I'm Lucious, and Here's My Story
I've always been a loner and an outcast, one of those puzzle pieces that's gotten frayed or wet and just won’t fit into the puzzle correctly. I was picked on, a child of divorce, and just never fit in, which all contributed to my mental state along the way. I always thought there was a clear pathway in life—like so many others my age, I believed it was: school → college → work → marriage → mortgage → kids → retire.
I tried it, but I didn’t get very far. I started at community college for a while, then went to art school, where I dropped out. I tried a couple more times down the road. Through all of this, I was deep in my mental health struggles. When I was younger, I had depression but didn’t recognize it as such. Later, I became intimately familiar with its depths. Over time, I developed serious anger issues. Some days, it felt like I was holding a rabid beast on a leash, trying to keep it from breaking free.
Many times, I swiped that "magic" credit card to buy something—anything—to escape. Just for a fading moment of joy.
Mental health and debt often go hand in hand.
When it was all said and done, I had $80,000 in student loans, credit card debt, and a car loan—and nothing to show for it. No degree. No job. No future. My loans had defaulted, and the debt collectors started calling. They didn’t care that I was unemployed. They just wanted their money.
When I finally got a job, I was able to negotiate a deal to catch up, but I was just treading water.
Then came a turning point.
I had been working for a year when I saw an ad for an electrician apprenticeship. Eager for a change, I jumped the gun—I put in my notice before securing a spot and didn’t make it. That mistake left me struggling again, only able to work part-time.
At that point, I prayed:
"God, I need to get out of debt. And I need a job to do it."
Not long after, I found a job posting that promised long hours and good pay—but it required traveling most of the year. I took the risk. The job didn’t disappoint. I ended up working 70 to 80 hours a week.
While in college, I had come across Dave Ramsey’s radio show and became hooked. I’d sit in my car before work, listening to his advice. That’s when I discovered the Debt Snowball Method—and it stuck with me.
When I started working those 80-hour weeks, I put the plan into action. I used a zero-dollar budget—keeping just enough to live on for two weeks while throwing everything else at my student loans.
In just 3 years, I paid it all off.
I did well with that job. I paid off every penny of my debt, fixed my teeth, and built up investments. But then came 2021.
After losing family members during the pandemic, I made the decision to quit my job at the end of the year.
Because money can buy a lot of things—but it can’t buy time. And once it’s gone, that’s it.
So here I am. In my 40s.
Debt-free.
But still not where I want to be.
I'm starting this because I want to give back—because God calls us to help others. I know the depths of darkness, loneliness, and the heavy burden of debt. I know what it’s like to battle inner demons that keep you off balance.
But we can get there—together.
We can be a shoulder to lighten another’s load, an encouraging word for someone who’s stalled, a rally cry when someone is freed.
The Debt Detoxification Alliance
This was born from a simple idea:
You don’t have to sacrifice everything to get out of debt—you just need better options.
Join the movement.
Detox your debt. Take back your freedom.