Carlos Wallace is a bestselling author, motivational speaker, and filmmaker, as well as the CEO of Sol-Caritas. A U.S. Navy veteran, he empowers communities nationwide through entertainment, education, and advocacy.
There is no pain greater than losing a mother, at any age. I can personally attest to this. My mom died when I was 27 years old. Her death left a void nothing, or no one, can ever fill. Usually, only people who have experienced the loss of their mom can relate. I am sure my siblings feel the same way I do. We all loved our mother deeply and shared our own personal bonds with her. While the extent of her passing affected us all, I know my youngest brother was particularly impacted. He was only 19 and a college freshman at the time. Can you imagine? He had just embarked on a new, exciting period in his life, a time when he would surely need the support of his biggest cheerleader, only to find himself mourning her loss.
He struggled with her loss in ways we still talk about today.
For me, time has dulled the sharpest edges. However, the pain never goes away. The older I get, the more I accomplish, and all the ways I longed to make her proud become just another ache. She had a way of making even the simplest achievements seem larger than life. She bragged, she applauded, she beamed, and all of that made me try harder each time if it meant seeing that reaction.
The loss runs deep.
You take for granted what a mother’s love comes with. I often think about that “health call” (or at least that’s what I’ve dubbed it). The best way to describe it is that the first instinct you have when something doesn’t feel quite right is to call your mom and ask, “Mama, does this sound normal?” or “What did Grandma do when this happened?” Moms always have an answer, even if that answer is I don’t know, but I will be right there; we’ll figure it out.
On the days I don’t feel well, I’d give anything to place that “health call.” It hits home knowing she is no longer here to give me advice on how to treat an illness or even tell me to “calm down, it’s nothing.”
These days, as my body starts reminding me that I’m now north of 50, with things like hypertension and type 2 diabetes rearing their ugly heads, it becomes more and more obvious how much I miss (and need) those conversations.
Losing my mother awakened a deep awareness in me and a constant vigilance over my own health. I now carry both the blessing of good health and the sobering truth that one day, it may not hold. That duality keeps me grounded, grateful, and focused.
The truth is that a lot of us, especially black men, don’t have those conversations at all. We power through pain. We normalize fatigue. We ignore the signs. And too often, we wait until it’s too late.
According to the American Heart Association, many men avoid going to the doctor due to what they call "misguided masculinity," the belief that strength means silence, that asking for help is weakness. That article (worth the read: Misguided masculinity keeps many men from visiting the doctor) opened my eyes to how much that mindset costs us physically, emotionally, and generationally.
Thankfully, I’m not alone.
I have a devoted wife who does everything she can. She shows up for me every day, prepping meals, reading labels, doing research. She listens and understands, even when I repeat the same aches and pains. Now granted, she's not a doctor or a dietician. She's a journalist. Medicine is not her expertise, still, her care? Unparalleled.
I realize, however, that my loving journalist of a wife is just one route on my journey to good health. This reminds me of something else I’ve learned as I embark on the road to wellness: the importance of building a village that includes those closest to you and a trusted network of physicians.
Recently, I opened up to a close friend about my struggle to get my A1C back under 7, where it had stayed for the first 52 years of my life. That friend is LaSyndria Gnagbe, a fellow Church of God in Christ (or COGIC, as we lovingly call it) alumna, a gifted spoken word artist, and a skilled nurse. I’ve long admired her spirit, but lately, her presence in my life has become even more meaningful.
LaSyndria introduced me to the powerful benefits of juicing, a practice that helped transform her husband Koffi’s health. Koffi, who’s about 14 years younger than I am, had quietly faced some serious health challenges. I had no idea how bad things had gotten. But looking at him now? You’d never guess. He’s fit, full of energy, and most importantly, off all medications.
Seeing that transformation with my own eyes gave me something I hadn’t felt in a while when it came to my health: hope.
LaSyndria has always had a nurturing spirit and a natural instinct for wellness. One evening, as we were discussing the topic of health, she began detailing the benefits of a 7-day juicing plan that was tailored to help lower her husband’s A1C (along with treating other health issues). There were several different recipes included in the regimen, each thoughtfully crafted. The juices were nutrient-rich, naturally sweetened, and full of ingredients that support metabolic health. As someone who believes in the “why” as much as (if not more than the “what” and “how,”) I appreciated that each recipe broke down what all the ingredients were good for; some targeted liver function, while others were intended to support heart health and insulin levels. More importantly, I sensed the care that was infused in the conversation that broke down the actual plan. There was a sense of love and pure intention behind the way she explained how every blend would help. As a medical professional, she instilled a sense of urgency in the process that encouraged me to start the journey immediately and inspired me to stay the course, no matter what.
I’m not out here trying to become a superhero overnight. No cape, no gimmicks, just a man on a mission to live better, feel stronger, and stick around longer, not just for me, but for the people who love me.
That’s why I’m giving this juicing thing a real shot. Not a half-hearted sip, but a real commitment. I even went as far as ordering custom-labeled 16oz bottles because when I decide to do something, I bring my purpose, my passion, and yes, my brand, along for the ride.
This journey isn’t about a quick fix. It’s about choosing myself every single day. I’ll check back in about a month and share what I’ve learned because these transformations are meant to be shared. When we speak life into each other, we give ourselves a better shot at actually living.
Too many of us grew up thinking health conversations were private, even taboo. But here’s the truth: silence is costing us. We don’t talk about how we feel\ physically or mentally until it’s too late.
So, to my brothers: Let’s talk more. Let’s check in more. Let’s normalize taking care of ourselves. Let’s outlive the statistics that were never written with our survival in mind.
You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t even have to have a plan. You just have to start.
Let’s heal out loud. Let’s live on purpose. Let’s lead by example.
Read more from Carlos Wallace
Carlos Wallace, President & CEO | Author | Filmmaker | Motivational Speaker
Carlos Wallace is a bestselling author, motivational speaker, and filmmaker who transforms real-life experiences into powerful stories that inspire change. A U.S. Navy veteran and former union leader, he brings a unique perspective on perseverance, purpose, and leadership. As CEO of Sol-Caritas, he produces socially conscious entertainment that uplifts communities. Through his books, films, and nationwide speaking tours, Wallace challenges audiences to live with intention and impact. His work bridges the gap between motivation and action, helping others turn adversity into an advantage.
