I went from preacher’s kid to meth addict — then everything changed

I grew up as the son of a traveling evangelist. My mom is truly one of the kindest people you’ll ever meet. Sadly, beneath her elegant facade was a deep fear-driven need to appear as though everything was OK. Our life was far from it. The man I grew up watching speak behind a pulpit was not the same man at home behind closed doors, where I had a front-row seat to the physical abuse he heaped on my mother.

Keeping the secret of Dad’s abuse was our No. 1 rule as a family. No one could ever know.