up. I have feelins’, emotions, and memories I struggle wit’ every day. I fight wit’ myself, wit’ my mind, wit’ my sobriety. I don’t want to walk down another dark alley,” I sincerely spoke, rubbing the back of my neck.
“The biggest difference in my life right now is I know how to ask for help. I’m still learnin’ my triggers, and I’ll continue to learn ’em as I go through this thing called life. I’m not proud of the things I’ve done, I’m more ashamed than anyone could possibly understand. I’m learnin’ to forgive myself. I’m learnin’ to love myself, and for the first time I’m here, wantin’ to get better. For me. I can’t do it for anyone but me.”
Journey wiped away a tear.
“And I know wit’ all my heart ... my father would say—”
“I’m so damn proud of you.”
All eyes tore to my old man, who was standing beside the stage. The closest to me. Standing tall and honored to be near his son.
I smiled at him, feeling the support and love he’d always had for me. Somewhere along the line, I lost sense of his devotion. It got twisted into my insecurities. Causing me to spiral down the rabbit hole of uncertainty and darkness.
“I thought I lost my hero,” I confessed my biggest fear. “But I should have known better. He’s Superman, and he once promised me he’d always be by my side, ’cuz there was nowhere else he’d rather be than wit’ his boy.”
My father nodded, the pride in his expression radiating off of him and into my heart and soul.
“I love you, Pops,” I expressed my last truth for everyone to hear.
“Thank you for savin’ my life.”
Chapter 34
“Remind yourself nobody’s built like you. You design yourself.”
-Jay Z
<>Cash<>
Giselle hugged me. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
“I always knew you’d do great things, Cash. Your disability was never going to hold you back. I never stopped believing in you.” She pulled away. “You know that, right?”
I nodded.
“Mom said you were considering surgery?”
“Mom has a big mouth.”
“Hey!” Ma interrupted. “We keep no secrets in this family.”
I chuckled, arching an eyebrow.
“You were amazing up there, Cash. I can’t tell you how proud I am of you.” She tugged me into her arms, whispering in my ear, “I always knew you’d find your way home. I had faith and never lost sight of that despite everything. I love you so much.”
I kissed her cheek. “I love you too, Ma.”
To have my mother back in my life was something I never thought would happen. I missed her the most out of everyone.
She’d always been my rock.
My cheerleader.
My home.
We fell right back into the loving relationship we’d always had, as if no time had passed between us.
For the past year, I’d been living in Oak Island, surrounded by family and friends. The boys and our management team understood I needed a break to heal. It felt good to step out of the limelight to focus on my sobriety and mending the wrongs I’d caused. For the first ninety days, I’d lived at a rehab facility. Once that was completed, I extended my stay for another three months. The center had been my home for six months of this year. The program helped tremendously in developing structure and a positive daily routine in my life.
The meetings.
The individual therapy.
The group therapy.
All of it was beneficial. I’d learned a lot about myself during that time. A lot of self-care, meditation, and even yoga helped me stay focused on what really mattered. Life started to get a little easier.
Before I was discharged with my treatment plan, Journey helped me find a place to live. I bought a waterfront condo with a serene view of the ocean. Waking up to the sound of the waves crashing into the shore was therapeutic in itself. The only thing that was better, I got to wake up with my Junie wrapped in my arms. She ended up staying in Oak Island too, transferring her credits to the University of North Carolina.
I told her she didn’t have to go through the trouble, we’d make it work wherever she was living. But she was adamant Oak Island was home.
I was her home.
I hired the best doctors money could buy to appease her mind about the gene she carried. They all stressed the same thing to her—carrying the gene didn’t mean it would develop. After hearing it for the hundredth time, it started to sink in. Little-by-little, she began