Marc Eugene Coles Peters (P2)

Mar 4, 2024

My life revolves around faith—believing in something unseen. God has placed countless angels on my journey and has given me valuable lessons to share. The resilience to endure severe pain, embrace negativity, and understand that situations are temporary are ingrained in my DNA. Everyone has a unique story, and I am preparing to levitate to the next stage of my success.

“Falling is a part of life; getting back up is living.” – Cousin Barky.

Life has not painted a perfect picture for me. I grappled with emotions so intense that suicide seemed almost inevitable. The summer of 2010 marked a turning point when I lost the ability to walk and talk, experienced numbness and tingling, and felt profoundly alone. I’ve traversed every economic level in America—from the poverty of the lower class to the middle and upper classes. I embraced the struggle and celebrated the victories, acknowledging the people and events God placed on my path. I’ve forgiven those who didn’t impact my life as I desired in the past and present.

I left much of my story untold in my Multiple Sclerosis Focus Magazine article published in 2015. I battle a nerve disease that has plagued me for 14 years, where my nerves engage in a constant war. The protective myelin coating on my nerves has been damaged, leading to incomplete messages to my brain throughout the day. I first noticed signs of Multiple Sclerosis on the morning of December 19, 2009, but the symptoms had plagued me since my childhood years. These symptoms persist, including numbness in my limbs, vision loss, and more. Over the past 14 years, I’ve taken over ten different types of vitamins daily.

Endless days of practicing walking and talking became a routine to conceal my body’s failures. However, my unyielding will to win and never give up drives me daily, even when quitting seems tempting. The tears shed during pre-draft thoughts and while writing this piece have been therapeutic for my soul.

Gwen

My mother, Gwendolyn Coles, took me to Richmond Braves games, the AAA affiliate of the Atlanta Braves, at the Diamond every weekend during the summer. Sometimes, my pediatrician, Dr. Boatwright, treated me to the games. Years down the road, my mother met with Dr. Boatwright. He connected my beginning symptoms to MS.

We occupied the same seats, witnessing Hall of Fame baseball players like Chipper Jones, Andrew Jones, and Deion Sanders. Maymount Park hosted free art events, nurturing my creativity. Maymount was a staple in my life from the 4th of July, with petting Zoo and summer arts in the park.

My mom taught me how to shoot a basketball, throw a football, and baseball, playing the roles of my father and mother. She made vision boards for me form the Richmond Times Dispatch sports section—Football, Basketball, Baseball, Hockey, Tennis, and Golf.

She instilled in me the importance of making the best of what I have and fostering creativity in arts, design, and sports. Watching TV together became a gateway to my imagination. I cherished the visuals, stories, and colors—from “Power Rangers,” the 90’s CBS TV series.

Gwendolyn gifted me the wisdom to inspire others with my words and help those in need. Her prayers have shielded me from becoming another statistic of the hood. She says keep going.

Irene Dickens is my mother’s best friend, who has been my mother’s friend for over 60 years, and my godmother and Aunt. Irene passed away from Covid-19 on January 1, 2021, along with her sister within the same week. Irene was a practical nurse before I was born; she advised me on anything from fighting the common cold to MS remedies. She sent me Christmas cards, Birthday cards, and gifts for over 30 years.

I wear a white facemask to honor Irene and my mother’s friendship every day.

Hioaks Road

My childhood on Hioaks Road was seemingly happy. Unaware of my mother’s struggles, we lived in my Aunt’s place with a horseshoe driveway, fireplaces, and beautiful trees in every direction. We had wonderful neighbors, a hospital minutes away, and happiness enveloped the area. I don’t recall a single rainy day. Sunshine, making snowmen and attending Huguenot High School football games defined those years.

My Aunt Jean, along with my mother and I, went to visit my Aunt Estelle, who lived in a nursing home with Multiple Sclerosis. We saw her 2-3 times a week. After the visit, I got a Happy Meal from McDonald’s.

Due to a medication reaction, I lost the ability to walk—a precursor to my Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis. Chippenham Hospital felt like an episode of NBC’s ER. My cousin Darlye carried me on his back to the hospital. Sixteen years later, Chippenham Hospital’s MRI confirmed my MS diagnosis. Charity MRI cost $5000 in September 2010.

I attended Southhampton, a suburban elementary school, for years. Friends from Southhampton became companions at Thompson Middle School. My life soon took a 180-degree turn.

Hillside Court Projects

Transitioning from the suburbs to living in a shelter as a child was an eye-opening experience. Television stereotypes painted a negative image, but I navigated the shelter at night and attended school at Southhampton in the morning. Rinse and repeat.

My baseball coach’s wife advocated for an apartment for my mother at RRHA despite the years of being overlooked, lost, or denied applications. My mother got approved for an apartment in the Hillside Court Project on Glenfield Avenue on April 11, 1995. We had no furniture, but we had a place of our own. We slept on the bare floor, and my mother spent the night killing roaches to ensure my peaceful sleep for school in the morning.

I vividly remember that first night—the ride over and everything. Hillside Court was a raw and unique area. Hillside developed in an area situated on an open field reminiscent of a plantation. The new address led me to an inner-city elementary school called Blackwell Elementary. What a culture shock, haha.

I met my lunch buddy Faye Wade through a school program with professionals. Faye went the extra mile, exposing me to enriching activities for years.

My friend Tsega and Merlyn reminds me that people should feel grateful to live in America compared to their home countries. Hillside Court, however, was a harsh environment. The housing project was a third world country on American soil located in Richmond, Virginia. Hillside was poverty stricken, had drive-by shootings, random killings, drugs, robbing, and so many funerals. It was like I was living in Boyz in The Hood or an episode of Snowfall daily. Good days turn bad so fast year-round. Some of the best people I have ever met resided in Hillside Court. My mother always says to this day, it is not where you live; it is how you live.

In Hillside Court, I met lifelong friends who became family.

Dennis Ward, a 6’7 basketball star and one of Virginia’s best High School basketball players, became one of my closest friends. He was a lady’s man, a comedian, and my shield from bullies. Playing basketball with Dennis trained my body to snap back over time from MS.

Shavonte Russell, whom my mother helped raise, became a City of Richmond Police Officer. Tay was bright and intelligent; he always gave me random information, from music to technology. Although we did’nt have much, we always strived and had the hunger for more.

We lived on Glenfield Avenue in Hillside for 17 years.

Pete

Willie Peters is my father, and my interactions with him were minimal throughout my life. He would visit a few days late every school year and buy me anything I wanted for back to school. Pete came every Christmas, giving my mother an underwhelming amount of child support monthly. However, he was very successful in real estate. My father never visited or wished me Happy Birthday in 37 years. I was outside arm’s reach of getting to know him.

My last interaction with him was on May 8, 2010, after my college graduation at JMU Quad. He appeared out of nowhere after graduation had ended. My mother did not attend my college graduatio n due to transportation issues, but Alvin took videos and photos of the occasion and drove me back to Hillside that afternoon.

Role Models

My biggest role model growing up was Michael Jordan, my hero. MJ and my mother showed me how not to quit and how to use will and determination to overcome obstacles. I dreamed of success in sports, music, or any creative endeavor. MJ’s achievements were particularly inspirational while living in the darkness of poverty. Years later, the lessons I learned from afar helped me overcome MS.

Spending weekends with my Uncle Walter at Second Baptist Church, I watched and admired him cooking for large groups. Uncle Walter introduced me to comedy, and I miss his smile and laughter.

My barber, Lawrence Wilson Jr., has been cutting my hair since I was 8 years old. I followed him to every barbershop he located, and he cut my hair for free when needed. Lawrence provided countless clippers and trimmers, educating me on cutting my hair. Over the years, I’ve had numerous men mentor me.

George Wythe High School

Wythe was the zone school for Hillside Court, and despite the statistics predicting a bleak future for a black male from a low-income environment, I refused to let stereotypes hold me back.

Mr. Griffin, my homeroom and science teacher in 9th grade, was a great man. His class was challenging, and my classmates and I often needed clarification. I visited him many mornings before the first period, and he provided valuable encouragement in high school.

Every day after my 10th-grade year, I visited my counselor, Eric Williams, about college scholarships. My persistence paid off, and by the end of my senior year, I had received many scholarships and grants for college.

Meeting Alvin Bryant, a VCU employee, during my Aunt’s teacher event at VCU was a blessing. Alvin became my mentor, and a few weeks later, he did a VCU presentation at George Wythe. I decided to attend VCU to be close to my mother and Alvin, who has been one of my biggest influences and mentors for the past 20 years.

Principal Earl Pappy changed the trajectory of my life. Polite greetings to him every day set me apart, and despite his military background, he became a friend and a source of encouragement. Mr. Pappy, resembling the principal from the movie “Lean on Me,” insisted that I would attend James Madison University. I insisted on VCU, but he said he was working on something.

Mr. Pappy secured a full scholarship for me in JMU’s Centennial Scholar’s Program. He gifted me a TV for my dorm room and a new backpack. Unfortunately, Mr. Pappy passed away before my college graduation, and it still hurts that I couldn’t share my college diplom a with him.

James Madison University

I accepted my scholarship, and on orientation day, my mother paid our neighbor in Hillside, Mr. Pudding, to drive us to my college visit. The campus overwhelmed me with its beautiful architecture, dining halls, lakes, tall trees, a football stadium, and friendly faces—starkly contrasting to Hillside Court, Southside Richmond, and Downtown Richmond.

Wilford Jackson drove me to JMU for the start of freshman week, and Alvin, 90 percent of the time from 2005 to 2010, shuttled me back and forth from Hillside to JMU. Returning to the suburban environment from the hood was challenging. My Godfather Harold Braxton and dorm mates Parag Parikh and George Morgan’s rides were clutch.

George Wythe had yet to prepare me for JMU’s competitive academic environment. Extensive research led me to the right major: Technical Scientific Communications, which later changed to Writing Rhetoric and Technical Communications. This major introduced me to writing and graphic design.

David Peyser was my first dorm roommate. Dave’s parents made me feel welcome in our dorm room. He often reminded me I started behind the eight-ball but had come a long way from the hood. His parents treated the entire dorm B section for his birthday. Dave is from Long Island, New York.

Alan Schachter, a good friend with a minor in the music industry, wanted to create music. I initially helped him, but he ended up helping me more than I could have imagined. Alan produced a music video about my struggles. Alan is from New Milford, New Jersey.

B Ty Walker, a small-town dreamer in entertainment, and we tried to start a business after I graduated, but it didn’t succeed. Ty later did a documentary series in Africa under the name I created—Hypeculture. Ty and his brother Asher brought fun energy during the early stages of my MS without being on medication. Ty’s father shared his struggles as inspiration during my storm. Ty is from Roanoke, Virginia.

Arthur Burwell, my last roommate and fellow Central Scholar at JMU, bonded with me. After graduating in May 2010 and before being diagnosed with MS in October 2010, Arthur visited me every day to play NBA 2k and ensure I didn’t harm myself.

For weeks before Arthur’s visits, I neglected personal hygiene and fell into a deep depression. JMU offered me a suit-and-tie job, but I had to reject it because I lost control of my body. My degree felt worthless, and I couldn’t assist my mom. I felt like a failure, with an invisible monster destroying me inside and out.

Arthur’s visits saved my life and suppressed the daily emotions I was battling. I was on the verge of giving up. Arthur is from Red Oak, Virginia.

Nurse Irma Teune

An MRI revealed over ten lesions on my brain, and my doctor, Robert White, delivered the MS diagnosis in October 2010. He prescribed Rebif 44 micrograms syringes, and I was assigned a nurse. The reality of taking needles for the rest of my life hit hard, and I just broke down crying despite my symptoms pointing to MS on Google, Drake, and Noah 40 Shebib. The nervousness leading up to the nurse visit was palpable, and I struggled to compose myself for the at-home appointment.

On Nurse Irma Teune’s first visit, she had very rave positive energy as if she was glowing and had so much joy. I was so down I tried to act like I was doing fine in the face of the darkness of my daily pain. Irma’s aura was the light I needed to believe I could defeat MS.

Irma demonstrated how to administer Rebif injections in my right thigh. The injection sites include fatty areas on the body—thighs, upper abs, fatty areas under both arms and on both sides of my backside. I take one Rebif injection once a week—Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, or Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday. Some nights, I ignore taking the needle. I want to feel normal some days.

I still face the possibility of losing bodily functions due to MS or acquiring other diseases associated with it. However, I can’t dwell on that day; I must be grateful for today. Rebif injections cost around $9,000 per month, and MS Lifelines has supported me through no-cost medication programs for years. There is no cure for MS.

Along with Arthur, Nurse Irma saved my life.

The Opposition

Multiple Sclerosis is a formidable adversary, my number one hater. I allowed MS to beat me after I graduated from JMU. Being a loner by nature, MS heightened my sense of loneliness to the point where I felt I might never realize my dreams, fall in love, have kids, or make a positive impact on the world. The disease knocked me down and made me feel like an outcast. Over time, I rose stronger, walking and talking day by day.

Being an African American male in society, you lack opportunities, which leads to a crab-in-the-bucket mentality. Other individuals with similar circumstances don’t want you to succeed. Other times, our mindset can be our opposition.

I learned to embrace the darkness, turning it into a guiding light. My mother often tells me, “You are born alone; you die alone.” MS forced me to embrace solitude. My co-worker once questioned the authenticity of my personality and how cheerful I was. I defeated the pain, levitated, and navigated through the fire of despair.

I sporadically applied for disability, facing numerous rejections. My mother and I moved from Hillside after 17 years, but circumstances soured due to unemployment. While awaiting a disability check that never arrived, I trained my body and found myself couch-surfing with family and staying in Eagle Inn Motel for years.

In between, I landed my first jobs at Shoe Show and Amazon. My body healed enough to work a full-time job five years after my diagnosis. MS constantly reminds me that the monster is with me every day, but I don’t let it take control—I take control of it. In 2018, a disability judge awarded me a partial payment of $5,000, stating that I was not disabled in the present. I had beaten my circumstances.

My freshman suite section mate Chris Yenson gifted his apartment to sublet after buying his first house. The new environment combined the suburbs with a sprinkle of projects nearby. Shortly after moving, I purchased my first car—a used 2008 Honda Civic—at 29. Casper, as I affectionately call. The car drives well and looks brand new 17 years after assembly. I go to work and do errands, as I dislike being on the road without a purpose due to my sensory issues.

While God is still processing me through trials and tribulations for my next chapter, I encountered negative energies and obstacles seeking to block my success—from family and friends to even co-workers trying to hinder my progress. I learned that what he has for you is only for you. There’s enough of everything to share with everyone. Jealousy and envy are ubiquitous. However, there’s a piece of goodness in everyone.

Individuals will make you a villain in their story. I will always be a hero in my script.

I’ve encountered far more positive energy and love through my struggles. Steve Harvey’s wisdom echoes in my mind daily: “People’s opinions are none of your business.” Being ghosted by my father for 14 years during my battle with MS nullifies any opposition or negative energy. I will prevail at the end of my journey; patience is a virtue. The marathon continues.

I forgive my father and anyone else who disregarded me and directed negative energy towards me. I am not a perfect person. I apologize to anyone I may have offended or left behind without an explanation. Karma is real. The energies we emit come back when least expected. Always try to exude positive energy, even when it’s challenging to smile. Everyone makes mistakes. Ride on your wave to the best of your ability.

Don’t Quit. No Excuses, Keep Going.

My story has more to reveal at a later time. Quitting is not an option. Many people have invested positive energy in me. People have entered my life like seasons, often without closure. That’s life, and I thank everyone for their presence in my life.

I drive past Maymount Park, Irene’s funeral home, Second Baptist Church, Hillside Court, GRTC bus stops on my way to work twice daily, and the Diamond twice a month for orthodontics appointments. These landmarks are humbling reminders of how far I have come. Be confident and trust the process.

Many people have extended a helping hand, and I plan to change my life, support my family and friends, and assist people worldwide in need. People’s prayers have been instrumental in my survival, lifting me on good and bad days. I am profoundly thankful for everyone. There is a purpose for everything. People enter our lives for a reason and a season.

Grateful

I express my gratitude to everyone who has lifted and blessed me, whether in person or inspiration from afar. Thank you for inspiring me during my good and bad days. I am thankful for every person who has made a positive impact on my life.

Thank you to anyone who had a positive impact on me.