The Takeoff

by D’Estin Perry Sr

August 21, 2016, 5:23 a.m.

When I wrote this on August 21, 2016 at 5:23 a.m., I was pouring out my truth in real time. I didn’t know where life was taking me—I just knew I had to tell my story.

For quite some time, I was ready to hit the road and leave my hometown behind. But every time, I found an excuse why I couldn’t just pack up and go. Either my kids’ dad didn’t want me to move, or I was pregnant again and too scared to leave with just me and my boys. Year after year, the reasons stacked up—until I finally said, enough is enough. I had outgrown that small city.

In the summer of 2015, I started selling as much as I could and packing up my house. At the same time, it felt like everything in my life was going wrong. The more that fell apart, the more I knew it was time to go. When the skating rink announced it was closing—the one place I had to clear my mind—it sealed the deal. I gave away what I could, boxed up the rest, and faced the hardest part: closing my clinic and store. I had poured everything into that business, but with no support and no drive left, I had to let it go.

By then, my clinic was gone, my house was packed, and all I had to do was wait for my kids to finish school. But I kept pushing the move back. Christmas was coming, my favorite holiday, and I wanted to give my kids the best. So I worked two jobs—a full-time assistant manager at Journeys and a third-shift gig at Vera Bradley—just to make it happen. I spent nearly $4,000 on Christmas so their faces would light up with joy that morning. For me, birthdays meant a party, but Christmas was when I gave them everything.

Then came January 16, 2016. I woke up to the smoke alarm blaring. I ran downstairs but saw nothing—until I turned and noticed flashing lights. I opened a door, and flames burst into my face. Smoke filled my chest, and I choked as I screamed, “Dad! Dad! Get up!” Three of my boys were already downstairs with friends, but my two youngest were still asleep upstairs. I grabbed them, ran down, and we all made it outside.

The fire department told us to grab what we could because the house would be condemned. My heart sank. Everything I had just bought my kids for Christmas was gone. In that moment, I knew it was time. Atlanta was calling.

Within weeks, I was on the road—me and my five boys. I had about $10,000 saved and thought it would be enough to get a crib and bounce back. But the reality hit fast. Hotel after hotel drained my account. Food, gas, and living expenses burned through $5,000 before I knew it. By the time my balance dropped to $2,800, I panicked. I was in a new city, spending money with nothing coming in. Many times, I thought about just going back home.

But my pride wouldn’t let me. I didn’t want anyone to know how bad things really were. When I finally asked for help—just $800 to secure a house—doors closed in my face. By April 2016, I was down to $1,600, no child support, no food stamps, no help and no plan. I used what I had to buy snacks, gas, blankets, and pillows. Then I filled up my truck. That became our home.

Days were spent at parks or play areas so the kids could stay busy. At night, I drove until they fell asleep with a movie playing, then pulled over to catch an hour or two of rest before driving again. The hardest part was when police lights flashed and I had to pretend I was just passing through. My balance dropped to $400, and I felt completely lost.

A small blessing came when I realized I had enough hotel points for four free nights. That gave us a break, but soon I was back down to $100. Desperate, I called a friend I knew wouldn’t ask questions. Within hours, he sent me money. I broke down crying—he was one of the realest friends I ever had. But even that didn’t last long.

I’ll never forget the day I had just $4.25 left, and my kids were hungry. I told my oldest two that the little ones had to eat first, and they said, “That’s fine, Mom.” That broke me. That night, I prayed harder than ever.

Not long after, I made the hardest choice of my life: "I went to a club to make money" It took me an hour just to get the courage, but with my kids hungry, I pushed through. By the end of the night, I walked out with $850. For the first time in months, I felt relief.

From there, things slowly started to shift. I stayed with my brother for a few weeks and met people that changed my life. By June, I finally found a home—a 3,000-square-foot house. After losing everything, sleeping in my truck, and struggling to feed my kids, walking into that house felt like a new beginning but yet the start of my biggest nightmare and oh god that same day I met my daughters dad, that day shattered my world's entire existence.

"June 19, 2016 the start of my worst nightmare I wish I never stopped at that gas station"

Yes, we were starting over, but I knew God had cleared my path for a reason. He removed everything so I could receive the blessings he had waiting for me. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m stronger now. I’ve learned to forgive, to release grudges, and to trust God’s plan I had faith and that's all that mattered to me at that time.

As I look back, I know so many people feel like they can’t do it. But trust me—I did, with five kids, on my own. And I have no plans of looking back. My life has just begun.

Never give up. Anything is possible. God gives His hardest battles to His strongest soldiers—and I know I am one of them.

To Be Continued…

When I wrote this on August 21, 2016 at 5:23 a.m., I thought I had survived the hardest part of my story. But life wasn’t finished shaping me yet.

In Part 2, I’ll share what happened next—the battles, the blessings, and how I turned my pain into the powerhouse I am becoming today.

Stay tuned.

Broken Silence: Heal Momma Heal

Real stories of grief, survival, healing, and hustling while rebuilding your life.

This story is part of the upcoming book

Broken Silence – The True Life Story of D'Estin Perry Sr