I didn’t have much of a childhood. I never really had my father in my life. I looked up to my two older brothers. There were some good times, when they would pick me up from school and we would all play together. Those were highlights of growing up in my family, but those highlights didn’t last long.
By the time I was 8, one of my brothers was locked up. By 11, my oldest brother was murdered, lost to Chicago violence. I was only 11 years old when I became the role model for my younger siblings.
Overwhelmed with emotions and questions I ended up upset, angry, but most of all confused. I didn’t know what to do next.
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My mentors helped…supported me in ways that no one else had; they did so many things for me, things that the little me could never forget.
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Going to school was rough too. I had stomach pains that would often cause me to miss school. Rather than being supportive, my teachers mostly accused me of lying about them. For years even my doctor thought I was lying. I was told that it was all made up and not real for so long that I ended up believing the pain was all in my head.
Between the poor relationships with teachers and my stomach pains I lost a lot of my motivation for school. The process of getting a diagnosis and treatment was a long, hard journey that was filled with lots of delays and setbacks. In fact, the process of getting medical care was so ridiculous it drove me to feel like I was insane. I would start making some progress, then I would out of nowhere I would lose my medical insurance for something I hadn’t even done. Each barrier along the way was more ludicrous than the last.
Even with support, I still felt like something was wrong with me. Some of my teachers and doctors were still saying I was making things up about my health. I got so sick of it, I started ditching school and wandering around aimlessly, which led to me getting shot at eight different times in just one year.
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I cried so much on the day of my older brother’s funeral, more than I had ever before. There I sat next to my brother’s mentors. I had no idea at the time, but they were about to become my mentors too.
At the time I was old enough to hurt, but not old enough to know how to deal with hurt; they helped me to cope. For a long time after my brother’s funeral I couldn’t cry, I would feel hurt internally but outside I was just numb. My mentors helped me learn how to express that pain.
They supported me in ways that no one else had; they did so many things for me, things that the little me could never forget. I remember them taking me out to eat, cruising around and them asking about how I was doing, how school was for me. They actually cared about me. They became my role models; they helped me become more vocal and outgoing and more of a seeker of answers.
Don’t get me wrong; life could still be shitty and a lot of times I honestly thought that death would be less painful, as I felt that I was getting tortured slowly by my physical health and all of the violence in my neighborhood. Even with that, it was nice just to know that someone cared about me.
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Through the Making Connections initiative, Movember is partnering with community based coalitions that work with either men and boys of color, or military service members, veterans, and their families.
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Even after I started a course of medicine and my physical health started to improve, my mental health kept getting worse.
I was dealing with heightened anxiety and paranoia as a result of trauma from Chicago street violence. Traumatic events came one after another just by walking around my neighborhood. Plus there was dealing with stigma that I should be “hard” and not show emotion, because anything other than that emotionless tough guy was seen as weak and as a target, which in most cases in my world could end up as a death sentence.
My mentors helped reframe things for me: I wasn’t put through all my struggles and experiences to just give up, I went through them so I could help other people.
In my short life I’ve experienced the effects of trauma; depression, anxiety, paranoia, and using bad coping strategies like substance abuse to get relief from those other effects. I’m glad that I had my mentors to support me and guide me because without them I wouldn’t be here telling my story.
They helped me to grow strong enough to leave bad habits in the past, and now as a part of La Villita Warriors I work to make sure I’m able to help other men and boys do the same.
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Photo Credit: Movember (with permission)
