When I was a young boy, I would have a recurring nightmare. I was in a dark cave, and the devil appeared to me. He asked me to come to him, and I replied no. I ran scared, and he started to laugh and said, “Where are you running to? You can’t escape.” I turned back to see him still in the same spot—laughing. My legs were moving, trying to get away, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I would wake up in the dark, sweating coldly—I had many sleepless nights, making me tired.

Until one night. One night, I told the devil that if I couldn’t escape him, then I would fight him until I couldn’t anymore. I would fight him because I would never go to him. And so I attacked him—my nightmares stopped—and they began in my real life.

I will tell you one story out of the many I have.

When I was in second grade, the teacher lined up all the kids by height. Since I was the tallest, I was at the top of the staircase. The staircase was at least 15 steps tall, and there I was, holding my books. Out of nowhere, a group of older kids saw me and pushed my books out of my hands. As I turned to look at the falling books, I was pushed and down I went with all my books—hitting every step on the way down until I got to the bottom.

I gathered my books and quickly ran back to my spot in line, fearful that my teacher would come back at any minute and see me. The older kids were still laughing and told me, “Nice boots.” Was that the reason they did this to me?

I found out shortly it was. During recess, they caught me and grabbed my arms and legs, swung me, and sent me flying in the air. They kicked and punched me and ran off. I quickly grabbed my boots, and after the recess bell went off, I went back inside.

This would happen for many days—they would throw me against walls, cars, anything they thought would hurt. And they always ran off laughing.

I had to finally tell my mom that I didn’t want to wear my cowboy boots to school—saying that they hurt my feet too much. I didn’t want to tell my older brothers or anyone what was happening to me. I wasn’t afraid of those kids—I knew that I would repay them a visit when I got bigger and stronger—which I did.

My childhood was rough. We were poor.

I’ve had a rat bite me while I was sleeping on the floor. I’ve had my eardrum scratched due to a cockroach crawling inside my ear and my dad trying to poke it out. My alcoholic father use to pull the hairs off my sideburns and back of my head, telling me not to cry.

I’ve had a gun pointed at me at least 13 times. I’ve been shot at for no reason. Attacked with baseball bats, pipes, chains, you name it. God was the only one I spoke to about my problems. I felt like he gave me a guardian Angel who looked after me. That saved me.

The last thing I need is pity, or anyone to feel sorry for me. This is what my life was as a young boy.

I wasn’t a bad person, but I had a rough life. Not only me, but so many of my friends - some of which didn’t make it.

But what I realized was many of them kept going - trying to do good under such hard circumstances growing up in the heart of Chicago.

A Unique Warrior is for me - a person that will not give up!

My life was not easy. I’ve seen many others who had it hard and did not give in. They wanted a better life and to be happy.

After my parents got divorced when I was 13, I had to grow up fast.

After high school, I paid my own way through Devry University and got my associates degree in electronics. A couple of years later I became a union electrician. From union electrician I became a foreman.

25 years later, I became an Electrical Superintendent, nearing retirement.

I truly hope that my story can inspire people struggling to keep trying and to not give up.

You can do it.

God bless,

Sergio Gonzalez