The Hurricane Wasn’t the Worst Storm I Survived

I’ve been through every hurricane South Florida has thrown at us since 1979. Andrew. Katrina. Jean and Frances, just a week apart. Wilma. Irene. I’ve lived them all. But the one storm that changed me forever wasn’t Andrew or Katrina. It was Milton.

And it wasn’t the seven days without power that made Milton unforgettable. It wasn’t the 99 tornados that tore through Tampa Bay. Not even the three hours I spent in line for gas for a generator only to realize we didn’t have the damn key to start it.

No. What I’ll never forget was that night. The wind ripping shingles from the roof. The front door shaking violently until I wedged a kitchen chair against it. The sound like standing next to a freight train screaming past in the dark. And the helplessness of knowing there was nothing I could do but try to protect my family and pray the house would hold.

I learned then that storms strip everything bare. Not just roofs and fences. They strip away illusions. They show you who shows up and who doesn’t. Milton taught me who truly had my back and who only offered lip service.

When the storm cleared, I didn’t lose my house. We weren’t hurt. We lost some fence, some shingles. But I lost something else the illusion of partnership. At the time, I was pouring everything into what I thought was going to be the big thing. I believed in it so much, I gave up my paycheck. I handed over my network, my talent, my sweat. And when I needed just a hand, I got silence.

Instead of support, I was told business as usual. Instead of backing, I was ghosted. Worse, the story turned against me painted as a no call no show. You can’t no call no show when you’re not even being paid. I had called. I had texted. I had tried. But the wind wasn’t the worst thing that hit me that week. And still, I was left standing in the wreckage alone.

I found out later that a sponsor was upset with a video where I admitted tasting the cold steel of a gun. That truth that rawness was too much. But here’s the thing if I had a true partner, someone who actually believed in me, they wouldn’t have ghosted me to protect a sponsor. They would’ve said, “This is his story. This matters. If you don’t like it, you’re not our sponsor.”

That was my second storm. Milton was the wind. The betrayal was the debris it blew loose. Both left scars. But both gave me lessons I’ll carry forever.

Here’s what I know now storms test foundations. If you don’t have community, you need to build one. Because when the winds come and they will lip service won’t hold a roof down.

I built my community. And my life has been nothing but better since. I’ve written my first book. I’ve been on two TV spots, with a third coming soon. I’m surrounded by people who don’t just say they’ve got my back they show up.

Milton taught me that storms aren’t just about what you lose. They’re about what you learn. Through trauma, betrayal, or heartbreak, there’s always a lesson find the good, be true to yourself, and move forward.

I survived Milton. I survived betrayal. And now, my fire isn’t about surviving storms it’s about lighting the road so others can follow so they don’t have to face their storms alone.