Part 1 of “Building From Broken: The Practical Guide to Rebuilding Your Life”
Why You Should Read My Story First
This isn’t a guide. Not yet.
This is the story that makes every guide I’ll ever write worth listening to.
Before I can teach you how to rebuild your life, you need to know why you should listen to me.
This isn’t about credentials or degrees. This is about scars. Survival. And the hard-won wisdom that only comes from building something beautiful from absolute wreckage.
I’m sharing my raw, unfiltered story because:
→ You need to know I’ve been where you are
→ You need to see that transformation is possible
→ You need to trust that I’m not selling theory, but lived truth
The guides come next. But every solution needs context.
This is mine.
Part 1: The First Memory Was a Feeling
My first memory is not a picture. It’s a feeling.
Terror.
Paralyzing fear.
I remember panic and urgency as my mother pulled on my arm, nearly dragging me as she ran outside screaming. My father, coming down from drugs, was in a rage, trying to kill us both. I remember hearing the loud cracks as I saw small holes form in the car door we ran toward. Bullets. A near miss of my mother and me.
I was four years old.
That was the foundation my life was built on: fear as the first feeling, violence as the first lesson.
The second memory? Taking a bath in the sink of a homeless shelter in downtown Seattle. My mother, 19 years old, lived in a perpetual state of fear, surrounded by danger. She desperately looked for waitressing jobs, the only experience she had. During the night, we slept in our car.
This was normal to me. I had nothing else to gauge reality against. I didn’t know life could be different.
Part 2: The Loneliness That Taught Me Everything
My mother worked two jobs. I was always in the care of strangers—friends of whatever short-term boyfriend she had. We moved every few weeks. I never received love from my mother. I remember wanting it, seeing other kids receive it, but I stayed quiet. I learned to take care of myself.
I switched schools every year. Making friends felt pointless—I’d just lose them. There were times I spent days alone. When sitters “cared” for me, I was just put in a playpen in a dark, cold basement, left with nothing but my imagination.
At age ten, I had a headache. I was given codeine and methadone. I knew no better. All during school, I suffered withdrawal. I learned how fun life was—or at least, how much life didn’t hurt—when I took the pain medicine.
That was the seed. The addiction that would cling to me for 35 years had been planted.
Part 3: The Streets Became My Home
I ran away at 14. Couch-hopped with any friend whose parents wouldn’t report me. Tried to go home once to get my things—the locks were already changed. No police report was ever filed. They just… let me go.
I lived on the streets until I was 17. My mother was moving to Tennessee and reluctantly let me come along. I quit high school—too far behind. Eventually, I came home to find all my belongings on the street by the trash.
My mom packed me a bag of groceries and kicked me out.
By then, I was a diagnosed self-harmer with several mental disorders, heavily addicted to hard drugs, with no access to medication. The anger was constant. It burned.
But that anger… I used it as a tool. It became my fuel.
Part 4: The Anger That Built a Career
I got my GED. Went to college. Graduated with a computer science degree while working full-time. My schedule: 6 AM to midnight, every day, for two years straight.
During breaks at work, I studied for certifications. When I got home, I spent an hour cleaning—I was the only one who kept house. The anger of people telling me I was no one, that I would never amount to anything, fueled me. I wore my past as a badge of honor: Look what I survived. Look how far I’ve come.
I started at Best Buy as a help desk technician. Never expected anyone to hand me anything. I knew a job wouldn’t land in my lap just because I had a degree. So I kept climbing: systems administration, network administration, security, Cisco, HP, larger companies, eventually the largest health insurance company in the US, Microsoft, Comcast.
I peaked as a network engineer. I had done the impossible. I proved everyone wrong.
But I was still fueled by anger. And I was still a highly functional drug addict.
Part 5: The Father I Became
When my daughter was born, something shifted.
Knowing what abuse felt like, I became mindful in every moment. I knew every action would shape her future. I set out to answer the nature vs. nurture question myself.
In spite of my past, in spite of the struggle, I became a phenomenal father. I raised an intelligent, career-minded child with no mental problems. I ended the cycle of violence because I was aware. I was taught how to be a good parent by having such horrible ones.
I had answered a question that I set out to discover on my own and, for me, nurture had won over nature. However proud, the addiction remained.
Part 6: The Fall
In a drug-induced stupor, I found out my wife had an affair.
I crumbled.
After a night I still can’t remember, I woke up in jail. Lost everything. Twenty-five years of my life and career—gone.
Homeless again. But this time, with a felony. A record that meant I couldn’t even deliver food, or find stable living. Couldn’t see my daughter for a year. Hope had been snuffed out.
Suicide was a real option. I made papers to ensure my last possessions would go to my daughter. I found peace. I planned to die.
Part 7: The Death That Was a Birth
Then, something happened I cannot explain to this day.
It was a rainy April. I was sitting in my car, screaming in agony. I wanted to die. I felt pain in my chest, felt my heart stop beating. I passed out.
The next morning, I awoke with a clarity I had never known.
A peace.
A gnosis of everything. Life made sense. Everything made sense. I had access to feelings I’d never felt before.
The anger was gone.
In its place: understanding.
Part 8: The Daily Practice of Peace
I discovered spirituality. Meditation. I started with affirmations every morning: You are beautiful. You are special. You are in control.
I consciously looked for possibilities, for ways around roadblocks. I realized: There is always a way. It just takes looking for it.
I got into an Oxford house. Started DoorDashing under a friend’s account to get by. I kept writing. When times became unbearable, I used what I now understood: loving myself could take me further than anger ever could.
Part 9: What Happiness Actually Is
I realized I had buried happiness beneath material possessions.
I drove a new Mercedes, had toys and all the things I wanted, at the time. Had an easy job making six figures. From the outside, my life looked great, but the more I had, the more I buried true happiness.
Material possessions are dopamine hits. You’re only happy the moment you get the item. That feeling doesn’t last.
Only when you remove yourself from that chase do you discover true happiness. True love for the world.
Part 10: My Life Now
Today, I wake up to a loving family. I do what I love.
Financially? I make enough each month to just cover the bills. By the numbers, I live in poverty.
But I have never been richer.
I wake up every day full of life, ready to conquer the day. My daughter knows where I came from—and that the past does not dictate your future. We make our own actions. Our own life.
My marriage? I’m married to my best friend. We are more in love now than when we first met.
I am a web developer, a writer, an autodidact in every sense. I make due to create with what is available to me now. I’ve built everything without help from anyone, taking bootstrapping to the next level. I live in a perpetual state of harmony and peace.
For the first time, I love myself. And I love my life.
It took losing everything to discover the purpose of it all.
Part 11: What I Learned That You Can Use
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Wear your past as a badge of honor, not a chain. Look back and feel proud of what you survived. Don’t let it become an excuse.
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Small actions add up to big results. Start with one thing. One affirmation. One step.
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Happiness isn’t something you find. It’s something you build. So stop looking for it, because it cannot be found, it can only be built. And you can build it with whatever broken pieces you have.
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The hardest moments often contain the seeds of change. My “death” in that car was the beginning of my real life.
Part 12: Your First Step
If this resonated with you—if you’ve ever felt broken, lost, or like you started with nothing—know this:
You are not your past.
You are not your mistakes.
You are not what happened to you.
You are the person who survived it. And that person is stronger than you know.
Start here, today:
- Say this out loud: “I am in control of my life.”
- Do one small thing to care for yourself today. Make your bed. Eat one good meal. Sit quietly for five minutes.
- Remember: You’re building a life. Not fixing a broken one. There’s a difference.
This is Just the Beginning
This is my story. It’s messy. It’s painful. It’s real.
This story is the foundation of everything I write. It’s why I know that no matter where you start, you can build something beautiful.
In the next part of “Building From Broken,” I’ll share stories which include the exact framework I used to on my journey on how to build a life from nothing—how I learned to love, when no one ever showed me how. It’s not philosophy, although I have written one, it’s a practical guideline that I used throughout my life in order to survive. Not all of what I say may resignate with you, for we all have different stories, so please, pick and choose the parts that apply to you and your life.
Share your story with me: Have you overcome something similar? What’s one small step you’re taking today? I read and respond to every email sent, and never, under any circumstance, will I post anything from you without your expressed concent, nor will I sell your email address. All applications I build are done so with privacy, which is of paramount importance, and one that I respect above all.
What Comes Next: Tools, and some stories on how I was able to utilize them in to not only change my life, but to save it. I will be focusing on this series, and while many articles are stories, I will also include guides I have created that can be followed to help aid you in your own personal journey.
Well, now you know my story it a nutshell. You know I’ve lived through:
- Childhood terror and homelessness
- 35 years of addiction
- Having to start over more than once
- Lost 25+ years of my life
- Rebuilding from absolute zero
- Finding peace where there was only pain
- Transforming hatred into harmony
But stories alone don’t change lives.
Action does.
That’s why this is only Part 1, or the first of many posts on the subject.
In Part 2, I will include stories about the tools I discovered and how I was able to utilize them to not only change my life, but to save it. Then, many posts will evolve from inspiration to instruction.
Later in the Series: Expect to see many posts on difficult to discuss topics, such as:
- The meditation method that replaced my drug addiction
- How to find happiness when you have no money
- Rebuilding trust in yourself after failure
- Creating safety when you’ve never felt safe
- The financial system for people starting from zero
Your Next Step (Right Now)
- Save this story - Bookmark it. Return to it when you doubt what’s possible.
- Take one thing - Just one insight from my story that resonated with you.
- Ask one question - What part of rebuilding feels most impossible to you right now?
A Final Word Before We Begin the Work
I used to think my past was a life sentence.
Now I know it was just the first chapter.
Your story isn’t over either.
The most beautiful parts might be waiting to be written.
Let’s write them together.
This is just the beginning.
Past ≠ Future
If this story helped you, please share it with one person who needs to hear it today.
Sometimes hope is all we have, and it can be contagious."
Continue reading Part 2 of “Building From Broken: The Practical Guide to Rebuilding Your Life”