About

 

Sometimes I don’t know how to start my own story, which I know all too well. Since I was raised in conditions that most people see as unimaginable, I thought it was normal.

My mom and dad were divorced by the time I turned 5 years old. I was introduced to many step-dads after that moment, I knew life wouldn’t be the same. I only vaguely remember my childhood, but one thing any child can remember is pain and hurt.
When I was about 6 years old my mom married a man named Gilbert. Gilbert had very strict punishments and was cruel. One of my punishments included kneeling on rice and facing the wall for an hour. If I turned around I got smacked or had to kneel longer. I remember one night I was playing with the gas stove. Gilbert came in like a man possessed and said,” You want to play with fire! You want to play with fire! You want to see what happens when you play with fire?” He grabbed my hand, put the gas flame on high, and forced my hand over it. I cried because it was painful. Later on in life my mom divorced Gilbert because he was addicted to crack-cocaine. We also found out that he had made my sister perform sexual acts for him when she was 9 years old.
I was tired of having a step dad, but my longing for a father in my life caused me to continue to accept them as dads. We had about three more step fathers after Gilbert, and I felt torn to pieces every time one of them came to give us “the talk”. “The talk” was when my step-dads would sit us children down and tell us they weren’t going to be dad anymore. I never had any idea when it was coming, and it ripped my heart out every time.
Growing up as a child my grandma would say,” Here comes trouble,” whenever I walked in the room. She said this statement until she had past away from colon cancer. That curse stuck with me and described exactly who I was from then on. I didn’t listen to anyone. When I did try to stay out of trouble, trouble would always find me. As a child growing up eighty percent of my life I was being punished, and that is no exaggeration. Even if I didn’t do anything, nobody believed me when I said, “No, it wasn’t me.” Since no one would believe me, I made a decision to no longer be blamed for things I didn’t do. If I was going to be blamed for things I didn’t do, then I was going to do them and reap the benefits of that wrong doing.
My mom was always a big marijuana smoker. I thought it was a good thing. I mean it must be okay if my mom does it. The opportunity arose when my friend’s 18 year old brother asked me if I wanted to smoke weed. At the age of eleven, I smoked marijuana for the first time in my life. After that I continued for almost 7 years. I started to sneak into my parent’s room and take their marijuana. I was always on punishment, so I spent most of my time alone. I was very introverted and insecure, but inside it was destroying me because naturally I was a big extravert. In this state of introversion, I couldn’t hold conversations and was always trying to please others for acceptance.
Things got worse for me. My family saw sex as a normal thing. At the age of 14, I lost my virginity and from then on was very sexually active. She was my first girlfriend and my sister’s friend. She was 17 years old. I remember my parents grounded me to the little square pantry. They made me sleep on the floor with my blankets in the pantry. I didn’t really blame them though. I was out of control and they were desperate. They didn’t know what to do with me. When I was sleeping in there one night, I snuck my girlfriend in with me, and we drank vodka together. I ended up breaking up with her because she was an alcoholic. I think she liked me because she saw me as a troublemaker and “the bad boy.”
I can remember a time when my brother, my sister, and I were lined up on the wall by my step-father Peter. He said he was going to whip all of us with the belt. He asked me first, “Where do you want to get hit?” Trying to be clever I responded, “My hands.” That was the best option I thought since he was using a belt. I could think of a lot worse places to get it. It barely hurt when he hit me, but I fake cried and ran to my room. My sister and brother got choked up by fear and didn’t know what to say. Impatient now, my stepfather grabbed my brother by the arm and lashed him in the back of his leg. He went to swing the belt at my sister, but the belt unfolded and swung out and hit her in the head. This was most of my child hood.
I started smoking cigarettes at fifteen. Peter, my step-father after Gilbert, left us after a while. Then my mom dated a guy named Hector, but that didn’t last at all. So the next guy my mom dated was Rob. They got married 07/07/07 and are still married today. Rob was different. He was not physically abusive, but he was very mentally abusive. I still was grounded all the time, and to be honest, I was worst. I was a pathological liar and a thief. I was always doing something wrong; at least it seemed that way.
My whole childhood I was called stupid, treated like the black sheep, and looked down on. I had gotten arrested for stealing a cop’s daughter’s bike. I also sold marijuana sometimes when I needed some money. The friends I grew up with were very “hood.” My two closest friends were Jerrell and Izzy. What I loved about Rell and Izz was that they had my back. If I was in a fight and they thought I was losing, they would jump in. They took me in like family and they accepted me. Their house was drug oriented so we saw a lot of drugs. Rell’s big brother sold crack cocaine.
My family was having a rough patch, so one of my step-father’s friends, Eric Reilly, allowed us to live in his house with him. Living in Eric’s home with my parents, I was in my room all the time. My grades in school were horrible. I never applied myself. At one point, I had gotten on punishment, so I lived for three months in the basement next to the washing machine and dryer. The basement was pretty much done with walls and stuff except this place where they put my bed. This was not my first three month punishment though, so I was accustomed to it. Sometimes I would sneak out in the middle of the night, have fun, and arrive early in the morning before anyone was awake. I was accustomed to being down in the basement, so I knew all the sounds of the house. For a rush, I would wait for my step-father to use the bathroom then run into his room and take his weed or cigarette butts. Afterwards I would dart back downstairs before he even knew I was there. I took pride in my sneakiness and always felt like a professional.
One time I was downstairs, and I could hear someone crying upstairs. I pressed my ear against the door and heard my mom say, “He twisted my arm until it almost snapped.” I knew my step-father had hurt her. I rushed through the door and asked her, “What happened? Why are you crying?” She said, “Oh, it’s nothing. “I said, “Do not lie to me. I heard you.” She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “We are leaving; we cannot stay here.” I was so happy because when my mom broke up with a guy I would get off punishment. I ran downstairs and began packing my stuff.
As I was packing, I heard someone walk in upstairs and heard two people begin to argue. I walked upstairs with my bag in my hand. When I opened the door, my mom had just went into her room on the right of the door I was opening. My step father stopped right in front of me and said, “Go downstairs” I took a deep breath with my frail skinny body and said, “I lost all respect for you when you touched my mother.” With an angry look in his eyes he said, “Go downstairs!” I said,” NO.” With a look of death in his eyes, he pushed me down the stairs and walked into my mom’s room. She asked, “What was that noise?” He said,” Oh, that’s just Joey playing on the stairs.” Now, I stayed upside-down at the bottom of the stairs because I was waiting on my mom to check on me. She never came. I came to a point where I felt more alone than ever. My whole family hated me and didn’t want to be around me. I felt so unloved. Therefore, I turned to revenge. I ran to a girl’s house that I had sexual relations with who lived behind our house..I called the cops to get my step-father arrested and went back over to our house when the cops arrived. When the cops starting questioning us I told them what happened. My mom stuck up for my step-father and did not believe me. She told them that I fell down the stairs. The cop looked at me and said that I did not have to stay if I did not feel safe. I was sixteen, and I did not need to be emancipated. So I went inside packed a bag and left. At sixteen years-old I left my parent’s house, and I was officially homeless with one bag of clothes.
As I walked away from my house I had a feeling of freedom. It was similar to the feeling I had when I got off punishment, but now it was permanent. I had the mentality that no matter what I couldn’t complain or be sad about my circumstances. Instead I had to keep moving. I believed that no matter what happened, if I kept moving, eventually things would get better.
The first place I stayed for a while was with my friend Rell that I had grown up with. They lived in poverty and weren’t very clean people. Nevertheless, they treated me like family. Their whole family lived together in one house – Rell’s brothers, cousins, and mom.
Rell was one of my closest friends growing up. His big brother was a big rap artist in Connecticut. We would all leave in a van, sell his CDs, and get paid a percentage of what we sold. After the summer ended and school started up, I was still selling CDs two weeks into the school year. I will never forget there was a guy that drove the promotion van and was with us every day. He busted out in front of all us and started getting on me about school. I tried to tell him to get off my back, but he continued to lecture me and get on my case. So I made him a deal – if he would drive me to school in the morning I would go. He agreed, and I went to school the next day. I got to the office, and I’m pretty sure I smelled because I hadn’t showered in days. I got there I talked to the principle Dr. Frank. Dr. Frank was really good to me. He believed in me and wanted to do all he could. So we started figuring stuff out, and he started trying to connect me with people who could help me.
In the office I saw a friend I barely knew. His name was Jose. I started talking to him told him what happened to me. Then he offered me a place to stay! So I went home with him that day, and he talked to his mom about me staying with them. I took a very long shower that night and slept well. Jose and I became like brothers. After awhile I grew on his mom and she became very fond of me
While I was living there, the DCF found me. The DCF is an organization that deals with foster systems and children-assistance in situations like mine. Jose’s mom tried to make the DCF let me stay with her permanently, but she had history with DCF so they wouldn’t let her. Since the DCF wouldn’t let me stay, I then had to talk to the DCF lady and see what my options were. She offered a foster care home in New haven, CT. It was called Forbes Foster Home. So I went there for a meeting and decided I would give the place a shot.
I went to school in New Haven High school. Even though we couldn’t do drugs there, I still smoked weed and spice. They could do random drug test, but I would just do it anyway. The workers there didn’t really care, and you could easily tell. They were just there for a paycheck. But the system was good. I was just too messed up and entitled to realize I didn’t have it so bad. The school I went to in Newhaven was drug infested. We had metal detectors at the entrances, and there was a fight every single day at lunch! The area I lived in was drenched in opposing gang members. Someone was shot every day. The way the curfew was set-up, it gave us enough time to catch the bus to go somewhere for thirty minutes, come back, and maybe be on time. But the bus schedules were never lined up, so pretty much it was pointless to go anywhere. If you were late they would claim you AWOL, and they would call the cops.
I knew a girl named Kimberly through a program I would go to after school. I had a crush on her, but she just saw me as a friend. We smoked a lot of weed together and through her I met JR. To this day I don’t know his full name, but little did I know JR would become my best friend. He was a stocky, Jamaican fellow with dreads. He and I became really close, so close in fact that I ended up leaving the program and living with him. We did a lot of drugs together, but JR was different. When I was in the program I remember that was the first time I had wrote a rap. When I lived with JR, he freestyled and was good at it. We sharpened each other and shared food. Even though JR’s dad was a crackhead, he treated me like a son and we all stuck together.
Since we lived on nothing, JR and I were always looking for way to get a little money to buy some weed. JR was in the Bounty Hunter Blood gang, and he was a high rank. He had done a lot in his past to earn his rank but was laying low at the time. Down the street there were a lot of Grapes. They and the Blood gang are rivals, but they respected JR and left him alone. He taught me all the knowledge he learned from the gang. He was from Newark, New Jersey, and that’s where he was pledged in. We were going to rob a couple stores but never went through with it. He asked me if I wanted to be in but I never went through with it. I just knew the gang life was not for me. JR still treated me the same and still he has my heart as my lifelong friend. He nicknamed me Elvis. I still cry when I think about him because I can’t contact him, and I don’t know if he is alive or in jail. My heart aches for God to bring us back together one day so I can share the truths of the gospel with him.
One night I went out from the house where JR was sleeping I walked downtown. I was hungry and in need of money. I would always ask for money on the streets. A car pulled up next to me rolled down the window. The driver asked me if I wanted to make some money. And I asked, “How?” He said, “Let me perform oral sex on you, and I will give you $20.” In my desperation to eat and buy drugs I allowed him to. During the act I closed my eyes and pretended it was a girl doing it. That happen two more times before I stopped and realized I am worth more than that.
After staying with JR the whole summer, school started back up again and I wanted to go back. So I took a bus all the way back to Waterbury where I grew up and began to find a place to stay. I came across my friend Thomas Arsenal. I actually knew him well when I lived with my parents because he was my brother’s friend. Thomas took me in and treated me like a brother. We played Call of Duty together and did everything together. We had a lot of parties and smoked a lot. I played so much beer pong with him it wasn’t funny anymore. His mom took me in as a son to help also, and she became my foster parent. The state paid her $700 a month to take care of me. I had a place to live and food to eat, but I became ungrateful and was upset that they split the $700 and didn’t give me anything. So I started to take money out of his mom’s room and would drink up her scotch.
While I was there I met a girl online. We became close and were dating but then out of nowhere she died from cancer. I was a wreck. I got drunk with some friends, went to the mall, and tried to steal something. I got caught and spent a couple hours in jail before Tom’s mom came and got me. I
It was the end of my junior year, and Tom’s family had enough of me. So I left when I left I knew the summer was over. I had to have a place to live where I would be able to go to school. After a summer of partying and hanging with friends, I went to my last option. I went back to Eric Reilly – the man that took my family in and the house where I had left my parents. At that time my parents were no longer living there, so I talked to Eric. He said he felt bad about how everything went down and wanted to help me.
Eric Reilly took me in for my last year of high school. Eric took care of all the bills while I pigged out at his house. I was dirty and didn’t clean up after myself, but Eric did not give up on me. He stood by me, and even when I annoyed him the most, he never gave up on me. I did my best at school. I knew this was my last shot and pushed myself all year. I started making more music. It wasn’t the best, but I made a song for a girl in my class whose mom died and I think it meant a lot to her. I ended up graduating that year. It was a profound moment in my life. I said to myself, “I accomplished something.” It was the first thing in my life I had done right! That was the beginning of the turn for my life.
A year after I graduated, I started going house to house again. I had a girlfriend. Her name was Jacqueline Morales, and she was the first girl I had strong feelings for.
I decided to go to this church one time just to check it out. It was an African American Episcopal church, and I loved it. That day when the tithe bucket came around I gave the only two dollars in my pocket. A month later I received a child support check, but my brother received $2000. For some reason, even though we were only a year a part, I received $5200. That was my first “Aha!” moment with God.
I spent all that money in a couple of months on unwise things. After the money was gone, I realized my life was going nowhere, so I decided to go and live with my dad in Florida to see if it would help. I didn’t want to leave my girlfriend but she told me to go; she genuinely wanted me to have a better life. So I left to go to my dad’s, but I still had a lot of bad behaviors that were now bad habits. I was a thief, a pathological liar, and a womanizer. My dad was on the phone with his brother Misael, and he was telling Misael he didn’t know what to do with me. I talked to Misael and he told me about a place called Hope City. Hope City is a place where that takes in kids like me between the ages of eighteen and twenty-six and helps them get on their feet. Misael connected me with Pastor Todd and basically gave me the opportunity to go live down there. My dad ended up sending me back. When I got home, I lived with my mom. She said I had a week to find somewhere else to stay, and I told her I want to go to Hope City in Marion, Indiana.
At Hope City, the people there and the church – Bethel Worship Center – loved on me. Even when I messed up they believed in me. I encountered God, and He set me free. I don’t do drugs anymore. I don’t drink anymore. I have been celibate for two-and-half years, and have a beautiful, godly girlfriend that is a virgin. I don’t smoke cigarettes anymore. I am set free from fear and have been filled with the love of God. I love people, and my heart burns for others. I have forgiven my dad for not being there. I have forgiven myself for what I have done. I am able to submit to the authority I have placed in my life. I am able to say “no” to myself. I am able to not care what others think about me and be a radical Christian out loud. I am a new creation all due to the Father’s love. He set me up to encounter Him, and I have fallen deeply in love with Him. Every three months, it is hard to remember the things I did in my past because people tell me things I have said or done and I can’t believe I would do or say such things. I have been transformed by the presence of the living God!