Corey Angelo: The Journey From Chains Change

Episode 19: From Chains to Change – The Transformative Journey of Corey Angelo
After serving 15 years behind bars, Corey Angelo turned his pain into purpose. In this episode, he shares how prison became the place where he rebuilt his identity, found spiritual clarity, and discovered his worth. From the streets to author, coach, podcaster, and community leader, Corey’s journey is proof that transformation is possible when you change your mindset and claim your future. Connect with Corey Angelo

Author | Life Coach | Speaker | Podcaster
Founder of Worthy Existence LLC & Worthy Existence Publishing LLC

Email: coaching@myworthyexistence.com

Phone: (786) 944-3729

For coaching, speaking engagements, or media inquiries, reach out today.

Subscribe to the podcast through Spotify, Apple, IHeart or other podcasting channels.

Connect with Us on the Web for: s2spodcast.net (sms at the bottom of our page for real time reply)

For topics and podcast information reach us at: struggle2success.p@gmail.com

For booking information reach us at: sterlingbrown@s2spodcast.net

Be sure to leave a review on Apple Podcast your feedback helps us reach more listeners.

Thank you for listening to the Struggle2Success Podcast!

Transcript

Sterling 0:00

Hello, wonderful people. Today’s guest is living proof that your past doesn’t define your future—it refines it. Corey Angelo, also known as “C,” is a life coach, speaker, and the host of the *Exist With Purpose* podcast. He’s also the author of *A Hostess Recourse*. After serving 10 years in prison, Corey turned pain into purpose, rebuilding his identity from the streets to the stage. He’s been featured on local news, honored by his community, and trusted by many searching for a second chance—his message rooted in spiritual clarity and the belief that we are all worthy, no matter how far we have fallen. Corey, welcome to the show.

Corey: 0:43

What’s going on, good brother?

Sterling: 0:43

Hey man, it’s a blessing to be here.

Corey: 0:45

Thank you for inviting me to your platform. I grew up in Pasadena on the east side of the Indianapolis area. I live in Atlanta, Georgia now. I’m the youngest of five—no father in the household—so it was easy to get into mischief. I took a lot of wrong turns—too many. That last wrong turn became a defining moment where I knew I had to do something different. Now I try to help brothers coming behind me, show them a different avenue. We can do more than sit in prison and accept the lowest rung of existence. But we’ll get into it.

Sterling: 1:37

Let’s start from the nitty-gritty. What did you go to prison for, and who were you then versus the man you are today?

Corey: 1:48

I’ve been to prison twice, both times for selling drugs—first time to the feds, second time to an undercover. Altogether, I spent about 15 years locked up. The last bid was 10 straight; the first was 5, with plenty of county time in between for nonsense. It was drugs that kept sending me back.

Corey: 2:12

Who was I then compared to now? Unfortunately—and I don’t want to broad-stroke the culture—I was like a lot of young Black men coming up in the streets: lost, no sense of direction, trying to find myself in all the wrong things. I chased validation—old-school cars fixed up, clothes, jewelry. When that didn’t work, I tried to numb the pain with drinking and smoking. Back then I was lost; now I know my path. I’m still healing, still on the journey, but I’ve let go of the parts of me that don’t serve my higher self.

Sterling: 3:17

I work in a county facility where I live. Is there a difference between county and going upstate?

Corey: 3:29

Yeah. County can be rough, especially if you’re fighting your case—there’s an added layer of stress. Upstate, you’ve got your time; you know what this is. The respect level is different. In county the youngsters stay up all night beating on tables, rapping, whatever. In the joint? That’s over with. People are serious about sleep and respect.

Corey: 4:13

My first time, I went to the Indiana Youth Center—the same place Mike Tyson did time. Rumor has it he bought the prison new gym equipment when he saw how bad it was. That’s a lower-level spot. This last time I was in maximum security behind the wall—Plainfield Correctional Facility—one of the roughest. Respect is everything. And in county you have access to the law library but most don’t go—until they get a hundred years, then it’s “oh man.” In the joint, older dudes ask: “Have you looked into your case?”

Sterling: 5:35

I tell the younger generation in county: take this seriously; this can turn long-term.

Sterling: 6:09

Get your mind right. Even if you’re around people you know from the street, this is serious. It’s like a city within a city, but it’s not playtime. I see older guys coming back down from upstate—they’re about their business.

Corey: 6:59

When I dropped to a lower level, guys clocked it right away: “You came from a big prison, didn’t you?” They could tell by how I moved—reserved, laid back, always reading. Horseplay doesn’t make sense when the state has your life. Even when they brought me back to county for a paperwork correction, guys said the same: “We can tell—behind the wall changes you.”

Sterling: 8:11

When did it hit that this wasn’t a short stint—this was real time?

Corey: 8:22

Before the 20-year bid, I caught six months of house arrest on a new case while fresh out. While on house arrest, I made the dumb choice to sell again—figured I couldn’t go anywhere, so I might as well get money. They busted me quick. A transport officer—Danica Patrick was our nickname for her—pulled me aside and said, “After this, you’ve got to get it together. Your mother isn’t young.” We talked for 45 minutes. I cried. She cried. She said, “There are so many other ways to get money.”

Corey: 11:48

When they had me on the ground in the snow, handcuffed, I knew it was a wrap. My lawyer kept coming back with the same number: 30 years. They were not playing—fourth drug conviction. Eventually, we got it to 20. They caught me mid-transaction, bracelet on my ankle and all.

Sterling: 12:53

Was she a public defender?

Corey: 12:58

No—retained. A heavy hitter. She doesn’t do pleas if she sees a path to beat it, but I was cooked—house arrest bracelet on while selling. We took 20.

Sterling: 15:20

You knew it was over when they yelled “get down”?

Corey: 16:02

Yes. I was serving in a gentrifying neighborhood—plainclothes officers running up looked like neighbors at first. Then I saw the badges. Face down in the snow—I knew.

Sterling: 17:35

What was the moment you separated who you were from who you were becoming?

Corey: 17:55

The transformation started inside, not after release. In max, we were in single-man cells—23 hours a day. An older guy challenged my nickname. In the streets they called me “Cocaine.” He said, “Don’t let them speak that into your life.” He started calling me “Shakur”—because I spoke gratitude. I stopped accepting the old name. Identity matters.

Corey: 21:00

Locked down 23 hours a day, you have time to think. I’m not big on TV; I read. One day I heard Anthony Bourdain say he got clean because he saw someone in the mirror worth saving. That hit me. I decided my life would mean something.

Sterling: 21:54

What do the mind and body go through during 23-and-1?

Corey: 22:14

It breaks a lot of people. Humans are built for community; isolation crushes you if you’re not grounded. Books and meditation saved me. Marcus Garvey said, “Read good books by good authors; it puts you in the company of people you may never meet.” Through books, I met great minds. The system thought it buried me; it planted me. They gave me too much time to think.

Sterling: 25:05

You wrote that “a hard day for me is a sweet day for my ancestors.” Explain.

Corey: 25:21

Even at its worst, prison wasn’t what my ancestors endured—whips, hangings, daily dehumanization. Our “hard” days would have been sweet to them. Perspective matters.

Sterling: 28:19

What lie about yourself did you stop believing?

Corey: 28:37

That I wasn’t worthy. My companies are named Worthy Existence for a reason. I’m worthy of success, health, and wholeness—of a full life. That shift changed everything.

Sterling: 29:57

Reentry is more than catching up with society—it’s fatherhood, marriage, business. How did you acclimate?

Corey: 31:01

Books helped me anticipate change—especially technology. My sister gave me my first smartphone. I was lost at first, but I’m a student. My youngest son taught me a lot. A strong support system—my sister, fiancée, nieces—made the difference. Also, I’m comfortable with solitude; reading fills the space. Funny thing—prison trains you to eat fast. Took time to slow down.

Sterling: 34:25

Let’s talk boundaries—what you let go and what you kept.

Corey: 35:14

They thought they buried me, but they planted me. I used prison as a training ground. I forced myself to become a morning person while still inside—up at 5 a.m., bed made, coffee, spiritual reading, news. I prepared for the life I wanted, not the life I had. To this day, I’m up at 3:30–4:00 a.m. No alarm—purpose wakes me.

Sterling: 38:12

How long into the sentence did that mindset start?

Corey: 38:49

About a year in—pure transparency. After a year, I said, “Who am I kidding?” I read *Change Your Game Plan* by Kern. His wife told him, “If you can’t stop selling in there, why would you stop out here?” That hit home. I stopped inside first.

Corey: 42:22

I told younger guys: you have the luxury of time. If you want a barbershop, study everything about it now. Most said “I’ll do it when I get out.” Many came right back. I was documenting my real-time changes—prayer, meditation, fasting—and turned it into a book to help someone.

Sterling: 44:26

We’ll come back to the book. What do you want young brothers to hear when they listen to you?

Corey: 44:37

Truth. Honesty. Transparency.

Sterling: 44:42

That’s what I hear—transparency.

Corey: 44:58

Like Wallo267—did 20 straight, came home and changed his life. He studied marketing and tech inside, then executed outside. That’s the model. To young brothers: Change your mindset. Look in the mirror and see someone worth saving. This doesn’t have to be your lot in life. Some dudes won’t change—that’s real—but just because you’re in prison doesn’t mean you must buy into prison culture. We were unicorns—meditating, reading, staying positive.

Sterling: 48:23

Just because you lock my body doesn’t mean you lock my mind.

Sterling: 48:36

What was it like for your mother to go through the visits—metal detectors, searches? Did that fuel your change?

Corey: 49:05

Absolutely. My mother is 86 now. She stood by me both bids. Second time, she was hurting bad. I even asked her to stop visiting because of the disrespect she endured—pat-downs, dress-code nonsense, dogs jumping on her. She’s a Christian woman, not smuggling anything. It broke me. My cousin said, “Don’t remove her—this is for her too.” So I let her decide. It was rough.

Sterling: 52:38

Young people need to hear that—family pays too. Money on your books is money they can’t use elsewhere.

Corey: 54:03

I used to tell my family, “If I go to prison, I’m the one going, not y’all.” I wasn’t thinking about the emotional, mental, spiritual toll on them. My oldest sister told me during county time: “I’m not coming to see you—not once. You’re smart. God has more for you. It’s not working. I’ll keep money on your books and buy your books. I’ll keep mom’s phone on. But I’m not visiting.” And she didn’t—kept her word and kept me supported. Since I got out, she’s been my biggest supporter.

Sterling: 57:05

This won’t be the last time you’re on the Struggle2Success Podcast. Thank you.

Corey: 57:09

I appreciate you and the Struggle2Success Podcast—on and off camera. You’ve helped me navigate a lot. Before we wrap, I keep a picture on my wall of a turtle on a fence post. If you ever see a turtle on a fence post, you know it had help getting there. That’s my reminder. Wherever I am in life, I had help—and I’m grateful.