I’ve never been one to play the victim. I’ve had every reason to, every open door to do it—but it’s just not how I’m built.

My mother was a drug addict. My father burned through women like matches, lost himself in every single woman he touched, and eventually found his way to prison. By thirteen, I was living with my grandfather.

John Milligan was a real piece of work. A Gypsy Joker and small-time pimp, broken down by a semi-truck that clipped him off his FXR. Hustling, scheming, popping pills—that was his whole world. He taught me plenty: how to game the system, how to cook meth, how to step on coke, how to hide a rock in my cheek while talking to cops. Hell, he even tried to sell me once. But the best thing he ever taught me was what I never wanted to become.

When he wasn’t high, he’d shrug and say, “The men in our family are all cursed.” I believed him for a while. Figured I'd end up dead or locked up too. So I lived like it. Acted like a monster. But even at my worst, something inside me fought back. A voice that wasn’t mine, cutting through the noise.

I know now that was God.

And here’s the wild part—He didn’t just whisper and then give up. He chased me. While I was busy cursing Him, mocking His name, thinking Christians were soft, stupid sheep—He kept coming. I thought His people were weak, scared, and fake. I laughed at their faith while dragging myself deeper into the dirt.

And still, He blessed me.

He put people in my life who kept me from completely unraveling. Teachers. In-laws, Brothers in the military. Friends who talked me off the ledge when nobody else even noticed I was on it. He walked with me through war zones when I should’ve died more than once and protected me when I was too dumb or too proud to protect myself. And somehow, when the smoke finally cleared, He handed me the greatest blessings I’ll ever know: my daughters and a chance to build the kind of life I never thought I'd deserve.

He gave me the strength to be a good father—a better man than the ones who raised me. (My chosen father, Rod, excluded)

I don’t win every battle. I still sin. I still fuck up. Some days the old darkness grabs at my heels and I damn near let it drag me back under.
But He grounds me.
He reminds me who I am, truly.

I read scripture every day now. Not because it makes me good, but because it keeps me standing. I’m not who I was, and I’m not who I’m supposed to be yet. But I’m fighting like hell to be the man He created me to be.

And the truth is, I didn’t find God.
He found me.

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