As I look back at my life, I feel a sense of pride. Through the mental and physical abuse that I have endured, I’ve reached unimaginable heights that I didn’t believe was possible. Born to an alcoholic mother and drug addicted father is the first obstacle I’ve faced before my name (given to me by my late aunt) was even dry on my name card. In the late 1980’s this fact was true for many of the babies born in Baltimore at that time. Although, my earliest memories doesn’t include my father. As far back as I can remember my father is approximately age four years old. I spent a lot of time with my maternal grandmother. She was a nice woman who had a presence about her that demanded my attention. Unfortunately, I can’t remember her voice or what her face looks like. I can remember her last wo