I am the oldest of 16 children.

My mother has 13 kids and my father has 3. Despite the huge family, I have always felt alone, and from a very early age I struggled to fit in. 

My struggle to fit in started at home. I didn't share a father with any of my siblings. We were very poor and Sunday trips to the food pantry and goodwill were the norm. My mother did the best she could with the provisions she had, but there was never enough to go around. 

My father desperately wanted a relationship with me but was unable, due to my mother moving around sporadically in an effort to dodge evictions, keep a roof over our heads and piss my father off. 

Below is a timeline of events that lead me to where I am today...

Growing up I idolized my father. I believed the man literally walked on water. I was a very obedient child, I followed all the rules and was very respectful. My father viewed these qualities as weaknesses. So I decided I was going to be strong.

On December 15th, 1992 I ran away.

Upon my inevitable return to my mothers home, I will never forget the look in my mothers face or the disappointment in her voice when she said,

“You can go live with your father! Now you can see who he really is.”

My father was not the Rock Star I made him out to be in my mind. I quickly realized that he was more damaged than I could have ever expected.

His struggle with addiction and women tore apart the seemingly perfect family that I experienced during the weekends and holidays.

My father and (Step) Mom got divorced.

This truly broke my heart into pieces. My father never asked me how I felt about the divorce, but I knew I needed to be strong and show NO emotions.

So I thought…

My father used my fondness for him to make me choose between my structured suburban life with my mother and a chaotic urban one with him, as if one was right and the other was wrong.

I did what any young man would do in my situation. I chose my father.

I remember asking my father, “why did you make me leave Mom‘s house? When you know that was a better choice?“ He replied, I felt like you were going to start liking them more then you like me"

My father was rarely around, he spent most of his time with his first love, Drugs and Women.

It was around this time that I began to build a stronger bond with some of my high school friends. This bond would develop into a rap group called Strik 9ine. We were young, hot and because of our deep bond that we developed in our daily lives we had an unbelievable stage presence.

The vibe was evident and we were trending, before trending was a thing.

Every kid in every school around the city was talking about Strik 9ine.

As a result of the fame and distractions from the divorce, my high school GPA drastically dropped from a 3.0 during my sophomore year to a 1.8 during my senior year.

Luckily, one of my High School football coaches had a connection with a D3 college that needed to fill their roster and was able to look past my struggles with my GPA.

1997 I graduated from high school and started at Thiel College.

Fall semester 1998 I withdrew from Thiel College and started at Akron University.

I believed that I was not college material.

I dropped out almost immediately, and this was the death roll for my college aspirations.

I walked away from college and entered the working world with the added benefit of being able to focus more on my rap career.

Fall Semester 2000 I registered for classes at Thiel College for the 2nd time. This time I made changes in my peer group, I developed individualized ways to study which helped me get off of academic probation and I began thriving educationally.

While in college I continued working with my childhood friends in the development of our rap group Strik 9ine, and our fan base had grown drastically.

Strik 9ine created a song called Dansin wit Wolvez that quickly rose to #1 on the Billboards November 24th 2001, and stayed on the Hot rap singles chart at #1 for 7 weeks.

At the same time I inadvertently began a family.

My heart was being torn into different directions. Should I chase my dreams of becoming a successful rap artist or become the man and father that I always wanted to be?

As much as I loved creating music with my friends, my pregnant girlfriend and our unborn child were more important.

I graduated from college with a GPA of 3.4 even making the Dean's list.

July 9th 2002 at 12:40 am my daughter Serenity Rayne was born. 

This changed everything for me.

I felt a familiar feeling, FEAR. 

I was afraid my daughter would go without, like I did, I was afraid that I would become my father. I needed to give her a family to belong to. I needed to provide for her financially.

So I did what I believed to assure that she belonged to a tribe and would be well taken care of.

Following my graduation in May I married my girlfriend and joined the United States Army.

June 2003 I shipped out to Fort Benning GA for basic training and by December of the same year I was preparing to deploy to Iraq.

I was deployed in a war zone for 19 months.

During my time at Camp Victory BIAP I was tasked with keeping track of injured soldiers, often visiting with them in person prior to their return stateside.

BIAP had its share of attacks, I was 1 of 2 soldiers to respond to the first mortar attack our camp encountered.

This is the first time that I watched a man take his last breath.

It wasn't death that bothered me. It was the way that he looked at me that stuck with me.

War had its challenges, anything that I was unable to write a song about, I internalized, and simply kept it to myself.

July 2006, I ETS’d out of the army and returned to civilian life without ever talking to anyone about my emotional challenges, besides, “talking to about your feelings is weak.” So I didnt.

Upon my exodus from the military, Me and a close friend started a mildly successful record label Called Go Getta Entertainment. With all of my new experiences, I only wrote songs about the things that made me look and feel strong. No matter how vulnerable I felt inside. Besides, Who could I talk to? Who would understand?

So I self-medicated with alcohol and women, ruined a marriage that I never participated in and began the path to divorce, but not before impregnating my wife with our 2nd child…

Duce was born in February 2010. Shortly after the birth of my son my wife and I separated. This separation gave me more time to chase my dreams. I did exactly that, I toured the country with my friends. This time things were different, I was old enough to drink, I was not burdened with the worry of supporting a family, and I had mastered the art of hiding my pain. 

That was until I was performing on stage while on tour and could not catch my breath. 

My chest felt like I was riding in the tourett of a humvee “full battle rattle.” My breathing became so shallow that I had to cut my show short, which is something that I never did. We returned to Cleveland that night and I checked myself into the VA with the expectation of being diagnosed with a respiratory issue.

After several months of going from doctor to doctor and repeatedly having to have my lungs drained (Thoracentesis) of fluid.  Finally, April 2011 I was admitted into Louis Stokes Cleveland VA Medical Center for what the doctors called “A rare tumor (Thymoma). ” 

My body and my world were falling apart, this was the perfect time for my wife to place divorce papers by my bedside. I happily signed them, knowing that I deserved to feel just as alone in this moment as I made her feel our entire marriage. 

I spent the better part of 3 months laying in an uncomfortable hospital bed, getting surgeries, in and out of ICU, many other complications of surgery, not to mention terrible reactions to the pain meds. 

During this time I had a lot of time to reflect. “A man's only job is to prepare his children for his death.” repeated over and over in my head as I laid in the hospital bed with tubes coming out of almost every hole in my body, thinking, “They are not prepared for my death, If I die now they will never know who I really am.”  Once I vowed to prepare my children for my death, by any means necessary. 

2011-2014 was a very dark time. 

My symptoms of depression and anxiety began to spiral out of control.  

I couldn't walk, I couldn't not close my hands, my body began to break down. I was in and out of the hospital for Bilateral reconstructive surgery on my feet, as well as bilateral surgery for carpal tunnel. I was no longer able to distract myself with pushups, long runs, alcohol or women. 

I was forced to deal with my emotions, but I never learned how. 

This is when my real war began. Understanding my emotions became my new mission. I learned everything I could about depression and anxiety. I set out to heal myself and refused to accept an alternate reality.  

One major part of my healing required me to have an open discussion with my father. We had that talk, well it was more of an episode of me checking my father for some rude things that he left on my voicemail. I didn't recognize it until I hung up the phone and said the last words that I would ever say to my father, “I love you but I am about to hang out with my family.” He was silently listening the entire time, he knew he was wrong and I was right, but even better he respected me. I was prepared for his death. 

As a result I earned my Masters degree in Professional counseling. 

Within this dark period of my life the only light was that fact that I met the woman that would become my wife.

I graduated from Grand Canyon University with a MS in professional counseling.

Shortly after graduation I accepted a position as an unlicensed counselor with the department of juvenile justice November 30th, 2015 and moved to Okeechobee Florida. 

Then on my way to work one day I received a call from my sister.

She was on the other end screaming.

I could not make out what she was saying through the tears. but, when her words finally made it through the cries I heard her say

“ Little Scotty, Daddy is dead.”

for several, several seconds but what seemed like an eternity, I wanted to yell ”OK,OK he won, tell him I will call him.” but I didn't want to make her any more upset than she already was.

I flew back to Ohio 2 days later. we began began planning the funeral, obituary, slide show, reception hall, coordinate food for the reception hall, limo, repass, outfit, kids outfit, make sure the children get a chance to see their other Grand Parents, visit the burial plot, go to the funeral attempt to look sad, feeling empty and regretful but unable to effectively express sadness, emptiness or regret.

I changed my name from Scott Manningham Jacobs to Scott R Manningham

(my father would have appreciated that). I purchased a house, married the love of my life and barbecued in a hurricane (Irma). We must all be able to find peace and the storms.

I became a Licensed Mental Health Counselor in the state of Florida

Then opened a private practice in Apollo Beach and began phase 1, Talk2Me Unconventional Therapy LLC.

Build a practice that prides itself on integrity and simplistic approaches to difficult issues.

Phase 2, Document and package these approaches and give access to individuals who wouldn't necessarily have access to my office.