Author: hankejohnson

I’m skipping the Summer of 2017. While it was fun and gave me the chance to grow through Young Life Summer Staff at Sharptop Cove, I feel it holds little value to the following stories. However, my lack of testament to that summer staff indicates no feeling I have towards them, I loved them all dearly and still do to this day.

Towards the end of the previous semester, I had gotten close to four guys in the class above me and ended up living with them my Sophomore year. I met them through Young Life college and spent a lot of time at the apartment they lived in the year prior. So eventually we all just decided to live together. ‘The Retreat’ was the name of the place we chose, a college community near the football stadium. We called it the Jordan House since it was #23 and it quickly became ground zero for all our shenanigans. But before we get into that juicy stuff you first have to meet the roommates. 

First up we’ve got Reynolds. Matt was his first name but we called him Reynolds because of Matt, otherwise known as Goose, who also lived with us. Reynolds was the only one out of the five of us who wasn’t involved in Young Life. He was a 35 year old man in a college boys body, he was the more tame one of the roommates but that’s not saying much considering the way the rest of us acted. Reynolds had spent a semester at Alabama before transferring to USC along with the second roommate, Josiah. Josiah was a country wild child whose lack of a filter made him the perfect addition to the shenanigans and made him the life of the party most anywhere we went. Josiah had also transferred with Reynolds from Bama after they were roommates during that first semester freshman year. Third we have Tad. His volume compensated for his lack of cleanliness and was nonetheless wild than Josiah. Tad, Josiah and Reynolds all went to high school together but Tad and Josiah had grown up best friends so their dynamic personalities seemed to flourish when they were together. Last but certainly not least we have Goose. Our fearless muscle of the house, a gentle heart but only a moments notice away from squaring up on anyone who tried to come at us. The obvious adult of the house but his personality, humor and curiosity completed a dynamic that seemed to blend perfectly. And though we had no idea the importance of all our differences, the five of us were in for a year that I will always cherish. I could write for hours about the random and hysterical things we did, our laughter filled nights and front porch Black & Mild talks. Some of my favorite memories were playing Guitar Hero at full volume in the middle of the day with all the doors and windows open, the winter Olympics where we got sucked into watching figure skating whenever it came on. Then there were impromptu moments where we’d all just act like fools, wether that was Reynolds cutting a hole in the window screens to get on the roof to play guitar and scream Wonder Wall or randomly putting on all the denim we owned and riding down the stairs in a laundry basket. Of course we had our more intimate moments, like I mentioned those front porch talks, sometimes they carried fun stories but more often than not we’d find ourselves openly talking about our problems and struggles, fears and uncertainties, doubts and anything that slipped in-between. Though we acted like fools, we still made sure to be there when the other needed us. My favorite memory though was the bible study that Goose and a few friends started in our living room. We intentionally made it a non-younglife bible study because we all felt we needed a place that wasn’t Young Life to grow spiritually in community with other guys who weren’t in Young Life. Connor, a former Young Life and College Life leader led the bible study. And it was by far the best and most genuine bible study I’ve ever had the chance to be a part of. 

That same year was my first full year leading Young Life. It was a tough year as we were starting Young Life at a new school. Young Life was relatively uneventful for my sophomore year since we were still establishing.

Sophomore year was also the year I started a very low-key friends with benefits relationship with another leader in Columbia. I say “friends with benefits” but in reality it was just us hanging together, cuddling and making out when our roommates were gone. We used one another for physical comfort and ended up establishing a really weird friendship where a majority of our time was spent like that. Over that year, things slowly escalated between us physically. We never had sex but each night together became longer. Both of us knew we couldn’t tell people what we were doing and both of us did our best to keep it a secret, I don’t think anyone ever knew much, and if they did, there’s no way they would’ve known how consistently it went on. Our relationship continued on and off until this past semester and I’ll talk a little more about it along the way. 

Overall, sophomore year was the funnest year of college. Wether that was from the lightsaber battles, stolen cars or front porch talks, it was by far the favorite. 

Sadly, we only lived there for a year and all moved into new places after we all kinda failed to figure out living situations for the following year. But in the last few weeks of us all living there, we spent a lot more time together reminiscing on the past year and the friendships we’d grown. More intentional and open conversation became a more frequent occurrence and our front porch talks became a nightly event. Though there was one night in particular that stuck with me.

There had been a little bit of an ongoing joke that the house we had was haunted. At some point each of us had heard some weird noises and felt weird feelings. For instance, Goose talks about how he would feel like someone was in his bedroom at night and that he even felt like something was in his bed. He’d also had one point during the year where he had felt some of these things while he was going through a weird time spiritually and got super sick out of nowhere. Josiah also claimed to have felt things intermittently. He was always the one up late and talks about how one night he’d gone around to each of our rooms to pray over them, and when he reached Goose’s room, he said he felt some bad juju when he started to pray over it. They tell the stories much better than I do so if you know either of them, be sure to ask. 

But one night towards the end of our time in the Retreat we brought up the topic of spiritual warfare. On the porch was Josiah, Tad, Goose and I. We were going thru talking about spiritual warfare and how we thought it effected our lives as believers. This is where Josiah and Goose brought up their little ghost stories for the first time but also where I had a big realization. At one point the conversation shifted to how we thought spiritual warfare could shift our minds to temptation. And like a baseball bat to the face, I was hit with a memory I’d suppressed more than 10 years before. 

In the first chapter I talked about two reoccurring dreams I had as a kid. Dreams that happened for no particular reason yet subconsciously effected me throughout my childhood and subsequently, today. But in that chapter I mentioned there was another dream that I’d tell later, this is that story. The nightmare of the Shadow Man. 

The dream would always start the same. It took place in the first house my family and I lived in South Carolina. I’d be standing at the top of the staircase at night. The way the staircase was laid out had a view straight to the front door. I’d be standing there in the dark looking at the door where you could see the glint from the streetlight outside shining on the decorative and oval shaped glass pane of the door. It’d be dead silent and I’d stand there staring for a few minutes before I’d be thrown to the bottom of the stairs. I was in a helpless state where I’d be unable to move but would be laying on my back looking up to the top of the steps. Where at the top, a shadowy figure stood. In the shape of a man, I could tell it was angry, breathing heavily. He would stand there staring for a few moments before he’d jump from the top step onto me where he’d beat me like a gorilla would pound the ground. I’d wake up almost immediately in my room where I had a clear view to the top of the steps where the Shadow Man had just been. I’d always look to see if he was coming, thinking I’d made it out of the nightmare. But while I’d peek from under the covers, I’d realize the Shadow Man was in my bed with me. And from then, he’d quietly and slowly grab my wrist to pull me into my closet where he would molest me. And from then, I’d wake up.

This dream happened back as far as I can remember all the way up to when we moved out of that house in 2007. It became normal to me as a kid and I never talked about it and would usually just forget it happened. And I really just suppressed the memory hoping it’d be forgotten. That was, until that night on the front porch in 2018.

Like I said, the memory of Shadow Man came out of nowhere and immediately had me in tears while the other guys were still deep in conversation. I sat there trying to process and couldn’t get over the notion that my child mind could’ve known that kind of violence, anger and let alone what sexual contact even was after the borderline sheltered childhood I had. It occurred to me that there was a chance that what I’d experienced was some type of spiritual warfare that could’ve planted seeds in my childhood mind of anger and sexual desire. An experience I wouldn’t come into contact with until a few months after moving out of that house in South Carolina in 2007, where a random thought and a little curiosity would fertilize the seed of a sexual addiction I’d carry and fight with to this day. 

All these thoughts rushed in within a few moments and I had no clue how to process. So I stopped the guys in the middle of their conversation with a broken voice to tell them. They of course didn’t know how to react and neither did I. We all ended up sleeping in the same room that night, partially as a joke but also because we were all a little scared in our own right. We cracked jokes and talked shit to the ghosts but no amount of humor could’ve prepared me for the night after.

We sat out on the porch again the next night and were a little quieter. I spent a lot of that day thinking about the Shadow Man worrying that it’d come back somehow. I was also still trying to connect the dots of spiritual warfare to my own life in regards to the dream. I went to bed that night, now in my own bed, with these thoughts still racing through. In the middle of the night though, I woke up to a little girl standing next to my bed. She said softly, “get up” — So I pulled the covers off, put my feet on the floor and stood up as the little girl grabbed my hand. The girl had the same look of the Shadow Man, as in me only being able to see the dark silhouette, but I could tell somehow that she was kind. The feeling of peace and kindness didn’t come from the fact it was a little girl or her voice, but it was just this weird feeling in my heart. When I stood up I felt the girl gently grab my hand. When she did, my dark room turned into the most beautiful landscape I’d ever seen. There were hills of soft grass that felt like long flowing hair, a breeze blew straight through my skin like a breath of peace itself. The sky and the clouds were a soft pink and purple mixture. I stood there beginning to cry. Then the little girl spoke up and said, “It’s over, you’re safe now.” — And after standing there a few moments longer, I woke up.

Oh boy. Here we go. College. Ok. 

So the first two weeks of college were wack. I don’t really want to go into to much detail on the things that happened in the first few weeks and I honestly don’t even know where to start. But I guess I’ll start with my roommates. There were three of them, two on one side and one on mine. We were in a dorm called South Quad that had apartment style dorms. Roommate 1 was a frat star wannabe from Tennessee. Easily the most talkative of the three and simultaneously the most laid back. Second was anther low-key frat boy/redneck combo from Virginia. He didn’t talk much and he drove a 90s Bronco that I liked a lot. He got arrested the first night for passing out drunk in our parking garage. The third was our quiet, clean, kind, six foot gay king. He barely ever talked to any of us and you would’ve never known he was gay without him telling you. He could’ve easily kicked our collective asses but ended up moving back home after first semester unfortunately. 

I knew that it was going to be a tough adjustment getting into the college life. I knew I wanted to become a Young Life leader and that it also meant I had to walk the walk first. The first week was good as I got to meet some new people at a YL hangout event. But by the time the second week rolled around I’d already met and made out with a girl who was a mutual friend of someone back home. That didn’t last but a few days because I had also met two other girls. I met them both separately at a bible study. I hooked up one day that week with one of them and I knew from that point that I didn’t want to get back into that lifestyle and didn’t want my college days to end up becoming a routine of physical feelings. My tipping point though came with the second girl. We’d hung out a few days and made out in my dorm. The day after I hooked up with the first one I went to tell her that I didn’t want to have sex with her and I think she understood where I was coming from, but she didn’t want that so we went our separate ways. 

*ive written in the past about this before and I’d tried to push it out my mind, I may try and find the journal entries and put them here*

Those first two weeks sent me into a quick spiral and panic where I feared I was getting back into my old habits. But in my panic there were people there for me. And with the most perfect timing ever, came my Mom.

The day I’d turned down those two girls I went on a drive around Columbia to try and process things. I got back to my parking garage that around 11 that night and all the stress from those first few weeks had hit. The thought and fear that I didn’t really know anyone in Columbia crept in (though that was false) and had me in a panicked mindset. And for the first time in college I just sat and talked to God asking for help. Out of nowhere, I get a call from Mom. It was late and she would’ve been the last person I’d have expected to call at that hour. She was just calling to see how I was doing and I responded saying I was “fine” as I typically would, but she could tell something was wrong. But either way, she assured me that she loved me and hung up. When I got to my room I decided to open the letter that Mom and Dad had left for me on move-in day, I had yet to open it because I was afraid to read it for some reason. This is what the letter said.

“You’re here! In college! YAY! Can you believe it? We couldn’t be more proud of you and the young man you have become. So proud!

As your parents, it’s been such a pleasure to watch you grow up. You’ve frown into a young man who will make a good leader one day. You always show us how you’re eager to learn new things with determination and a good attitude. These qualities will help you on your journeys! We’re so excited for this next stage for you, and while we will miss seeing your handsome face each day, you can be sure we are cheering you on! Go! Go! Go!

Over the next few years you will learn to soar on your own. You will gain a little bit of knowledge wisdom and independence each day. We can see how eager you are for full independence right now. No need to rush it. It will come. It is a gradual process, and rest assured The Lord will prepare you for the plan He has for you.

In the years to come you will be faced with choices at every turn. Some easier to maneuver than others. Some you’ll ace, others not so much. You are smart. We know that. So remember to be still and take the time to think through your decisions, think before you speak, ask others that are wiser than you, and pray. You will be tempted. You can know that you will ultimately prevail but it will be a daily battle. Fight with humility. Let others, including us, fight with you. When you fail, seek and receive forgiveness. When you are successful, win with grace.

Never ever forget that we’re right here when you need anything. No matter what. NO MATTER WHAT. Never hesitate to call on us for anything. ANYTHING. We’re on your side. We’re your team. Go! And never ever forget that you will always have a special place right here at home. ALWAYS.

We are so proud of you and we love you so much! You are ready for this, now go and do your thing. Make new friends, celebrate the good around you, explore new and exciting places! Go!

Love, Mom and Dad”

That letter put me in tears. And boy did it come with perfect timing. The letter addressed some feelings that I wasn’t ready to admit myself and would be the beginning to a relationship with my parents that would blossom over the coming years, where it finally felt like a true relationship had begun. In the following days I went to whoever I could to escape my own space and ask for help in setting boundaries for myself. It was a hectic yet poetic beginning to my college years, and only a fraction of what was to come.

I think the thing that makes writing all of this so weird and funny to me is that all the things that had happened at that time seemed so big and were so emotional for me to process. However, looking back, they’re all just a blur and truly only a few laughable moments away from being forgotten. 

Freshmen year overall was a very emotional time for me as it was for most freshmen. A majority of us had moved hours away to this place we’d never really been and taken a leap of faith to find wether or not we wished to commit to four years (or more) of college in Columbia. It took me a while to decide wether or not I wanted to stay in Columbia. Other than Anna and a handful of upperclassmen, I didn’t really have other friends that first semester. When I needed people around, my calls were seldom answered. This became an issue further into the semester when I started having more encounters with depression. I imagine some of my depression stemmed from the lack of community, but it somehow seemed to just come from thin air. I truly had little to no reason to be depressed but for some reason it was there. I didn’t know how to process any of it so I just kept pushing it down. I started getting occasional panic attacks too, most of the time they happened when I was in my room at night. I never really found a true cause for it that first semester. Frank Ocean was the anthem for my first semester and I felt like nobody was there for me, though I was too scared to really ask for help. 

Second semester told quite a different story when I got more involved in Young Life College Life, where me and a handful of guys grew closer. However, I’d also been introduced to a girl who’d been coming around for a little while who can only be described as a heart sparkle in a time of emotional drought. It was a quick and brutal heartbreak that took me a minute to get over. For my spring break that year I went to visit Jesse in Fort Worth and to see a few friends I’d made from that Summer Staff, their names were Arenas, MJ and Autumn. That week was my first encounter with serious anxiety. I’m not sure where it came from exactly, but I had felt it from the moment my plane landed in Fort Worth. 

That whole week Jesse introduced me to his culture and walked me through his life in Young Life and how he served both in and out of the ministry. I saw some beautiful things that week and was progressively writing about it as the week went along. I’m including those here.

“3-5-17

I have never felt what I’m feeling now to the extent that it has since i got to Texas. To make a long story short, my heart is hurting for this place. I have never seen people, let alone a whole community, so lost in trying to find themselves. I reached a point yesterday where it was hard to just not start crying, i didn’t know why i felt to cry so much, i just did. I see my friends here, living in this place, and all this is so normal to them. Everyone (apart from the few friends I’ve made here) I’ve seen is just sad. its almost like everyone has this mask on and they just keep updating it as time goes by. I have never felt so anxious about being somewhere before. And my friends here don’t even know whats going through my head. i love the people I’m here with, but they just don’t have what we have at home. its so much different and its incredibly hard to explain without actually being here. But its something i feel we all should experience; different places are good to see, but in some cases it can really hurt. and i can surely say, I’m hurt.. Now, i probably wont be in the same state of mind when i come home, so ill put here what I’m feeling now so you, and maybe some others can understand me later, but for now, i cant help but hold in the tears. I hate to see my family of friends living in the situations they are in, we are so fortunate to live in the places we do, and its incredible how different things are on the inside. we can look from afar however long we want to, but we cant understand until we actually go and get deep into the culture. and i truly mean getting deep into it. and this week I’m just praying that you would just have your heart broken for the people you’re serving. That you don’t only see what its like, but you immerse yourself into the lives of the people. And that you see how fortunate you are and how you’re in a position to make a difference. that the pain you feel, that it will fester inside you. But for that feeling not to become bitter or angry or scared, but all that love you have hurting inside would move your heart and push you to live a better life in all you do. and that no matter what happens, that you’ll always have your heart on christ. don’t lose yourself in what you do and what your title might be. no matter what you end up doing or where you end up going, i hope you never stop looking to the Lord. don’t ever lose the pain you felt for the ones you love or for the people you care about. because once you do that, you lose sight of what you’re actually doing, and without that painful love, there wont be any use in caring. please don’t lose sight of Christ, it doesn’t matter if you’re in Columbia or Fort Worth, Christ is always there, Christ is your identity, and i tell you what. aint nobody ever gonna be able to take him from you.   

3-6-17

today started different, i got to see some action in Young Life here. I went to do contact work with my friend MJ this morning, its crazy how different the schools are here. The dynamic is so different, and I’m still seeing these hurting kids, no matter how far i go or where, the pain i still see in them. today was a little rough for me, anxiety hit for some reason and i felt a lot of stress for nothing it seemed. I got to do more contact work tonight with Jesse, and i finally saw it. after all the years I’ve been in young life, i have never been able to see whats truly behind the gospel in it. I saw something tonight that I don’t think I’ve ever seen anywhere else. I saw happiness. All these kids from broken backgrounds and broken families and broken lives came together in community to love the Lord. they got a chance to forget what was happening at home and got to forget their worries. and i finally saw what I’ve been missing all these years. and thats Christ. Its something I’m not really able to explain but i saw Christ tonight with these friends. and its something i never got the opportunity to see back home in my life. after we left, Jesse and i packed up and drove out to this place called, “Rio Libros,” and its this big plot of property owned by a Young Life committee guy. It’s nothing short of a dream. It’s like he took an image from my mind and put it on this land. It’s the perfect place to show friends Jesus and to just live in an amazing place. and i tell you what, I’m sitting on a couch inside just trying to hold in my tears, because this trip was what i needed. God brought me here to show me who i needed to be and to tell me to stop worrying. now i get it. i think I’m finally growing up.

3-7-17

now i don’t really think i can follow up with anything much greater than what happened last night, but theres some beautiful things today too. i woke up in a comfortable bed in the Rio Libros house, and when i got out there was some beautiful music playing outside. it was so beautiful, it was so peaceful. the air felt so clean and comfortable. i felt like i was in a dream. i felt like me and my boy Jesse were the only ones for miles. actually more like the only ones in the world. i haven’t felt a level of peace like i did today in a very very long time. theres something beautiful about the way the Lord works. He led me down this path and put all these things on my heart to bring me to this point, where i feel so peaceful and i know what it really means to be a disciple. all that pain and sadness and fear thats been put on my heart the past few weeks all came down to that little breaking point where i just broke and saw what it all really meant. what it means. I told Jesse after i wrote about the things going on and what I’ve seen the past few days. those tears came out, i held most of them in, but some still came out. but to end today and to try and think of just one thing to end on would be impossible. Theres so many different things I’ve learned and seen over the past few days, they’re just truly impossible to put into words. Gods plan is perfect. and no matter what happens, He’s gonna be there always. the plan is perfect and aint nobody gonna be able to change that.

p.s. im gonna be a leader”

***

When I got the text about me being placed as a Young Life leader I was so relieved. And after a week of witnessing Jesse in his ministry I was fired up and ready to go. And the following Sunday I was placed on team Spring Hill, a newly formed Young Life team in Lake Murray. Placement was an interesting day, it snowed in the morning which was weird for mid-march in South Carolina and then that night about 20 of us new leaders caught the same stomach bug, causing us to miss our first week of being leaders ironically. Nevertheless, once I was well I went head first into a ministry that I still had so much to learn about.

This season of my life is one that began to drastically change who I was in regards to my own emotional capacity and vulnerability. And at this point we’re entering a point in my life where I still hold a sense of reminiscence but also feelings of guilt from reasons you’ll see later on. Theres a lot of substance to the next four years of my life and there will more than likely be a lot that is excluded in the process of me writing all this down. Though all of this is still fresh in my mind, there’s still much that I am not ready to talk about. Though the reason I’m writing this is to better process parts of my life and figure out why I am who I am, these memories still contain feelings I feel incapable of facing at this moment. So my closing statements to this introduction are for you to please be kind in your responses and if you are a part of these stories, I love you greatly. This time in my life contains some of the more dark and challenging times in my life so before we continue, I love you and I wish to care for you and about you. I hope this helps you to better understand me as I try to better understand myself. 

I graduated high school in a hectic time in my families life. The end of my senior year my sister returned from study abroad in Scotland as Mom and Dad decided to move to Brevard full time and sell the house in Piedmont. Someone had bought the house before they’d even listed it and we were set to move the middle of June. However, I’d signed up for Work Crew with Young Life and set off to Sharptop Cove on May 28th of 2016. I packed up just about everything I owned into the truck and set out to Jasper, Georgia. I didn’t know what I was in for and I didn’t really feel like I was good enough to go as I’d still been hooking up with a few different girls at the time. I also knew after that point I wouldn’t be seeing my friends much anymore since I’d be moving to Brevard after work crew. So summer sixteen began with a lot of uncertainty. Nevertheless, I got my things packed and left. The drive was the most nerve wracking part, like I just mentioned, I had this feeling of being unworthy from what my past year looked like. At the same time I was hopeful because I knew I’d have a chance to get away from it all for the next three weeks while I washed dishes. Though nothing could prepare me for what those next few weeks held. 

I got to Sharptop with all kinds of thoughts running through my head, one that I couldn’t really help was what girls I’d be meeting. But before I could focus on that I had to check in and move into my room. I got there and turned in my phone and got my work crew shirt. At the same time I met my “boss,” Jesse, for the first time. He had called me a few weeks earlier to introduce himself and to tell me what job I had, but this was my first time seeing him in person. Jesse was a welcoming guy who was eager to meet me but I could tell he was a little nervous too. Jesse is a latino from Fort Worth, Texas, and not only was he my boss but he was my roommate with a handful of other guys. There were two others on work crew that I knew from back home too, Willy G and Kappy. Kappy was a wild child in her own right and carried the energy in every room. Willy G was from the same school as Kappy and he worked with me in the dish washing Pits. He was our personal GQ model, Mr. Nice Guy and always seemed to get along with everyone. So it didn’t take long for us to find each other and start talking about how awkward it was to be around 90 something people we didn’t know but would be working with for the next month. When the first dinnertime rolled around we’d met a few others, like Amanda, a girl from Greenville YL who vibed with Kappy pretty well and always seemed to be the loudest in the room. There was Austin, our hipster king who looked like he just walked out of a surf shop in San-Fran. Of course we can’t forget about Chris, a phenomenal artist who had a knack for throwing playing cards and making us laugh with the few things he said. And I wouldn’t be able to write about people on work crew without mentioning Emma. Florida girl whose sass regularly irritated me, but somehow we still became close friends. Then there was Luana, the Brazilian queen whose attitude could kill a man if they got too close. Theres so many I could write on and on about, but we’ll meet some of them along the way. 

The first few days were tough to get used to. The camp hosted around 700 people and it was the “Pits” job to wash all the dishes from every meal. This included all silverware, plates, bowls, cups, pitchers, kitchen utensils, and everything in between. So on an average day wed be washing over 20,000 things. But that was no problem for our Pits team with Jesse in charge. There were 7 of us total. Jesse, Willy G, Corbin, Morgan, Porter, Kendrick (aka Gooby) and Me. Together, we were a team to be reckoned with, solely due to the way Jesse led us. He was the hardest worker of the group and was constantly encouraging each and every one of us. We all had our specific jobs and Jesse made sure we were always doing ok and if any of us ever needed help or a break, he’d selflessly take on our load to give us that time. Not only that, but Jesse took the time for all of us in between working to get to know us as a group and individually. Within the first week we’d already spent a majority of our free time in between meals sitting together telling our life stories. Most of the guys were adamant about telling their stories and I was surprised at the diverse backgrounds the other guys came from. Not only that, but a few of them even admitted they’d also felt unworthy coming to camp to serve, which I resonated with a lot. I was the last one to tell my story to the guys. I’d been nervous about it all week thinking about what I’d tell them and what I’d keep out. I was never one to talk about my life to my problems openly, the closest times were those nights around the camp fire at L’s, but even then it was all surface level. But the circle finally came down to me and the fear of retribution held my tongue at first but for some reason that weight had been lifted. I talked for probably an hour or so, pretty much confessing just about everything I’d done and felt guilty about over the years. I talked about my life and how I’d felt unworthy and that I’d spent my life falling short of expectations. Along with that, for the first time, I talked about my drug use and the double life I felt I had been living. I expressed frustration with my parents and the emptiness I’d felt in the relationship I had with them. All this I told in conjunction with my relationship with Christ. An utter shitshow that had since gone far off the rails in the previous year, with the wreckage shrouded by lies and momentary fulfillment. This was the first time I was talking about any of this openly and it was the beginning of me trying to process it all. Yet in my fear of judgement and shame I was met with love from Jesse and the other guys, a love that I’d experienced only a few times before, the love like G shared with me back in 9th grade on those cabin steps. 

The Pits became a safe haven for me during that time. A place where I grew in a Christian community for what felt like the first time. The 12-13 hour work days became therapeutic for me. I told my secrets to the steam that floated off the hot water and to the grime of the plates I washed down the drains. And with every dirty rack of dishes I passed down, some hurt went along with it. I had an abundance of emotion bottled up since my childhood and finally felt like I had a chance to process it all. 

When the third and final week rolled around I felt like I’d become a different person. I’d gone through so much in my head and out loud trying to make sense and peace with it all. I felt like I could breathe deeper because of it, I knew it sure as hell wasn’t coming from that steamy ketchup water! But by the time the third week rolled around there was still a big issue that I had yet to come to terms with. The relationship with my parents. I talked a little about it before, how I felt emotionally distant from them. My family, in the words of John Mulaney, was one that bottled up everything with the expectation that one day, we’d die. And in reality that’s how I felt. I had this pride about me that expected me to just be a man. One that was strong and without emotion that would do his job and be able to stand up and fight when needed. This was a pride I carried with me for as long as I could remember and was lost in translation with mine and my parents relationship somewhere along the way. I felt so prideful in my own respects and in my own ability to fix myself that I’d completely shut out the people that had supported me and had tried to love me my whole life. The pride I had for myself had made it seem as if Mom and Dad had messed up somewhere along the way. When in reality it was me the whole time, I believed I was strong enough on my own, that I could fix my problems, that I could find happiness and that any of my emotions weren’t directed at my parents or peers but at my own ambitions and in that idea that one day I’d just stumble upon happiness. The thing that I had put off addressing for so long was my own pride.

I was thinking through what I’d been reading in the daily devotionals and in the Mere Christianity book I was reading. Our work crew coordinator, David, had also talked about pride the night before. It all kinda struck me at once while I was washing dishes and thinking about mine and Dads relationship. In particular I was thinking about the short conversations that he and I would have in the mornings, when he would be there before I drove to school. Every time he would tell me the same thing in the morning saying, “Be humble today.” And I’d always tell him, “yeah I know.” I treated my dad poorly and was blatantly going against what he was saying when he’d tell me to be humble. And until then I’d never even thought about it. 

David, the Work Crew coordinator, came in to lend a hand to the pits that day after lunch, we worked facing each other and I, of course, was quieter than usual while thinking through all this. After a while, thinking and racking the dishes with David, I looked up, paused, and said “I’m a piece of shit.” David looked at me with a curious face and asked why. I explained it all to him and he said, “yeah you’re right.” We talked a little more about it and all I wanted to do was call Dad and apologize. I didn’t feel like I could go to my heavenly father because I had barely acknowledged my earthly father to begin with. I felt guilt from it all because I’d finally realized that I’d been blaming so many of my problems on the people that cared for me the most. I was just too prideful to see.

*Present day Hank here, one thing I didn’t include was me calling Dad later that night. We had call cards we could use on the payphone in our lounge so I called my Dad with the intention of apologizing. But when he picked up the phone I froze. I didn’t know how to say it, but for the first time I felt like I was talking to my Dad with my real voice, even if it was just about what was happening at camp.*

Later that week, David approached me and told me that he and the other work crew bosses felt like I should share my testimony at Work Crew night. Work Crew night was the final night of camp each week, the camp speaker would introduce the work crew, a group of about 45 of us who were all either still in high school or seniors who just graduated. Every week we’d go on stage while the campers went out to the 20 minutes that the speaker gave after the last club talk, just like I had at that weekend camp in 9th grade. We’d sing worship for them to all come back inside the club room to meet the Work Crew. We’d all go around with a mic, say our name, where we were from and what our job was. And each week 2 of us would take some time to tell our stories on the mic to the campers, who were all our age as well. 

When David asked, I said no and that I’m not the one to do that. Yet he reassured me he wasn’t asking and that the work crew bosses voted unanimously. I didn’t understand why and felt unworthy of being called to do that. I didn’t do much planning or preparation either. I figured that I would just be honest with everyone. When it came time for me to speak I stared off my first few sentences by switching up my name and grade with a stutter, prompting some laughter from the crowd of 600 or so students. But with the first few words from my mouth, everything seemed to flow freely. I don’t remember much from what I said. I really only remember the ending. I quoted Matthew 11:28, “Come to me all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.” And boy had I found rest. 

I ended with that and was met with silence from the crowd and then applause. I didn’t want anyone to cheer for me because it wasn’t me they should be cheering for. Nevertheless, I had found a sense of peace and rest amongst all my guilt. 

The following day, Jesse sat me down to talk thru the month and just to have some bro time. Jesse had become a brother to me and a true mentor. And with the month coming to an end I was afraid to go home and that I’d be returning to my old life. Jesse assured me that returning home would be hard to do but that I’d have to move on. He encouraged me in telling me that he was proud of how he’d seen me grow and that he felt like he saw drastic change, though I felt otherwise. He told me even though we were all going home where we’d all be spread out across the country, that he would still be there for me. I never felt like I’d had someone so invested in my life/walk with Christ other than J. Over that month I’d made friends that I still love dearly today. 

I’m grateful for the time I was given during work crew. And am even more grateful for the grace not only shown by the others there but more importantly by the Lord. Though summer sixteen had just begun, it felt as if it was ending as I went back home, where my first week back was actually spent at Carolina Point for summer camp, an uneventful week that I was blessed to have, where I could process Work Crew before I headed home fully. Upon arriving home I still felt the need to apologize to my Dad but was never able to muster the courage to do so. Though I was almost brought to tears on seeing my whole family together after we’d all moved into the house in Brevard. 

The remainder of the summer was spent getting ready for my sister and I to go to college at the University of South Carolina. My sister had come back from study abroad the previous semester and would be moving into a new apartment. And I was moving into a dorm for my freshman year. There were only a few times where I took the time to visit people like Blake, P, or Jade so a majority of that summer was spent on the mountain. 

My orientation wasn’t long after my return from camp and is where I’d meet one of my best friends for the first time, Anna. I wore a subtle Young Life shirt hoping that I’d be able to find someone else who was involved in Young Life. To this day Anna will say that I tried to ignore her when she came up to me but in reality I was just nervous being around so many people and just didn’t know how to act. Anna came up to me to introduce herself and asked if I was in YL. We hung out a little that night but that was about it. They had put us up in the dorms in Patterson that night and I figured I’d never see her again. But the next day we coincidentally ended up in the same orientation group towards the end of the day and even registered for our first classes together. But not without my sister sneaking into the classroom first to help me pick out classes, where she’d meet Anna as well. My sister liked her a lot and after Anna and I got each others phone numbers, we got to know one another over the summer til we both moved in. 

I had no idea that Anna had a boyfriend at the time until she randomly said it amid conversation after we’d both moved in. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping she liked me over that summer, because I definitely did and honestly still do a little. Either way, she was my first friend at South Carolina and she was there for the sea of craziness that was the first two weeks of college, a time that I still desperately wish I could forget.

I don’t remember much about the start of my senior year of high school. Even though it’s the year I have the most memories from, there’s a lot that’s blurred from the fact I started back into drugs at the beginning of the school year. Senior year was also the year I’d spend half my day at the Career Center every day. They had also switched up some of the people in my mechatronics class, helping me meet one of my best friends at the time, P. P and I were very similar people when it came to our interests, attitudes and social lives. He went to the same school as Blake and knew him well, so the three of us would typically ride together to CTC. 

Minus my time at school, I was still keeping to my summertime routine of camping, work and hanging with the boys. But since school had started, we weren’t able to hang as much, which led to me having a lot more alone time. Young Life hadn’t started back up yet and J had since graduated college, but was only working 30 minutes away, so he and I still hung out regularly. I knew that I didn’t want to smoke weed based off past experiences, which I won’t write about here for the sake of some (Mom) that might read this. Granted, it would’ve probably been a better option than what I chose instead.

Out grocery shopping for some Red Bull one day, I took a stroll through the supplement aisle and saw a bottle of caffeine pills. Each pill was 200mg of caffeine so I bought the bottle figuring I’d take them when I needed to focus in class, which was often. It started as one a day, then two, then four. Four made me feel this kind of dirty high when I took them all at once so I kept doing that. I didn’t eat a lot either and usually had 1 meal a day because I didn’t feel hungry. The routine turned to 4 pills before school then 4 before going to CTC. And like clockwork it’d all hit me like a wave by the time Mr. Franks, my Mechatronics professor, started class. My vision would pulse with my heartbeat and all the colors I saw would desaturate. If you ask P today about it he could tell you what I looked like. I’d be spaced out and seem kinda drunk but I’d slam the math in class and build the electrical cabinets faster and better than anyone. I probably shouldn’t have been driving like that but I did anyway. It effected my sleep heavily so every night I’d drink about a 1/3 bottle of NyQuil after completely blowing my guts out on the toilet. Then do it all again the next day. It wasn’t really addictive though. It became more of a routine than an addiction and I stopped in the Spring of 2016 that next year. 

My Christian life was separate from the life I lived by myself. I never told anyone about the stuff I did, wether that was the caffeine routine, porn, or the drinking I did when Mom and Dad were gone. I was more worried about tarnishing the reputation of Young Life than I was with my own. I wouldn’t even tell the boys about it, J either. The last note I’ll make about that time is that the effect of the caffeine wore off by the time class was out so I was usually good mentally by the time I was home. However, I did end up losing a lot of weight because of it, which was not good.

It’s weird for me to write all of this part because there are a lot of stories that run together. The fact I led 2 different lives, one with people and one alone, makes for some weird timelines. So from here I won’t mention any more of my alone life because it’s not important to this year. I’ve always loved meeting new people and growing new relationships, so the fact that P and Blake went to a different school was good news to me. I ended up getting to know a big portion of their friends at school, and three girls in particular ended up becoming some of my best friends. First was D, the mom of the group, our culinary Queen and Comedy hub. Great at making me laugh and even better at making foods I’d never heard of, D was one to be reckoned with. Next was A, our sweet Asian child who might first come off as the gentle and soft-spoken one of the group, but don’t be fooled, when the moon was right she would be the craziest (and most fun) to be around. Last was Jade, our president if there was such position in the friend group. She always seemed to know someone wherever we were and was easily the most popular. She wouldn’t tell you though, because whoever she met, she treated them with kindness. Jade was the spontaneous one too and was always down for whatever. It was a group of different social backgrounds and made for a circle of people nobody really expected to see. It was Blake, P, D, A, Jade and Myself; and though I was still hanging with the boys W and L, those six are who I spent a majority of my time with senior year. 

Later in 2015 I wrecked the truck on the way back from CTC. I wasn’t on pills at the time and hadn’t been that whole week. I got hit trying to make a U-turn while, ironically, turning around to help another friend who’d just been rear ended. Truck wasn’t totaled but the guy that hit me ripped both his passenger doors off when he hit me, sliding about a football field length sideways before sliding down a ditch and up a hill. The passenger in his car was ok too, but it took me a few days to calm down because I thought whenever it happened that I’d seriously injured or killed someone. I think this is where my fear of hurting people really came out and maybe even started. I couldn’t care less if I was hurt in that situation, even if it wasn’t my fault, I just couldn’t live with the thought that I could physically or emotionally hurt someone else. When that happened, Mom got me to quit my job so I wouldn’t be driving as much. Mom and Dad were also home a lot more during this semester and I had my friends over pretty frequently. But we have yet to get into the drama of the year…

Earlier in the semester, L had been hanging out with a girl from Blake and P’s school trying get her to go on a date. Her name was B, real pretty girl that was friends with my entire circle. She friendzoned Seth on multiple occasions but nothing was gonna stop my boy, I cheered him on. B had actually tried to set me up with her friend M but I never really pursued anything. However, through that and a few other social things, B and I became closer. So L and B started hanging out with all of us more, we all even took a trip to Brevard one weekend. B and I had been flirty with each other before but there were obvious feelings. The SAT was coming up and B, L and I had made a little study group, though we only met twice. The second time, L had to leave early and left B and I at my house to study. We talked a bit about them and she told me she’d friendzoned him again, though I already knew because L had told me. When she was leaving I walked to her car with her, and against my better judgement, kissed her.

That same night I had two separate phone conversations, one with L and one with B. The conversation with L was him telling me more about how B didn’t want to go out with him and that he didn’t know what to do at that point. I remember specifically telling him to stop trying to impress her by acting different from how he normally did around me and other friends, encouraging him to just be honest with her. Shortly after, I had a conversation with B where she told me she didn’t have feelings for L and instead had feelings for me. I remember almost exactly how the conversation went because I kept screenshots for insurance purposes, which came in handy later on. She told me things like, “I’ve liked you since the beginning,” and “I just want to be with you and around you!” but also things like, “we should keep this a secret right now,” which I agreed with but is also why I took screenshots in the first place. Over a few weeks B and I hung out more, most of the time it was just as friends in groups but we had plenty of one-on-one time together too. It was nothing too crazy, a white lie here or there to get away from Mom and Dad to sneak away for those little high school makeout sessions, wether it was in the car or over a movie. I must confess though that I did end up developing feelings for B. She was always a good listener and a genuinely fun person to be around. I’d entered a mental and emotional state of attachment with her. Not only that, but the other half of me was fighting with the fact I’d been betraying one of my best friends the whole time. A few weeks after this started, B and I talked about stopping or telling people based on how much stress it was bringing us. We both agreed on stopping but it wasn’t long before that took a toll on my mental state. Partly from the sudden halt in that physical relationship that I’d become emotionally reliant on but out of guilt for what I was doing to L and how it indirectly effected our friendship. I expressed all of this to B one night in the practice field parking lot at my school. 

I was planning and ready to confess to L and apologize but the following night I started getting texts from him, he was furious. B had told him instead. I was ready to talk and apologize because he was rightfully angry. But then he starts telling me the skewed things B had told him. Saying that I’d tried to persuade her to friendzone him and that I was the better choice for her and that it was me who had gotten her to do all those things and that she never liked me. Thankfully I still had the screenshots from our past text conversations, and it didn’t take much to prove she was lying. At the same time, B removed me from our group text of Blake, P, L, D, A and Jade to try and tell them the same things. But thankfully Jade kept putting me back in so I could send the screenshots. A had also figured out what was going on between us weeks before and had kept it secret (she a real one fr). So it didn’t take long before both L and B both left/were removed from the group as they started dating the following week. 

Note: I’ve been talking to L recently and he told me about how he and B recently broke up. We’ve since talked and forgiven one another, though I was the one in the wrong.

For some reason, that whole situation was a big personality changer for me. I’d pretty much lost one of my best friends due to a stupid decision that was clearly my mistake and could’ve easily been stopped by me. The emotional toll that relationship and dishonesty took on me was pretty big. It was my first real encounter with depression and would be a nuisance until I got to college almost a year later. 

Nothing changed between Jade, D, A, Blake, P and I. They and their families felt more like family than my own sometimes, a point I’ll talk about later. We did almost everything together and were always welcoming of anyone who wanted to come around. This was no clique or group with specific rules, we all loved each other and in turn loved everyone else. We spent our last semester as that same family. But in a time of my life where I felt more loved than ever, I still felt an emptiness that I tried to fill physically. I kept two consistent friends with benefits relationships as secret while keeping my social status and still being heavily involved in Church and Young Life. And one instance even hooking up with one the day after I’d spoken at our Young Life banquet. 

I was loved more than I’d ever known, made friends with people I’d never expected and had gotten and done almost everything I wanted. But I still had this vacant feeling in my heart with no clue what to do about it. I felt shame when it came to Church and Young Life and rarely admitted any of my feelings. Nor did I talk about anything I’d done or anything that’d happened in my past to the leaders. There was a spiritual hole that I was afraid to confront, I feared it irreparable and didn’t know what to do. In the abundance of so much, I was empty.

I haven’t taken much time to talk about my family here. I have a good family. Mom and Dad were always able to support my sister and I well. We tried our best to be a normal family, but we all have things separating us from the average household. Mom and Dad always had new hobbies, they both worked from home and did really well for themselves and for my sister and I. When it came to things emotionally, I never felt like my parents were a place I could go with anything. And I still believe to this day that I didn’t have a true emotional relationship with my parents until I got to college due to that lack of emotional connection. Similar case when it came to my sister. A lot of that is my fault though, I never tried to talk to them about anything. There was a lot bottled up and I feared the repercussions if I ever chose to uncap it. 

Mom and Dad got their fixer-upper house in Brevard during my Sophomore year of high school so a majority of the renovation happened during that year and up into the summer after my Junior year. During my Junior year, my parents started leaving me home alone multiple times a week to be in Brevard to work on the house and spend time there. By this point my sister had already gone to college, so in the time I was able to escape being put to work in Brevard on the weekends, I was able to get away with a lot back home. I had much more time that summer than before, though I didn’t want to mess around with girls or drugs, the boys and I always seemed to find a way to get into some mischief. 

We’re going to pick up just after my return from summer camp. I’m down from Brevard by myself and the boys are waiting for me at the tennis court parking lot. It was W, Blake, and L. It was around 7 or 8 when the sun was starting to set in the middle of June, I was coming off this social high from camp that had given me a sense of contentment. There was also a peace in my heart spiritually after I’d reconciled with my relationship with S. I rolled up to the guys hanging in the parking lot, throwing a ball around, trying to figure out what the move was. They were happy to see me back after those few weeks. I even remember W saying something like, “Hank what’d they do to you at that camp?” He could tell that something had changed. They all kinda laughed about how weird it was to see me happy and excited to see people. I had a different tone of voice too, it was legitimate change in me and we were all there for it. That evening was great, the weather was perfect, and there was an amazing sunset. That night was also one of the first nights I remember from us camping out on L’s property. Lighting a campfire in this little area we’d made up as our secret chill spot whenever we had frog gigging nights and were able to get our hands on cheap cigars. Swisher sweets or Black & Mild Wine Wood Tips were the go-to’s and those bro time confessions, desires and jokes were the substance of our fondest memories from that summer and really that year as a whole. I could probably fill a whole other journal with the memories we made camping out there. 

That place was all we needed when any one of us were going through a bad time or just needed to get away. There was something about being away from phones and in a place where we didn’t even need conversation to deal with our problems. Though the guys and I didn’t always talk about some of the things in our lives, I believe there was a mutual understanding that we all had our own battles and those things that made us tick. There was a sense of unspoken acknowledgment that we all knew of each others personal problems, and in whatever situation, we’d always be there when the other needed us. That summer I was also working at an airsoft store in town and it was a regular routine every weekend for me to go to L’s after work. A lot of the time I wouldn’t even go home, even for a few days at a time. I had told Mom and Dad it was all good with me that I was alone while they were in Brevard, but the honest truth is, I really hated being alone in that quiet house. 

The entirety of that summer consisted of working every other day, camping out almost every night and getting into mischief in between. Wether that meant sneaking out on the Southern Oaks golf course at night for frog gigging or reenacting Fast & Furious: Tokyo Drift in the school parking lot, we never really got into real trouble, just typical teenage boys having some fun. On the days I wasn’t working and wasn’t at L’s, you’d probably find me with Blake and W. They were neighbors so it was always easy to get together. By the time summer ended, we had all grown closer than any of us really imagined and we were on our way to start Senior year. 

My favorite memory from that summer though and maybe my favorite memory to-date was a time I spent all alone. It was just a random day in the middle of summer just around sunset. I’d driven to the tennis court parking lot because I didn’t want to be home alone. The weather was perfect, I sat on top of the truck with some music playing softly from the inside. There was a slight breeze with just a few clouds in the sky. It was a soft pink sky and with each breath I took, it seemed my worries went with them. A random point of rest in the middle of a nonstop summer that I’ll hold dear for the rest of my life. I remember just chatting with God, thanking him for being in my life and probably for making the sky so beautiful for that nine o’clock sunset. I sat out there for what felt like hours but was only a few minutes, because just before the light left from the sky, the boys rolled up and we set out for another night of shenanigans.

I imagine you’ve figured out what happens from the chapter title. Honestly, it’s pretty damn descriptive. Over the next few weeks, S and I spent much more time together. At this point, people knew we were a thing. Our first few dates went well, the typical lunch, dinner or movie date with those stop sign make-out sessions made for a wholehearted time together that I really loved. But pretty quickly, those turned into parking lot make-outs where things escalated over and over. That cursed bench seat in the 2005 F-150 made the perfect spot for whatever she and I wanted to do. With everything we did together a little piece of me, along with feelings for her, left. I invited W, R and S up to Brevard for a day, W drove us all back since I’d ridden with Mom and Dad. S and I hung out that same night. We met up at our usual spot in the school parking lot where I drove to the unlit parking spot near Field 5, a little league field near the school. And we had sex in the front seat of the truck. 

Yeah. I lost my virginity in a parking lot in the front seat of my truck. I remember thinking after, “Thats it?” — I was sad that I’d craved sex for so long and finally had it. Physically it was great, but at that point all the emotional pieces I had for S had been lost in the physicality of our relationship. The feelings I had were overshadowed by the pleasure I’d been fighting against for what seemed like my whole life. I figured it was a problem with me though, and a few days later we officially started dating. A few weeks later we had sex again, this time it wasn’t good. I didn’t want it but she did so I went anyways. A few weeks later I went to my grandparents with my family. But just before I left, S had gotten worried because she was late. I didn’t know what that meant so she explained it to me. I spent that whole weekend silent, worrying I’d gotten S pregnant. In constant prayer, knowing good and well I was undeserving of God. With Wayne Kerr’s song ‘This is Not My Home’ on repeat, it was the longest weekend of my life. But finally I got the text saying she was good. I knew long before that point that I didn’t have feeling for her, but once the pregnancy scare was over I was determined to end our relationship. 

In the span of about six weeks, I’d gone from being content with life, happy to love and physically inexperienced — to being angry, unhappy with myself, with the decisions I’d made, and the way I had disrespected S by allowing us to do those things. So when we all went to watch The Walking Dead that week, I told her my feelings and we broke up. 

I told J everything a few days after, he was calm and understanding of my situation, and we made a plan to get back into the word. I knew what I wanted, and that was to feel loved and be loved the way I was before the relationship. I knew I wanted to love others too. But something was different now. I quickly returned to my happy lifestyle but the happiness was missing. 

That semester ended with our TV group not hanging out anymore. Things were fine though, all things considered. That summer, I was set to go to Young Life camp at Carolina Point. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. Jack was coming too, even though he went to a different school. I could write for days about that week. It was amazing, it felt like a month. I met so many people and made friends I still consistently talk to now. That week I entered into a different world where my problems were absent and my mistakes forgiven. And of course I was reminded of Jesus’ love and that I was forgiven regardless, that of which I knew deeply. I’d reached a place with myself and reconciled with mine and S’s relationship. I was afraid to leave, I felt a lot of emotions and in the moment I wrote about it. (Ask me about that writing and ill see if I can find it to show you)

Jack was there for me the whole way, so was J. That week fed into another week at a different camp for mine and Jacks church. That was a good week too. But Jack and I stuck at the hip for that week. All this set up for a summer with memories I’ll always love.

Sophomore year of high school is a blur at this point. Not much happened, though it was also the year Mom and Dad bought their first house in Brevard, NC. A fixer-upper they bought either for their mid-life crises or just out of boredom, maybe both. Either way, my sister and I quickly found ourselves at the house multiple times a month doing work with/for them. Some pretty basic renovation work like tearing down walls, scraping wallpaper, and putting new hardwood floors and ceilings in the house became the mood of that year. Once the home was relatively presentable, my sister started inviting her friends up. Which is when I became better friends with two guys from my school “W” and “L”. 

A package deal of best friends, they held kind and fun personalities. W was the younger brother of my sisters friend and you would typically find L with him. I’m not sure how they became friends but they stuck together. W was the mature one who typically got nervous whenever we started doing stupid and dangerous things. L was a child in a teenagers body. Always laughing and making fun out of anything he did. L was the fun soul of the two and they paired like Yin and Yang. It wasn’t long after the three of us became friends that W brought me along to his small group in church. Another group of more popular kids, most of which were from different schools. I enjoyed being in that group a lot. I was still heavily active in Young Life and in that small group, called Forge, so the two went together very well when it came to my walk with Christ. 

Around this time is when my friends and I started driving. Summer 2014 was a lonely one and I spent a majority of my time in Brevard working on the house and fishing in the neighborhood. But just before summer vacation started I made a slick move and got S to go out to lunch with me. A nice little family owned restaurant, I paid on a whim and she was pleasantly surprised. I dropped her at home and everything was great til her stepdad answered the door, it scared the shit out of me. It’s funny because nothing was wrong, I was just instinctually afraid of the man. But it was a nice time even though she and I didn’t talk until the end of the summer.

That same summer I had been chosen to be a part of the school districts team to implement iPads into the school workplace. iSchool is what it was called. Training took a few weeks and I made friends with a handful of kids from other schools. One girl and I talked that summer but I never made any moves. I forget her name, though I think she’s married now. Another girl, named Jade, was part of another schools team. She and I became good friends later on. Long story short, the iSchool program was a joke. We all figured out ways to disable the security locks on the iPads within the first few weeks of school. But Junior year bro, that shit was wack…

The start of Junior year was fast. J got campaigners started back up and we hosted at my house. Young Life was back better than ever and was being hosted at the local Golf Course since second semester of Sophomore year. I was also becoming closer with the group of guys in Forge. One in particular, Blake, was someone I got a lot closer to. Me, Blake, W and L became a close group that did most everything together. Blake was the daredevil of the group. He’d ridden his first dirtbike at 2 and had been full-sending it since. He and I vibed well, mainly from the fact he and I could keep up with one another when it came to cars and also because this is when I was regularly experimenting with over the counter drugs. Blake was an on and off stoner and nobody knew about my drug activity, but I think there was some kind of unspoken attitude between us. It was probably because both of us had a little emptiness we were trying to fill but didn’t really know how. Whatever it was, Junior year was quite the time. 

The obvious embarrassing piece at the beginning of Junior year was S. For some reason I’d just forgotten to talk to her over summer, she was rightfully upset about that. So nothing had come out of our impromptu date at the end of Sophomore year. Fortunately, we had the same friends, so we still saw plenty of each other. At the time the TV show “The Walking Dead” was at its prime and W, along with our other friend “C”, wanted to start getting friends together every week to watch new episodes when they dropped. The normal group was W, L, C, “R” and S; I joined a few episodes into the season and Blake would occasionally join us. R was another girl in our grade, the daughter of the varsity baseball coach and heart sparkle of W (they’re married now). She was the nicest and most gentle of the group. 

That first semester I started my Mechatronics class at the Career Center, otherwise known as CTC. Blake took auto-tech there too so he and I would ride together on occasion, even though we went to different schools. This time of my life was one of the happiest and most peaceful I can remember. Where I’d stayed in the Word consistently, had no worries about girls/relationships, and was genuinely happy. This part of my life is where I started to have a true love for creating and maintaining relationships with people. I loved to sit and listen to my friends talk. Wether it was about good things going on in their lives, fun things, bad things or just random thoughts, I was there to listen. I especially loved meeting new people. It became a special kind of talent and with everyone I met, I made it a personal goal to get to know them as well as I could. I consistently kept up with them if possible. I think I became this way because there was this subconscious part of me that wanted so desperately for someone to do the same for me, I wanted what I was giving out to be reciprocated. My life at the time was a steady walk with Christ and was a social testament to what I believed and knew in my heart to be true. I treated others the way I wished to be treated and I hoped I could fill some of the empty spaces in my heart by trying to fill theirs first. This of course was a job I could never accomplish on my own. But at the time, nobody could’ve convinced me otherwise. 

Mine and S’s relationship hadn’t gone anywhere all year. That is until the time for semi-formal came around. Semi-formal was our version of the homecoming dance, it happened right before Christmas break and was a yearly event. And this year I figured I’d ask her to go. Now I admit I didn’t do it in the best way, I asked her in person just after she had lost the school pageant but she met me with a hesitant “yes” anyways. Later that night she made sure to tell me that she only said yes to not embarrass me in front of my friends but would still go anyways. 

For semiformal, we were set to go to dinner with a big group of friends before with an afterparty at L’s house. As far as semiformal goes, it went well. Dinner before was fine and the dance was as you’d expect a high school dance to be… awkward and sweaty. The afterparty was in L’s home theater. About 20 of us in that room which made seating tight. I sat in the seat I normally would at L’s and up outta nowhere S decides to snuggle in next to me in this little ole recliner. We fit just fine. But BOI! Little 16 year old me was having a mental freak out. Because if you didn’t already notice, your boy had been locked in the friend zone since freshman year. We watched Step Brothers and I couldn’t have told you a thing about the movie after. All we did was a little cuddling and hand holding but to me, who’d barely hugged a girl in my life, it was the best thing that could’ve happened. After the movie I drove her and a few other girls to C’s house where they were staying that night. The sky was cloudless with a full moon. I remember the car thermostat reading “19” and boy was it right. But I dropped her and the girls off expecting a good night kiss or something. I got out to help get her things where she thanked me for the night but told me that we were still just friends. So my ass got in the Jeep and floored it back to L’s where the boys were waiting fervently. They were distraught when I returned and heard what happened, I almost fought the twins because one was constantly pestering me and asking about it. We took a solid loss that night. 

Fortunately though, that’s not where mine and S’s story ends. That next week was the start of Christmas break and even though she’d friendzoned me again, I still texted her. I could obviously tell she was uninterested but I was determined. It was just before Christmas and she and I were having a conversation about our futures and goals, dream jobs, vacations and whatnot. And in a space of vulnerability I spilled my heart on those topics and at some point, not sure exactly where, she changed her mind. I think after she saw past the 16 year old idiot, she saw something she liked. Whatever it was, she was adamant in telling me her feelings. So from then we set a date for December 27th. But irony struck and that day, L accidentally ran over his puppy… yes, his puppy. L’s mom called C saying he needed a pick-me-up so C, S and I went and bought a cookie cake for him after scratching our date plans. S had known I’d never kissed anyone and even made a few jokes about it. I knew that it was coming soon but not that night. After taking C back I drove S home. We got to her house and we walked to her door. I argued with myself in my head going back and fourth saying, “Should I? Shouldn’t I? Do it! Don’t do it!” — All of this ran thru my head up until we made it to her door. She started fumbling her keys and that’s when it hit me. I knew from the movies that was the sign. But really! It’s only like 9:30/10PM who the hell is locking the door on their high-school daughter? Of course it was my sign! But I think I took a little too long because she just looked at me after a second and went in for it. It was a firework moment but also the worst kiss ever since I had no idea how that was supposed to work. Nevertheless, it was a moment to remember and brings joy anytime I tell the story. A few days later we had a new years party to go to, I picked her up for it and we’d agreed to not kiss in front of everyone when the ball dropped because it would’ve been weird around our friends. After the ball dropped I was supposed to drive to my church for a lock-in because I’d promised my lifelong best friend, Jack, that I wouldn’t leave him hanging there. Both S and I walked out to the car so she could get her things since the girls were spending the night at that house. I was expecting a chance for a new years kiss but before I knew it she’d grabbed her stuff and gone inside, leaving me hanging. I drove to my church where Jack was waiting at the door. He knew all about the situation with S and I and asked if I got a new years kiss. I told him, “no” and he was surprisingly upset. His reaction prompted me to turn my ass around, get back in the car and floor it back to where she was. I called her to meet me outside and said nothing else til I got there. She met me outside under the streetlight and with no words I grabbed her and gave her that new years kiss. This one was much better than the first. We laughed and said goodnight, I got back in the car and did 110 back to the church where Jack was waiting with a silent and proud high-five. 

This time of my life, the feelings I had and feelings I felt, is one I’ll remember for the rest of my life. I loved the Lord wholeheartedly, my heart was happy and wether or not it was feelings for S or my first encounter with some kind of romantic emotion, I’ll cherish it as long as I can. And I’d give up everything I have today to have feeling like that again.

I’ve written a number of times about experiences with Young Life. Many of which were good and happy experiences, a few not so good. Nevertheless, let it be known that I am thankful for the relationships I made during my time in Young Life. However, that will not hold me from expressing the poor experiences that have led me taking a step back from the organization later on in these chapters.

It wasn’t long after my first Young Life club that I started making friends with the guys that went. A few days after the first YL club I mustered the courage to go sit with two of the guys that were there who had an extra seat at their lunch table. It was the two of them and some other girls in our grade. I was nervous to ask but once I did it didn’t seem like a big deal. They were actually happy and welcoming of my weird, socially awkward ass.

You could’ve made a TV show out of that one lunch table. Outside of lunchtime, we all had out respective groups/cliques but we all vibed really well at that table. First up was one of the twins from Young Life. Known as the preppy guy with a little too much arrogance for his own good, both on and off the golf course. Either way, he’d have your back through anything, even if we was the occasional jackass. He sat directly across from me at the 8 seated round table. To his left was a guy I had known since second grade. But because of being homeschooled, he and I didn’t become friends again until then. He was the class clown, always making people laugh and had a mouth that ran wether or not we wanted it to.

He was never one to use criticism as a form of humor and was friends with just about anyone and everyone he met. The three of us guys held a weird dynamic but somehow it worked. The four girls never sat in the same seats but were always there. The first girl was the equivalent of a TikTok star then and was pretty much just a girl version of the class clown guy without the running mouth. She was “famous” on the livestream app called “You-Now” but that was later on in high school. The next two girls were inconsistent but sat there more than half the time. They were best friends, the attractive cheerleader pair that were loud and had a stereotypical ‘Friday Night Lights’ lights kind of attitude. The last girl was a curly haired blonde with a feisty attitude lets call her “S”. In most ways she was just a regular girl but at the time there was something about her I liked. I liked Her.

At this point I could get sidetracked with all the memories I have from that lunch table. But those individual stories aren’t very important. For the first time I felt like I had some real friends who were consistent, even though it was only for 45 minutes a day. That had a big impact on my attitude both socially and mentally. But underneath I was still leading a kind of double-life by myself at home.

This chapter started as my involvement with Young Life and I still intend for it to be. But I feel it’s important to tell you about these personal bits first.

My wholehearted involvement in Young Life didn’t start until my first camp trip to Sharptop Cove. Though I had been consistent in Club and Campaigners, I only cared to go for the social scene, same reasoning for me going to camp. It was a weekend camp and on the way there I expected it to be like the camps I’d gone to before but boy was I wrong. Borderline resort level cabins with our own beds made before we arrived. The game room, snack bar, basketball courts and rides all made for a fun experience, but it was the people that I loved the most. I’d never been around so many people at once. The meals were insane and so was club. If you’ve been to a camp before, I need not explain any of this to you. When it came to club I never cared much for the singing, dancing or club talks. I’d been to church for so long and was tired of it before I ever joined Young Life.

I just stood aside and went along while everyone else sang and danced, only to later doze off during the club talks. Same deal with the cabin times after club, I didn’t like to talk in those. The guys all just figured I was shy about talking. But truth is I was just ashamed of myself. There was no visual proof but this was the case in any kind of church related situation. I knew what I was doing at home alone was wrong but didn’t want to deal with it. So I’d just stay quiet.

It wasn’t until the last night during club when some things started to change. I had payed no mind to the speaker the entire weekend up until he was about to let us go. He caught my attention by telling us he was letting us out but held it for a short while after, asking us to take the next 20 minutes to talk to God. I thought, “Finally! I’ll just go back to the cabin and chill.” But when he let us all go, all the lights on camp were off. Everyone was silent.

Still on a mission to go back to the cabin, I started walking back in the pitch black dark. Funny though that our cabin, named Buckeye Ridge, was the furthest from the club room. Shortly after I started walking, a bunch of thoughts started hitting me. Thoughts telling me what kind of mistake I was. Feelings of guilt and regret flooded my head with memories of past mistakes. What was a 100 yard walk seemed like a mile, each step became heavier and heavier. I finally made it back to the steps of the cabin where I collapsed and sat crying. I asked questions wondering why I was the way I was. I battled with this guilt and shame that had loomed over me for years. This raw uncensored conversation with God became a spiritual therapy session where I struggled to make sense of my own worth. A bell started to ring and the lights across camp came back on. But I still sat with my face in my hands. People began to walk past me on the steps and one group even stood near me talking to themselves wondering wether to not it was ok to walk past me. They eventually did.

Over the next hour or so a few people stopped to talk and pray over me. One guy, from my Campaigner group, stopped first, we’ll call him “K”. He told me it was ok to cry and that God was there for me. I asked him to get my towel from the room to put over my head. I didn’t want people to see me.

This was the first time I’d opened my eyes since the lights came on, I had been crying so much that there was a puddle of tears on the step below, that puddle ran off the side of the step into the dirt. K left me there after praying for a bit. The next was some guy I didn’t know but he did the same as K. The last was an older guy from my school, we’ll call him “G”. He was a year older than me and one of the more popular guys in our school. He came and sat, calling me by name. I remember being surprised he knew my name. He sat and told me about him and some of the mistakes he’d made. He told me about his story going to camp the previous summer and how he decided to start a new life with Christ.

What G said resonated with me a lot. In many ways his story was like mine. He prayed with me too. The way he prayed stood out to me a lot, it sounded genuine and not rehearsed like all the other prayers I’d heard before. There was a sense of peace in the way he prayed over me. I wanted that peace. So after he left I sat for a little while longer wresting with my life. I first felt like God and I had to reach some kind of compromise, but there was also this desire to start over. I didn’t want to feel the way I did. So I gave God my heart, and in return I wanted to begin a new life. At the time I didn’t know the effort it would take or the roads it would lead me down, but I was ready for change.

This whole time, my campaigners group was sitting on the porch at the other side of the cabin behind me. I went and sat with them in the rocking chair they’d saved for me with the towel still draped over my head. My leader was leading the time as he always did so well. They were all going around talking about their stories and when they started their lives with Christ. Quite ironic might I say. But they went around in the circle and finally came down to me. Everyone kind of looked at me, my leader “J” had this little grin on his face, I assumed he knew what was coming. The twins spoke up and asked me when I’d given my life to Christ. I gave a smile and a little tear filled laugh while I looked at the bulky G-shock watch I had on and said, “Well… Right now.”

For a split second everyone sat quietly with some surprised looks on their faces but before I knew it they were all yelling and jumping around celebrating. One went to get G to tell him and he came running out to hug me. This had me crying again but no longer were the tears out of shame. I was so joyful I couldn’t contain it.

There are pictures from the following day before we left. Me and a handful of the guys with our, “Keep Calm and Sharptop,” pink sweatshirts on. A memorable picture with me in the back boasting a genuine smile on my face. A testament to the joy the Lord had begun to bring at a questionable time of my life. And the beginning to the hardest thing I would ever set out to do. Walking with God.

I went home not wanting to tell my parents about the weekend because I assumed they’d either be mad or not believe me since I’d grown up in church. I assumed they would say that my decision was invalid or that I was just chasing attention or emotions. So I chose not to tell them or my sister.

Over the next year or so, J and I worked together on getting into the word and being honest about struggles. It was a peaceful time where my life finally seemed to make sense. S was also excited to hear from the guys what had happened. By this time she had become a closer friend, but didn’t know I liked her. Over that year I would open up more and more to the guys in my campaigner group, telling them about my life and mistakes. At one point we all made a pact where we’d give updates on how we were struggling and came up with ways we could all help one another escape when it was happening. When we all started this we told each other about our history. When it came to my turn to talk and I told them the first time I’d been exposed was when I was 9, this rightfully surprised them. They all collectively assumed I was the goodie church kid of the group who’d never done anything wrong. But to their surprise, I’d been the one with the most baggage when it came to that topic. All of these things combined for a good community system when those tempting feelings came up. But the problem was it only worked when you wanted it to and more often than not, I didn’t want it to.

Into Sophomore year, a handful of the guys in my campaigners group stopped coming. A lot of people had reached the party stage of high school. K was one of them and for some reason that aggravated me more than others. This was a dry season both socially and spiritually. I wanted to keep going with my life as a believer, so I stuck close by J during this time. Almost like a lost puppy, I did my best to bring him anything I was struggling with and he was always happy to be there. There weren’t many people going to Young Life around this time either, on a few occasions my sister and I were the only ones there with the leaders.

This was the first few months of Sophomore year. The remainder of Sophomore year carried no importance and was the most boring year of my life. Jake and I continued to grow our relationship in the absence of Campaigners and Young Life events.

And as more change came, my new life was growing along with it.

Theres things that I know many of us have carried subconsciously since our childhood. Big ones that would for sure bring back memories for me is the intro to Disneys “That’s So Raven” or the classic movie intros and trailers from the early-mid 2000s. But I imagine we all have our own that are more specific. Mine was always the sound the TV made when it turned on. That high pitched dog whistle kind of sound, and the static crackles when it turned off. Whichever it was, it always brought excitement.

I say that because some of my more vivid memories from the first house I lived in as a kid tended to be around that sound. Saturday morning Power Rangers and cartoons, the 30 minutes a day on my NES with Super-Mario Bros, and my sneaking at night to the part of the stairs to see the TV after my bedtime, where I’d spy on my parents while they watched movies like Casino Royale. Anything that had a screen, I remember pretty well. Even when my dad tried explaining stocks to me on Moms closet Mac computer where I was really only interested in buying shares in Wal-Mart and Toys R’ Us because I thought that meant I’d be able to get free toys.

In 2007 Mom and Dad built a new house only a mile or so away and we moved there when it was finished. The house was tucked away all by itself in a regular sized neighborhood. We had a long curvy driveway with trees surrounding the property that provided plenty of privacy on the 3 acres we lived on. There was a creek that ran through the property and tunneled underneath the driveway at the mid-point. As a kid I’d always love to run down there to try and catch frogs and lizards but never succeeded too much. The house though, it was much bigger than the first. With a big front porch, yard and lots of windows, I felt like I was moving into a mansion.

Inside, there was a big kitchen that had marble countertops all around with a marble topped island. The sink had a direct view into the front yard and driveway, where Mom would sometimes knock on the windows when she wanted us in or saw something she didn’t like us doing. The kitchen was a large open room that also had a dining table and living space on the other side. Mom also kept her Mac computer at her new desk that sat to the left of the side door to the porch. Walking out of the kitchen you could’ve taken four routes. One was the door to the garage where we kept our cars in the first two bays and dad kept his lawn equipment, tools and bikes cluttered in the third bay. The second was just to the left of that garage door, a glass window door leading to the backyard and patio that was built a few years after we moved in. The third was on the other side of the room, a hallway leading one way to my parents room and another leading to the TV room. Then the fourth was a big doorway to the dining room and into the foyer. Walking upstairs, 23 steps (I think) – 13 straight, then 10 to the right. There were three bedrooms upstairs. At the end of the hall was my sisters room, then mine in the middle then the guest bed which doubled as dads office. My room was the biggest of the three.

As a kid it was great having such a big space to be in. I had so much room for my Lego sets, Nerf guns and lightsabers. What more could a kid want. That year I was starting 4th grade and was getting along pretty well as far as I can remember. The only downside was my teacher. She often yelled at me for doing normal things. I remember her even throwing expo markers and stuff at me for daydreaming. I don’t remember it bothering me though. I figured it was my fault and was normal. But about halfway through the year, Mom and Dad decided to pull me out of school and homeschool me. At the time I wasn’t sure why but I just went with it. Homeschool was boring and I always got dragged along with Mom grocery shopping or to Hobby Lobby. That whole time though, my sister was still in school.

While I was homeschooled, I’d go once a week to this learning facility about 30 minutes from my house where I’d have 1 on 1 learning sessions with this nice lady. I don’t remember her name but she’d always have different quizzes for me to do while she timed me. I always felt pressured when that happened. Though I did always see this one kid in the waiting room when I went. I knew him from church and he was quiet, but he was nice.

Church is something I could talk a while about. I may talk about it and tell a few stories intermittently but all you need to know now is it was a typical Church in the South.

A big change in my life came when I was 9. I think it’s easily said that I’ve been a curious guy my whole life. Wether it was taking apart my RC cars to see how they worked or modifying my Nerf guns to make them shoot faster, I was always curious. But there were some times where curiosity got me in trouble. Like the time I pulled he cigarette lighter out on my Dads F150 while I was waiting to go to school one morning, putting my thumb on the glowing red coils to see what it was. Or my trying to use Mom and Dads tape camcorder to take video of the couch fort I made, only to find out I’d taped over their vacation to St. Lucia. So yeah! My curiosity held some bad sides. But if I could name the worst and most impactful incident, this would be it.

I was 9 years old and it was a Sunday afternoon. Mom, Dad, and my sister were in the TV room watching the Food network like we always did around that time. I was on the couch in the kitchen messing with my digital camera. It was a sunny day and the room was well lit. All of a sudden I realized that my kid self had never seen a girl naked before. So as my curiosity goes I hopped onto Moms computer and typed into the Google search then went to images. As soon as the first pictures popped up I got scared and closed the window. I ran back over to my camera and sat down. Still in my church clothes I felt scared and guilty but didn’t know why. Not a minute went by before I found my way back to the computer. Looking longer this time. I knew I was doing something wrong, but I liked it. And by that point it was too late.

A seed had been planted in my head and going to that computer became all I wanted to do when I got the chance to be alone. I even ended up using my little digital camera to take pictures of the computer screen so I could spend more time looking. I was able to do that for about a year or two before I was caught when Mom checked search history one day. By that time I’d already been doing homeschool and was about 10 or 11, I don’t remember. I do remember though feeling as if I was being interrogated when my parents found out.

Asking why, who showed you, how long, and other things like that. And as a kid it was tear drenched “I don’t knows” that met them as responses. They even called my youth group pastor at the time and had him come to tell me how much of a mistake it was and tried to explain the weight of my sins and hell and whatnot. And to be honest I didn’t really care. As an 11 year old I still wanted to find pleasure. It probably wasn’t 3 or 4 months before I found new ways to search. This time it lasted about a year before I was caught again. But punishment came more in the form of anger this time. I was 12 now and my parents made me pray with them for Jesus to heal me and blah blah blah. I was crying and guilty and wanted to be away from them. So I just nodded and did what they wanted til I could leave. I know my sister was ashamed of me and I think that’s what hurt most at the time.

That had a big effect on my personality for those few years. And wether my parents admit it or not, I think it’s because of my drastic personality change that they sent me to that special learning center for those few years. They knew something was wrong, though it wasn’t in my brain but in my heart.

I went back to public school in the seventh grade. I was excited to get back and see friends I hadn’t seen in a few years. I wasn’t welcomed back in the ways I expected. The guys I knew before didn’t treat me well, calling me names and pushing me around. I wondered if it was because I didn’t have long Nike socks or slides or bright neon shirts and silly bands. But it was more often than not them making fun of my weight calling me fat or chubby. I ended up trying to make new friends around. And after getting pushed out of lunch tables for a while I ended up at an empty seat with the kids in the corner of the cafeteria. They wore mostly black and said words I’d only heard in the movies Mom and Dad watched. But whoever they were, they didn’t push me out.

This new culture I’d come into was one I liked. Where aggression and vulgarity was accepted, I felt like I could say the things I always wanted to. I never felt the need to impress anyone. I tried to start dressing more like them but Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me. My friends had longer hair so I wanted to grow mine out but Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me. My friends cut themselves too. Wether it was in more subtle places on their bodies or more visible spots, there were consistently new scars. Mom and Dad couldn’t stop me from doing that if they didn’t know, so I did it too. Most of the cuts were on my arms where people couldn’t see but there were a few on my hands too. I’d even burn myself sometimes if I didn’t want to cut. I did it because I wanted to fit in but also because I wanted to. I still have some scars.

I did this all throughout seventh and eighth grade. And I, in some ways, adored my friends, but in reality we never treated one another very well, we all just ended up together. I honestly think we treated one another so poorly because we figured it was normal, or maybe because we didn’t know how to process what we were feeling either. Later on in my eighth grade year, 2 of the girls that hung around us died in separate car accidents. It hit everyone hard in my friend group but for some reason it didn’t really bother me. I remember trying to fake cry to not stick out but I didn’t really feel anything. I knew it was a sad and tragic moment but I didn’t feel that. No joy, no sadness, just nothing. It sorta just shut me down.

Summer after eighth grade was lonely, I went to church camp and really only wanted to meet girls, I’m a ladies man at heart what can I say. As I headed into high school, much of that previous friend group came apart. Some moved away, found different friends, or just didn’t want to be around. So those first few months were weird. Every day was the same routine of going to school, getting picked up and having mom or dad ask, “how was school,” or “what’d you do today?” I always hated that.

My first day of ninth grade I had no clue how to get around the school. I saw my sister during a class change and tried to get her help but she was irritated at seeing me, as any older sibling would typically be. She and I never really got along during high school, especially when it came to social events. Mom usually forced her to take me with her on occasion, and a few months into the school year she forced me to go with her to something called Young Life. I didn’t know what it was and thought it was some school thing. When we pulled up to this random house and saw all the people I immediately knew I didn’t want to be there. Not because of the crowd but because the guys from my grade that were there were the “popular” kids. They were the ones that usually made fun of me and pushed me around in previous years. My sister had her friends there and really the only people there were the popular kids. The guys my age were playing at the basketball goal and so I just stood to the side minding my business. A guy came up to me pretty quickly and introduced himself, he said his name and that he was a Young Life leader. He asked my name and I kinda just froze. Partly because I was still processing everything else but mainly because the only people that normally asked my name and introduce themselves like that were older people from church.

He pulled all the guys in my grade together for an impromptu meeting as one of the guys in my grade, who was a twin, called me by name to join the group of them to talk about something called campaigners. I had no clue what was going on and just nodded at everything that was being talked about.

I was still focused on the fact one of them knew my name.

I grew up in a small town in the south, I won’t tell you exactly where because I want you to be able to picture it in your own head. Build my scene the way you want.

I have one sister just a few years older, along with mom and dad who provided for us in a regular middle class home in a regular neighborhood. My earliest memories go back to this house, with a big tree in the front yard and a big fenced in back yard.

As a kid, everything seemed alright to me and to this day I still believe it was, nothing really out of the ordinary. My earliest memories are of dad and I playing catch in the back yard. Like any other dad I assume, he wished that I’d become the next great lefty in the MLB. Meanwhile, I was sitting in right field kicking over ant hills, so much for that. Like any kid my age though, I played in most every little league style game there was. Baseball, basketball, soccer, flag-football, tennis (for about five minutes), and even fencing at one point. But I was never much of an athlete. I was a sporadic little kid who was more distracted by my ability to build with legos or making waterslides with a garden hose to care about sports. In the moment I did what was interesting to me and I loved it, as I think anyone would.

From those early times though, early 2000’s to be more specific, there are certain memories that stick out more than others. One for instance was my sister and the random games she’d come up with. Many of which ended in her favor… Weird how they always worked out in her favor. She’s always been an assertive person, a go-getter and will rarely take no as an answer when she wants to do something. Thats why she’s been good at most everything she’s ever done. But don’t get it twisted, I am beyond proud of my sister in what she’s done in her life and how she’s worked to do it.

As far back as I can remember I always seemed to find a way under her wing. Wether it was during my kid days playing made-up games, or in middle school while I wondered what teachers or peers I should or shouldn’t like. Or through high school, wanting to be as popular as her, trying to fit in with the cooler, younger siblings of her friends. I always seemed to find a way, by choice, under her wing.

So from our kid days, she was the loud fun one and I was the quiet and ever so subtly less fun one. And frankly, it worked out pretty well for us. I liked it that way. And looking back, I think that had a lot to do with my imagination as I was growing up.

I’ve always been a dreamer. And I don’t mean that in a sense of ambitions or goals, though that is also true, I mean it in a sense of actual dreams. Wether it was daydreaming or actual dreams at night, whatever it is, I tend to remember those times more than my actual childhood. One of my favorites was the superman dream. It’s kind of self explanatory but in the dream I’d have the powers of Superman and I’d spend the whole dream flying. None of that fighting crime nonsense, just flying. I always loved that. The feeling of waking up after a good dream just wishing I could go back. But that’s what makes a dream, right? I remember consistently getting in trouble in school or with mom and dad because I’d be daydreaming and not paying attention. But being the dreamer boy didn’t come without its downsides. From what I remember, the nightmares were just as frequent. And it’s the nightmares I remember the most.

It’s those nightmares we all have, falling in our sleep or not being able to run from whatever is chasing us, the things we commonly think of when we say, “nightmare.” But I assume that there’s a few of you that have other specific nightmares in mind. The ones that became repetitive, they got names, they got timelines and they stuck with you. I want to tell you some of mine.

For now I’m only going to talk about two of them, for the third one holds a little more value for a later time. And let it be known that I have no timeline as to when I first started having these nightmares. As far as I’m concerned I might as well have been 4 or 5 years old when they started. But anyway, let’s get to it.

The first one is a little on the short side. It always started with me in front of a crowd of people. I never in the dream know who they were but they were always quiet. I’d be standing about chest deep in a skinny pool, about the width of a swimmers lane and not much longer than the checkout at a grocery store. With the people watching and myself elevated almost above them in this small pool, the water would get deeper and deeper until I had to tread on my own. Unable to grab the sides of a wall, as there were none, I’d feel someones hand push the back of my head, putting my face under the water. I’d fight and fight but could never help myself. And at the point of me drowning, the hand would pull me up but I’d still be unable the breathe. This is when I’d wake up.

The second is one that I still fear having today. This being more frequent than the first, scared me the most, and in some cases it would even find its way into my daydreams. There was really no beginning or end to the dream, it’s just there. but it opens with me being small. Much smaller than you’d probably expect, smaller than an ant and each time I’d have the feeling of being totally powerless. Frequently changing locations, the nightmare had be seeing cracks in the floor as caverns, basketballs and baseballs as gargantuan boulder-like structures just waiting to crush me.

The scenarios were always strange to me. They always had someone I knew closely but feared at the same time. Sometimes it was my youth pastor from church, maybe a teacher, a friend and even my dad. But whoever it was they’d always try to crush me. Their feet, large as skyscrapers, had me running for cover in the cracks of the floor and the channels and caverns of the treads in their shoes. I’d always try to run, but then came the fists. Giant fists that hit the ground like asteroids, never effecting the ground around them but always finding a landing place near me.

Eventually I’d be caught, pinned between the fingers, smaller than an ant and only fearing the size of who was before me. Then came the yelling, it shook everything. At some points I feel like I could see the sound itself. But the words were always the same. They were angry at me for being too small and helpless. They knew all my wrongdoing and were there to crush me. I would be unable to speak throughout the nightmare, wether that was to cry for help or to say sorry. And I’d always wake up when I’d be thrown to the ground, looking up helplessly to see a foot coming to crush me.

And then I’d wake up.