All The Wrong Roads

Two years ago, my cardiologist told me I wouldn’t live another three months, the result of 50 years of cocaine and meth addiction. That was the moment I decided to grow up, clean up, and write a book about how I wasted a lifetime in what now feels like the blink of an eye—without even knowing if I’d survive to finish it. In the first sentence, I describe my father as the epitome of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Raised as an atheist, the last person I expected to find while writing was God. Yet there He was, woven through story after story. I realized that while I didn’t believe in Him, He had never stopped believing in me. By the grace of God, I’ve turned my life around.