Most days, I don’t wake up feeling like a superhero. I wake up with sore feet, unpaid bills, and a head full of noise. I wake up human — flawed, tired, sometimes defeated before the day even starts.
But then something shifts.
It’s never a dramatic lightning bolt moment. No theme music. No cape flying in the wind. It’s quieter than that. It’s when I see my wife smile even though she’s just as tired as me. When my kid laughs like the world is still good. When my son calls me “Dad” and I know he’s counting on me.
That’s when it happens. That’s when I feel my back straighten, my chest expand.
I’ve been broke, betrayed, and pushed aside, but I’ve also been the guy who fixes the mess when no one else will. The one who keeps going when everyone else stops.
That’s my power. Not flying. Not super strength. I’m just showing up. Again. And again. And again.
People see the wins, but they don’t see the bruises. They don’t see the late nights, the rejections, and the plans that fall apart. They don’t see me questioning if I’ve got what it takes — and still doing it anyway.
When I feel like a superhero, it’s not because the world believes in me. It’s because I do.
This week has been hell. I’ve walked miles — literal miles — chasing opportunities, chasing stability, chasing a damn break that never seems to come. And what did I get for it? Rejection after rejection. Silence after silence.
I’m tired. My body’s tired. My mind’s tired. But here I am — still standing. Still climbing.
The Streets Don’t Lie
The streets have been my office this week. Concrete under my shoes, the sun beating down, and a thousand thoughts in my head about how badly I need something to finally click.
I went to apply at a temp agency, thinking, “Alright, this is one step closer.” But somehow, I walked right past the damn place. The address got mixed up, and by the time I figured it out, the window had closed.
Do you know what it feels like to be hustling that hard, only to miss the mark by a single step? It’s like the city itself is playing a joke on you — laughing while you’re out here giving everything you’ve got.
The 2 PM Letdown
Later, I had an interview scheduled with a property management company. I showed up prepared, ready to work, ready to prove myself. But guess what?
They needed someone with a car. Nobody said that upfront. And here I am, out here grinding, taking public transportation because I’m doing everything I can to save money and stretch every damn dollar.
So when they told me that, it wasn’t just a rejection. It was another reminder of how unforgiving this world is when you’re trying to climb without the tools everyone else has.
Another door slammed in my face.
The Call That’s… Something
Then, a call comes in from Memorial in Gardena. They offered me a per diem job, starting on the 6th.
On paper, that sounds like good news, right? But let me tell you something — when you’re out here clawing for stability, per diem doesn’t feel like a blessing. It feels like bare minimum survival. It’s a job that says, “We don’t need you full-time, but we’ll use you when it’s convenient.”
I’m contemplating taking it because right now, I don’t have much else. But deep down, it feels like settling when I know damn well I deserve more.
The Silence That Eats at Me
While all this is happening, I’m still waiting. Waiting for calls that never come. Waiting for directors and assistant directors to get back to me about positions that could actually change my life.
The waiting is worse than the walking. The waiting eats at you. It makes you question your worth. It makes you feel invisible.
Every day, I check my phone, and every day… nothing.
The Weight of It All
Walking miles isn’t just physical — it’s mental. With every step, you’re carrying disappointment, anger, and this relentless voice in your head saying, “Keep going. Don’t stop.”
And some days, you want to stop. Some days, you want to sit down in the middle of the damn street and scream, “What else do I have to do?!”
But you don’t. You keep walking. Because you know nobody’s coming to save you. You have to save yourself.
The Physical Today
Today, I’ve got a physical lined up. Another hoop to jump through. Another box to check. Another step forward — even if it feels like I’m walking in circles.
Why I’m Writing This
I’m not writing this for pity. I’m writing this because The Climb isn’t about filters or pretending everything’s fine. It’s about the real fight, the kind of grind most people don’t have the stomach to face.
This week was ugly. Frustrating. Raw.
But guess what? I’m still here. Still moving. Still climbing.
Because no matter how many times this world tries to break me, I refuse to stay down.
Final Words
If you’ve ever been out there walking, hustling, grinding, and feeling like you’re screaming into the void — this one’s for you. You’re not alone.
The mountain doesn’t care about my frustration. The city doesn’t care about my exhaustion. The world doesn’t care about my tears.
But I care. I care enough to keep going. And that’s why I’ll keep climbing — even when it hurts.
List three jobs you’d consider pursuing if money didn’t matter.
If money didn’t matter, I’d go all in on starting my own cleaning business, right here in Hollywood. No hesitation, no halfway steps—just me, my vision, and a relentless drive to make it real.
Hollywood has two sides. There’s the bright lights and red carpets, and then there’s the back rooms, the mom-and-pop shops, the barbershops and gyms trying to hold it together while the city keeps moving. That’s where I’d focus. I’d create a service that doesn’t just clean, but elevates—making those spaces shine in a way that matches the heart and hustle of the people who run them.
I’d build a team from scratch, bringing in people who’ve been overlooked, people who just need someone to believe in them. It wouldn’t be just about a paycheck. It’d be about building a crew with purpose, teaching them the value of excellence and pride in their craft.
I see this business becoming a trusted name, not because of flashy ads, but because of reputation. The kind of reputation that spreads when you do the job so well, people can’t help but talk.
If money wasn’t part of the equation, my energy would be the same—maybe even stronger. This wouldn’t just be a business. It would be my footprint on Hollywood, one spotless floor, one shining window, and one small business lifted up at a time.
I am already a natural climber — always moving, always fighting. But if there’s one thing I can do more of, it’s living in the moment with intention.
Sometimes I get so focused on the grind — job hunting, building The Climb, taking care of my family — that I forget to slow down and just be present.
I need to do more of:
Spending quiet moments in reflection and prayer.
Laughing with my family and sharing time without distractions.
Pausing to acknowledge my wins, even the small ones.
These moments may seem small, but they give me the strength to keep climbing. The climb isn’t only about the steps I take forward — it’s also about the breaths I take in between.
By doing more of this, I’ll be able to keep pushing forward while staying grounded, focused, and at peace.
This picture shows a quiet moment — me sitting at the table, laptop open, deep in thought.
What it doesn’t show is everything that’s happening behind the scenes: the emails, the applications, the planning, and the constant push to create new opportunities for myself and my family.
Every click, every message, every call is part of The Climb.
Building the Future
For the past seven years, I’ve been focused on building my life step by step. Some days, it’s filled with small victories. Other days, it feels like pushing uphill with no end in sight.
But no matter what, I keep showing up and doing the work. This journey isn’t just about finding a job — it’s about creating a life filled with purpose and stability.
Why I Share This
I want you to see that The Climb isn’t just the highlights or the wins. It’s also these quiet, behind-the-scenes moments — the planning, the decisions, and the faith that keeps me going even when things feel uncertain.
Because growth happens when nobody’s watching.
The Climb Continues
Each day, I remind myself:
“Progress isn’t always loud or visible. Sometimes, it’s simply not giving up.”
Yesterday was one of those days that tested me. It started with high hopes and a plan, but like life often does, things didn’t go as expected.
The Missed Opportunity
My morning began with the goal of applying at a temp agency. I was focused and ready — but somehow, I ended up walking right past the place. The address got mixed up, and by the time I realized it, the opportunity was gone.
It wasn’t about laziness or not wanting it. It was simply confusion and frustration. Sometimes, even when you’re doing everything right, life throws you a curveball.
The Interview at 2:00 PM
Later in the day, I had an interview at a property management company. I went in hopeful, ready to prove myself.
But here’s the thing — they needed someone with a car. I don’t have one because I rely on public transportation to save money and energy, especially right now when every dollar matters. That wasn’t clear to them going in, and it wasn’t clear to me that it would be a dealbreaker. So once again, another door closed.
A Call Back From Memorial in Gardena
In the middle of all this, my phone rang. It was Memorial in Gardena, offering me a per diem job starting on the 6th.
I’m contemplating taking it, even though it’s not exactly what I wanted, because right now, I don’t have anything else solid on the table. Sometimes you have to take what’s in front of you, even if it’s temporary, just to keep moving forward.
I still haven’t heard back from the director or assistant director about another position I’ve been hoping for, which leaves me stuck in limbo — waiting, praying, and trying to figure out the next right move.
-Today’s Physical
Today, I’m heading out to take my physical. It’s another step, another box checked off, and hopefully another door opening.
Every single day right now feels like a fight — a fight against uncertainty, against fear, and against the urge to give up. But this is why The Climb exists: to document every moment, even the ones that don’t look like victories.
Final Thoughts
Yesterday was messy. But messy doesn’t mean meaningless.
Each missed opportunity, each closed door, and each moment of doubt is still part of this journey. I believe these struggles are leading me somewhere greater — even if I can’t see it yet.
For now, I’ll keep taking steps forward, one at a time. Because no matter how many setbacks come my way, The Climb continues.
What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?
“Build your name before you build anything else.”
Build your name first — the rest will follow. A strong reputation outlasts any job, any title, and opens doors no one can close.
Jobs come and go. Bosses change. Opportunities rise and fall. But if people know you — your work ethic, your consistency, your word — then doors will keep opening. It’s not just about showing up to do a job; it’s about making yourself the type of person they remember and call back.
If you take heed of that, every move you make now becomes more than a paycheck. It becomes a step toward being untouchable in your field and your community. That kind of reputation feeds both your career and your business ventures.
There are some battles in life that you can fight, and there are others that leave you feeling completely powerless. Right now, I’m in the middle of one of the hardest battles of my life — not my own fight, but my mother’s.
A Woman I’ve Always Looked Up To
My mother has always been my rock, even when I was at my lowest. When I was serving 28 years, 4 months, and 21 days, she never gave up on me. Through prison walls, through silence and distance, her love was constant — even when I didn’t deserve it.
Now, as I’ve been free for almost seven years, building my life back brick by brick, I’m watching the strongest woman I know fade away right in front of me.
The Cruelty of Dementia
My mother has dementia, and it’s taken so much from her — piece by piece, memory by memory. Some days, she knows who I am. She’ll smile and say my name, and for a brief moment, it feels like I have my mother back.
Other days, she stares right through me like I’m a stranger. Those days hurt more than anything I’ve ever faced, even prison.
She’s lost so much weight, her body is frail, and there are times when she’s nearly comatose. The truth is, my siblings and I know what’s coming. We’re not just caring for her anymore — we’re waiting for the call that will change everything forever.
And that’s a pain I can’t put into words.
Why This Matters to The Climb
The Climb isn’t just about me finding success or rebuilding my career. It’s about fighting for mental strength when life tries to break you. It’s about holding on when everything feels like it’s falling apart.
My mother’s decline reminds me every day that time is precious, and that family is at the heart of this journey. Every post I write, every video I share, every step I take — it’s for her, for my wife, for my kids, and for the people who need to see that no matter how heavy the burden, you can keep climbing.
My Promise
I don’t know how many days my mother has left. But I do know this — I will keep showing up for her, just like she showed up for me during those decades when I was locked away.
This blog, this climb, is for her. It’s proof that even when you’re watching someone you love slip away, you can hold on to faith, to love, and to purpose.
Final Words
If you’re reading this and going through something similar, please know you’re not alone. The pain of watching a loved one fade is like no other. But together, we can share our stories, lift each other up, and keep climbing — one step at a time.
Hi, my name is Tommy Ramsey, but most people call me Mr. Ramsey. I’m a husband, a father, and a man on a mission to rebuild my life from the ground up.
For years, I worked in Environmental Services (EVS) at a hospital. I started at the very bottom — hauling trash, scrubbing floors, and taking on the hard jobs nobody saw but everybody relied on. Through determination and drive, I rose to management, leading teams and mentoring others to take pride in their work.
But on August 26, 2025, I made the toughest decision of my life: I walked away.
Why I Started This Blog
I didn’t leave because I quit — I left because I needed to survive.
New management, endless graveyard shifts, and overwhelming stress pushed me to a breaking point. At the same time, my family needed me more than ever — my wife, my children, my mother-in-law, and my fragile mother, whose health weighs heavy on my mind every single day.
This blog is where I share my journey of starting over, of climbing back one step at a time — financially, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.
What You’ll Find Here
Honest Stories: The real, unfiltered truth about what it’s like to walk away from stability and face uncertainty.
Life Lessons: What I’ve learned about resilience, leadership, and faith.
Updates on My Journey: From rebuilding my career to growing my family’s future, you’ll follow me every step of the way.
The Climb Community: A place where we lift each other up, no matter how far we’ve fallen.
The Climb Is More Than a Blog
This isn’t just a website — it’s a movement.
I also run a YouTube channel where I share my journey in video form, giving you a raw, behind-the-scenes look at what it really means to fight your way back.
I started The Climb to remind myself — and you — that no matter how far you fall, you can rise again. This is my story, but it’s also a space for anyone fighting to reclaim their life.
The Climb 