They don't have to be deep. On my worst days, my list looks like: morning shower. good night's sleep. morning coffee. The challenge is doing it on the bad days. Positivity isn't something you magically have. It's something you practice — especially when you least feel like it.

Tip 5

Don't eat or drink your emotions.

A lot of coping habits are just avoidance in an appealing package. For me it was the 2-for-$5 deal at Checkers or the large chocolate shake from Whitey's with Reese's peanut butter cups and Butterfinger. I called it the fast-food hangover — you feel good for eight minutes, then worse physically and full of shame right after. Then there were the real hangovers. I'd drink to escape, and the emotions I wasn't ready to have would come spilling out anyway. Drinking to get out of your life seems like the vacation it was made for. That's exactly the problem. Be aware of your emotions and overall substance abuse— avoid using booze to process emotions.

Tip 6

Have patience with therapy.

Therapy didn't click for me right away. I wasn't ready. But one idea changed everything: the hula hoop analogy. Picture yourself standing inside a hoop. Inside it is what belongs to you — your thoughts, your feelings, your actions. Outside it is everything else: other people's choices, outcomes you can't control, your past. I spent years trying to control things outside my hoop. I was living off assumptions — one thought would turn into a story, a story into a negative narrative, a narrative into irrational behavior. Once I started asking "Is this a fact or an assumption? Is this inside my hoop?" — I started to see things more clearly.

Why I'm writing this

Bill of Health exists for people who know something in their life is off, even if they can't fully explain it yet.

Your health is not just about your body. It's about your thoughts, your habits, your self-respect — and your ability to tell the truth about where you are and still believe you can get better.

For a long time I struggled to accept who I was and what I was doing with my life. I was lost. I carried anger about things I couldn't control, and that anger kept me stuck. This newsletter is part reflection, part accountability, part offering. A place to share what helped me rebuild, what helped me recover from depression.

If you're rebuilding, if you feel stuck, or if things are okay but you know they could be better — you're in the right place.

— Headband Bill

Coming up in Issue No. 2

Getting the mind and body right

Losing 50 pounds was the hardest things I've ever done. It helped me get to a point where I accepted myself and the path I was on. On the next Bill of Health, I will share tips to my 23-year-old self and you on how to get the weight off and keep it off.

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