I began my journey of wanting to help people by writing a book. I never expected to become a bestselling author, or even a moderately successful one. My hope was that one person in the world might stumble upon my book, pick it up, read it, and find some solace or inspiration in the words I wrote. I shared my life story, the struggles I endured, the traumas I faced, my battles with addiction, and toxic relationships. I also wrote about how I overcame those challenges.
There are people whose trauma consumes them, leaving their lives as mere shadows of what they could be. I wrote my book for them. When I was young, a man helped me immensely, and I never had the chance to thank him. I wanted to be that kind of help to someone else, with no thanks needed.
During a particularly rough time in my teenage years, I was using drugs with my mother and distrusted all authority figures. I ended up pregnant. An anonymous member of my school board noticed that I was struggling and arranged for me to see an outside counselor, someone who came to the school to help the most troubled children. At first, I didn’t trust him. I even asked him for money to buy a soda the first time we met, just to see what I could get out of him. He obliged.
Our sessions gradually went from silent and boring to me opening up bit by bit. I couldn’t tell him my biggest secrets—no one could know those. I was smoking crack with my mother at 14, and I became pregnant while hooked on drugs. I intended to take those secrets to the grave. But there was something about this man; his genuine desire to help gave me peace. I eventually told him my secret. He sat quietly for some time, taking it all in. Then he got out of his chair, knelt beside me, looked me straight in the eyes, and placed his hand on my shoulder. He said, "I am going to tell you something. Something you may not understand right away, but something you need to hear. I forgive you. I forgive you for doing drugs with your mother, for getting pregnant, and for having to get an abortion."
I broke down in tears. No one had ever accepted me with all my faults, without any hidden agenda. He even came to the clinic and sat in the waiting room with me, knowing my mother wasn’t the support I needed at that time. This man was in my life for such a short time, yet he made a more significant impact than anyone before or since.
I have tried for years to track him down so I could thank him, but I’ve never had any luck. I dedicated my book to him, hoping that maybe one day he might find it by chance, read that first page, and remember me. I hope he knows that I thank him every single day for what he did for me. It is because of that man that I chose to become a coach and motivational speaker. I want to help others going through hell realize that it’s possible to come out the other side stronger. I want to help them see that they can live beautiful and happy lives, even if they bear some scars on their backs and in their hearts. That is why I am here.
He taught me what it means to help another person and expect nothing in return. You can give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach a man to fish and he will eat for a lifetime. I can tell someone that they are special and they may feel happy for a short time, or I can give someone the tools to heal themselves, and they can learn to live life better than before.
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