My story starts on November 4th, 1989 in Fort Meyers, Florida when I was born. I don’t remember too much from there, seeing as I moved to Holiday, FL when I was about 3 or 4.Unlike most people that are in jail, I can’t say I had a rough childhood. My father is a firefighter and my mom worked at the dispatch center, then a kennel in Palm Harbor. We never really had to struggle to get by or at least they never showed it.
Growing up I liked to play sports, sports and more sports. As a kid, I played soccer, baseball, hockey and I was even in a bowling league. My parents always made sure I had everything I needed and the money to enroll in these activities.
But there are two sides to every story. My father was always a good provider for the family, but he was a stickler. He would yell at you for doing something - then you’d catch him doing the same thing. Even simple things like leaving a soda can out, he would yell for us to pick it up. Meanwhile, he had a stack of two or three next to him. But that never really bothered me too much. The only thing that he did that really bothered me was when I was at home, I used to like to walk around with no shirt. (I was an overweight child.) This really seemed to bother my dad who was well overweight at the time also. Every time I would come out of my room, I would get heckled and told to put a shirt on. This really seemed to bother me and they used to wonder why I stayed in my room all the time.
My mother was always doing what she could to help the family and hide all the stupid things me and my brother used to do. She would never miss any of my sport events no matter how tired or how long of a day she had. I love my mom for what she used to do for me. It’s hard to understand that stuff as a kid. You feel that they should be there regardless, but there are a lot of people who don’t have that.
But as the years grew, my parents started to fight almost daily. Not physically, just verbally. It boiled down to my mom stresses about little things and blows them up and my dad just liked to keep on pushing her buttons. This eventually led to my parents getting a divorce when I was in the 9th grade. I wasn’t happy about it. But at least I new I wouldn’t have to hear fighting every day and I could walk around with my shirt off. It doesn’t sound like much, but it helped.
My dad was quite controlling. He wanted me and my sister to live back and forth between his and my mom’s place. I didn’t want to leave. This is my home. I always kind of felt like my dad on wanted us there as a way to get back at my mom. Like Ha, you can’t have them today, they’re mine. I wasn’t gonna be part of a tug-o-war match. So I decided to just stay with my mom.
This didn’t settle well with my dad and we eventually lost contact. Some of that is my fault. During this time, I was playing football for my school and I started a new sport – wrestling. This took up most of my time. I was quite intrigued with wrestling. It was unlike anything else I have ever done. When I was there, I didn’t have to worry about anything. I kept good grades – about a 3.0 consistently. I could have done better, but I was lazy. I really regret that.
Now I’m one of those people who looks back and thinks “what if.” You don’t want to be that person, believe me.
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