My childhood was one full of pain, abuse and darkness…
Abandoned by my father at a young age and left with an abusive mother. All I had were my siblings Jimmy, Denise and Cindi.
As a young adult, I was always hustling, breaking the law and a real hard ass. I was cocky and with a chip on my shoulder a mile wide. I got in trouble, paid my dues.
Got myself straight – I took a chance and started a successful painting business from scratch, with no help from anyone and 100 dollars in my pocket. I got married, had kids of my own. I left my childhood and all the bad memories behind. I was good at leaving things behind, especially things that made me feel bad or reminded me of my childhood. My life was good. I made my life the way it was. The only faith I had was in me, there was no God. I was not a believer. Because how could God stand by and let what had happened to my siblings and I when we were kids happen? How?
Then one stormy July night – Pain, darkness, nothing, I died. Dead, my ticket was punched. For 57 minutes, I was clinically dead. It’s medically unheard of to come back after that long. I am a true fucking miracle in every sense. Everything I thought I knew or believed in was challenged and pushed beyond the limits of what I thought possible. My world completely shifted from what I knew, to what I could never have imagined. I was 48 years old, my life was over, or so it seemed because when I came back, I was literally reborn. Everything changed, my outlook, my faith, everything.
To fully understand what happened that night, you need to understand where I came from. What hell I survived.