Truth Be Known

Last week, I had the honor of presenting at Catersource, which is right in my hometown. Two of my buddies flew in to present as well, and every night, it was the same question:

“What do you want to do tomorrow?”

One night, it was “Let’s go on a boat!” That’s how I met Captain Mark—a helluva dude! For the first time, I saw my hometown through the eyes of a tourist. The streets, the stories, the places I’d passed by for years…they felt different.

Then, someone asked, “Hey, what’s going on with the YouTube channel?”

And just like that, it happened.

“What are we doing today?”

I paused. Then the words came out before I could think—“Want to see where my story almost ended?”

(Okay, let’s be honest—I cleaned that up. What I actually said was, “Want to see where I almost killed myself?”)

If this is your first time reading my blog, let me introduce myself.

I’m Jeffrey Schlissel. At 18 years old, I almost drove my car into the bay to drown myself.

I spent two years in therapy after that. But here’s the part I haven’t always discussed: I still thought about it for those two years. I wondered what cold steel would taste like.

Then, in 2018, Chef Anthony Bourdain ended his story.

And I saw too much of myself in him.

That moment lit a fire inside me. If I could tell my story and help just one person feel less alone, it would be worth it. So, I wrote my book: Craveable Obsessed: Journals of a Food Addicted Chef.

And last week, I found myself standing at the place where my story almost ended—36 years later.

There’s some irony in that number.

In Judaism, 18 represents life.

When I was 18, I wanted to end mine.

Now, 36 years later—double life—I stand here, still breathing.

I released a teaser about this moment on social media, and the response has been overwhelming. People reached out.People who had been there. People who needed to hear it.

Walking back to that spot after more than 20 years was surreal. Because I am not the same person who stood there 36 years ago. My abuser is gone—he ended his journey eight years ago. But the loop in my head? That tape that used to be his voice?

It’s not him anymore.

It’s me.

(Read that again.)

IT’S. ME.

Was I nervous filming there? No.
Was I afraid I’d lose my shit on camera? No.

What you see (or will see) is raw. Unfiltered. Just a guy who is trying to be the best version of himself.

I was telling someone about my memory of that night—the way I see it play out like a movie. I was back in that car, staring out at the water. I could smell the air from that night. I could feel it. And yeah, I started to tear up.

But you know what brought me back?

The people who were there. The people who hugged me when they saw it happening.

Talking about this now doesn’t hurt—not in the way you might think.

It doesn’t make me want to die.

It makes me want to live.

If I was given a second chance, I refuse to waste it. If I can help others, then #justonelife.