It's the middle of summer in late July of 2003. I can see myself laying on the floor in our master bedroom. I'm curled up in a fetal position. I've been there for quite a while, right where I collapsed in tears. Before this, I wasn't one to cry much. And if I did, I'd never be willing to admit it. "Come on, man. Real men don't cry." And yet here I am rolled up on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I'm crying so hard that I can't catch my breath. My stomach hurts, and I don't have the strength to get up. I remember thinking that this is the day that I'm going to die. I've already made my decision. I don't know how I'm going to do it, or where I'm going to do it, but as soon as I can get up off the floor, I'm going to take my life. All hope is gone. I'm giving up. I can't go through this.

Looking back now, it's hard to believe it was me on that floor, and a lot has changed since that day. I believe that there comes a time in everyone's life that we find ourselves in a situation that only God can truly help us. This was that time for me. I was on my way to prison, but what felt like the end was actually just the beginning. I sincerely pray that regardless of your circumstances, God will use my testimony to encourage you and give you hope because we all need hope, and everyone needs Jesus.

--Joseph Fay

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