I grew up in a turbulent home marked by my father’s alcoholism and constant conflict. My earliest memories are of my parents screaming at each other in the hallway while my brother, sister, and I sat on the couch in fear. I remember clinging to my sister, terrified and unsure of what was going to happen next. That sense of instability shaped much of my early life.
One of the most painful experiences of my childhood came when my father abruptly left my sister in Missouri with our grandfather. There was no warning—he simply showed up after a summer visit and told us she would be staying there while my brother and I went home with him. I remember sitting in the backseat, screaming and crying as we drove away, looking out the rear window and seeing my sister running after the car, falling to her knees. I begged my father to turn around, but instead, I was met with anger and punishment. In that moment, something began to shut down inside of me. I learned not to express my emotions, especially anger, because it only made things worse.
Throughout my childhood, I experienced frequent physical and verbal abuse. I was often told I was “no good” and “worth nothing,” and over time, those words became part of how I saw myself. At the same time, I was never allowed to process or express what I felt. That combination—deep emotional pain with no healthy outlet—followed me into later life in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time. Nights were especially difficult; I would lie in bed crying for my sister, feeling alone and helpless.
Our lives were unstable, moving back and forth between places like Chicago, Tennessee, Arkansas, and Missouri. Looking back, I believe my father was trying to reconnect with different parts of his past while also chasing steady work. He was a skilled machinist and could make good money in Chicago, but he seemed restless, always searching for something. Eventually, during my teenage years, we settled in Chicago under difficult circumstances after he became disabled from a back injury.
By that time, my life had begun to spiral. I got involved in drugs and alcohol at a young age, and by 17, I was living recklessly. That path nearly cost me my life when I was shot and seriously wounded. Even then, I didn’t fully grasp how broken I was internally or how much my past had shaped my choices.
In my early twenties, everything began to change. Through a series of miraculous encounters with Jesus Christ through the Holy Spirit—including powerful dreams and moments of deep conviction—I gave my life to Christ. One of those moments came through a vivid dream in which I stood before the Lord and was asked a simple but penetrating question: who do you love? I could not answer. That question stayed with me for days and deeply troubled me, forcing me to confront the condition of my heart.
Soon after, through the message of grace and the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit, I surrendered my life to Jesus Christ. It was a genuine and life-altering turning point. I came to know the reality of Jesus Christ, His presence, and the power of the Holy Spirit in my life. At the same time, I soon realized that while my spirit had changed, my emotional and psychological wounds were still very much there.
My first marriage suffered under the weight of that unresolved trauma. I brought anger, instability, and pain into the relationship, and although there were moments of genuine care and effort, the damage was too great. The marriage ended in divorce, and looking back, I can see that both of us were carrying deep wounds we didn’t yet understand.
About a year and a half after that season, during a time when I felt like a complete failure and was seriously considering returning to my old life, I experienced another defining moment. While at a church service, a pastor called me out and delivered a prophetic word directly to me. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, he spoke things about my life and calling that he could not have known. That moment stopped me in my tracks. It redirected my path and became a turning point that kept me from walking away. It marked the beginning of a deeper process of restoration and commitment to Jesus Christ.
Over time, I began a slow and often difficult journey of healing. Through counseling, faith, and reflection, I started to recognize the impact of my childhood—what I now understand as trauma—and how it had affected my identity, my relationships, and even my understanding of Jesus Christ. I also came to see how unresolved anger and a deeply rooted sense of worthlessness had influenced my behavior for years.
Later in life, my father and I were able to reconcile to some degree. He was never a man of many words, and we never developed a close relationship, but there was a moment when he openly admitted his failures and expressed remorse. It was the first time I had ever seen him cry. That moment didn’t erase the past, but it brought a measure of closure and allowed me to begin letting go of long-held resentment.
Because of everything I had experienced, I felt drawn to help others who were struggling in similar ways. I pursued a path in counseling and began working with individuals dealing with trauma, addiction, and spiritual wounds. Along the way, I faced my own challenges—setbacks in my career, difficult work environments, personal losses, and seasons of deep discouragement. There were times I felt like I had failed, both professionally and spiritually.
Yet through all of it, my understanding of faith began to change. It became less about outward performance and more about an internal relationship with Jesus Christ—learning to trust Him, rely on His presence, and depend on the power of the Holy Spirit to do the work in me that I could never do on my own. I began to see that healing and growth were processes, not instant transformations.
Today, I am still on that journey. I continue to grow, to heal, and to learn what it truly means to love Jesus Christ—not just through actions, but through trust, surrender, and dependence on His presence and the power of the Holy Spirit. I am working toward full licensure as a counselor and hope to build a practice that helps others, especially those who have experienced childhood trauma or spiritual abuse.
My story is still being written, but one thing I know for certain: even through pain, failure, and confusion, Jesus Christ has remained faithful. His presence has sustained me, and the power of the Holy Spirit continues to transform me. It is that faithfulness that gives me both purpose and hope as I continue forward.
Prayer for You:
Father bless your people with wisdom with patience fill them with your spirit Lord let your spirit so influence them that your son gets all the glory and all the praise and that they live a life of Peace in their heart and peace in their mind knowing that you are with them and that you abide in them and they abide in you. Amen
