The Hardest Scene to Write (And Why I Wrote It Anyway)

When people ask what it was like to write my memoir, I usually talk about the emotional toll of revisiting childhood trauma. The silence between me and my mother. The abandonment. The secrets.

But the hardest scene to write wasn’t about what was done to me.
It was about what I did to someone else.

There’s a chapter in Split Down the Middle where I describe beating another man.
He was a fellow member of the gang I once pledged loyalty to.
He didn’t betray us in some dramatic way. He didn’t attack anyone. He simply stepped out of line.

And the punishment was expected.
And I delivered it.

It wasn’t rage.
It wasn’t chaos.

It was quiet.
It was deliberate.
It was me.

That scene was one of the most difficult moments to revisit—not just because of what happened, but because of what it revealed. I wasn’t the victim in that moment. I wasn’t the misunderstood kid trying to survive. I was the enforcer. The threat. The embodiment of the very pain I had spent my whole life running from.

What made it worse?

That wasn’t the only time.

There were more moments like that.
Too many to write about.
Too many to remember without shame.

But I wrote this one scene anyway.

Because it’s the truth.
And without truth, healing doesn’t happen.

I didn’t write that chapter for shock value. I wrote it for the men out there who are still living like I was. Who believe power is proven through control. That fear earns respect. That violence keeps you safe.

I wrote it for the ones who wear crowns or colors or false loyalty and have forgotten what it means to be human.

And I wrote it for the younger version of me—who thought he had no other options. Who thought pain was the price of belonging.

As a professional now—working in marketing, leadership, and communications—I understand the value of narratives. We all learn how to tell polished stories. How to highlight the wins. How to share only what sounds respectable.

But I believe we’re stronger when we tell the whole truth.

Yes, I lead strategy and brand messaging for organizations.
Yes, I built a career in healthcare marketing and hold two degrees.
Yes, I’m a husband and a father to three incredible sons.

But none of that happened without first confronting the man I used to be.

We don’t always get to choose what happens to us. But we do get to choose what happens next.

If you’re carrying parts of your story that feel too heavy, too complicated, or too ugly to say out loud—I hope this reminds you: truth doesn’t disqualify you.

It sets you free.

And sometimes the hardest scenes to write… are the ones someone else needs to read.