It was the beginning of spring about two years ago- a wet and gloomy day. I was thirty two years old, strung out on meth and homeless. Headed back to prison for the third time, I was faced with a life changing decision, “do I turn myself in” or “do I keep running and take my chances”. It was a decision that would affect the ones I love the most, my children. As I sat in the woods behind a run down, drug infested motel, I closed my eyes and all I could see were the tears in my kids eyes every time they came to see me in prison. The ones that depended on me for love and security, were now sad and scared of me. They were as lost as I was. Thoughts began to run through my head, “have I failed my children as a father”, “do I want them to go down the same path I went down” or “do I want to give them a future and a father to be proud of”. Living the life style I lived for ten years, taught me not to trust people. Especially authority figures. So the thought of turning myself in didn’t sound like a good idea to me at the time. It left me puzzled and scared. I could keep running, but the past ten years had been nothing but a continoues cycle that always landed me back in prison and left my children without a father. I’ve always been known for taking chances. Turning myself in would require taking the biggest chance of my life, trusting an authority figure and the system that I thought had already failed me. My Pastor had always told me “recovery has to start somewhere son”. At that moment, with my children in mind, I had made my decision. I was going to turn myself in. As I opened my eyes, tears streaming down my face, the day seemed to turn from wet and gloomy, to calm and clear. I picked up my phone and made the call. I was to turn myself in to the authorities within two weeks. On April 20,2011 I walked into the Federal...