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    I Found Me
    I Found Me
    I Found Me
    Ebook87 pages1 hour

    I Found Me

    By Corey Hall

    ()

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    About this ebook

    An inspirational story that brings light to an invisible enemy that millions of people suffer from in America, but don’t want to talk about—bipolar disorder. In his debut memoir, “I Found Me,” Corey Hall shares his experiences growing up with a mental illness he didn’t know he suffered from until his twenties. He exposes the raw truth of dealing with depression, suicide and insomnia. Climb into his mind and get a firsthand view of what it’s like to go through the highs and lows and how to live a normal life. Follow Corey on Instagram to keep up with his story @TruChef8384

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRichter Publishing LLC
    Release dateNov 12, 2018
    ISBN9780463597590
    I Found Me

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      Book preview

      I Found Me - Corey Hall

      INTRODUCTION

      I wrote this book for my son. I want to show him what it takes to be a man and what steps are necessary for him to be successful in life.

      My life wasn’t a cake walk growing up. I had many struggles, but the one that affected me the most was an invisible enemy: bipolar disorder.

      Through my stories here within my memoir, I want to shed light to the masses about addiction, depression, suicide, and other mental health issues that go along with this illness. At times life is hard, but people living with these conditions have a bigger obstacle to overcome. However, that doesn’t mean that we should be cast aside and forgotten about. We first must learn to accept that although we might be different, we can still live a prosperous life if given the right tools.

      Ask for help; you do not have to suffer alone. Perfection is unattainable, but I’m okay with not being perfect for the simple fact that every day, I get another opportunity to build on yesterday.

      CHAPTER 1

      EARLY LIFE

      I was born in Stoughton, Massachusetts, and grew up between two cities, Brockton and Taunton. Growing up in Massachusetts, I had a wonderful childhood as one of five siblings. I have one sister who lives in Boston and two half-sisters who live in Texas.

      My only brother, Marion Hall (better known as Pooch), was essentially my other half. He now lives in Los Angeles. I don’t get to see him as much nowadays because he’s busy being a successful actor.

      Growing up, my brother Pooch and I did everything together. As younger brothers do, I mimicked everything he did. If he played football, I played football. Whatever he picked up, I followed right behind him.

      Baseball was a sport I enjoyed. However, Pooch went into boxing and ended up winning the Southern New England Golden Gloves award in 1994. Boxing was the next logical step for him because my father was a trainer at Petronelli Gym out of Brockton, Massachusetts. From my understanding, Goodie and Pat Petronelli were Marvin’s trainer and manager. The middleweight champion of the world, Marvelous Marvin Hagler. And my father trained my brother and other fighters.

      I would cry when my brother got punched. I always yelled out, Don’t hit my brother! That was the kind of relationship we had. We fiercely protected one another and were both sports-oriented. My brother also had his nose buried in his schoolwork. Since I looked up to him so much, I followed in his footsteps and enjoyed school when I was younger as well.

      As a kid, I always noticed there was a rift between my parents. They fought all the time, mostly over my mother’s drinking habits. I didn’t even know what drinking meant at that young age. All I saw was how much my father disliked it. Around age 10, I came to find out that her drinking was the cause of their divorce. This caused me to have negative feelings toward her. I was angry and confused; I wanted to place blame on her, but I felt conflicted because she was my mother. How could I be hostile toward the woman who gave birth to me?

      Years later as an adult, I confronted my mother about her drinking. She clarified that alcohol was a coping mechanism; she’d never felt good enough for my very strict father. As a military man, he demanded a lot from his family. His expectations were set high from the start—it was his way or the highway—and my mom could not deal with failure.

      One year, my father decided it was best for our family to become Jehovah’s Witnesses. Until that point, I was raised Baptist. I never understood his decision, and he never explained. As the man of the house, we did whatever he said, which meant that birthdays and Christmas celebrations disappeared. Looking back, I’d thought at the time that losing those traditions would bother me. I figured I couldn’t be a normal child without them. The truth was, I enjoyed spending more time with my brother, no matter what the activity. Having him in my life made me feel numb to losing birthdays and Christmas. To this day, I’m not terribly excited when it comes to celebrating birthdays, at least not with my own.

      Throughout elementary school, life was good and ran smoothly. During the spring before middle school, in 1990, my life came to a screeching halt. That warm spring day, Friday the 13th, changed everything. As my friends and I wrapped up our pickup baseball game, I headed home to face a frightening reality. A sea of police cars sat parked in front of my house and blocked off the entire street. As I approached our street, my heart dropped into my stomach. All the flashing lights were around my house.

      Thoughts started to race through my mind. Did Dad have a stroke? Did someone die? Was there a break-in? I ran up to the house, but the cops held me back. I kept yelling at them to let me through, but it fell on deaf ears. As I stood there, imagining the worst, my father came out, followed by my brother—both in handcuffs. My heart dropped into my stomach. I knew Dad had a bad temper, but I never imagined he would be arrested. But why my brother? He was my hero; there was no way he could have done anything wrong. What was going on, why wouldn’t anyone tell me!? My anger then turned to sorrow. Would I ever see them again? Tears streamed down my face. The thought of losing the two important male role models in my life was too much to bear at my young age.

      My parents had already divorced by this time and my father was dating a woman I didn’t care for, who was still in the house during the chaos. Moments later, my mother pulled up—and my mother never showed up anywhere unannounced. I knew this was serious.

      To this day, I’ve never formally sat down and discussed my brother’s side of the story. However, I’ve heard the official story a million times, and it changes each time. I will tell you the patchwork version I know today.

      At that time, my brother, who was about 16, worked at the local supermarket. Allegedly, he’d said Hi, sexy, to the girlfriend of a much older employee. The employee followed my brother to the break room and threw some jabs and right hooks. Using his boxing abilities, my brother warded him off and bought enough time to run away safely to our house. He told our father about the events that transpired and Dad’s anger boiled over. He was protective of all the neighborhood kids, especially his own. He grabbed his gun and drove to the supermarket with my brother in tow.

      They barged into the supermarket during the middle of the day,

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