I Should Be Dead – The Story Behind Grit Gear HQ
I Should Be Dead. Instead, I Sell Grit.
How I survived gangs, natural disaster, stage 4 liver failure, and the slow death of the modern man.
I should be dead.
That’s not some tough-guy flex or a catchy headline. It’s just the truth.
I’ve stood at the edge more times than I can count, shotgun in hand, hate in my heart, drowning in booze and bad intentions. I’ve seen the inside of jail cells, detox facilities, emergency room and Intensive Care Units. I’ve been jumped, stitched, locked up, and written off more times than I can remember.
But I’m still here. I looked death in the eye and said, “Not yet.”
⛓️ Arkansas → Chicago → Warzone
I was born in the mud of the Mississippi Delta—ran barefoot through creeks, drank, smoked weed and got in fights before I knew how to change a tire. By 12, I was too wild for Arkansas schools. The plan was juvie. My dad’s plan? Ship me to Chicago to live with my aunt and uncle, two saints who gave me peace through the chaos outside, in their tiny, cigarrete smoke filled kitchen.
Chicago wasn’t salvation. It was a different kind of hell. Gangs didn’t just exist there, they hunted. I didn’t join because I wanted to be cool. I joined because I wanted to survive. I took beatings, threw fists, slashed, stabbed and shot my name into concrete. Every scar came with a story. Every story came with a ghost.
One sunny afternoon, I got snatched off the street. Tossed in an Oldsmobile. I was supposed to die. Somehow, I didn’t.
💀 The Slow Suicide of Addiction
My twenties were a fast-motion blur of chaos, malt liquor, dive bars and night clubs, violence, and jail visits. I had a son at 19, but I wasn’t a father. I was a ghost.
Eventually, my body gave out. Liver failure. Stage 4. My skin turned yellow, my eyes sunken, my mind no longer clinging to reality from the poison in my blood. I was broke, broken, and bleeding out slowly internally while life marched on without me.
But I had a daughter now. A little girl who still looked at me like I was somebody. And a wife who stayed by my side when she should’ve walked out the door.
I didn’t pray for healing. I prayed for time. Time to do it right. Time to show them I was more than the monster I used to be.
🛠️ Rebuild from the Dirt
I should be buried. Instead, I got sober. I got disciplined, and I got leaner. I picked up weights and quietly worked on myself and I eventually started clawing my way out of the hole I dug for myself.
I didn’t want to go viral or get pats on the back. I wanted to leave behind something real. Something with teeth. Something that smelled like gun oil and sounded like gravel.
So I built Grit Gear HQ. Not just a store or a blog. A statement. A war cry. A middle finger to the soft, sanitized world that told me I was too far gone.
If you’ve never bled, you probably won’t get it.
But if you know pain, welcome home.
🔥 This Is the Grit Era
The modern world’s in freefall. We got grown men crying into ring lights while predators roam the streets. We’re raising generations who can’t change a tire or stand their ground without WiFi.
I’m not selling hope. I’m selling reality. Pain is coming.
Maybe it’s a bad diagnosis. Maybe it’s a blackout. Maybe it’s someone kicking in your door at 3AM. Whatever it is—it’s coming. You can’t wish it away. You prepare. You build grit. Or you get eaten alive.
🚪 Want In?
This isn’t a cult. There’s no membership fee. Just a simple question: when it all goes sideways, will you be ready?
If the answer’s no, change it. Learn. Harden up. Grow teeth. Protect your people. And if you want real gear—stuff I use, trust, and put my name behind—head over to gritgearhq.com.
Take the Grit Test. Stock your stash. Or just sit by a fire, look your demons in the eye, and remind yourself who the hell you are.
🔥 Real Tools for Real Comebacks
When you've walked the edge and made it back, you don’t just survive — you come back smarter, harder, and more dangerous. These tools are for the ones who don’t make excuses. They make moves. Whether you're rebuilding from rock bottom or prepping for the next round, this gear isn’t cute. It's critical.
📖 How to Unf*ck Your Life
Grit, pain, redemption. Written by Christopher Serpico, this book pulls no punches. It's a battle cry for the broken, the bitter, and the brave.
💣 Raw, honest, and battle-tested wisdom
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ “This book shook me awake.” – Verified Review
💥 Read Now
About the Author
Christopher Serpico is a reformed Italian gang member, liver failure survivor, and founder of Grit Gear HQ. He’s the author of 10 raw, real books on survival, self-discipline, and how to unf*ck your life. He lives in rural Arkansas with his wife and daughter, and he’s living proof you can rebuild from rock bottom.
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