I didn’t grow up with a plan — I grew up surviving.
My father was murdered before I was born. I was raised by strong women who did what they could with what they had.
School never made sense to me; I was restless, distracted, and misunderstood.
Eventually, I was diagnosed with ADHD and Bipolar II — but before I understood what that meant, life had already labeled me trouble.
I made mistakes. I was arrested. I got lost in the same chaos I was born into.
But deep down, I always knew I was meant for something more.
The real shift came the day I became a father.
My son, Myles, was born with Asperger’s Syndrome — a form of autism.
That moment hit me harder than any sentence, any loss, or any fight.
It forced me to look in the mirror and ask, “What kind of man do I want my son to see?”
I realized I had two choices: stay the same and repeat my story, or fight like hell to rewrite it.
So I went back to school. I studied psychology, education, and leadership.
I learned discipline the hard way — through books, through mentors, through mistakes.
And I began to understand something most people never do:
your past doesn’t define you, it refines you.
It wasn’t easy. I faced rejection after rejection. My record shut doors before I could even knock.
But instead of quitting, I found mentors, worked my ass off, and built my own doors.
I started helping kids who reminded me of me — the ones no one believed in.
I co-founded schools in Florida, West Virginia, and Arizona.
I built programs for at-risk youth, mentored others trying to get back on their feet, and hired people who’d also been counted out.
I stopped chasing approval and started chasing impact.
Each school became a message: you can rebuild your life from the ground up.
Each student was proof that redemption works — if someone gives you the tools, structure, and time.
I’ve learned that the world doesn’t need perfect people — it needs disciplined ones.
I made a decision that changed everything: it’s better to be a disciplined man than just a good one.
Being good is easy when life is smooth. Being disciplined is how you survive when it’s not.
The people who change their lives aren’t always the smartest or the most talented — they’re the ones who stay accountable, face their past, and use it to build something better.
I’ve been on both sides: the one being judged and the one helping others stand back up.
Now, my purpose is to bridge those worlds — to prove that redemption isn’t rare.
It’s repeatable.
Today, I’m a father, husband, entrepreneur, and business operator.
I invest in schools, mentor leaders, and help others design systems for reform and real success.
I’ve built multiple six- and seven-figure businesses — not for status, but for stability.
Every move I make now is guided by one mission:
to show people that you can turn your pain into your purpose, and your mistakes into your message.
I’m not perfect — I’m proof.
And I’m still a work in progress.
If you’re reading this and feel like your past disqualifies you, I want you to know this:
You can rebuild your life, no matter how many times you’ve fallen.
You just need structure, belief, and a system.
Your future isn’t canceled — it’s waiting for you to begin.