Dele is Feeling Your Christmas Blessings
“I started to become ME again”
Ayodele, 35, who goes by Dele, was born in Baton Rouge, but raised in Atlanta, Georgia. Growing up as a child of separation and divorce, Dele lived with his American mother and older brother during the week and spent every other weekend with his Nigerian father. Dele did well in school, had a good home life, and was an all-star caliber baseball player as a child. At age 15, all of that changed when he started smoking marijuana.
“My brother introduced me to “weed.” Since I was comfortable with him, smoking weed did not take a whole lot of thought. And things progressed to drinking beer. My grades started slipping in high school and with three months left to graduate, I told my mother that I was done with classes. She responded, “if you are done with school, you cannot live here.” I immediately moved out and began living with my cousins. And my addictions just took off from there. A lot of partying and drinking.”
“My father had a lot of lofty expectations. He wanted me to become a doctor or a lawyer. He would say, “work now and play later.” I reversed that to play now and work some other time. He did not want to talk about anything other than education. I did not even know what I wanted for myself. I became rebellious toward him and in ninth grade, I got into a fight with him on school property. I ended up in juvenile detention and that was the beginning of my in and out of jail phase.”
Dele would cycle between violating probation, and 90-day juvenile programs. “It hardened me. I did what I had to do to fit in. I was in and out of the juvenile detention facilities until I turned 17. And then I went straight to county jail. I got out of prison for the last time in 2013.
“My older brother was in an out of rehabs at the time. He had finally gotten clean, and by seeing him go through the process of sobriety, I thought I should try it as well. I went to rehab for the first time in 2015.” Dele started repeating the in and out process, but this time with rehabs. “But my spirituality started to grow. I could hear God speaking. He would tell me to remove myself from situations – to not go.”
Dele, recounts a pivotal moment God told him to “not go.” “One late night, I was running out of drugs (cocaine) and I could hear Him say “don’t go.” But I had to find more. It was three o’clock in the morning and I am going back and forth in my head. My addiction finally wins, and I went looking for drugs. A dealer pulls up in his truck and a gunshot rings off inside the vehicle. He pushes the victim out of the truck and takes off. A guy runs up and starts wrapping the victim’s head while hollering out for someone to call the police. In my mind that was not what I came here for. Nobody called the police. We just walked off in our separate ways. “
“For some time, what I witnessed kept playing through my mind. If I did not stop using drugs now, I might be next in line. At the time I was a member of Back On My Feet Atlanta (BOMF) and told them that I wanted to leave Georgia. I wanted to get clean and I was not going to do so there. They introduced me to Helping Up Mission (HUM) through the BOMF team in Baltimore. I got on a bus with a suitcase and a map and arrived at HUM in June of 2019.”
“When I started the Spiritual Recovery Program (SRP) at HUM, my heart and spirit were hardened. I did not want to make any new relationships with people. But little by little, as I went to meetings and classes, things changed. The camaraderie at HUM, guys checking on you to see how you are doing and making small talk. Overtime, I would speak up more and more.”
“I started volunteering. I helped build the patio at the Chase Street Women’s Center with Coca-Cola Consolidated. I also volunteered at St. Vincent de Paul church on Friday evenings. Pretty soon, I began signing up for everything that HUM had to offer and my true personality began to come out. I was eating and sleeping well and, in the process, I started to become ME again.”
Today, Dele is back in school, pursuing a degree in respiratory therapy. He graduated from the SRP and is building his connection with his Higher Power. Dele is also rebuilding trust and restoring relationships with his father and his 11-year-old son. “My dad and I are a lot closer than we have ever been. I commit myself now to be there for my family. To be there for my son. I am excited about having a future that does not involve drugs and alcohol and my biggest problem is which courses should I take in school.”
“Thank you to all of the donors for making HUM possible. For me to come here all the way from Atlanta and feel comfort and safety. To be here at Christmas. It is all a blessing.”
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Bobby Johnson Sr. 59, a veteran from Salisbury, North Carolina hit rock bottom asking for a Christmas meal in Tampa, Florida. Because of generous donors like yourself, Bobby, a former chef, is now going to college with the hope to help kids develop their own culinary skills.
“I was raised by my mother, a single parent with help from my grandmother, but my father was in my life, so I had a good upbringing.”
“As a kid I loved to succeed. I wasn’t old enough to get a newspaper route, so, I helped the newspaperman carry papers. I was on the school yearbook team. I was good at acting and theater, and I played football. At age 15 I started DJing and my mother suggested that I wait until I became grown to start doing such foolish things (laughter). Later, she would tell me that “when I was in school, I never gave her problems. I waited until I grew up to start doing things that were not right.”
At age 20, Bobby joined the military, got married, and got divorced. “I was a food service officer in the military from 1980 to 1990. At 32, when I got out of the military, I remarried but found out that my new wife had a secret. Prior to our marriage, she had a relationship with my father. I was so hurt that I could not even think about loving the Lord. I started hanging out with friends and smoking marijuana laced with cocaine, which soon escalated to crack cocaine. I didn’t want to embarrass my family being a “crackhead”. So, I moved to Tampa, Florida and for seven years I held onto my resentments which kept me in my addiction.’
During Christmas in 2004, living in substandard housing, Bobby went to a place where they were giving away food. And at that point, he asked, “why am I living, if I’m living dead? This was not me and I thought I was going to die. So, I asked God for help.”
Eventually Bobby turned to Baltimore for Recovery. “I started out at McVets, where I got six years clean. And then my mother passed in 2016, and a couple of months later I relapsed. I struggled and went home to North Carolina. The Pastor from my Baltimore church called, and I told him the truth.”
“He said, “I’m sending you a train ticket – pick it up, come back here, and we can get you some help.”
“It turned out that my pastor was a graduate of Helping Up Mission (HUM). When I realized it was a Spiritual Recovery Program (SRP), I knew that’s what I needed because I was spiritually broken. So, I arrived in August 2018, and I have not looked back, and I have more joy today than I’ve ever had in my life.”
“At first, the hardest thing about being in this program was me. I was sensitive to authority. Now, I understand that people are put in positions to help and that I am here to get help. For example, I think I did every job the HUM has to offer. Free help and I was getting fired from free jobs! (Bobby belly laughs).”
“The easiest thing? Growing with God. Pastor Gary Byers taught bible classes, which planted a seed in me, just like when you start in the seed phase (first 45 days). Now I go to recovery classes at Mount Zion Baptist Church on East Belvedere. My pastor is a very caring teacher. He knows that I am now hungry for the word and breaks it down just like Pastor Gary did.”
Because of YOU Bobby has reconnected with his family. “My grandkids know who their grandpa is. They came to HUM with my son and left crying because they had to leave their “papa”.”
Bobby also credits his friends in the SRP for developing the rich relationships he has made in recovery. “We try not to keep our feelings locked inside by feeling weak, or less than a man – we let them out. Then you can laugh together and at the end of the day you’ll be laughing at yourself, too.”
“Today, I’m enrolled in college! My plan is to get a bachelor’s degree in culinary skills and teach underprivileged high school kids at my church’s school, so that they can take care of themselves and their families. Whatever you have been through, can be used for the good of helping someone else. God can use all of us in ways that we don’t know, and I believe everybody’s story is intended for somebody else that crosses their path in life.”
Finally, Bobby would like to Thank You for your generosity. “With donors like you, the prosperity of the HUM is spiritually connected, because of all the good work that you do to provide for this spiritual program. “
Manny S
Family values were extremely important in Manny’s upbringing. His mother is from Manning, South Carolina, and she made sure that he and his five siblings maintained “old country” values. Manny’s mother was a hard worker and expected nothing less from her children. The second child in the family, , Manny and his older sibling had a close look at their mother’s work ethic.
Even when his mother would do housework, “She would always give us something to do, like clothes of our own to wash,” Manny says. “Once we were sitting on the front porch, my siblings and I, and we had buckets scrubbing our own clothes.” Manny remembers that each of his siblings were given a white shirt, a pair of socks, and underwear. “As I got older, I realized that my mother was inside doing loads of laundry, cleaning up, and cooking dinner all at the same time.”
Manny grew up in the Fairfield area of Baltimore, near Brooklyn. Family outings and gatherings were a weekly event, especially on Sundays at Southern Baptist Church.
Manny’s mother became a reverend three years ago, but has been an ordained minister for 17 years. “Church was the key to our family, and sticking together instilled a strong sense of responsibility in us all,” says Manny, “looking out for each other and preserving the family institution was important.”
Addiction has no respect for family values. It does not discriminate no matter your race, age, sex, or socioeconomic status. “I went straight from being a teenager to using drugs, “ Manny says. Manny’s mother was cleaning his room one day, with an ulterior inspection motive, and she hit the jackpot. Her suspicions were confirmed when she found drugs. “She asked me when I came home: What is this?”, as she stretched her hand out toward him holding the small clear bag. She had found powder cocaine. “Well, what is this?” she exclaimed. Manny’s only response was, “Why were you in my room?” Manny’s mother explained that she couldn’t have drugs in her home, and especially not around her younger children. Manny had to make a choice.
Manny remembers, “She was like, well, you’ve got to choose the drugs or your family.” Manny chose drugs, which would see him abandon his family, lose his job, and become homeless. Manny’s homelessness lasted for seven years. At first, he stayed with friends, but “couchsurfing” was his least favorite. “I don’t like to feel as though I’m asking anyone for anything and I wanted to maintain this image of a self sufficient man,” Manny says. He preferred to stay in an abandoned Baltimore City school, or in abandoned houses.
”I even stayed under the Charles Street bridge, because it was right near Penn Station. I found a way that I could get around the fence when no one was looking. I would get down there and daydream while looking at the cars pass on 83,” Manny states. Those seven years were the longest seven years in his life, but at age 25 Manny returned home and began his road to recovery.
A month into his sobriety Manny returned to church. With his mother and God at his side, Manny’s faith grew and he prospered spiritually, personally, and professionally. But addiction is a cunning, baffling, and powerful disease. Manny’s 17 years in recovery culminated with a relapse. Manny disappeared again. This time, thanks to the Grace of God, for only three days. He stopped contacting his family, and began demolishing his rebuilt relationships. “My phone kept ringing and receiving text messages, but I never responded,” Manny remembers.
Getting to the Helping Up Mission (HUM) was a relatively easy process. Manny finally mustered up enough nerve to return home after family, friends, and church family put enough pressure on him. He spent a week in solitude with his family members, getting honest with himself and his family. After that week of soul searching, Manny put on his best suit and walked through the doors of HUM. His pastor at the time had made donations here and suggested it to Manny as a place for him. It worked. Manny graduated from the one year Spiritual Recovery Program on February 15, 2019. He is also the Spiritual Life Intern at HUM.
The HUM has helped Manny combat his shyness and people pleasing tendencies. The “inside work” as he likes to refer to it. “That part of me that connected to God was missing, because even though I was in church, you know, the church wasn’t in me,” Manny expressed, “My spiritual life is now back on track and I’m actually looking into Human Services. HUM has given me so many opportunities. The sky is the limit, I would tell to any man that walks through these doors.”
Because of you Manny has been given a second chance to get it right.
Your generous contributions have enabled him to pursue schooling and professional training opportunities and he gets to live amongst men flourishing in their new-found spirituality.
“That part of me that connected to God was missing.”
Jake is 32 years old and working on his bachelor’s degree from the University of Baltimore; he has plans to earn his Masters in Public Health to work on water security or to develop vaccines. Looking back at everything that brought him to this point in his life, Jake says that he is, “grateful for the Helping Up Mission and for everything I’ve been through.” He believes that “not everyone’s life has to be reduced to shambles, but I’m grateful because maybe if mine didn’t, I might be living a mediocre life.”
Jake grew up in Severn where he went to several small, religious schools. His parents divorced when he was eight years old, but he continued to have relationships with both his mother and father and knew that they both loved him. Jake’s father was more like a best friend growing up – he was always encouraging, but rarely disciplined Jake.
He remembers, “I figured out pretty early that, if I can project the appropriate image, then I can get away with anything.” Jake had always been a good child and had earned his parent’s trust, so he barely had any oversight at that point in his life. He explains that he liked the “thrill of living a double life.” In high school, Jake started using a variety of different recreational substances off and on. After he graduated high school, he says, “I just wasn’t expecting the lack of direction that I had in life. ” That hit me really hard because I had all the confidence in the world throughout high school that, in spite of my behavior, I thought I could have anything in the world that I wanted.” Eventually, Jake started “relying on drugs to get any enjoyment out of life.”
He remembers that “I didn’t want to do school anymore. I didn’t really want to do anything anymore.” After he had wrecked a car, he was sent to a strict rehab facility and then tried other rehab programs. Jake recalls, “I hated the life I had and didn’t know how to stop or make it change.” So, he believes that he made one of his best decisions and joined the military. He has always had an interest in the medical field, so he joined the Navy to serve in the medical corps.
During the five years in the Navy, Jake trained in Illinois and served in Italy and Pearl Harbor. He was also able to serve on a six-month humanitarian mission to Central and South America. Jake says the military “let me travel, let me know that I could do anything that I put my mind to, gave me friends around the globe, and gave me ideas for my future.” While he may have had the opportunity to drink with his peers, Jake recalls that substance abuse was not an option for him while in the Navy.
When he got out of the Navy, Jake had the best of intentions. “I got out thinking that I was different enough that coming back here everything would be different. It wasn’t really true. I came back to the same old frustrations, the same old obstacles.” “I can’t remember what the first reason I went back to using drugs was, except maybe boredom.” Although he had a job he loved, Jake went back to his old ways and struggled for two years with his addiction.
His older brother told him about Helping Up Mission, so he came to HUM for the first time in 2015. “All II wanted was to salvage what was left of my life. I didn’t know anything about really addressing me at the core and what is wrong. And I didn’t even really care to do that. I was too scared to do that. I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t think it was necessary. I just wanted to protect the few things I had in this world – a car, apartment, and a few decent relationships. I just wanted to stop digging the hole deeper.” Jake stayed for about three months but wanted to get back to his life as quickly as possible.
Two months after he left HUM, Jake was “way out of control. It was my worst ever. There was daily use of heroin and cocaine.” His family was worried, and his sister staged an intervention, but he didn’t get the help he needed. He just kept using. It wasn’t until he overdosed and got in another car accident before Jake felt broken enough to see that he needed help. Two days later, Jake came “crawling back in the doors of HUM.”
This time around, Jake entered HUM with a quiet new focus. He found a couple of guys that he could relate to, stuck with them, and then really did some introspection. He has taken advantage of the mental health counselors during this time at HUM. “Before, I had no desire to really dig. I was too afraid of what I would find. Now I know that there is no hope of hope if I don’t do what is uncomfortable.”
Jake has learned to cut himself a break and to stop clinging to his past. He now knows to take responsibility for the things he needs to, but that he isn’t responsible for the things he can’t control. “I walked into the doors this time and just let go of the entire outside world. I was no longer trying to save anything from the past. I just knew that I needed to get myself straight.”
Jake says just hearing that “I am a wicked sinner and it’s okay” really helped him. Now he knows that he “doesn’t need to be righteous for God to love me, or for me to love myself.”
Since coming to HUM, Jake has realized that he can combine the strengths of the 12 step program with his faith to make recovery work for him. In fact, Jake is the Secretary of his AA home group and enjoys serving in this way. “I have been fortunate to find a meeting where I connect with the guys there.”
Jake will stay at HUM through graduation this time but then plans to move on and finish up his schooling. Because he has allowed himself to focus on his recovery during his stay at the Mission, Jake is celebrating his independence and believes God knows how his future will all work out.
Wes, 33 years old, was born and raised in Baltimore. His family sent him to an all male private high school to allow him to get a good education. “While I was there,” he explains, “I probably didn’t enjoy everything about it. But after graduating, I really appreciate having the opportunity to go somewhere like that.” However, while in high school, Wes started gained access and started using substances, like Ritalin and Aderall – taking prescription medication for Attention Deficit Disorder, even though he was not diagnosed with ADD. From there, he moved onto other drugs, including marijuana, hallucinogens, and OxyContin.
Wes graduated high school and moved on to Towson University, where his addiction intensified. He was eventually expelled for selling marijuana from his dorm room. For several years Wes worked dead-end jobs in order to support his habit. Then he started selling again. “I kind of felt like it made people need me in their lives,” he explains. “I always had trouble making friends on my own, so I figured…if I sell addictive substances, they’ve gotta be my friend.”
Eventually his house was raided, he was arrested, and he moved back in with mom. At that point, Wes knew he was on a downward spiral. He was only twenty-eight years old. Wes was going through what he called “spiritual decay and just feeling tired with life.” At this point he knew, “I had nothing to sell; I had nothing to give; I was just really taking everything… trying to fill the void inside with drugs.”
Wes went back to Towson University, managing to get good grades despite continued drug use, and earned his degree in Environmental Science. But even after earning his degree, he getting dead-end jobs, staying up all night using and sleeping all day. He thought it was the chemicals that caused the schedule, but since he has been at HUM he has realized: “It was really a lot of self-image and self-esteem issues, being ashamed of showing my face outside in public. I didn’t want to see the light of day, or the ‘normal’ people going about their business.”
Thanks to you… Wes is gaining confidence to live as the man he was created to be!
At one point, Wes went to ask his mother for money. She suggested he get some help, but Wes protested that he didn’t have insurance or any way to pay for a treatment program. But, his sister’s boyfriend had been to HUM and told him about it. Wes spent that night in his mother’s basement, thinking, and finally decided he was ready for something else. So at the age of thirty-two, he started his recovery journey at HUM.
When he first arrived, Wes was in a fog, but was ready to surrender. He was surprised that everyone seemed friendly and willing to help him. It took a while to settle in, though, because he was used to the schedule of sleeping during the day and staying up at night.
At about four months, Wes started to acclimate to recovery. “Making regular class attendance, grudgingly waking up for work therapy, and at least trying to do the best I could do” are all things he says have helped. “It really has gotten easier. As somebody who would go to sleep before the birds wake up, my work therapy [has me] wake up with the birds and go clean up cigarette butts on East Baltimore Street. I am out there dancing around with my music on, and I am having a blast.”
Besides his work therapy, Wes suggests that other aspects of life at HUM have really helped, especially the sense of community. “I’ve never experienced anything like it,” he says. During his time here, Wes has also taken the opportunity to meet regularly with his mental health counselor. “The mental health coordination is great. I can be honest with my counselor, tell them whatever is going on with me inside.”
For Wes, one of the most meaningful parts of the HUM community has been the choir. It took him some time to gain the confidence to join, but once he did, Wes found he was in his element. “The people who sing in the choir get a lot out of it – finding some purpose – helping us to realize that we need to trust God and just do the best we can. I love getting up there. I have always been an introvert, and never thought my skills would be enough to be on a showcase. But, I love getting up there and showing off my moves.” Through the choir, Wes has had some additional leadership opportunities which have been personally affirming. It has been an encouragement to Wes to realize that “people see more in me than I can see in myself sometimes.”
Wes graduates in a few months, and he is waiting on God as he discerns the best way to move forward. Wes is thrilled to have a better relationship with his family. Where he used to be a hindrance, he is now a help. His self-image issues have come a long way, and he is learning new ways to live in confidence and freedom. While he would eventually like to work in his field of study – Environmental Science – Wes is not anxious. “I can take this time, figure out what is best for me, and set things in motion.” He knows that God will make a way for him.
What does Wes think of HUM? “It saved my life, and I think it can work wonders in anyone’s life, even if they don’t think it can.” To all friends and supporters of Helping Up Mission, he has this to say: “Thanks for showing me that God loves me!”
Julio knows how it feels to be successful in the world’s eyes, but had to learn to be still and serve in order to succeed in his recovery.
Julio Santana grew up in an upper middle class family in Baltimore. His father was an electrical engineer and his mother was a dermatologist, both at Johns Hopkins Hospital. He attended private school where he played football and baseball, and sang in the choir. His success in high school led him to Tuskegee University. He graduated from Tuskegee with a degree in finance.
Julio started using alcohol as a teenager. His cousin gave him his first 40-ounce bottle while he was in tenth grade and he realized that it helped him relax. Drinking became a social part of Julio’s life and he continued drinking throughout college.
After graduation from Tuskegee, Julio started working in Virginia at a job that required him to “wine and dine” clients with an unlimited expense account. He was living the dream with five cars and an amazing apartment. After three years, he left this job because the multiple promotions and great material goods were not enough. He wanted more. Julio admits that his drinking increased during this time, but he was still functioning.
On September 11, 2001, Julio returned to the Baltimore area to start a new job in mortgage banking. He had incredible financial success and worked for three years in the industry. But that still wasn’t enough.
He eventually left the mortgage banking firm in order to partner with his best friend in a fast food franchise. They built up their new store and again found success. The shop was ranked fifth in the region for the first three years that Julio and his partner owned the store. That led to the decision to open a second store, all before he had turned thirty years old!
Looking back, Julio can see that the second shop was a mistake. It cost more money to start and was a “problem store” from the start. Also, next door to the store was a bar. Julio became an absentee owner and let the teenagers working behind the counter more or less run the shop. He had always been the responsible one, the one to fix problems, but he wasn’t that guy this time around. He ended up having to sell the store and had to start all over again.
This time Julio worked in the home repair business and did much of the actual labor himself. He felt his life spinning out of control at this point, but still didn’t realize he was an alcoholic.
It took the death of his parents to open his eyes. Julio’s mother had been ill and he felt bad that his father had been the one taking care of his mom, when Julio felt he should have been the one helping out. After his mother passed away, Julio’s father told Julio that he was wasting his gifts because of alcohol. But Julio still didn’t think he had an addiction; he thought addictions could only happen if he used hard drugs. One of the last things Julio’s father said to Julio was, “Son, please stop drinking”.
After the death of both parents, Julio tried to clean up and was sober for several months. But one day the pressures of life, the guilt and the shame all just caused him to give up. He ended up sabotaging a job he was on and left to get drunk.
It took Julio three tries to get into Helping Up Mission. On his first attempt, he arrived and had to wait to get in the door, but he wasn’t ready so he gave up and left. On his second attempt, he came with too much luggage. He wasn’t ready to let go of his material things and so he returned to a friend’s house (he had no other place to go) thinking he would never come back. But, God had different plans for Julio. On Veteran’s Day of 2015, Julio only had $5 on him and was so depressed that he knew he had to do something. He walked for two and a half hours, stopped for one last beer, and then caught a ride to the train station to get to HUM.
Although he had still packed several bags to bring with him, at some point he had to surrender it all and start fresh.
At first, he was afraid and he had a rough start. It took him until around the sixty-day point to get comfortable with the idea that he was exactly where he needed to be. Julio had borrowed a truck from a friend, but it broke down and he saw that as “a sign” to sit still and focus on his one-year in the Spiritual Recovery Program.
Julio graduated in November and is currently a graduate intern in the IT department at HUM. During his time here, Julio learned to sit still and to take responsibility for things again. He also learned that helping doesn’t mean that you will fix a problem for another person; it means guiding people to a better way and then allowing them to go make it happen.
Shortly before graduation, Julio took a Peer Advocate Training course. This training will allow Julio to work in emergency rooms and counsel (as a peer) to those in need. He can help in a specialized way that doctors and nurses aren’t always able to because they do not have first-hand experience of recovery. He can advocate for and educate those in need and then help them so that they won’t necessarily need to return to the ER.
Whether Julio will choose to work in the IT field or as a Peer Advocate is not quite clear to him. It is clear that helping people is a passion that burns deep within! But right now, he needs to sit still and let God call the shots for his future. With that as his plan, he can’t go wrong.
You may have heard about Mark Ramiro in the news. Late one night in July 2014, he was with several friends – all high on drugs. They were filming stunts in the basement of his South Baltimore home, until things went fatally awry. Mark’s friend of 15 years, Darnell Mitchell, strapped on a bulletproof vest and asked to be shot in the chest. But Mark aimed inches too high, and the bullet hit Darnell just above the vest. Mark rushed his friend to the hospital, but it was too late.
Mark came to Helping Up Mission in June 2015. He had already successfully participated in several short-term recovery programs, but he was still awaiting sentencing, and constantly wrestling with the trauma and shame of what he had done. In March 2016, Mark Ramiro was sentenced to 4 years – but he went to prison with 9 months’ clean time and, more importantly, a new perspective on his past and his future. Our chaplain, Vic King, spoke with Mark in jail.
Both my parents worked all the time to put food on the table, so I was pretty much on my own with my friends. I didn’t really know who I was, because I looked Filipino, but I talked and carried myself more as a West-Baltimore American. I just went with the flow. I started experimenting with alcohol and weed in middle school, and by 9th grade I was a real heavy weed smoker.
When I was 21, I went to art school in PA and got a degree in fashion marketing. I was making and selling t-shirts, doing tattoos, and filming music videos for local rap artists. But I started using pills – Percocets, Oxys, Opanas, Benzos – and it started affecting my whole character. And that led to my friend’s death.
You came to HUM on house arrest. What was it like at first?
Well, I broke the record for the longest restriction in Helping Up history (laughs) – it was either HUM or going to jail. So when I first got there I was upset; I didn’t want to be there. But I found Pastor Gary and Mike Rallo interesting. Pastor Gary would make me write the character quality of the week on the board every morning, because of my artistic skills.
I got real close to different guys. Mike is the security guy at the 23 desk, and they put me there for work therapy. We didn’t talk much at first. But he’s a giver, always helping other guys, and I would just observe him. Then we started talking. He trusted me for some reason, and that meant a lot to me. He could tell when I was going through stuff.
What aspect of HUM’s program helped you the most?
For me, I liked the spirituality – reading the Bible, praying, talking, meditating. A lot of times I would slip into the chapel, and sit in the corner where nobody could see me, and just think.
So how has God helped you in the midst of all this mess?
He’s helped me in trying to forgive myself, helped me not blame other people for my own screw-ups, helped me be open with other people, to talk with people. A lot of times in my life, I was antisocial. Maybe it was my character or maybe it was due to my drug addiction, I don’t know. But I try to follow what I’ve seen.
Before your sentencing, you were able to meet with your friend Darnell’s family. What was that like?
It was emotional, but it was good. It broke the ice. They were upset at me, which they have every right to be. I can’t be mad at that. For what I did, they were upset, but they were open, and they were forgiving. They hugged me a bunch of times. They told me how it hurt them, how it affected them. I apologized – words can’t express how sorry I am.
Describe your transition from HUM to prison.
Court was nerve-wracking. You pray for the best and expect the worst. I got nine years with five suspended. God works in mysterious ways, and I think he prepared me for that. Nobody wants to go to jail. I don’t care who you are, this place is not for anybody.
It was different from 2014 when I came here; it just felt different. I’m happy. Not to say I’m happy to be here, but I’m cool. I know this is temporary. I don’t know what the Big Man’s plans are for me, but this is part of it. This was like the icing on the cake to set things straight. And I think this is Him testing me too… Is this kid going to turn his back on Me? Is he going to lose his faith? Is he going to give up?
I still pray, frequently. I was reading the Gospel of John this morning. I think my faith in God kept me together. ‘Cause if you knew me then, and if you know me now, you could tell. I’m in the system… and I’m cool. I know it’s temporary. Walking around with a chip on your shoulder is not going to help. At all.
What are your hopes for life after prison?
I’m going to get a job, stay sober. I’m going to continue to do my artwork – paint, draw, hopefully open a t-shirt business. I want to tell people my story – the mistakes, the drug addiction – and see if I can help someone.
What would you want people to take from your story?
Be yourself, be honest. Have faith… because you have to lean on something beyond yourself. If you put yourself first, and you think it’s all about you, then you’re already lost. Stay clean, stay drug-free. I know it’s cliché to say, but it doesn’t lead anywhere but jail or death. God didn’t give you the blessing of life to waste it and to get trashed every day. You weren’t put on this earth for that. I’m happy to wake up every day, open my eyes and breathe.
Michael Knighton, age 54, grew up in East Baltimore. “When I was a young boy, I got into boxing because of my brother,” says Michael. “My brother had me out on the corners getting into fights with other kids to earn money when I was about 7. My step-father found out what was happening. He took me off of the corner and to a boy’s club where I could be trained in boxing. I was excited about training and did a lot of amateur boxing.
“When I was 10 years old, my step-father took my mother and brother and I on a boat ride. My step-father saw a little boy in distress in the water. He jumped in to save the little boy’s life. He saved the little boy as well as the boy’s parents. But, on his way back to our boat, my step-father was caught in a current and drowned. I wanted to try to save him but my mother held me back.
“I used to take out my anger in the boxing ring. Boxing was everything to me. When I was 19, I threw a punch and blew my shoulder out. I was rushed into surgery. That surgery led to subsequent surgeries and many pain medications to try to control the pain.
“Boxing had been my outlet to deal with my anger. From that point on, I was heavily into pain medication. I started getting into trouble – forging prescriptions to get more medicine. I was breaking the law all of the time to feed my habit. I was in and out of jail a lot. Eventually I moved from pain pills to heroin.
“For 30 years, I lived dependent on drugs. My body was so used to opiates that, without them, I didn’t feel normal. I was homeless and alone. Earlier in my life, I had gotten two teardrop tattoos on my face. As I walked the streets, I felt that people were always judging me because of my tattoos. I didn’t feel like a normal member of society.
“I finally told myself that enough was enough and it was time to get clean. If I could lie on a prison floor and sober up, I could do it on my own. I went to a methadone program but they wouldn’t accept me.
“I started walking with nowhere to go. I came to the 1000 block of East Baltimore Street and saw the sign for Helping Up Mission. I remembered the good things I had heard about this place so I decided to stay for the night. After hearing about the Spiritual Recovery Program, I decided to give it a try. I had nothing to lose!
“My body was in agony for the first two months that I was at the Mission. My nervous system was a mess as I went through withdrawals after 30 straight years of heroin use. My legs would twitch at night as I tried to fall asleep. I felt like my body had been invaded by an alien being who jumped up and tortured me whenever he felt like it.
“I was assigned to a mental health counselor. I started talking about things that I’d never opened up to anyone about – private matters that I never felt comfortable dealing with. I started to learn to trust people and began to realize that not everyone was judging me. I started to get the sense that people were starting to view me differently and I began to feel accepted.
“As I started to view myself as a different person, I wanted my body to reflect the changes that were happening inside. I decided that it was time to get rid of my tear drop tattoos that, for so many years, had been a visible symbol of my pain.
“My mental health counselor helped me look for a place that could help me with that and she reached out to Maryland Laser Skin and Vein. She explained my situation and how I was working to change my life. They agreed to do the procedures for free. When it was done, the doctor told me the staff was proud of me and to continue on in my good work.
“The first day that I walked around without the tattoos on my face, I finally didn’t feel like an outcast anymore. I was able to walk in stores and not feel like I was being judged as a gang member or trouble maker.
“About that same time, I started working out again. I started out slowly and got back into my old routine before long. I started giving exercise advice to the guys who were in the fitness center with me. It felt great to be able to help them.
“I also started getting dental work done through the Mission’s dental program. When I entered the program, I didn’t have any teeth at all because of an issue with a mouthpiece during my boxing days. Now, I have a full set of teeth!
“I feel so confident these days and am walking with my head held high. People look at me and acknowledge me who would have never given me a second glance a year ago. But, my change isn’t just on the outside. On the inside, I can feel everything going on. My feelings and emotions were sedated by my drug use for so many years. Now I get emotional in ways I never had before.
“I was 19 when my son was born. I was in and out of his life. His life has been filled with a lot of my broken promises. After I came to the Mission, we started communicating again and we are working on our relationship.
“Since I’ve been at the Mission, my relationship with God has grown. I can clearly see how He has been working in my life – no one else could make the transformation happen but Him.
“HUM has become family to me. Every day I look forward to being with the other men here. I find ways to help someone and that means a lot to me.
“I’m so thankful to all of the donors that make HUM a reality. Because of them, men like me and the other guys at HUM get a second chance at life. Helping Up Mission was put here as a gift from God so we get a chance to mend our lives and our relationships with others we have hurt in the past. Today I am the man I always knew in my heart that I could be.”