It’s Been a Minute

facethyfear
Oct 21
5 min read

It’s Been a Minute

By FTF Proof (Malcolm Pannell)

“Peace don’t come easy — but neither did I.”

It’s been a minute since I really sat down to write.

Not because I lost the words — I just needed time to live them, to love them, to see if they still fit the man I’m becoming.

Life’s been happening in real time. Work, love, recovery, peace — none of it waits for the perfect sentence. I’ve been in the middle of it all: working full time, nurturing my garden, preparing for marriage, and learning how to rest without guilt.

Sometimes silence isn’t distance — it’s growth. I used to think I had to be loud to prove I was still here. Now I know presence has its own voice.

Betting on Myself

Lately, I’ve been betting on myself — and it’s been paying off. I finally have a career that demands everything I worked so hard to earn: the certifications, the discipline, the focus. I just finished my first 90 days, and it feels like stepping into the version of me I used to only talk about.

I don’t measure my worth in paychecks anymore — I measure it in peace, patience, and how I move when nobody’s watching.

Recovery gave me that.

When I think back to my time in treatment, I remember the lessons from Mr. Eric — the ones that stuck long after the groups ended. He taught me about “cuffing season,” but not the way most people use it. He showed me not to lay up out of convenience, not to fill the void just because it’s empty. Those six months taught me who I was without the chaos, and who I could be when I stopped running.

Now, I’m living that version. I’m about to marry my fiancée Dahlia on November 7th, and we just renewed the lease on our home — solid ground, no more running.

Outside, my okra’s reaching for the sun, and my tomatoes, bell peppers, and cayenne are ripening day by day. Every harvest feels like a quiet “thank you” from God — proof that when you tend to what’s real, life starts to feed you back.

Peace in the Everyday

These days, I find peace in the small, steady things. I hang out at my local smoke shop where the staff knows my story. They know I’m in recovery and that I represent FTF everywhere I go. I talk about sobriety there — not to preach, but to remind people that peace and discipline can live in the same room.

I’ve learned what not to do — the small choices that can lead you back toward relapse. Instead, I’ve found safe, all-natural ways to relieve stress and stay balanced.

Music keeps me aligned. Cooking from the garden and playing with Mr. Meow Meow keeps me smiling when I don’t even realize I need it. I keep multiple Big Books around — one by the bed, one near the altar, one in the living room, and a couple in the car. They remind me where I came from.

I pray daily. I’ve learned to breathe before reacting and to be more compassionate — not just toward others, but toward myself. Recovery taught me that love isn’t weakness; it’s maintenance.

Around my neck, I wear my recovery drip — real silver, real meaning — my custom FTF pendant shining like a reminder that I survived. I love who I’m becoming: a man who shows up, who’s reliable, rational, and humble enough to admit when he’s wrong or needs help.

I’m learning that leadership doesn’t start on a stage — it starts at home. Every day I practice being a better man, preparing to be a husband, and nurturing my relationship with Dahlia the same way I tend to my garden: with patience, sunlight, and grace.

All these quiet routines — prayer, music, cooking, gratitude — they built me for moments I didn’t see coming.

Full Circle

A few days ago, I drove past the intake on 63rd — the same place where my recovery journey began. Something in me said turn around.

So I did.

I pulled in, this time in my work van — clean, focused, wearing the name badge I once prayed to earn. I walked inside and thanked the staff who helped me find my footing back in 2022. On my way out, I saw a few guys outside and shared a little of my story.

I told them I was once in that same spot on November 16, 2022, not knowing what was next, just desperate for a way out. Now I was standing there on the other side of it — alive, employed, and grounded in faith.

Back then, I checked in with fear. This time, I showed up with gratitude. Proof that healing is real.

Perspective and Gratitude

I still see people I went to treatment with — some doing well, others in and out of chains, some still fighting to stay clean. It reminds me how serious this life is and how quickly it can shift if you stop working on yourself.

That’s why I treasure the simple things: having my rights, driving through Savannah, music blasting through the islands as the sun starts to drop. That kind of freedom hits different when you know what it took to earn it.

And I’ve got people like Mr. 7, who’s about to hit his eighth year clean this November. Looks like I’ll have to find him a new nickname soon — and I’m looking forward to that. Seeing brothers like him stay steady keeps me steady too.

Loss and Reflection

Not long ago, I had to go back home to Atlanta after my grandmother passed. That trip opened up old wounds and memories I thought I’d buried. Walking those same streets again — the ones that raised me and almost broke me — reminded me how far I’ve come.

Grief reminded me that healing doesn’t make you untouchable — it just makes you stronger when life hits again.

My grandmother was part of the root system that raised me, and going back made me realize I’m still connected to that soil — just growing in a different direction now.

Standing there, I felt both the weight and the blessing of survival. I’m not who I was when I left. I’ve learned how to carry the past without living in it.

Three Years Free

On November 16, 2022, I checked into rehab — sick, tired, and ready to change. That was the day I stopped dying and started living.

This year marks three years sober from alcohol and 1,237 days clean from cocaine.

That’s 1,237 mornings I woke up and didn’t let my past win.

1,237 times I chose peace over pressure.

1,237 reminders that God wasn’t finished with me yet.

FTF was born from those early days — when my hands still shook and my faith was fragile. Every article, every song, every pendant came from that promise I made: to never run from myself again.

Now, I don’t celebrate the pain. I celebrate the peace that followed it.

I celebrate the silence that doesn’t hurt anymore.

I celebrate being able to look in the mirror and finally say, “I love who I see.”

So yeah — it’s been a minute.

But this is what the comeback looks like: quiet, focused, grateful, and free.

If you’re reading this, your minute can start today.

FaceThyFear — because peace is proof.

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FaceThyFear | FTF Proof | ZN.4 Forever

ftfnow.net

Names and works including FTF, FTF Proof, ZN.4, Liqesha, and Snowbella are intellectual property of Malcolm Pannell.

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