I Didn’t Run. I Cast Into It (After The Cast)
- facethyfear
- Apr 14
- 3 min read
By Malcolm Pannell | FaceThyFear (FTF)
There’s a certain kind of silence that creeps in before the storm—the kind that makes you feel disconnected from your own heartbeat. That’s where I found myself last week.
It crept in quietly. I didn’t realize I was slipping into depression again. I was showing up, doing what needed to be done, but the weight was building. That invisible kind of heaviness doesn’t announce itself—it just settles. And in the past, I would’ve reached for something to numb it—alcohol, coke, distractions. But this time, I didn’t run from it.
This time, I picked up a fishing rod.
It was my first time fishing since getting sober, and deep down I knew—I needed this.
My pops flew in from New Jersey on Thursday—Philly to Savannah. That alone meant everything. He’s a steady presence, a living reminder of where I come from and how far I’ve grown. Me, him, and my queen hit the water the next morning with Bad Intentions Fishing Charters. The name used to fit me. But now? I move with purpose.
The Savannah air was cool, salt-heavy. The boat rocked gently beneath us like a heartbeat. For the first time in a long while, I felt grounded.
My queen reeled in a redfish like a pro—smiling like the ocean belonged to her. My pops pulled in a black drum and a couple sheepshead—calm and locked in like he never left the water. I caught three sheepshead myself. But none of it was about proving anything. It wasn’t about competition. It was about communion.
We were just… there. Together. Present. Sober. Free.
Saturday morning, we fried up the sheepshead and the black drum—scrambled eggs and toast on the side.
It wasn’t fancy, but it was sacred. That kind of meal tastes like family, like effort, like peace you earn.
Later that day, we lit up the grill. The charcoal flamed quick and hot, like it had something to prove. I hit some thick T-bones with my FTF Proof Rub—a bold, heavy blend I created myself. Shrimp hit the foil with garlic, butter, and red pepper flakes. My queen stood over the fire like a general, commanding the smoke with grace and power.
My pops and my girl had a few drinks throughout the weekend. I didn’t flinch.
I even bartended—something that was once both my profession and my addiction. Now, I pour from a place of peace. I stuck to my all-natural drinks, fully aware, fully present. No cravings. No urges. Just gratitude.
We didn’t just eat that night—we celebrated.
Not with noise or intoxication, but with presence. With food, laughter, fire, and quiet understanding.
And that’s when it hit me:
I used to think peace was for other people—people with less trauma, fewer demons, more chances. But out on that boat, over that grill, surrounded by love, I realized peace is earned. And I’m finally earning mine.
My pops flew back home this afternoon. But what he left behind still lingers.
Legacy. Presence. Calm.
We didn’t just fish—we reclaimed something.
Our rhythm. Our stillness. Our healing.
I didn’t numb the pain.
I didn’t ghost myself.
I didn’t run.
I cast into it.
And I made it home.
FaceThyFear.
Live raw. Love hard. Cook bold. Heal loud.
This is what freedom tastes like.
What This Weekend Taught Me:
You don’t need substances to feel alive—you need presence.
Family time is spiritual healing when it’s rooted in love.
Good food made with intention can break generational cycles.
Nature speaks, if you slow down enough to listen.
Peace isn’t passive—it’s pursued.
FaceThyFear isn’t just a name—it’s a movement.
Founded by Malcolm Pannell, FTF is a lifestyle rooted in raw truth, radical healing, and fearless creativity. From recovery to rhythm, grills to gardens, hooks to stories—this brand is built on what it means to show up, stay present, and face everything that once tried to break you.
Stay connected. Stay sharp. Stay grounded.
Website: FTFnow.net
Instagram: @FaceThyFear
Email: facethyfear@gmail.com
Music & Merch: FTF Proof | FTF Kitchen | FTF Jewelry | FTF Fishing Team
Live raw. Love hard. Cook bold. Heal loud. FaceThyFear.
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