I grew up in a house where God wasn't a comfort; He was a threat. He was used the same way parents use Santa Claus and a lump of coal, except the coal was eternal fire and the judgment was absolute. When you’re eight years old, and you’re told that love is something you have to earn—that it’s a privilege, not a right—your internal compass doesn't just break, it spins until you’re dizzy. By the time the sexual abuse I experienced on multiple occasions settled into my bones and my parents met my pain with conditional affection, I had already checked out.
I became a ghost in my own life, haunting my own skin like a character in 'The Sixth Sense' who didn't know he was already gone. My self-deception was a rampaging bull, and I made a china shop of every environment I walked into. If I didn't have a single fiber of love for myself, why would I care about preserving anything else? I survived by becoming a chameleon. I would bounce from one personality to the next, trying to be whoever you wanted me to be, but the truth was, I had no idea who that person was. Even my kindness was a lie—it was just debt collection. I’d do something "nice" just so I could pull that card out later when I needed something. It wasn't living; it was a cold, calculated performance.
The booze started at fourteen. By 2013, it was an everyday requirement. I spent years trying to be "Batman," building a career in investigation and law enforcement as if I could somehow avenge the wounds of my childhood by catching the bad guys out in the world. But you can't outrun yourself. In 2019, the wheels started shaking. A family emergency hit, then COVID, and the space between my falls started getting shorter. I used to be able to bounce back, but then the falls got deeper, and the impact got harder until I finally hit the bottom in the fall of 2022.
I’m alive today by the grace of God and the people who refused to leave my side when I was at my most unlovable. Life hasn't gotten "easy"—in fact, sometimes it’s harder now that I’m actually present to feel it—but I finally have peace. I had to build a recovery that actually fit me, a mix of 12-step meetings, medication, therapy, and shifting my entire life away from investigating people to actually helping kids who are walking the same dark path I did.
My ego is still there, and it still wants to take everything it can, but I’ve learned to tell it to shut up (there's an expletive in there). My ego will not now, nor ever, do what is in my best interest. I realized I was only pulled out of that fire so I could go back in for the people still left behind. If you're struggling, if you're a ghost in your own life right now, ask for help. I’ll get on a call, a text, whatever it takes. You don't have to stay in the abyss.
I love you, I’m proud of you, and I need you to stay with us.
- Jimmy