The Black Sheep Shadow
been told that with success on any level come prices, struggles and journeys
that can take you off road, and from the things that you have always known. In
my mind as well as my life, I always considered myself one that would never
understand what it was to succeed. I did not have the best support system
especial y with any day ending in a Y.
remember the white picket fence in some instances though they were blurry. What
I do remember the most is the feelings I bottled, the conversations that
pierced more than my self-esteem, but it factored into my confidence, my
beliefs and my lifestyle.
what someone is thinking or how their life has been affected no more than you
know how damaging words and actions can be.
affected by the “what happens in this house, stays in this house” policy, I
began to not say much. Unlike other households that had an “open door policy”,
things were very strained in the Davis household. As time I grew older, I felt
like my opinion didn’t matter and affected how I treated others. It also had a
bearing on how I treated myself.
ordinary. I was not a person that uses to be happy. I was not a person that
enjoyed company of friends, nor did I have the desire to be a socialite. I was
determined to come from under the stigma of being the black sheep.
of living, the thing I found most profound is the power of God. God will have
you speak to someone to deliver His words because He knows that person who is
consulting with you will listen. That is trust. When God began to use people to
speak to me, it was groundbreaking. It was scary. I never thought I was special
enough to have such a privilege.
with my mentor to write an alternative book, we were brainstorming on
paraphrasing when suddenly I blurted out, “There is no real word to describe my
brother being murdered. There is no real word to express my darkness. People
see the success of what I have done, not the pain that I had to endure to get
moment, I knew my time has come I didn’t know for what though. He slowly
looked around and I noticed his leg overreacting under the table.
story,” he hissed. I paused. For the first time, I felt like a big, fat
old-school Jawbreaker was lunged in my throat.
hear my story. They want to know how to go from sleeping on air mattresses and
eating Ramen Noodles to how to go on tour, promote and do the stuff celebrities
do,” I replied.
tidbits I had told my mentor, I never seen his face more flushed. “If you don’t
tell your story,” he pauses and looks away, “then the Devil wins.”
goosebumps that wildly appeared on his arms. His body is still overreacting.
The scent of the air changes. His advice is no longer suggestive, it is pushing
the raw truth, this book here we are editing is pretty. We need truth. Help
someone break out from feeling alone. Help others take a step forward to want
to be better. Your story is compelling and can do that,” he told me.
time ever, I confidently agreed with him- in silence.