Introduction
I was first introduced to this world at the turn of the
decade, 1989, when being different was the thing. Born to a young single mum, some
of my first memories where at my grandparents' house in Oxford, England. The
air, filled with a strong smell of antiques and moth balls and far from the
connotations of the world renowned university and cathedral. The Oxford I knew
was notorious for gang culture and drugs in an almost generational cycle
of lost people numbing their pain with drugs and escaping their troubles
through crime. Once and for all, I decided to fight against the status quo and
break the cycle. As you read on, you will see how I did so.
Born in 1970, Maggie was the second oldest of
four siblings. They were raised in a Catholic household with Irish roots where
she felt like an outcast. She never felt like she was a part of the family
which got worse as she grew older and had an effect on her school life.
Feeling unwanted and lagging behind school, by the age of fifteen she had
dropped out of school, working to save up for a place of her own. In the mean
time she met a guy at work whom she fell in love with. She was later to fall
pregnant which for most teens would have been a catastrophe, for my mother it
was a new start. This was a way for her to start her own new family, one that
would love her as she always longed.
A month before she was due to give birth, her
dream came true, she finally got her own home. A bedsit, it was far from a home
but it was a place of her own at last and her pregnancy had stayed a secret
from her family until she could no longer hide it. Given hr parents’ old
fashioned values, she knew they wouldn’t appreciate her interracial
relationship. True to form, the abuse ensured when they found out.
Early Life
That baby was me; Warren Wesley
Ryan. My earliest memories were from the age of 4 just as my mother was giving
birth to her second child, Matthew. His father was a strict man, never on e to
talk but let his fists do the talking thus reminding me of Mike Tyson,
I was very scared of him and
his unconventional rules which included forcing me to swallow my food a certain
way so that he wouldn’t hear me eating. The belt was never far which I was
constantly reminded by him. I could see that my mother was in love with him so at
that young age; I never told her what was going on.
Theirs wasn’t an ordinary love,
it was fuelled with violence and arguments and they certainly were no Romeo and
Juliet. Myself and my brother were exposed to all of this dysfunction, we often
heard our mum’s screams and young as we were, I would lock myself and my
brother in my room but the walls weren’t thick enough. We could still hear him
hitting my mother and I would cry as loud as I could for him to stop.
I will never forget the time I saw him smash
my mother’s head into the front door and to this day, the image of blood and
tears trickling down my mother’s face still haunts me to this day. After a
while, there was so much she could take and she had the police put a
restraining order on Matthew’s dad.
A year later my sister Chloe
was born, a beautiful baby and light in complexion, my mother had doubts as to
who the father was. It was just the four of us though with that being said, we
were often left in the care of our grandparents. I ended up getting very close
to my uncle and we would everything from going fishing to building tree houses.
My mum would come back every now and again to visit and though we didn’t see
her often, that didn’t affect the love I had for her.
Violence Part 2
By the time I turned 7 my
mother had a new boyfriend named X. He was nice at first as most people are. He
was also violent, almost as if my mother was solely attracted to violent men
who were abusive to her. He used to beat
her in front of use and lock her outside the house and I remember her begging
me to let her back in the house through the letter box. I was however too
scared to do so in lieu of being next in line for a beating. Despite all of
this, in a vicious cycle, my mother would forgive him.
Still etched on my mind is the
night he picked me up, out of bed by my neck and pinned me up against the wall
choking me. To this day I’m still confused as to why he did this as the real
issue was that he’d had an argument with my mum earlier that day. At school I
would dread the end of the day when the bell rang and I would have to go home
where I was terrified to go,
Just before my birthday X and
my mother welcomed baby Lucy, with the mounting responsibility X left and that
was the last I ever saw of him.
Man Of The House
As the eldest of my siblings,
when X left I assumed the role of the man of the house enforcing the rules and
ensuring that my siblings obeyed my mother. These were the happiest days in my
eyes as we didn’t have men in the house abusing us and we had our mother all to
ourselves. However for some reason my mother didn’t seem happy, in hindsight I
realise that she must have felt lonely and unloved not having a partner. We
didn’t make it any easier for her either we were little terrors even having run-ins
with the police. It was not long till my mum sunk into a depression and stopped
caring about the house and started neglecting us.
Drugs
Comfort came in the form of the
wrong crowd for my mother, before long she was using recreational drugs
such as
cannabis and ecstasy which in our neighbourhood was the norm. This made for us
not having boundaries. I was stealing from shops, beating other children up and
being escorted home by the police was almost a daily occurrence. There were
never any consequences for my bad behaviour unless i stole from the mother then
I would get the belt. Otherwise the rest of my bad behaviour went unpunished.
When I was 9 a new guy came into our lives
and his name was David. Unlike the rest he showed me love and treated me like
his own and showed me love. Although he wasn’t violent, he had his own demons.
Unbeknownst to us he was a crack cocaine user and worse of all he had
influenced our mother to take up crack cocaine use. I started finding bottles
with tin foil wrapped at the top of them with pin holes. I had no idea what
they were until a friend of mine came over and I learned that they were crack
pipes. He told me of the dangers of this drug and how his uncle died from a
crack overdose. Hearing this was very unsettling for me young mind and I
couldn’t bear the thought of losing my mother in the same manner.
I literally took matters into my own hands
and started destroying every single pipe I could get by pushing my thumb
through them, deeming them unusable. It was a never ending battle, the more I
destroyed, the more I found the next day.
Saying Goodbye
The crack was starting to take a toll on our
mother. Her priorities changed and feeding us became secondary if not a non
factor to feeding her habit. She started leaving us alone at home, sometimes
for hours at a time so sometimes I was so desperate for food I would do
anything from begging neighbours to shoplifting.
We were strictly instructed not to answer the
door so much that sometimes when someone was at the door I would have to hold
my hands over my siblings’ mouths to keep them quiet. Out of concern someone
reported our mum to Social Services which made for more frequent knocks on the
door. I couldn't let them know we were in the house out of the fear of getting
our family split up.
I vividly remember the day Social Services
finally caught us at a time when my mother wasn't in the house which ended up
being the straw that broke the camel’s back, something had to give. Our mother
had to go to court to fight for our custody and after some time of thinking my
mum surrendered her rights and let us get put in the care system.
Foster Care
I couldn't bear the thought of being put in
foster care, it meant I had to leave my mum and she was my first love. I loved
her with all my heart. The dreaded day came when we had to say our bitter
goodbyes and my sisters were first to go. Unlike most siblings, I’d had the
burden of ensuring their well-being in dire times and looked at my sisters as my
children more so than my sisters and it stung to see them go. It also had an
effect on my mother, it broke her heart and filled with more denial than sense
she blamed me for not taking care of them well enough. A hauntingly memorable
night followed as we spent the night sitting in a dark house because we didn't have electricity. We sat in a chilling silence, in the dark, no one talked all
night as we got ready for our impending departure.
It was two weeks later when myself and my
brother finally got taken away and reality set in when we got to the foster home
that we had indefinitely moved away from our mother. I tried my best to hold
back my tears in order not to upset my brother as we said our goodbyes. Then
there was the image of my mother which I still remember to this day. I caught a
glimpse of her in the back window of the car crying as the car drove off and
that nigh I cried myself to sleep.
As troubled children me and my brother were a
handful and this meant that we kept on being moved around from home to home. No
one wanted the pair of us troublemakers on their hands so for a while were
going to have to be separated. In a last minute twist of fate we found a foster
parent who decided to foster us on a long term basis.
Finding God
We were fostered by a white British woman who
had converted to Islam. I had initially thought she was a nun since she always
had her hair covered and in my young mind, Muslims were Asian not White.
The new house felt perfect, I had a hot
dinner daily which I didn’t take for granted given the struggles I had face
feeding myself and my siblings whilst my mother was strung out on drugs. Our
new foster mum Louise had two of her own children and she was very strict. We
weren’t allowed go out on the streets and the big one...no TV. This one took
some getting used to!
Louise never forced Islam on me but one thing
that got my attention was her constant happiness and contentment. I wanted some
of that happiness and contentment; I was worried sick thinking about my birth
mum. I had no one to talk to about this or an outlet, I was so lonely and
played up to my new environment by keeping a fake smile on my face when deep
down inside I was deeply scarred and sad.
One day my foster mum invited me to go the
mosque. As I went inside I saw a group of men sitting on the floor eating from
the same plate which was insane to me!! They were so kind and treated me like
one of their own, almost like a son. I was very touched by this and on the spot
I decided I wanted to be a Muslim so I converted to Islam. I had a new found
sense of safety, I had a God to pray to. I found some similarities to
Christianity i.e. they believed in the same God the only difference being that
they believed that Jesus was a prophet not the son of God.
One day after school our foster mum sat me
and my brother down and broke the news that our sisters were getting adopted.
As she uttered the words, “boys your sisters are getting adopted,” my heart was
torn into shreds, Matthew and I sat there numb and speechless with tears
running down our faces.
I locked myself in my room and put my new
found faith to use. With the thought of never seeing my sisters plaguing my
mind and the pain of my perfect world crashing down to a harsh reality I
desperately cried out to God and let us live all together again. I never lost
my faith in God.
School Life
School made for some tough times for kid in
foster care. Some kids had caught wind of my mother’s drug use and the name
“Skaggy Maggie” was coined and then went around the school taunting me with it.
I felt so left out and only one close friend at school who at times had to deny
that we were friends lest he got bullied too!! I was a boy in care, didn’t wear
the trendiest clothes which didn’t help.
The miracle
One fateful and memorable day I received a
letter from my mum, she was in rehab and doing well. The streak of good news
didn’t stop either as shortly after that we received news that in a twist of
fate, our sister’s adoption had fallen through. It was said that their would be
adopted mother fell seriously ill just before she could finalise the adoption.
It right at the last minute when all the procedures were done and it was just
left for her to sign the papers but fate had other plans.
This good news was the cherry on top to this
new phase of our lives which allowed my mother to have an opportunity to get us
all back together. It was a miracle, perhaps the biggest miracle of my life
thus far. Two years on, our 2 years sober mum was ready to take on the courts
in order to regain our custody. My prayer and my dream was finally coming to
pass and we were on the road to being all together again as a happy family with
a sober and happy mother.
The last day of school came and we said our
bittersweet goodbye to Louise. It was hard leaving her I’d grown so fond of her
but I was so overjoyed to be getting my birth mother back. The five of us were
back together again after a difficult 5 year hiatus.
Getting too comfortable
By then I was 14 but felt like
I was eight again and it felt strange. Rehab had completely transformed my mother;
she was a new woman and one on a mission. She was studying to be Sport
Therapist and learning to drive at the same time and had moved us to Bristol
for a new start. I loved living in Bristol because no one knew me or my story;
I wasn’t judged or bullied which made for an amazing school life. Finally I was
accepted at school.
As a family it was a different
story. We started taking each other for granted, the novelty had worn off and
we lost sight of how lucky we were to get a second chance to be together again.
Matthew started using the past as an excuse to start hanging out with the wrong
people, he started smoking weed and started committing crimes and before he
knew it he was in prison. History had started repeating itself and in a domino
effect my sisters started getting affected too. Not wanting to conform and be a
statistic I knew in my heart I deserved better. I wanted to prove people wrong
and give my family a life I never had and I saw an opportunity through football
to do so.
My dream
At the age of sixteen my
breakthrough came. I did a trial for the Bristol Rovers U18s team and
successful got through, I finally felt like this is the place I would get my
praise. Just as I was getting close to signing my professional contract,
tragedy hit. I tore my ACL with an estimated recovery time of two years. It was
a big blow for my new found passion but over the two years I came to terms with
the fact that I wouldn’t be able to be footballer. I started looking at
different career options and became a gym instructor with the newfound dream of
working in America.
The unknown
On what seemed like a normal
night in Bristol, whilst out with a friend I got into a drunken altercation
which resulted in me being beaten out severely outside a club. I had consumed
large amounts of alcohol and I don’t remember much besides waking up next to a
railway line. I was bruised and battered especially my face and that wasn’t the
end of the matter, threats started coming my way from the culprits. This
resulted in me being so paranoid to the point of sleeping with a knife next to
me. For my own safety and sanity I had to move back to Oxford so I did.
Moving
away
Oxford was home, my birthplace and it was here where I would make a fresh start for myself. I wasn’t going to let a group of people derail my progress and stop me from achieving my dream and giving my family the life I had wished for.
Oxford was home, my birthplace and it was here where I would make a fresh start for myself. I wasn’t going to let a group of people derail my progress and stop me from achieving my dream and giving my family the life I had wished for.
It wasn’t long until I found a
job at a gym which smoothly segued into a modelling career. Before I knew it I
was going on a TV dating show with a desire to explore the film industry. The
TV show was a perfect networking opportunity and the experience itself was an
adrenalin rush. I was so insecure and always
craved approval and this presented itself as an opportunity to conquer that. I
was very shy and struggled believing that I was good enough.
When the show aired my phone,
Twitter and Facebook went abuzz; I was getting so much attention. I had
initially thought this would be the key to my happiness but it had the opposite
effect. I became very anxious and started to have panic attacks and fell into a
deep depression. At that point I had no close friends or family close by so I
went into a place of emptiness. I felt like I didn’t want to live anymore. I had
lost the will to live and didn’t want to leave my house. I wasn’t taking care
of my body and felt myself sinking into a deep depression. I didn’t understand
it as it seemed as if everything I wanted was becoming a reality. I’d had
enough so I dragged myself to the doctor and explained my situation. The doctor
was quite happy to write a prescription for anti-depressants, much to my
dismay. I broke down crying; I just couldn’t stop crying or fathom the concept
of living my life on these pills.
Shortly after this I got a call
out of the blue with an offer to sign a nine month contract and go to America to
be a soccer coach for children. I was as if God prescribed this opportunity as
opposed to those toxic tablets so I packed my stuff an headed off over the pond
for yet another new beginning.
America
As soon as I landed in America
I felt as if I had left all my worries in the UK, I flew to Philadelphia and
went through Boston and started teaching straight away. I would then travel
from state to state coaching kids. I felt a great connection with the children
and decided whilst I was there I would put all the time I had on my hands to
good use and get physically fit.
I started training but this
time around I went the extra mile seeking motivation mental motivation. Whilst on
YouTube I stumbled upon a video titled “How Bad Do You Want It?” This video
made me realise that though I wanted to be successful, I didn’t want it bad
enough.
I started researching the man
behind it, Eric Thomas. He grew up in a broken home, his dad addicted to crack
cocaine and dropped out of school later becoming homeless.
It wasn’t until a pastor told
him that where he was didn’t have to be where he would end up. This gave him
enough belief and hunger and belief in himself to make a better life for himself
and his family. This hit me in a place I’d never been hit before, I realised
that I could use the pain in my life and in my past to not only inspire others
but also create a legacy.
The change
It was three months into my
stay and I was in Connecticut at this point. I started investing in myself,
eating healthy, working out and making the most of every hour I was given. I’d
never been much of a reader nor did I enjoy it but knew that I needed to read
in order to gain knowledge. I read books like “Rich Dad Poor Dad” by Robert
Kiyosaki and “Instant Confidence” by Paul McKenna. I started researching how
the mind works which gave me more insight into why people acted the way they
do. It made sense to me that once you believed you could achieve something it
could happen.
There and then my life changed,
I started living for myself not other people’s opinions of me. I felt free and
started to value myself and with that confidence came the belief that I could
inspire people who have also dealt with pain. I know who I was and was
determined to speak louder than my words but through my actions, one brick a
day, start building my future.
Since moving away from Oxford I’d
never told anyone about my childhood with the fear that people would judge me.
I decided to go on Facebook and tell my story, the whole story in detail and how
it had made me the person I had become. I had so much trepidation about it but
knew that I needed to do this for myself. The reaction I got was amazing,
people started opening up to me and telling me their life stories too and their
problems. The feeling I got was so rewarding, I had finally found my purpose in
life.
I started counselling people on
social media which resulted in my Twitter taking off. I had over 30,000
followers so you can imagine how many messages I was getting a day. There was
an onslaught of thank you messages. People were reaching out and thanking me
for telling my story and how it had changed their lives. This just reaffirmed the
new belief I had that I could inspire people. I that this would be my career;
going around schools, prisons and care homes around England I could give them
the belief that they could achieve anything. I wanted to impart my belief that wherever
you come doesn’t matter or determine where you’re going to end up.
I met a filmmaker in Chicago who liked my idea of making a motivational video consisting of what I did with the 24 hours in my day. I ensured to highlight that I made the most of each hour. It was a new inspirational tool, a chance to train my body and push myself to the limit and to find business opportunities. I spoke about how I used pain as a fuel to energise me when I felt like quitting. Titled “The Need For Success,” it got 5,000 views in a week which allowed me to network on a global scale.
Home Coming
It was coming up to the end of
my contract and I was due to return home in December. I’d grown very close and
very fond of the people I’d met in America which made for a very sad and
tearful farewell. As soon as I flew back the grey clouds returned but this time
around I was a man on a mission and full of drive and determination. My focus
was to live life on my terms so I started sending out emails to schools,
prisons and radio stations. I had my first talk at a leaver’s event at a care
home. I spent the night prior to the event rehearsing my speech and in the
mirror fine tuning the details and gaining confidence. I was confident that I
was going to inspire these young people purely based on the fact that I could
relate to them i a way others couldn’t.
My first talk went to plan with many good reviews to follow which opened
more doors and opportunities to speak to more people.
As it is I’m in the process of
establishing my own company called The Need4Success. Since then I’ve been invited
to radio stations and different organisation and I can see my vision flourishing
before my eyes.
Conclusion
Through
my life experiences thus far, I have learnt that no one can hit you as hard as
life itself. Through all of my pain my faith in God has kept me believing
through the good and the bad; I’ve found and stayed on a straight and narrow
path. I’ve had to make sacrifices from things I can live without to the people
I love that I love and mean everything to me. I was born a leader and to lead
by example and to show that no matter how bad you start in life may have been,
there’s a way out. Its all about your attitude and some people use their pain mountains
and get into a cycle of self pity that many people fall into. To dream small is
not to be realistic; conditioning your mindset will allow you to leave a legacy
one day. I found the cure to my depression in helping others, making someone
else’s life better gave my life meaning. I would never want to change my past
because it made me who I am today. I wish and plan to reach out to as many
people as possible and impart the belief that THEY can truly change their circumstance.
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