The week of March 17th was one of the most anxious times of my entire life.
That’s saying a lot, considering everything I had already been through:
- I was anxious after my arrest
- I was anxious at Wyatt Detention Center
- I was anxious during my arraignment, my bail hearing, my trial, the verdict, and at my sentencing
But here’s the thing – each wave of anxiety felt completely different.
In the beginning, anxiety looked like fear.
At Wyatt, it disguised itself as overconfidence.
At arraignment, it was confusion.
During my bail hearing, it made me want to disappear under a rock.
Leading up to trial, it was outrage.
During the verdict, it was contemplation.
And at sentencing? As strange as it sounds – gratitude.
But now, just one week before I was supposed to report to FCI Danbury, all those versions of anxiety hit me randomly throughout the day.
My incredible legal team had filed a motion for stay pending appeal – a rare request that is almost never granted. Judge Kelley was open to considering it and gave the government a month to respond. But they requested an extension, and a few more days passed before the paperwork was finally in. And then … silence.
One week went by and the next started …
Monday …
Tuesday …
Wednesday …
Thursday …
“No news is good news.” I said it to myself. I said it to my family. I said it to friends who were calling. But honestly? I don’t think any of us believed it.
Then came Friday. One week to go before self-surrender. My entire family was home, trying to make the most of what could be our last weekend together for a long time.
5 PM came and went.
Nothing.
I told myself, “Well, maybe because my lawyers are on the West Coast they haven’t checked the docket yet.”
6 PM.
Still nothing.
That’s when everything hit me—fear, hope, despair, frustration. All at once.
And then I remembered something Tony Robbins teaches: “If you want to change your state, change your physiology!”
So I jumped on the stationary bike and just started pedaling. No idea what setting it was on. I just needed to move.
Fifteen minutes in, I was sweaty, tired, and honestly feeling a little better. I began preparing myself to hear something Monday or Tuesday. Maybe even Friday morning – right before I was supposed to report.
And then, I prayed.
“God, I’m letting go of my pathetic attempts to control that which I cannot control.
I put my life and future in Your hands alone.
If Danbury is the path You’ve laid out for me, let me go there with peace.
But if staying home and serving You through service to others is more pleasing to You,
then please, allow it.
Whatever comes, I am grateful. Let me feel that gratitude with every breath and every heartbeat.
Amen.”
I felt a wave of peace. A genuine sense of surrender.
Then – my phone rang.
I never answer my phone when I’m working out. But something told me to check who it was. I turned awkwardly on the bike and saw the area code: 213. Los Angeles.
My heart stopped.
I picked up.
“Hi Sadeq, this is Karen Sosa, how are you doing?”
I could barely speak. Still pedaling. Huffing. Puffing. Holding back tears.
Karen gave me the most incredible news:
Judge Kelley had granted my stay pending appeal. I didn’t have to report to prison.
I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to cry, laugh, scream – all at once.
I got off the bike and sat on the couch my wife. We sat there in silence for a moment before shedding some of the happiest tears of our lives.
Then we grabbed the kids and celebrated the only way that made sense to us at the time: screaming like maniacs and ordering an enormous sushi boat – an absolute must for a night like this!
Later that evening, Mark Werksman called. He was at a private event where cellphone use is frowned upon, but when the notification came through, he snuck away to tell Karen to call me immediately! That’s the kind of commitment and heart this incredible team has shown.
I am deeply grateful to so many people beyond my family and friends – Kelly Quinn, Karen Sosa, Mark Werksman, Justin Paperny, Michael Santos – for walking beside me during this journey. My growth and success is because of these incredible humans in my life.
Hope is a double-edged sword. It’s easy to celebrate when things go well. But to cling to hope in the dark, to let it guide you when the outcome is still unknown – that takes courage.
And today? Today was a celebration of that courage.
Of patience.
Of perseverance.
Of faith.
I’m staying home. And now, more than ever, I am committed to using this time to serve my family, my friends, and my community with everything I have.
