PARTIAL TESTIMONY

If I had to or could do some things over again or if I had the opportunity, I would definitely get help. I guess I could blame it on my upbringing or genes. You see, I grew up, virtually with no father figure around, most of the time. I had my mom and two older sisters who basically raised me to the age of about 11. My mom worked two jobs to barely make ends meat, or meet the ends. And as I was growing up living in the country, up to the age 4 or 5, in an old beaten up house we called home with no running water and an out house. Rumor has it, because I was too young to remember, that my mom would have to walk a couple of miles to a friends house, 3 brothers, mean with great compassion, to get water in buckets, when the water in the water tower was out. And so to the times that I do remember, growing up in the South East of San Antonio. I do remember my mom still getting up early making breakfast, going to work and coming home to make dinner. My two older, one about 2 years older and the other about 11 years older than me. I do have an older brother, about 7 years older, but he lived with a guardian. And I also have a younger brother - 1 year, 7 months and 1 day younger. But for the most part, I do not recall my mom asking for help from anyone outside our immediate family. I do not know if it was her Hispanic pride or if she just wanted to show us that she could or that we could live and survive on our own. And so with this in mind, this is where  I got my sense of pride. That I do not or would need any one's help for anything. Growing up, up until the 9th grade, I was an A & B honor roll student. I used to say or think that I didn't need God or Jesus to help me. I would think, well, I AM the one doing this. I AM the one studying & getting the good grades. And my ambition & goal was to go to West Point Military Academy. My mom re-married when I was about 11. My step-dad was a retired Master Sergeant and Master Plumber from the Army. Very disciplined and expected us to be the same or do the same.

So I moved out in the summer after my 9th grade year, to live with my dad. A huge mistake. I ended up starting to smoke cigarettes and dropped out of 10th grade half way through the school year. Then I moved in with my uncle the following school year. I did finish that school year, but didn't go back to school after that. I ended up smoking weed and snorting coke. I moved a couple of times after that. I ended up living in an apartment with so-called friends. Smoking weed and crack, drinking heavier, and not eating right. I had a black-out one day. I do remember not being able to stand-up or walk. So I scooted myself across the pavement for about 5 or 6 blocks, if you can believe that. I got picked up by 3 police officers who took me to my grand-dad's house. I left there within minutes, because my step-grandmas called my mom. I walked a little ways, I stopped on a median, shooting the bird and yelling at passing cars, even at a cop. Then I passed out, falling into the street. I got picked up by a Christian woman and her son in a suburban. She said I almost got hit and run over. She took me back to the apartment.

Two days later, I was dry all day. Meaning, I had no cigarettes, no drugs, no booze, no food. I had not eaten for 4 days. So I was depressed. That night, I went and sat on the ledge of I-37 bridge on Goliad Ave. I was contemplating suicide. But I couldn't jump off, because all I saw was myself only being paralyzed and not dying.

I walked back to the apartment and a man named Tony was talking to my friend Eddie. Tony is a Christian. He lived in the same apartment complex as us, but on the other side. He would come talk to us about God and other things once in awhile. That night he asked me, "Are you ready to change," and I just started to cry. He took me to his apartment where his wife made me a sandwich. He then took me to a rehab place, where I was only planning on staying 3 days, keep this in mind. It is a Christian rehab place. And I  wasn't planning on serving God. I was delivered from those addictions that night. It has been almost 15 years since then. And I am still attending that place, Victory Outreach International in San Antonio.

TO BE CONTINUED

TESTIMONY: If I Had To Do It Over Again - I Would Get HELP