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While I know I canโ€™t undo the damage I caused, I also know I have the power to change my future through the decisions I make today.

 

I was born and raised in El Salvador in a poor, uneducated, and abusive family. I was my motherโ€™s first child, and I assume she didnโ€™t have much experience. She left me in the care of my grandmother and uncle, who physically, emotionally, and verbally abused me. Honestly, I donโ€™t have many good memories from my childhood. I remember seeing my mom come home every two weeks, but until I was six, I didnโ€™t even know she was my mother. One day, I heard my cousins calling her “aunt,” so I called her “aunt” too. That’s when my grandmother told me, “You fool, she’s your mother.” I was confused and didnโ€™t know how to process it.

I had so many negative emotions I didnโ€™t know how to express them. I had no one to turn to for emotional or psychological support. I made my own assumptionsโ€”that something was wrong with me, and thatโ€™s why my father didnโ€™t want me in his life. I felt I wasnโ€™t worthy of being treated well. These beliefs only strengthened as the years went by and I continued to endure everything I went through. I remember seeing other kids going to school with both their mother and father and feeling sad because I didnโ€™t have that blessing.

There was another uncle that lived three houses away from us. I remember him coming over almost every morning before going to work and getting into my bed. Now I know that he was molesting me and negatively affecting the rest of my life. There were other men also. I know this part of my story is disturbing but it is my reality. I also know that I am not alone. Unfortunately, there are others that have suffered this type of trauma. Iโ€™d like to share with those who have gone through this, Iโ€™m so sorry you went through that. It wasnโ€™t your fault.

I wanted to go to school, but my uncle told me that in order to survive, I didnโ€™t need an education; I needed to learn how to work in the cornfields. Finally, when I was eleven, they decided to send me to school. I was the oldest boy in the class, and I only completed the sixth grade.

At sixteen, I was kicked out of the house by my uncle. I was so tired of all the physical, emotional, and verbal abuse. I had worked like a slave for him in the cornfields without pay. I wished I had money to buy my own clothes, but the only clothes I had were the ones people gave to my grandmother. As a teenager, I was embarrassed to keep wearing those old, worn-out clothes, so I decided to challenge my uncle by refusing to work for him anymore. When he found out I didnโ€™t go to work, he came ready to beat me with his belt. Itโ€™s unbelievable that at that age, he was still physically abusing me. Now I understand that I had become so used to the abuse that it seemed normal. That was when I decided to stand up to him, and as a result, I was kicked out of the house.

My drug use started when I was eleven. I remember seeing my auntโ€™s husband smoking weed every day, at least four or five times a day. He even planted and grew weed in the middle of the cornfields. One day, I decided to try a blunt. Then another blunt, and another. I liked it because it helped me escape from reality, gave me confidence, and allowed me to accept myselfโ€”or at least, thatโ€™s what I thought. When I didnโ€™t have any weed, I started sniffing glue, thinner, gasoline, and drinking alcohol. All of this happened between the ages of eleven or twelve and 23. When I immigrated to the United States my addiction continued. I began mixing cocaine with weed and alcohol, and later, I started using crystal meth. Today, after a decade of abstinence and almost two years in recovery, I can say that Iโ€™m not proud of my life of addiction.

My relationships were a mess. In every relationship, I wanted to have power and control, and when the person didnโ€™t comply, I mistreated her. At 25, I met a wonderful woman from Puebla, Mexico, who lived in Richmond, California. She had four kids from a previous relationship. I convinced her that I loved her, and we lived together for almost two and a half years. She got pregnant and gave birth to our son, Junior. She and her kids put all their trust in me, and I failed them by committing a horrendous crime, which Iโ€™d rather not mention because I donโ€™t want to make anyone uncomfortable. I am so, so sorry.

At the age of 27, I was arrested in Richmond. This was the beginning of my new life. It was in jail that I started to reflect on what I had done and began to see things as they truly were. There were many things I didnโ€™t understand, but I knew I had done something very bad and deserved to be punished. At that time, I didnโ€™t speak English at all, which made everything even tougher and more confusing. I eventually pleaded guilty and was sentenced to 46 years in state prison.

I had always wished to go to school and gain some intellectual knowledge, but I was discouraged by the thought that I was too old. The first seven years of my imprisonment, I was deeply involved in Christianityโ€”thereโ€™s nothing wrong with that. Even though my faith in God was strong, something was still missing within me. It was good to know who I was in God’s eyes, but I didnโ€™t know who I was in this world, or for this world. I was preparing myself for life after death, but I wasnโ€™t preparing for life after prison.

In the last five years, Iโ€™ve focused on educating myself, and for the past year and a half, Iโ€™ve been preparing for life after prison. I earned my high school diploma and have completed 21 college courses, working towards a degree in Arts and Humanities. Iโ€™ve also been attending self-help groups. Through all of this, I now see the world from a different perspective. Iโ€™ve come to love education and recovery. I wish I had started earlier or had the knowledge I have now before I committed my crime. While I know I canโ€™t undo the damage I caused, I also know I have the power to change my future through the decisions I make today. I’ve learned that recovery and education are not destinations, but lifelong journeysโ€”journeys that will only end when I die.

Today, I love and miss my son. I love and miss my family, the people who care for me, and my freedom. I love myself, my education, and my recovery.

To the survivors of my crime, I am so sorry for what I did to you. None of it was your faultโ€”it was all mine. I take full responsibility. I know thereโ€™s nothing I can do to undo the horrendous damage I caused. Not even a billion apologies would make it better. But I want you to know that every day I live, I live with remorse. I live to honor you through my actionsโ€”by educating myself, working on my recovery, treating my sickness, and seeking therapy. I will continue on this path for the rest of my life.

To HUMANS OF SAN QUENTIN, thank you for giving me a voice. I know my English isnโ€™t great, and itโ€™s something Iโ€™ll keep working on. You have my permission to publish this, to reorganize and change anything that might not make sense in my writing. Thereโ€™s much more to my story, but I need to learn how to express it more effectively. For now, this is who I am.

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