The Other Side of Me

THE OTHER SIDE OF ME

Keith Hughes

Pearly Gates Publishing, LLC, Houston, Texas

The Other Side of Me

Copyright © 2019

Keith Hughes

All Rights Reserved.

No portion of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any electronic system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise) without written permission from the author or publisher. Brief quotations may be used in literary reviews.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019935869

Scripture references are taken from the King James Version (KJV), New American Standard Bible (NASB), New Century Version (NCV), New International Version (NIV), and The Living Bible (TLB) versions of the Holy Bible and are used with permission by Zondervan via Biblegateway.com.

Public Domain.

For information and bulk ordering, contact:

Pearly Gates Publishing, LLC

Angela R. Edwards, CEO

P.O. Box 62287

Houston, TX 77205

[email protected]

Published by Pearly Gates Publishing LLC at Smashwords.

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

Dedication

In loving memory of my Dad,

Sylvester Hughes,

Shelley Renee Cotton,

and my good friend, Chris Pavey.

You are all loved and missed.

Special Thanks To:

The Matriarch of our family, my mom, Eirgie Lee Hughes: Thank you for your love and for introducing us to Jesus Christ at an early age.

My wife, Joann: I love you more than words can say. I thank God for your support and patience in allowing me to pursue this project. As I’ve said before, I am so blessed to have you by my side.

My sons, Adrian and Michael: I am so blessed to have you guys in my life. It’s an honor to be your dad. I can’t wait to see what God has in store for you. Stay focused and positive.

My siblings, nieces, nephews, and extended family: I love you for always encouraging me to be the best that I can be. I have the best family in the world!

Pastor Phillip L. McPheeters & Life Changers Church, Evangelist Joyce Bryant, and Mother Emma Zelle Moody: Thank you for your endless love and wisdom. I am grateful for your teachings and, most of all, your friendship. I love you all. Be blessed!

The River of Life Church family and Bishop John C. Williams: I love you dearly. Thank you for your love and for welcoming me home.

A special acknowledgement to the Rose of Sharon Church of God: Thank you for your love and guidance. This is where it all started for me.

Prologue

While writing this book, I battled with sharing a lot of information for fear it would ruffle some feathers. I became more interested in protecting the interests of others rather than liberating myself from the issues that have plagued me since childhood. I thought about the impact it might bring, but quickly realized this book is about MY life; not anyone else’s.

As I began my research of events, I realized early on that I was becoming a discreet writer—one who writes an intriguing, juicy story, only to leave out the most integral parts that make up a great storyline and leaves the reader guessing about what’s to come. In essence, I was giving half-truths.

The Other Side of Me is a story of self-discovery, self-liberation, the breaking of generational curses, and facing fears that have left me asking, Why, God? Why ME?

This book was also designed to serve as an antidote for healing and deliverance and to give the reader a blueprint on how to forgive oneself and others who have caused hurt and pain. As well, it is intended to destroy generational curses with God’s help, all while building a better future for the reader.

I refuse to go to my grave without having dealt with these issues. I don’t think I would’ve ever been able to forgive myself had I not written this book. This was my way of healing mentally and spiritually—and then moving onto greater things in life. It is my prayer that whoever reads this book would be able to approach their fears head-on and find an encouraging resolution and spiritual uplifting that speaks volumes to their life.

This book is not designed to point fingers at anyone. I do not play the Blame Game here. Neither do I profess to be a victim. Rather, this writing is to serve as an avenue to show you how to take ownership of your life—whether you were dealt a bad hand or not—and ultimately see that in the end, you didn’t lose. You will be able to say that you came out of the storm VICTORIOUS!

I need to free myself from this cage of fear. My strongholds became my Mask of Deception. This is my moment of truth! The Other Side of Me is not a figment of my imagination. It is real!

"I had become afraid of what I didn’t understand…life and fear."

~ Author Keith Hughes ~

Introduction

Spiritual Strongholds:

"For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds; casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ."

(2 Corinthians 10:4-5)

A stronghold is an area of darkness within our mind or personality that causes ongoing spiritual, emotional, and behavioral problems. We can be genuinely born-again and sincere in our faith but have an ongoing struggle with thoughts, emotions, and habits that wage war against our relationship with Christ. We pray. We study. And we attempt to discipline ourselves, but often find our problem is our resistance to real change.

Memories:

People who suffer emotional trauma are prime candidates for spiritual strongholds. Ongoing memories of painful events prepare the heart to accept the suggestions of the ‘Darkness.’ If we’re preoccupied with our painful past, then we will not be able to grow in faith or possess and walk out of new identity in Christ.

Painful memories can and will drive us to bitterness, hatred, anxiety, or depression, but the Word of God will bring us healing. Even when we forgive the person or people who have hurt us, if the painful memories continue to recycle, then we can remain under the influence of those memories.

Jesus Gives a Sound Mind:

Christ gives us a sound mind, which means we are given the ability to see life with a healthy self-image. We have memories and do not forget the past; however, in Christ, we do not allow the past to control our new life. We put on the ‘New Man’ who is not controlled by the pains of the past.

Keep your faith. Lay hold on eternal life. Put to death fleshly lusts that wage war against the soul. The Lord is at hand, and everything that can be shaken will be shaken. Judgment must be given at the House of God. Keep yourself spotless before the world so that at His coming, you may be found in peace—blameless and without a spot or wrinkle. The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord!

Table of Contents

DEDICATION

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

PROLOGUE

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER ONE: GROWING UP IN TOLEDO, OHIO

CHAPTER TWO: LIFE LESSONS TO LIVE BY

CHAPTER THREE: GETTING THROUGH SCHOOL

CHAPTER FOUR: MY FIRST EXPOSURE TO PORNOGRAPHY

CHAPTER FIVE: THE MOVE TO CINCINNATI

CHAPTER SIX: THE BIRTH OF MY SON AND THE MUSIC BUSINESS

CHAPTER SEVEN: REASONS GOD REMOVES PEOPLE FROM YOUR LIFE

CHAPTER EIGHT: TUGGING AT THE SKIRT TAIL OF MY SISTER

CHAPTER NINE: DEALING WITH FEAR AND REJECTION

CHAPTER TEN: INTRODUCING MY SECRET TO MY PARENTS

CHAPTER ELEVEN: FIGHTING FEAR

CHAPTER TWELVE: WALKING AWAY FROM MY SPIRITUAL COVERING

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE DAY I SERVED THE DEVIL HIS WALKING PAPERS

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE DEMONIC SUICIDE ATTACK

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: DISTRACTIONS

THERE IS LIFE AFTER THIS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

APPENDIX

Chapter One: Growing Up in Toledo, Ohio

I grew up in Toledo, Ohio during the 1970s and 80s when children spent very little time inside the house. There was always something to do, no matter what the climate was. My siblings and I spent a considerable amount of time repairing old bikes, building wooden go-carts, picking green apples, cherries, and apricots out of the neighbor’s trees, and standing in the alley throwing rocks at other kids.

The funny thing that I remember about growing up is that in the summertime, I would wear a red winter coat to play in. That’s right; I wore a winter coat in the scorching, hot sun. Although it was hotter than Jerusalem in that coat, it was most comforting to me. I was fascinated with the comic book superheroes Batman & Robin, Superman, and the Incredible Hulk—and with saving the world. As wild as that may sound, that was, indeed, my reality.

My brothers and sisters thought I was weird and tried talking me out of wearing my red coat in the heat. It didn’t work! It never failed that once our summer breaks were over and it was time for us to return to school, I could never find my coat during the winter months.

So, one day, while playing outside, my dad was working on one of his old trucks in the backyard, and he called me over. In a very calm voice, he asked, Son, why the heck is your wearing that coat—as hot as it is out here? Go in the house and take it off! As I turned to go inside, I thought to myself, How dare you tell me to go take off my coat! It’s not bothering you or anyone else, for that matter!

Good thing it was just a thought because if he could have read my mind, I believe he would have killed me.

I grew up in a huge house where we didn’t have a whole lot. Although my parents had great jobs, our home was nothing short of a castle. We were a poor, yet close-knit family. Our home had two temperatures during the year: extremely hot or extremely cold. So, during the summer, we stayed outside and, during the winter, we would all huddle in the kitchen over the oven to keep warm.

I was always the cry baby of the family (so everyone says). I think I only cried when I got into trouble or whenever we were playing, and I got whooped or blamed for something I know for a fact I didn’t do. My parents were very strict when it came to my little sister, though. She was mommy and daddy’s little girl for sure. We could be playing outside or horsing around upstairs in the attic, and if my dad heard her cry for any reason whatsoever, one of us was going to be in some serious trouble…and that was no exaggeration.

Saturday mornings always seemed to be the worst when we were watching cartoons. My little sister had this massive craving for spaghetti and would always grab a dining room chair, sitting right in front of the TV with her bowl—as if no one else was sitting in the living room but her. We would yell, Callie, get out from in front of the TV! My brothers and I would try not to stir up an early morning commotion because we knew mom would start yelling at the top of her lungs from the top of the staircase. Callie would move her chair over about an inch or two and, by this time, dad would’ve made his appearance known by walking through the kitchen door to check out the scene, just to see if we were bothering his darling daughter. She had us all in the palm of her hand…and she KNEW it. If you were to ask her today, she would, of course, beg to differ.

As a child, I felt like there was a major piece of the puzzle missing in my life. Although I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, I never felt like I accomplished much of anything throughout my childhood and teenage years. I feel like I only scratched the surface at everything I put my hands to. In other words, I would start projects but never finished them. I didn’t know how to stay focused half the time. Back then, I guess you could equate that as having a learning disability. Not to mention, I had a significant stuttering problem, which made things a lot more difficult for me as well.

I would work on a project, and my mind would draw a complete blank. I literally could not comprehend what was in front of me, no matter how much I tried. I would sit in class completely lost and ashamed to speak up for fear of being ridiculed by my classmates or reprimanded by the teacher. I hated school with a passion! I hated the very thought of the breakfast bell ringing to let the students know that the day was starting. I knew it was going to be another difficult day of learning for me.

The teacher would often provide the students with small incentives for those who could solve the most math problems on the flashcards or win the Spelling Bee or earn the most (star) points for class participation. I never mastered any of those. So, of course, I dreaded being called on—much like in Sunday School. I knew it would be a matter of time before the teacher would call me out into the hallway to have a private conversation with me about my grades. She would quietly inform me that I was going to repeat the same grade and that she would be notifying my parents—which was the wrong thing to do! My parents were NOT having it.

When we arrived home from school, it was our job to be in those books by the time my parents walked in the door from work. Sometimes, dad would play the mediator and drill us on our schoolwork to give my older sister a break so that she could get her own homework done. She was the A honor roll student of the bunch, so she could afford to go across the street to her best friend’s house to get away if she wanted to.

Still, with all the efforts to help me learn, I ended up repeating the 5th grade. My parents worked a lot, and most of my brothers and sisters were either married or in relationships. Nevertheless, we remained close. I just wanted to live