A Mindful Hustlers Mental Health Memoir – By Santonio Peterson

“Sometimes God gotta lock you down just to lift you up.”

That’s the raw truth.

Prison wasn’t where I lost myself… it’s where I finally met God.

I didn’t walk into that cell a saint—I walked in with revenge in my heart, demons in my head, and a target on my back. I was ready to raise hell. Ready to destroy the people that hurt me. Snitched on me. Left me. Betrayed me. I didn’t want forgiveness. I wanted fire.

But God had other plans.

Let me paint the picture:

23 hours locked down. One hour to breathe.

No gym. No phone. Just four concrete walls… and me.

No noise. Just the sound of my thoughts screaming louder than the echoes.

I was left with the man in the mirror.

Not the hustler.

Not the fighter.

Not the smooth talker or the manipulator.

Just the broken boy still asking: “Why me?”

And that’s when the shift started.

Because pain without purpose will kill you.

But pain with purpose? That’ll resurrect you.

—

DMX once said:

“The curse turned to grace when the hurt turned to faith.”

That hit different behind bars.

Because I wasn’t just serving time—I was being stripped down.

God didn’t care about my street rep.

He didn’t care how many fights I won.

He wanted my soul.

And to get to it, He had to burn everything else away.

The streets made me tough.

But God made me whole.

—

You ever see a man get his throat slit in the lunch line over a packet of ramen?

You ever see a dude take his own life with a bed sheet ‘cause he couldn’t take the silence anymore?

I did.

And I had to keep my head down.

“See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil”—just to stay alive.

But even in that chaos, God whispered to me in the dark.

Not through a preacher.

Not through a Bible thumper yelling from the tier.

But through moments.

Small ones.

Like when I was starving and someone slid me a tray.

Like when I wanted to fight and something told me, “Hold your peace.”

Like when I was about to curse the sky, but a verse popped into my head instead.

—

“I will not die, but live, and will proclaim what the Lord has done.”

—Psalm 118:17

That one verse kept me sane.

I started reading the Word like it was a blueprint for escape.

Not from prison—but from the prison inside me.

And slowly…

Day by day…

That monster in me started to crumble.

God didn’t ask me to be perfect—He asked me to be real.

To come to Him bruised, bloodied, bitter… but open.

—

I learned discipline.

I learned routine.

I learned to clean.

I learned to read my emotions.

I took every course they offered.

Parenting. Anger management. Psychology. Even carpentry, just to learn how to build again—outside and inside.

For once, I stopped blaming the world and started owning my healing.

—

Real Talk from Inside the Walls:

Over 60% of inmates have diagnosed mental health issues.

Most of us had no access to therapy until behind bars.

Faith-based programs in prisons reduce violence and increase chances of staying out.

But the system ain’t built to heal—it’s built to contain.

I wasn’t rehabilitated by the government—I was refined by God.

—

DMX said in one of his rawest prayers:

“Lord Jesus, you’ve brought me from a long way.

I come to you broken and bruised,

but I come to you as I am.”

That’s how I came.

Broken.

Bruised.

But ready.

And you know what I found?

Grace.

—

If you’re reading this and you feel like you’re in your own mental prison…

Here’s how I got through it:

Write your pain—Don’t let it rot inside.

Pray like you’re screaming into the void—God hears you.

Own your mistakes—but don’t let them define you.

Forgive yourself—because if God can, then why can’t you?

—

And if nobody told you this yet…

You are not beyond repair.

You are not too far gone.

You are not the worst thing you’ve ever done.

You’re a masterpiece under reconstruction.

And the refiner’s fire may hurt… but it purifies.

—

Prison didn’t just make me pray.

It made me human again.

And if God could meet me there—

in steel, in solitude, in sin—

He can meet you anywhere.