Category: Ambition of the Heart – Chapters

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.

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.

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.

One thing I haven’t talked much about is my videography and photography work. By the end of my Sophomore year, I’d been working with cameras for almost 6 years and was running up on my second year working on the media team at South Carolina. 

I wasn’t intending on doing summer staff again with Young Life, so on a whim I decided to apply for a video intern position at Sharptop Cove. They got back to me within a month or so to notify me they had chosen someone else. A few weeks later, two other Young Life camps reached out asking me to come work, one was camp Buckner in Texas and the other was a camp in Scotland. Neither could pay me and at the time I wouldn’t have been able to afford it without my parents so I turned both offers down. 

With the idea that I’d be finding a random summer job in Columbia, I continued through March without thinking about video interning. That was until I received an email from Carolina Point, who were in desperate need to fill their Summer Video Intern position. The email said they’d been referred my name, and for a little while I assumed my parents had thrown my name to some of the staff since they just so happened to attend the same church in Brevard, but that was not the case. That same day I got on the phone with one of the staff members, he was part of the Guest Services staff at Carolina Point and was in charge of the video situation. Over the phone we chatted about the job and he told me the intern who was originally in the position was leaving early to get married, so they needed to secure the position quickly. We talked more about Brevard and I mentioned my parents since they knew of each other but he didn’t know I was their son. To me it seemed like he was giving me the job right then and there. At the time though, I had a few requirements for myself before even knowing about the job. My Young Life team leader and I had a number of talks leading up to that summer about growth and the need for a good mentor in my life. This was a big focus moving into summer 2018 and I had intended to start linking up with my YL area director to begin some kind of mentorship. So that being said, I had some serious questions regarding that. Two specific questions actually. The first being wether or not I’d have community while I was there. And that may be a silly question considering it’s a Young Life camp, but you’d be surprised. The second question was wether or not I’d have some type of mentor there. He assured me there’d be both. So a few weeks later I flew out to Colorado for video training where all the video interns from across the country underwent intense training on ethics, requirements, standards, and equality along with technical training in Final Cut Pro. 

On May 10th I moved into Carolina Point. I went with the expectation that I’d be in a little dorm with a few other guys, similar to work crew and summer staff. There were 10 guy interns and we lived in a space called The Brew at the top of the mountain behind the adult guest lodge on the edge of camp property, about a minute or so drive away from camp itself. It was called The Brew because it had once been used as a home brewery by the former owner of the property where the adult guest lodge was located. About the size of a garage and a half, The Brew housed all 10 of us. There was a kitchen that was about 20 square feet with a fridge chock full of Lord knows what. We also had one bathroom and two showers, one of which was outside. I was the last to arrive at camp and when I first walked in I was met with some greetings alongside the smell of Wintergreen and mango Juul pod. There wasn’t much space to walk with everyone moving in so I just threw the few things I had onto the last open bed, a top bunk in the middle of the room. None of that really bothered me though, the guys all seemed cool.

It was established pretty soon that I was the youngest by a little over a year. I was 19 at the time. It also wasn’t long before a few jokes like, “Oh so you’re the replacement.” started rolling through. Referring to the yearlong intern who’d left to get married and from what I heard he was a really great guy! Those first few days getting to know everyone was fun! The first few weeks before campers arrived was all hands on deck to get last minute work done on camp, so just a ton of sod and sand being moved after some construction projects had recently finished on camp. I did get a day off the first weekend though to go to my sisters graduation back in Columbia.

The first few weeks were good while I got to meet everyone and make friends. We also started our weekly intern time with the camp director and his wife. Each week we’d get together at their house in town, the first two months we spent telling testimonies. I told mine at the first meeting because I wanted everyone to know who I was and that I wanted to be real about community that summer, I cried telling it. And from that experience, I was hopeful for the summer with everyone that surrounded me.  

Once camp started and everyone began their regular jobs we all kinda figured out our routines. And thanks to our schedules there were never really discrepancies over bathroom or shower usage. With video, my schedule normally started around 8-830 every day getting equipment ready and depending on the day, I’d shoot from 9-11:30 and 1-3 depending on what events were happening. I’d usually skip lunch to get ahead on editing, unless it was chicken sandwich day which was Wednesdays or on pool Olympics day too since I liked the burgers. And on most days I’d finish editing that days video by 5ish where I’d then take the hard drive to Samuel, our sound tech, for it to be downloaded for club that night. I’d attend every event with the exception of the Square Dance during normal weeks and to try and get the next days video started, I’d edit late and usually be back in bed by 11 where everyone was usually already asleep. 

I worked alone on my job and only ever interacted with the other interns at intern time and at meals. It was rare for me to make it to The Brew before everyone had gone to sleep unless it was my off day, which was Saturdays. 

Pretty quickly though, a few of the guys developed some pretty negative attitudes towards their jobs, and in the little time I had around them they seemed to complain a lot. It wasn’t even complaining about bad things, it was really just about them doing the jobs they’d applied for. We were worked like dogs but that was part of the job description. We were called to serve the campers and were still paid to do so. I never understood their complaints as I’d been working 10+ hour days alone. It just didn’t make sense. 

It didn’t take long for me to become the little brother of the group, this had its pros and cons, one of the cons was becoming the verbal punching bag for a few of the guys. I never intended to retaliate though, I didn’t feel entitled to know their struggles and it was much easier to ignore than to try and back myself up against 5 to 6 guys who were all older than me. I knew I was there for a reason and I intended to work through the end. I loved what I was doing and loved the campers even more, how could I not? I had been in their position years before when I was in high school and I intended to do my part.

My birthday rolled around halfway through the summer so Mom and Dad wanted to host the interns on my off day for my birthday. So we did. The interns had all joined me at my parents house once at the beginning of the summer for a cookout because I wanted to get our community rolling as soon as possible so most of them were adamant about going back that Saturday. A majority of the interns joined us at the house, the ones that didn’t though had to work that night and couldn’t make it. Anna had also driven up from Greenville to come too which I was excited about. We did a Low Country Boil and just hung out around the house and in the backyard. It was a good little break from the chaos. Not too long after we started eating, one of the guy interns showed up, we’ll call him C. He had his regular bad attitude coming straight off his job but I ignored it. Mom went to offer him food just letting him know that there was plenty available. He met her with an attitude saying, “No I’m late everyone is about to leave anyways.” And was just outright disrespectful to my Mom, she even came up to ask what his problem was and I just asked her to ignore it. It wasn’t but a few minutes after that where he got in his car and left. I told Mom he’d probably just had a bad day at work. I figured something had happened so I just forgot about it. A few hours later, everyone left. I hung out with Anna for a little while with my sister and after Anna left I headed back to camp. Overall it had been a good day and I was happy to have hosted them for my birthday. 

I got back to The Brew around 9, which was the earliest I’d been back most of the summer. I got in my bed and put my headphones in and planned on reading my book until I went to bed. But it was hard to from all the yelling around the room from the guys. Their typical headassery shenanigans all trying to annoy one another, it was always the same few guys messing with one another. They never really messed with the rest of us. 

I took my headphones out since I was already distracted. And to no surprise, C was running around acting a fool. However, nobody was really in the mood after dinner and most of us were trying to relax anyways. But C wasn’t having it, so stole the phone of one of the other guys trying to get him to chase. Yeah this 23 or 24 year old guy was running around the room with someones phone trying to get him to chase. The guy wasn’t playing so he went to C’s cubby and grabbed the first thing he saw, which was a taser he had sitting out. C immediately got upset and swapped the phone for the taser. Once C had the taser, he took it out the case and said, “Alright, every one of you motherfuckers is getting tased, starting with you.” Referring to me.

All the guys were telling C to sit and go to bed and were all annoyed at this point. So I told C, tired of his shit, “Touch me with that taser and I’ll knock you the fuck out.” I hadn’t snapped on anyone that whole summer but this had sent me a little after the way he spoke to my Mom at the house. This got the room silent and prompted C to say, “Oh the baby wants to talk big now?” saying stuff like, “You won’t do shit.” And in all honesty, I wouldn’t, I was just annoyed and wanted to ignore him. But then, C climbed up to my bed where he whipped his nuts out and started wiping them on my bed frame saying, “Oh you like that shit? This is mine now.” I ignored him, still annoyed. When he realized he wasn’t getting a reaction he got up into my bed where he got behind me, stood over my head and started T-bagging me. This just pissed me off so I told him to get off, but for some reason he thought that meant I wanted more. So he got in front of me acting like he was gonna put me in a headlock. I figured he wasn’t going to do anything so I didn’t push back when he wrapped his arm around my neck. I said and did nothing assuming he’d let go or that the other guys would intervene, neither happened. I couldn’t breathe anymore when he started squeezing harder and realized nobody was going to help, so I punched him in his side, then in the face without looking. He let go and I immediately got over him with a fist just waiting. But instead I sat back in my bed and said, “Get out of my bed.” And after he’d wiped that cowardly look off his face, he straightened his glasses and stood over me trying to get me to fight saying, “You fucking coward, you can’t do shit, fight me like a man, you’re nothing, punch me, come on coward.”

I was in the perfect position to make that happen, everything in me wanted to fight but all I could think about was the campers and my job when I was about to fight. And all I said to C was, “Why? Why are you doing this?” a question that I meant in two ways, why was he acting this way and why was he at Carolina Point in the first place if this is how he was acting. He kept going on cussing me out and calling me a coward trying to get me to fight when he finally got down and stormed out the room still trash talking. None of the other guys that were in the room spoke up, until one looked at me to say, “Alright bro, chill out.”

I texted the guy that hired me that night telling him we needed to talk, so we met in his office at 7 the next morning. I told him everything and he then asked, “Did you apologize to C?” Making it sound as if it was my fault. I said no, and he told me to do so saying that we wouldn’t be able to get anywhere without apology first. So that night I went and stooped down to C’s bed and apologized saying I’d overreacted. He didn’t look at me and just said, “Yeah you’re right.” So I just said ok to myself and went to bed. I assumed that when I told the guy who hired me how he responded, something would be done. But when I told him, he just told me to leave it and go back to my job. At that point I’d moved past the fact I wouldn’t have a mentor, and the community that was there wouldn’t be much use. But nevertheless, I had a job to do that I still loved and people to serve that I loved even more. So in the midst of all that I chose to forget about the rest and commit further to the work. Every off day from that point I was making the 3 hour drive to Columbia to pack up and move out of the Retreat since I didn’t have time to finish packing before camp since the job had come up so suddenly. And along the way I was able to update the boys on everything, I didn’t want to tell Mom, Dad or my sister yet though. And thankfully Anna was helping lead a group of Young Life Capernaum kids towards the end of July. She and I got time to hang during the day while I edited and this gave me much needed time to vent about everything. I don’t think I would’ve made it through the summer without that. 

I’d also gotten the chance to talk to a few other interns about stuff. I still liked a lot of the others I worked with and still have relationships with them now, they were always supportive and I love them greatly for that. Towards the end of the summer, I still had a majority of stuff to move out of the Retreat and was pressed for time since the end of my lease there was coming up. I went to the guy who hired me asking if I’d be able to leave two weeks early since the last two weeks of camp were for a different organization and wouldn’t have a video intern. He told me he’d think about it and get back to me, he was gone the following week for vacation. And when he got back he told me it wasn’t his decision and that I’d have to go talk to the camp director. I went to him and asked. He was curious why I wanted to leave and if there were other reasons. I told him that C and I had gotten into a fight but didn’t tell any details. I also told him that I felt like I hasn’t gotten what I was promised in a community or in mentorship. He told me he’d think about it and a few days later he told me I could leave a week early, giving me just enough time to do what I needed. 

Just because I was able to leave early didn’t meant that I was sad to go. The morning I left I got emotional because I was still grateful for the chance I was given to serve, and also for the wonderful people I got to meet throughout that summer. But there was also a sense that I was returning home as a different person. That was scary to me. I ended up staying at the house in Brevard for two nights since Mom and Dad were out of town, so Josiah came up for a night to hang and to have some roommate time since we were moving in together into a new place that following week.

The next night when Mom and Dad got back, they were eager to hear how the summer had gone. I felt an obligation to tell them about everything. So I did. I talked about the lack of community and the negativity and, at first, I was hesitant to tell them what had happened with C. But I did anyways. I told them how nothing had been done and how it seemed as if it was just pushed under the rug. It really didn’t bother me at that point as I’d kinda pushed it down. But my parents were furious. I explicitly told them not to talk to anyone about it since they knew most of the Carolina Point staff and were heavily involved in Brevard Young Life. 

Earlier that same day, I’d received an urgent text from Greg asking to call him. I assumed there was something I’d forgotten for video and that they needed something. But to my surprise, Greg picked up the phone saying that someone had told him all about the fight between C and I. On the phone he asked, waiting for my answers, “Is it true he pulled a taser out on you? Is it true he wiped his testicles on your bed? Is it true he stood over you and wiped them on your head? Is it true he put you in a headlock and tried to knock you out? Is it true you punched him? Is it true he proceeded to curse at you calling you a coward?” All to which I responded, “Yes.”

He told me over the phone that someone had approached him and told him everything and that on behalf of him and the rest of staff, they were sorry. He assured me he would be handling the problem and that he was thankful for me coming that summer. I told him thank you and we hung up. And later that night, along with everything else, I told Mom and Dad.

I was leaving to go to Columbia the next morning but decided to drive into town to say bye to Mom first. That morning she had brunch with one of the Brevard Young Life staff Women, whose husband just so happened work in the office at Carolina Point. Mom had asked me that morning if it was ok for her to tell the staff woman what I’d told her and I said yes. The staff woman then told Mom that her husband heard the camp director practically interrogating every male intern the previous evening. Yelling louder than he’d ever heard him before.

I went back to Columbia that day knowing I’d changed a lot that summer, and more than anything I just wanted to forget what had happened along with the way I felt about the whole ordeal. I was angry and had begun to develop a hatred for Young Life. But I believed the right thing would be done in the end.

The morning after I moved back in Columbia I got another text from the camp director asking to call him. He picked up the phone telling me that he’d talked to the interns and that they had all denied anything happening. I didn’t know how to respond. I told him again the guys that had been in the room and he told me that they all denied it except C, who said that I’d overreacted. I thanked the camp director for looking into it, then hung up. I felt cheated. I was angry and sad at the same time. Also because C was set to start a year-long internship at Young Life Timberwolf in January.

After that call, something changed in me. No longer did I feel like the quiet Mr. Nice Guy who wanted to love and be around people. I wasn’t going to take anymore shit from anyone. I said things and did things the way I wanted and spoke my mind with no regards to others. My purpose still was to serve and still I led Young Life, but as the image and idea of the ministry remained in me, the heart left. And my new self, headstrong with no consideration for others emotions, became the forefront for what my Junior year of college would become.

Who told him? Where’d they go?

Josiah and I moved into a new place for my Junior year. It was a quaint two bedroom duplex just a few miles from campus. Going from living with four other guys in The Retreat, that summer with nine in The Brew, and then down to us two took a little bit of getting used to. It was definitely much quieter and a hell of a lot cleaner, but held a little sense of loneliness to me. 

Within the first few weeks back from Carolina Point I felt like I had told the story from that summer a hundred times, and each time it was just as draining. Every time I told it I figured people were seeing me as a sob story as if I was just trying to play a victim card. At the time I didn’t care because every time I talked about it, I was more talking to myself than I was to whoever asked about it. I kept trying to find the problems, where I could’ve gone wrong or how I could’ve done better, but no matter how much I talked through it, nothing changed. I know my friends got tired of hearing the story when others asked, I didn’t care. A part of me also felt that if I just worked my ass off in everything, that it’d somehow magically go away, so that’s what I did.

One of the first things I did however was sit down and talk with my Young Life team, I made them aware of what had gone on over the summer and how I thought my attitude would change, asking for help through that time. School and Young Life were the ways to get out of my head a little, so I threw myself into both. Most days consisted of me going to class from mornings to the afternoon then immediately getting ready for Young Life club or Campaigners on Mondays and Tuesdays. My free time during the day was usually spent at the Media office where I worked at school. I quit working there a few months later though because there was a lack of work being given to me. I had a goal to outperform everyone I had a chance to compete against. In class I worked to have the best photo and video projects. In Young Life I wanted to meet more high schoolers and bring more than any of my teammates. Socially, I wanted to be wanted and invited more than anyone else. I’d consistently force myself to try and be nice and make friends, in a lot of cases it was obvious. And I think my lack of genuine care was evident to most, and that’s what ended up pushing me away from a lot of them. When the work ran slow or was all finished I would play video games. It seemed like the only thing in my life that had a clear and attainable objective, and I craved that.

Pretty quickly, video games became my safe haven. I didn’t have to search for approval from anyone when the Playstation was on. The achievements were done on my own time and seemed to be endless. I felt safe playing video games. About this same time I started talking to a girl I’d met over the summer. One day shed called asking about what happened. When I told her about it, she had a response which was much different than the others, there was some sense of assurance that she had towards me. Something in her voice and in the way she talked stood out, so we just kept talking. An hour here and there throughout the day, I didn’t feel a need to impress her and there was no immediate fear in talking to her, we just talked and I loved it. Whenever we talked, it was the highlight of my day, more than anything, it brought me peace because I knew someone was listening. She lived in Kentucky and went to UK so this made me hesitant to express feelings since it was long distance. But after a few weeks I ended up telling her how I felt. The night I did it was kinda funny, it was a night after YL club and I’d told my team I was going to do it. They’d all hyped me up and were texting in our group asking for updates. She and I were on the phone for my drive back from club just having our regular random conversation, I wasn’t sure how I was going to bring it up. I’d gotten home and sat in my car talking to her for a while, our conversation came to a halt and that awkward silence set in while I battled with wether or not to tell her. She even said something like, “do you have anything else to tell me?” or something like that, I don’t remember exactly, I was nervous. But whatever it was, I said no, and we hung up. I went inside and started getting ready for bed and texted my team to tell them I chickened out. But the girls on my team weren’t having it and told me to call her and tell her. So I did. I called her and she answered with a confused, “Hello?” wondering why I was calling back. I felt like I was back in middle school talking to my crush when I said, “ok bear with me…” where I told her that I’d loved talking to her over the past few weeks and that I had feelings for her and would love to get to know her better. I don’t remember her exact response, but it was along the lines of, “I’ve loved talking too, I like you too.” If you asked her though she’d tell it much better than I. But either way, we both laughed about it and said goodnight. I went to the living room with some victory air punches to tell Josiah, he was excited for me. 

Things had finally seemed to be turning around after the summer, school was going easy and Young Life was growing consistently. That fall break, I made the trip to Kentucky to visit her too. I stayed with some of her guy friends and it was the first time since the summer that she and I had seen each other. We kissed that first night and laid in her room talking til 1 am. It was the first time I’d felt safe in a relationship, especially after the friends with benefits relationship I had with another girl back in Columbia that past year. I didn’t feel the guilt or need to hide anything like I had done before, there were butterflies for this girl and I was more than ready to work towards a relationship with her. That whole weekend I got to meet her friends and began to build those new friendships, but more importantly, the relationship between the two of us. That weekend, she and I solidified our relationship and started dating, I left Kentucky with confidence in being able to build a relationship with her. I had feelings for her and had hopes of growing the head-over-heels feelings that I’d hoped for since high school.

I believed in working towards everything, the idea that with the right amount of work, effort and repetition, anything could be done. This went for my friendships too. Though I was emotionally unavailable for most, I figured with time and acts of service, I’d be able to maintain and grow my relationships. But more often than not, my friendships felt like a chore and in turn, I ended up losing much of the desire I had to be around the people I loved. Over time I spent more and more time alone. 

A few months passed with those ideas, Black Ops 4 had dropped and now a majority of my free time was spent on the camo grind (yeah I cringe a little that I said that). By this point in November, I was spending little to no time with my friends, including Josiah. I turned down repeated opportunities to hang out with friends and ignored numerous invites. I felt safer by myself and more secure when I was in control. This continued into December as my YL team dynamic quickly deteriorated along with my attitude towards them. We fought and bickered consistently, and I knowingly hurt feelings with no remorse. I just wanted to feel like I was right. My anger and frustration slowly bled into my friendships and into my relationship. And when Christmas Eve rolled around the girl and I had broken up. I lost my temper with my family while I was home and was careless in my speech to them. Christmas 2018 was an emotional breakout that had been bottled for over a year. 

Mom, Dad and my sister left for a wedding in Colorado the day after Christmas and I was left home alone out of my own choice. I knew I needed people around so I asked Josiah, Goose and my YL teammate Nathan to come up and stay in Brevard for a few days. My thinking of accomplishing whatever I wanted through time and effort now had me attempting to confront my emotions with the same mindset. Which of course didn’t work.

The guys came to Brevard to be my temporary therapists, I loved the three of them more than most at this time and they knew I was hurting. But nonetheless we wanted to make those few days as fun as we could. It’d been raining in Brevard for a week or so and wasn’t stopping anytime soon so there was little to do outside. But when the rain would stop we’d go out to adventure a little. We ended up all having a great time and I was able to process some feelings I’d been holding in for a while. When the guys left, I still felt stick with that bottle of feelings. Unready to open that bottle, I took my little sorry ass to New Years at Wingy Gap. 

I’d saved up a few hundred bucks to go to Kentucky for New Years and ended up using that money to go to Windy Gap when a few friends hit me up to go. I was still feeling uneasy about Young Life at that point but it was still a safe haven for me and was a place I’d have friends. I only knew a few people that were there and even fewer that I was comfortable talking to. I fully intended to spend those few days decompressing, but was kindly met with a different plan. Two friends that I’d met at video training were there, Reanna and Aliza. We’d chatted a few times over that summer and semester since we’d all gotten along at training. We linked up and all just stuck together that weekend, a few of their friends tagged along and the group of us quickly became friends. I spent that week opening up not only about the feelings from my relationship but also began to process what I’d been bottling up over that past year. It was the first few drops in my bottle that I’d yet to fully open but was more than enough for me at the time. That week was also the first time I’d broken down and talked to God for what seemed like years. I felt the only way I could be a good servant and good Christian was to work hard and achieve some kind of spiritual affirmation through it, I figured since I was emotionally unavailable, the next best thing was my own efforts. This proved quickly to be unreliable and was spiritually draining to a fault, so New Years was the first step in coming to terms with my ignorance. And amid all that confusion, I started to forgive. 

I knew for months that there was nothing I could do on my own to fix myself or to get what I wanted emotionally. And when I got back to Columbia it took some serious time and work to try and even get that ball rolling. Towards a healthier life that is. There were a lot of issues that needed addressing and I didn’t know where to start. Slowly but surely I went down my mental list of what I thought were wrongdoings, attempting to make them right. It started with the apology to my Young Life team for me being so negligent to them the previous year, along with a confession and desire to become a family and not just a team. A blessing that would take time, but eventually came. Next was my attempt at mending friendships and my fear of social interaction. My entire demeanor around the people I loved had dramatically changed from the guy they knew sophomore year. I was a different person and I knew that, I knew I couldn’t just turn around to retrace my steps to become the guy I used to be. No, I knew I had to move forward. My life began and continued that semester much like the last one had. Though I was focusing heavily on my attitude, I still chose to spend much of my time alone, especially when Apex legends came out. 

One of my friends in Columbia, Dan, hit me up with he saw I was into Apex, asking me to come join he and some of his friends in a squad. It was 6 or  7 guys in a group message that were all on Playstation, none of which were involved in Young Life, but still Christian guys from Columbia. Daniel, Josh, Branson, Taylor and Casey were the consistent ones. And pretty quickly I became close with them. Though I’d only really met Dan, the rest quickly became close to me. The time that I had been spending alone on video games had now become a daily hangout where I could decompress and talk to guys without fear of judgement. Partly from the fact I’d never met most of them but mainly because none of them were in Young Life, so I felt no judgment when I wanted to vent about my problems. They were always supportive, as we all were for one another. We weren’t afraid to tell things how they were and each day I looked forward to joining the party for some late night games. I had established an honest community that I put hope into, though I was still alone when the headset came off. I knew that was an issue, I just didn’t know how to fix it.

In the middle of February 2019, Josiah prompted me and a few others to make some spring break plans to go to St. Petersburg, Florida. He was able to secure a free hotel room from his parents since they were there on his Dads sabbatical and they knew the owners of the hotel. A group of 4 quickly turned to 10 and before I knew it I was booking a hotel room for the other 6 of us. We donned the trip, “Spring Break ’97” and I’m not entirely sure why.

Spring Break ’97 became legend and none of us expected to have the time we had. There came innumerable jokes and wild moments of spontaneity. There are things from that week that have been sworn to secrecy but I’m going to do my best to document as much as I can in the most interesting way possible. So sit back, relax and prepare yourself for the Perrytale of Spring Break ’97.

There were 10 of us total,

Witt Bauknight (room 2) – King of the Junior Mint and fearless Prius Driver

Josiah Cox (room 1) – Head of hotel room 1 and the embodiment of our own Florida man.

Dylan “Joonya” Williams (room 1) – Youngest of the group and leader of the caravan, holder of the radar detector.

Matthew “Goose” Bryant (room 1) – Our gentle bodyguard and sunscreen Prince. Takes no shit from anyone, can smell street art a mile away. 

David Reese (room 2) – Itinerary holder, opinion haver, self proclaimed leader and outright cutie boy of the group.

Jordan “Jibber” Williams (room 2) – “The fuck he just say?” Coiner of the term “raw ground” a true comedy king and improv master.

Andruw “Druw” Richardson (room 2) – Aux emperor, Nuketown on full volume, “Yo Druw put your schmeat away.” 803 Fuck Train Gang

Will Lewis (room 1) – If the wind blows too hard he’ll fly away, sarcasm lover and 100% little spoon.

Collins Peck (room 2) – Foundation of all jokes, holder of Junior Mints, chick magnet, only eats chicken nuggets and pizza, swag surfer, drops it low like none other.

Hank “Spank” Johnson (room 2) – Doesn’t wear sunscreen, sunburnt day 1, second guesser, fastest driver, documents everything, morale support and immoral compass. 

The morning we set out, we all met up at Andruw and Jordans. Dylan, Witt and I would be driving. The sheer energy and power radiating from the circle of us before we set off on our journey was magnetic. The mood of the voyage became evident from the moment Collins showed up in a stringy wife-beater with a fist full of Junior Mints. Like the prophet he is, Witt spoke profound and cavernous words as he spoke the language of Florida Man, dubbing Dylan as “Joonya” in honor of Collins’ consummation of Junior Mints that had slowly begun to melt softly through his fingers. An almost ritualistic, licking of the fingers, became associated with the speaking of, “Joonya Mints,” arose. David had us in a quick prayer and we set off.

Our first stop was to be at Whataburger in Jacksonville, Florida. However we made a quick stop at a random gas station in what seemed to be the purgatory of the Southeastern United States. A quick fill-up and walk through the voodoo shop later, we set off escaping the boondocks of I-95. With about 20 miles to Whataburger, my Subaru turned the gas light on. Will, Druw and I made an educated decision to power through and go to the gas station near Whataburger. However, we all received a South Carolina public education, our decision was wrong and a few miles from the exit we ran out of gas. By the time we’d pulled over, the other two cars were making it to Whataburger. We called for help and the cutie boy, David, came to our rescue with a gas can. And just 45 minutes after running out of gas we were slopping on some honey butter chicken biscuits. 

Our promised land in the sea of humid, sunbaked Jacksonville folk, we were grateful for our quick rest on this journey. With only a few more hours to St. Pete, we set out. The plan for the evening was to get to a campground that we’d found online and would end up staying that night since our hotel was to be ready the following day. We made it to St. Pete before sunset, and thanks to my new friend, Josh, we were able to find and make some dinner plans for the evening. 

After a heavenly taco dinner where we all gave the restaurant the same names for our separate orders, we made a quick grocery run and headed to the campground. By the time we made it, we were all ready for some sleep. I had packed an Eno hammock for this as did Dylan and Druw. But the other 7 had to squeeze their way into a tent David had brought. Little did we know, that tent was a portal to another realm, where the mind became Jibberish and the ground, raw. I cannot speak of what took place in this realm, but it was only the first stage of comedy to come, it radiated laughter and anything within earshot was laughing along with us, even the trees seemed to laugh with every quick Witted joke that slid between the nylon of that tent.

The following morning came with sore backs, crusty eyes and delusional voices. The boys that entered the tent arose as men. It was a foggy morning where Chick-fil-a became our homestead in this collective dream state. A few morning dumps and an aggressively clogged toilet later, we set out for hotel 1. Josiah’s parents were waiting to hear of our tireless journey. By the time we had all showered in Josiah, Dylan, Matt and Wills room, we were recharged and ready to hit the beach. Unfortunately our other hotel room wasn’t to be ready until noon, so we planned to hang out on the beach until then. Assuming we’d only be out for an hour, I made the foolish decision to not use sunscreen. It wasn’t until 2:30 that our room was ready, so the sun had struck mine own fair skin, walloping weakness and fragility into my first few days of spring break. Though, during those days I refused to let the suns foul hand strike me into submission. The next day, Josiah, Dylan, Goose and I set out on a great longboard adventure where we explored the depths of St. Pete as we slayed monsters and hit mad grinds and slides. When we returned from our quest of greatness, those of us in room 2 returned to rest. Where I sat in battle with the foul and painful redness of my tender skin. With pain setting in as the aloe dried up, heat radiated from my tired torso as my head lay still on a hotel pillow. The morning came and my sunburn had begun to subside, and with a whole day of adventure ahead, we set out. 

We spent some time on the beach and gozzled some glizzies for lunch. I bore witness to Druw and Jordan wrangling wild seahorses, riding them like rodeo bulls. We hit the hotel early to change and explore St. Pete that evening. In the search for grub-time we stumbled upon the St. Pete gran prix racetrack and walked the track as the sky bloomed in golden hour. The setting sun gently caressed the cheeks of Witt in pure grace and elegance. Collins was dropping it low and the spirit of Florida man, and Junior Mint was upon us as we had a night out exploring the town. Cigs and brews on the beach concluded the night.

The following morning my sunburn had made its departure and it was Goose’s birthday. The four of us from before set out on another longboard quest, this time across the city. We battled cougars and evaded the pigs as they tried to catch the 803 Fuck Train Gang lacking. Many miles and challenges later, our quest led us back to the others, where we then set out with Goose in a search for art. We stumbled on many great masterpieces where our infamous, “You are my Sunshine” photos were taken. I also coined my now classic, awkward, thumbs up smile photo. We traveled a great distance on foot in search for the perfect art, discovering favorites in our own respects. We ended such a wonderful night with a casual walk thru the streets of downtown St. Pete and traveled back for a peaceful nights rest. But for room 2, there was a different plan.

The sandman had struck us down that evening, all of room 2 was in deep sleep, all but one. In the wee hours of the morning, Witt was awoken by the jiggle of the door handle. We had already heard some freaky business the night before, but unlike the comical sound of cheeks clappin’, this sound caught Witt by surprise. “Who must that be?” he asked himself as he approached the door. Peering into the peep hole he quietly looked, and there he was, Señor Mint. Only spoken of in ancient Joonya lore, Señior Mint had taken on the persona of an old man who seemed to have gone to the wrong hotel room. Witt, having knowingly bore witness to the spirit of Señior Mint, returned to bed and slept peacefully, knowing he was watching over us. The following morning we were informed of the night visit and were elated of the blessing we’d received as Collins discovered a new box of Junior Mints deep within his bag.

That day, we split up as a group. Some went in search of greater art, but Druw, Will and I set out for greater objectives, food. Tucked away in a little shack, we chomped down on one of the greatest burgers we’d ever tasted. It was almost as if the food itself whispered sweet nothings to us as we ate it. We then took to the abode of some girls from back home, whose castle had us envious. That night we made dinner plans with them and sought out for gator nuggets.

While we stood in wait for a table around the crowded patio area of the restaurant, the DJ had one woman falling in love that night, and Goose it was with. This Siren had snatched our sweet prince from us in attempt to seduce his sweet cheeks! But our fearless king, Collins, came to his rescue, taking Goose by the hand, telling the Siren, “he’s mine ;),” saving him from certain step-fatherhood. 

In the midst of subpar tourist seafood, in the presence of those we loved, the boys of Spring Break ’97 solidified a brotherhood never to be forgotten. Swearing events to secrecy, never to be spoken of outside the group.

At the same time I underwent much needed healing within my own heart. Somewhere between the secret jokes, random words and dirty memes, memories were made. As was peace. That week, I’d felt loved by those around me and through that I made peace with the wrong I’d done and the wrong done to me. My heart was being opened yet again and my bottle of feelings, thrown out. And though much of Spring Break ’97 is comical, and the reminiscence brings belly laughs still, I’ll be forever grateful for the gift I was given in that random and sporadic group of guys.

With Spring Break ’97 in the books, the boys and I carried through the semester with ease. That May, they’d all be graduating except for Dylan, Josiah and I. I’d secured a job for the summer, working in video for a performance clutch company. But before that began in July, I took Young Life guys to Windy Gap for summer camp.

I’ll keep the recap of that week short in saying it was the wildest week of camp I’ve ever experienced. With the combination of deep talks, drama, fights and feuds — I can only say that it was the Lord himself helping me through that week.

When I got back, I had a day to prepare for the new job. The first day was good, getting accustomed to the space and the list of projects the intended for me to do over the next month. 18 or so videos, most of which were product promos. And by the end of the first week I had them done. Impressed by the rate I worked, the bothers who own the company were struggling to give me projects to keep me occupied, so a majority of my time was spent on YouTube. I was spending that summer alone, Josiah was interning at Young Life Southwind. I ended up developing some trust issues after feeling like I’d been forgotten by my friends who were still in Columbia that summer. There were group messages I was excluded from and almost every day I’d reach out to friends asking to hang or to see what people were doing with little to no response. An almost daily occurrence, I would see stories and posts of the friends I’d try to hit up, seeing them out hanging with everyone else. I quietly grew anger towards that. I felt forgotten and unwanted. 

I didn’t wait long to make that known to my friends, and I tried addressing it head on. Though, not much changed. I started forcing myself to suppress those feelings since the start of senior year was approaching. And as Josiah returned home, I started senior year.

For Young Life this year, I was set to be team leader. A responsibility that I felt unequipped in and one that made me stressed beyond belief from my fear of failure. Nevertheless, the team and I went headfirst into the year. And in the first few months, we saw more growth than much of the previous year. 

With the combination of school, Young Life and my newly contracted work with the same company, I had little to no free time during the day. Josiah had stopped leading Young Life and was to graduate in December, so he had a lot of free time on his hands. The combination of my constantly moving and working lifestyle with his 5th year vibe did not mix well. I got consistently irritated with him. We held short tempers and passive aggressive tendencies toward each other.

Not all our time was bad though. We we’re brothers and acted more like siblings than anything. Amongst the bad attitudes, we were still there for each other in those late night talks. I’d also grown friendships with the boys in the Playstation party. Josh, Dan, John and Branson had become close friends to me solely from playing video games and talking in party chat.

I hadn’t spent much time with the Spring Break ’97 boys since most had graduated. So in turn I made closer friends in the Sophomore and Junior classes that were involved with Young Life at USC. I loved being around them, but there was the sense that I was in a completely different stage of life than them and I had this feeling that those friendships wouldn’t last long because of it. I chose to emotionally distance myself from most. The looming fear of graduation and post-grad had me distancing myself from others even more. I wanted to be prepared to leave the people I loved with little to no emotional damage, so I tried to protect myself, keeping my head down, attempting to drown myself with work. Young Life felt like a chore as the routine of club, campaigners and contact work were exhausting me after school and work. I loved the guys that came around and hoped and prayed for them daily, but Young Life itself became a chore. And thanks to some drama late in the semester with some of the students, the team as a whole had to come together more than ever.

I won’t go into detail on the drama as it is not my place to disclose that. But it was the hardest time I’ve ever had as a leader while I had to cope with so many emotions and numerous eyes on my team and I. The stress and anxiety seemed never ending as it just built higher and higher. During this time I expressed a lot of negative feelings I’d had towards myself and my ability to be a good leader along with my ability to have little to no emotional capacity for anyone. I’d completely shut down emotionally with no highs or lows on either side of the spectrum. My area director encouraged me to seek therapy, as he had been since my freshman year, and gave me a recommendation. I was against getting any kind of Psychological help in fear of judgement or that I’d be put on anti-depressants. I knew I had anger issues and that I was depressed along with my anxiety. Therapy was the last thing I wanted.

I tried a few weeks by myself, attempting to battle the raw feelings on my own, but they pretty quickly tore me down. I’d lost all desire to be around people and felt like I was incapable of loving anyone or anything. And during this time I was unable to see that I was surrounded by so many people who cared about me, but instead there was blindness, I felt alone.

I wanted answers and to make sense of the way I felt, so after a few weeks I went to a therapist. I was embarrassed to go and almost walked out of the waiting room because I didn’t want to be seem as a broken record. I went nonetheless. Ken, that was my therapists name. He had a bald head and a kind smile, his voice pierced the silence in the room when we first sat down as he asked why I was there. It was such a wild combination of fear, anger, depression and confusion that I just told him, “I don’t know.” I told him that I had come looking for answers to why I felt the way I felt. That I’d been harboring so much anger and frustration, to a point where I felt unloved, that my depression had reached a breaking point where I couldn’t tell the difference between being happy and just not being depressed. In my shaky voice I held in tears saying, “I just want to be loved man. That’s all I want.”

I started therapy and went every week, Ken promised me we’d try and figure out what the fuck was wrong in my head (my words not his). Over the span of a few months, I told Ken everything I’ve written here and more. We talked about fears and goals, trauma, regret, girls I had crushes on and then some. This was the first time in my life where I’d opened up and talked about many of these things. And through verbalizing much of it, things started to make sense. I was happy to have someone that seemed to finally listen, even though I was paying him to. It was relieving to have a place where my emotions could be validated and healing could begin.

2020 rolled around and I was still going to Ken. Though we’d crossed much of the bridge into my heart, there were still some things I held onto, Ken knew this. But as February ran through, Ken and I reached a stalemate where we both agreed that I’d reached a good place emotionally and that the remainder of my healing would have to be done on my own. He told me he would be there whenever I needed, but that he saw real change and was hopeful in that I would be just fine without him. So I stopped therapy in February.

My life had since calmed down and it was time to start finalizing post-grad plans. And I had my eyes set on Tampa, Florida. Both my friends Josh and John lived there and I was searching for jobs in car culture down there. With spring break of senior year approaching fast, I made plans to head down to Tampa to explore and do some job hunting. But none of us could’ve been prepared for what happened soon after.

We’d heard about Coronavirus a few months before, assuming it to be another freak disease like Ebola. But as it spread across the globe, social panic ensued as schools, sports, stores and job opportunities closed. My parents drove to get my sister from NYC in March since it was Americas hot spot for COVID. They got her, and I went back to Brevard at the same time, fully prepared to stay there for over a year. Dad even gave us an apocalypse talk, claiming that we might need to band together to survive. He said all of this as a joke but there was always a sense of sincerity in his tone. I ended up losing the job opportunities I’d gotten and finished out my senior year with a subpar portfolio that I’m still surprised passed. It was the worst situation for me emotionally, as it was for many others, as I had just begun my emotional healing process. My family and I fought daily.

I’d started talking to a previous girl just before going home, and after a month in quarantine, I went to Georgia to visit her. She’d become an emotional crutch for me, I stayed with her and her family for a few days and it was wonderful. But a few weeks after, she ghosted. This, in combination with COVID stress, unemployment, quarantine loneliness, my car breaking and emotional uncertainty, caused me to fall apart. I refused to spiral down into a hole of depression so I called on anyone I could and within a few weeks I had calmed down. Over the following months I was given much needed time to reflect and assess the previous years, giving thanks for the time I’ve been gifted. Addressing the repeated and obvious notion that all I really wanted this whole time was to love and to be loved.

And now I write to you in present day, July 17th 2020, still trying to make sense of my own mind. Still unemployed and living alone, through this writing I’ve been able to better understand myself, my struggles and my story. I’ve confessed things here that I haven’t shared openly, and for the first time in my life, things are starting to make a little sense. This ongoing desire to love others has entered slowly back into my heart. With every word I’ve written, a drop of life has come along with it. I’ve started daydreaming again, fantasizing of ambitions and ideas. I’ve not breathed as deep as this since my first years walking with Christ, and a desire to love has become evident, shooting out of my heart itself. I’d be lying if I said I’m not fearful of losing it, I am, but I know things won’t always be this way. My life moves forward. Through words and writing I’ve been able to make some sense of the life I’ve lived and my own craziness. Though others may not know this story of mine, I hope that it continues to help me better understand my own life and why I am the way I am.

So in closing, I thank you for taking time to read these words. I don’t know who’s reading this, but I love you. I hoped to find the right words to make it emotional but why do that here? I’m still me, I’m still me and I’m still living my life, I’m still going. I’m crazy in my own respects and I know that better than anyone. So before I move on, I encourage you to be honest. Open up when you’re happy and when you’re sad. The bad times will pass and good ones are on the horizon. I don’t know what to do about this desire to love and to be loved. I urge you to scratch that itch.  Take the uncomfortable leap and love someone, spend time with others and ask the hard questions. Stay up late and turn off the phones, make memories while you have time and always understand that your story is unique. You are you for a reason. We’re all imperfect, that’s what makes us lovable.

With love,

Hank

Here we are! I’m gonna try and refrain from writing like I’m some inspirational twenty-something now because, daggum, I did that way too much there. But hey! It’s present day Hank now, a lot has happened since writing that back in July 2020 and there’s much towards the end that I left out because I hadn’t fully processed yet.

When I sat down with pen and paper to write everything, I didn’t know how long It’d take or if I’d even finish. For weeks, I’d been drinking myself to sleep every night not knowing what to do about this confusion and anxiety in my life. A week of writing and 160 notebook pages later, I found that writing helped make sense of who I was and the guy I’d spent so much energy trying to hide. Having the pages in front of me showed how up and down my feelings actually were and helped further a process of reflection and healing. I spent a few days after writing everything to contact some of the friends and others in those stories, who I felt I’d done wrong or had been unkind to during those times, to apologize.

What I did hide though, is that during that time in July of 2020, my walk in Christ took a step backward. I was unsure of God. COVID had stopped my Church attendance and I made no effort to return once services started opening back up around that same time. Part of me wanted to know, I wanted some kind of affirmation that what I had spent so much time believing in was true, but I also wanted to know if I was missing out on anything in doing so. Curiosity will surely be my downfall and, in this instance, was the fuel for why I chose to stop going to Church in the first place. At no point had I stopped believing in God, I knew he was there, but I wanted to know if there was anything I could do in place of him. 

I lived the rest of that year in Columbia, Josiah had moved out the week before COVID began and I’d returned in late March from Brevard. I lived alone in that duplex until I moved out that December. I would write about stuff that happened during those last months but there’s not much to be said, it was a lot of video games and some work with the car company. A few months before moving out, a friend of mine I knew from my time at Carolina Point reached out, he and I decided to move into a place in Asheville that December.

We moved into our apartment December 10, 2020. We lived on the third floor of a complex in Arden, about an hour from my parents in Brevard. I had a little contract job lined up with an aftermarket car company near there but a few days after move in, the owner decided to back out. Luckily, I had a fair chunk of cash from some recent jobs that would be more than enough to hold me over through 2021. My move to Asheville was a little strange, I didn’t feel like I’d fully gone into my post-grad life yet, partly from not having a real graduation due to COVID but also from a weird feeling that something still wasn’t right in my life. I wanted things to make sense, I wanted some kind of assurance that what I’d done moving there was the right decision, but at the time none was found. 

New years 2021 was a few days away, my new years resolution went alongside that curiosity about God. I wanted to know if I was missing out on anything, if there was anything I could do to make myself happy on my own. So I decided I’d spend the length of my lease, 8 months, doing whatever I wanted. My ambitions weren’t high, I wanted to use my time the way I wanted. I’d spent the last four years in school, work and Young Life, so I wanted to take my time and use it in whatever way I saw fit. In January 2021 I decided to build a PC, Call of Duty: Cold War had come out a few months prior and I wanted to up my gaming setup so I spent a few thousand to build my own PC. I’d made friends with some competitive players and a few Twitch streamers just before that, so I spent a lot of time online with them playing in tournaments on their streams. I averaged around twelve to fourteen hours of play-time a day with them and I enjoyed it a lot.

January passed and the more time I spent online, the more I got to know those guys, a few from different countries and a few of them were my age and a little younger. This went on for a few months, all I wanted was to stay home in my space. Clay and I spent little time together but we were still good friends and roommates to one another, we never really had any bad moments. We were both going through different things at the beginning of our living there but we still understood one another, I liked living with Clay. We’d wake up Sunday mornings to watch Formula 1 and would have roommate time playing Call of Duty together and smoking Marlboro Reds on the bed of my red truck.

February continued, still spending just as much time on video games, but the fun in it had died and my competitive side had taken over. I was playing with and against people who did this for a living and my desire to keep up faded pretty quickly when it came to that. But gaming was all I really knew here? I didn’t know what else I could do to be happy at the time so I talked to a few girls instead. Never really anything serious, but the idea that I was desirable became paramount. I would hit up a few different girls during this time but nothing ever came of it since I was afraid to really leave my apartment for anything. More often than not I’d spend a few days at a time inside, door dashing most of my meals and only going out to grocery shop. Depression set in by the end of February, this was nothing new to me and I kinda just chalked it up to my current situation, though I did nothing to change it.

March began and I had moved my PC out of my room into our living room where there was an empty space near the windows. I didn’t want to play games, they made me feel frustrated and angry. I never felt good after turning the PC off either, but I didn’t know what else to do. I’d drive to Mom and Dads house every once in a while too, though I feared that because I knew Dad would just want to talk about job stuff. I didn’t know what my next steps were so I had no desire to really interact with anyone during that time. After a week or so of not turning the PC on, the longest time in about two years not playing games, Josh, John and Wes coaxed me into getting on for a few games. I had a lot I wanted to talk about so I obliged. It was fun with them! I had been joking for a while about moving to Tampa since that’s where they lived and, to me, they were some of my best friends. John called my bluff so I planned a trip there in April.

The anticipation for the trip to Tampa ate through me once April started, I had been in the area for Spring Break ’97 and knew I loved it down there. And in the back of my mind I knew I wanted to end up there, so I started looking for jobs. I got the contact for a few different places and had an interview lined up during my trip. When the time came, I road-tripped down, picking Dan up on the way. We stayed at John’s that weekend, and from the moment I was there, something felt right. Maybe it was the feeling of being away or the feeling of seeing Bayshore Boulevard for the first time, I’m not sure, but I knew I wanted to move there as soon as possible. I interviewed with some car people but really had no desire to work in media anymore, I only set up the interview because I knew I’d need a job once I moved, and media was what I could make money with. That weekend was a fun one with the boys, meeting their friends, going around town and even talking with Josh about potentially moving in together in June. 

The drive back to Asheville is where the brainstorming started. I had been suppressing a lot of my uncertainties over the last few months while living on my own time and desires, so the idea of moving to Tampa seemed like a good option if I wanted to try and run away from all that. A few weeks later I lined up another job interview in Tampa after having a phone interview with a real estate agent who was looking for a media guy, I flew down and was offered the job shortly after I got back to Asheville. I felt excited but the uncertainty was still there. Was I really about to move again after only 6 months of living in Asheville? I hadn’t solved any of my problems, nor had I discovered anything through my “living on my time” lifestyle that had only caused me to gain weight and grow a hatred of video games. But hey! Bottle it all up and one day you’ll die, right? 

Clay was sad to see me go and I was sad to have not spent more time with him, I had turned down a lot of his offers to hang out outside our apartment because I truly feared leaving my space while I lived there, I feared the uncertainty more than anything. But the move to Tampa was an exception. I headed down to Tampa at the beginning of June with my truck packed to the ceiling with my stuff. Josh and I had found a place in South Tampa at a new apartment complex and we moved in on June 10, 2021. The day after, I had my first day on the new job. A job is an overstatement because the guy who’d hired me had no real clue what he was wanting to do, he just knew he wanted content. We interviewed someone about a fancy condo complex that was still under construction, not too far from where my apartment was, and I hated it. I had lost the desire to work with cameras and in media before I even moved to Asheville.

I had this desire to work with my hands but felt like as if there was no other profession I could go into at that point. A few days later we had a meeting about plans for content and ideas and there were no true goals in sight. My gut feeling was telling me to get the hell out of it, so I did. I told the guy who hired me that I wasn’t going to work for him just four days after starting. 

Mom and Dad weren’t too thrilled on this decision but they were supportive, with the exception that I’d find a job, any job, as soon as possible. I spent a few days looking for anything and was about to take a job as a package handler with UPS, but just before responding to the acceptance email, I decided to go on a drive to decompress and talk to God for a little while. I pulled out of my complex knowing good and well that God and I hadn’t been on good terms for over a year now. I prayed a frustrated prayer just asking God for some kind of sign, and before I even made it to the end of my road, I looked to see a little “Mechanic Wanted” sign on a fence with a phone number attached. I turned around pretty quickly and headed back to my apartment to look up who the company was. It was a little industrial air compressor and Honda generator shop and, from what I could tell, was a better option than working for UPS. So the next day I threw on my job interview clothes to walk in and ask for a job. Conveniently, this company that had been started back in the 80’s had just been sold to a larger corporate air compressor company, so one of the corporate owners was there to meet me. I got his number and an application to fill out that I brought back the same day. A few days later I was asked back for a formal interview with another one of the corporate owners. An older guy who was easy to talk to, he said he respected my coming in face-to-face to ask for an application considering the fact I had no prior experience in the field other than my schooling in Mechatronics. The interview couldn’t have gone better and he offered me a grunt job in the shop, I accepted it immediately. I took to social media to give a little life update and to tell family about my job decision and this is what I wrote… 

Well, after a few weeks in Tampa, I left the job that I came for!

A lot of y’all have been asking so I’ve a little explaining to do & figured this would be the easiest way.

I’ve been unhappy for the last few years with my work in general, it’s a negativity that’s bled into my daily life and has effected my work ethic, relationships and health. I figured moving to a new place and working with new people as I continued doing media work would rekindle my liking for the profession. However, after my brief stay in Asheville, I still had a restlessness about my choice of work, so I took a job in Tampa hoping that’d be the spark. 

Spoiler alert, it wasn’t.

I’ve always loved to work with my hands and fixing things, no matter what it was I always enjoyed it, even if some of it was working with mom & dad on their projects! But don’t tell them that because they’ll want me to come home and do more. Either way, it’s what always made sense to me. That sense of accomplishment when something is done right and the satisfaction of helping someone in the process is why I loved working with my hands in the first place. Yeah I had my own little projects in between but I was far more excited when someone called and needed a handyman or just a tip on how to do something. 

So last week I chose to end on good terms the job I originally came to Tampa for, knowing I wanted to work with my hands instead. 

Coincidentally, just down the street from my new apartment, there’s a sign on the side of an industrial air compressor and Honda generator shop with “Mech. Wanted” written on it. So I threw on my job interview clothes, walked in and asked for an application. They were all incredibly kind and were very understanding when I explained the position I was in. Thankfully, after turning in my application, they had me back for an interview. And to my surprise, they offered me a job. 

I couldn’t have said yes fast enough. 

It may not be the flashiest or coolest of jobs but it’s somewhere I can learn, grow, work hard, and use my hands. It’s an opportunity I’m grateful to have and I truly believe I’ll be happier down this path. Lord knows what’ll happen though, guess we’ll just have to wait and find out. 

And as Dad likes to quote, I want to “Pursue meaning, not happiness.”

Love y’all and I hope you have a great day.

p.s. if you read this far and still have questions please feel free to call.

Definitely not my best writing, but it did the job communicating to my friends and family. My parents were elated when I told them I’d been offered the job and Dad was hopeful that it’d be a good fit for me. I was just glad I’d have some consistency now. Dad was right though! The job couldn’t have been a better fit. The days were hot and sweaty and my body ached at the end of every day, but being in that space made me happy. I didn’t know much about what I was doing but was learning a lot as I swept the floors and moved heavy things around. First I learned the Honda engines, then some about the air compressors, and during that I made friends with the other employees there. The respect I have for my boss hiring me is beyond what I can write here and the patience he’s had is beyond mine. But this job brought some consistency in my life that was much needed. 

It wasn’t long after the new job where I started making friends with new people, Josh had introduced me to a lot of people in the first few weeks and I struggled to remember all their names. They were so much fun to be around and the excitement of getting to know them overshadowed the other uncertainties I had brought with me to Tampa. Josh invited me to church with him pretty soon too, I dodged the invite the first few weeks. I went back to NC to get my old red truck, but agreed to go with him eventually. I was scared to go back to Church since I hadn’t been since the beginning of 2020. I didn’t want to confront God and felt unworthy to go back, but I went anyway.

Going back was much easier than anticipated and knew after that week I wanted to find a church that fit well. Josh recommended another Church that some other friends went to called South Tampa Fellowship and gave me the number of one of my new friends who went there. I texted her about going and met her and her roommate there the following Sunday. We sat in the balcony where there weren’t a lot of people. My feelings towards church were still back and fourth, but everything here felt like home. It wasn’t long into the service when two parents and their little boy sat in front of us. A cute little kid with all the energy in the world, he was jumping around and dancing during the worship as his parents danced and laughed along too. They didn’t act like the other parents I’d seen in church, those that reprimanded their kids for being kids. Instead, they shared in his joy right in front of us, disruptive or not. I teared up when I saw the joy the kids Dad had on his face, it felt like home in this church. It’s funny to think my uncertainty of returning to Church was turned on its head by a little kid of all things, the simplicity of his joy and the love his parents shared by his side was evidence of a love that I’d turned away from. I wanted to be here, I wanted to love God and felt like I was home. I hope one day I can tell the parents. 

After church Melissa and her roommate Mikaela, the two friends I’d gone with, asked if I wanted to go to the beach with them. I offered to drive the truck and they were all for it. We spent the afternoon on the beach hanging out and getting to know one another and we quickly became friends. I felt welcomed by them and was glad to be around. Mikaela was a nurse so her hours were a little weird, so Mel and I hung out a little more. It didn’t take long for the others in our friend group to question wether or not something was going on between Mel and I based off the amount of time we were spending together. We liked hanging out with each other but there were no feelings. Though we did go on a date, we quickly said that we just wanted to be friends. Those first few weeks after returning to Church were perfect.

August was almost in the books when my anxiety came back. It came out of nowhere and was stronger than I remembered at previous times. It really pissed me off because everything seemed to be going right. It came from nowhere and didn’t go away after a few days as it usually did. Depressive thoughts and feelings began to stem from it and the ensuing anxiety had me angry and confused as to why the thoughts and feelings were there. I was adamant about not allowing those thoughts in, so I did the only thing I knew to ignore it, drank.

I drank a bottle and a half of wine before the first sword fight of Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl started. I mean I was DRUNK, but the anxiety went away with this. When the movie ended the second bottle was empty. The sudden silence in the living room prompted me to start talking.

When I used to drink myself to sleep back in Columbia, I would usually drunk talk to God or to myself about my problems, adopting a kind of alternate personality who would speak from a drunk perspective, I did the same here. I made a voice memo when I did it, but didn’t find it until months later, I’m going to give it to you here.

After a few hours passed out on the couch, Josh had come home and brought me some Chick-fil-a after finding me blacked out with two empty wine bottles and Mary Poppins playing on the TV. He didn’t know what was going on but I vaguely remember telling him I was all good. The next morning was Sunday and I woke up completely fine. I had no recollection of making that recording and got up to go to church. After church we kept to our regular beach on Sundays routine and hopped in the truck, it was August 22, 2021. Everything was perfect this day. The anxiety was still there, but something about it was peaceful. Maybe it was the words of drunk Hank speaking into my heart, but whatever it was, I felt peace in this little mess. I wrote the date on the ceiling of the truck, next to the names of my friends who’d also signed up there. 

The following weeks went off without a hitch while I met and made new friends with people in my Church small group. I knew I wanted a good community and wouldn’t let it slip by while I waited for someone else to act on it. So for a few weeks I hit up some guys in the group to hang out and go to lunch a few weekends in a row to try and get to know them. I had nothing to hide in these times and was sure to make that clear. A few of these guys and I quickly became close. My personality started to change a lot over those few months and I began to find joy in hanging out with my new friends, becoming extroverted to an extent. Telling stories and being a little louder than I should’ve, I had a small feeling that this personality wouldn’t last and that, eventually, my anti-social self would return. I even told people in my small group that this version of Hank was a once in a blue moon kind of Hank and that I’d crawl back into my shell after a few weeks. 

When October rolled around, this Hank was still there. With each passing week I waited for my heart to change back but it didn’t. One night in particular, I grabbed my keys and hopped in the truck to go out for a drive, the only real place I can think unobstructed. The thought and question of wondering where this happiness was coming from prompted me to have a little heart to heart with God. As I drove I turned the music up and talked aloud so other drivers wouldn’t notice too much what I was doing. I started talking, the talking turned to singing along with the radio and the singing turned to uncontrollable laughter. I drove down Bayshore, the sun had gone down, and every laugh grew my smile bigger and tears with each. Joyful tears had come from the realization that I’d been given a gift of love that I didn’t deserve, I didn’t understand it, though it filled me anyways. This confused yet thankful prayer turned to a belly laughing, tear-filled joy. It felt like God’s way of saying, “You’re gonna be ok kid.” There was love in my heart, love with no explanation. It was a gift, one I’m certainly undeserving of, but a gift nonetheless.

Mine and Gods relationship had changed to this point and felt more natural than it had ever been, not this authoritarian figure who I wanted to be good for, but a father. A heartfelt relationship filled with mercy, teaching me to love in ways I’m still trying to navigate and doubt I’ll ever truly understand. A few days after collecting my thoughts I wrote about it, here it is…

10-23-2021

Processing Love 

Growing up around my middle school/high school years, I had one pretty consistent prayer that preceded most others. 

“God I just want one good friend.” 

I probably prayed that hundreds, maybe thousands of times before it kinda just faded away. It was a prayer that has been repeatedly answered throughout my life and continues to be fulfilled, but every once in a while I find myself saying that little prayer. I don’t do it because I don’t have good friends, that of which I’m certain I have an abundance of. I think I pray it in hopes that I’ll be able to find out why God answered the prayer in the first place. 

Now I don’t intend to write this in hopes of receiving affirmation or response, nor is this an attempt to draw sympathy as there’s no cause to bring it. This is simply me processing and shouting praise to a mercy that I don’t deserve but have been given nonetheless. 

About halfway through college I started having doubts regarding my own self-worth and ability to care for others. By this point I’d been battling internally with some mental health issues that had consistently been pushed under the rug and seldom talked about with anyone close to me, so as you’d imagine, both of these factors fed off one another fairly well. One of the biggest problems that came up was me questioning how I could be loved. There came an absence of joy when these ideas started in. It made no sense! The idea of love, that is. This vacancy in my heart had crept in and made me question my own believing life. 

“Am I doing enough?” I thought. 

I figured I felt this way because I hadn’t put in enough effort into loving others and reciprocating the love God had shown in my life. But throwing myself into work, pursuing relationships and ministry only seemed to widen the hole that had crept its way into my heart. 

“I guess I’m just broken.” 

We’d passed the point of reminiscing on better days and accepted this as the new normal, I could tell that my friends didn’t want this version of Hank around and rightfully so. I carried a bitterness around that only others could taste, followed by a self-righteous anger that fed off the negativity I felt towards the people I wanted to love me the most. 

“Why don’t they want me around?” 

Eventually I started to disassociate completely, the new normal had set in and the belief that I was unworthy of love had made itself known. Not only did it make itself known, it shouted it from the crown of my head deep into my chest. Emotionally, I felt like a failure and became so confused as to why I didn’t care anymore. I wanted nothing more than to care for and about others, but all I could muster was a helping hand and a smile. 

“I don’t have feelings!” I told myself and others jokingly 

After college, all I wanted to do was stay home, in my safe space, behind my screens. There, I felt like I had purpose and others who cared about me, up until the moment the screens turned off. I didn’t want to leave the apartment, I was afraid of facing the world. I didn’t want to be seen and I most certainly did not want to be heard, there seemed nothing good to tell. But I still wanted nothing more than to love and to be loved. 

“Keep running from the problem.” I said, moving to Tampa. 

It didn’t take long for it to catch up. A new place, job and friends who are one in a million and those feelings caught up so quickly. 

“God whats happening?” 

I sat scrambled for a few days because I couldn’t help but question my worthiness to be loved in any capacity. How could God love me? I don’t even love me? That was it! My own capacity to love and to be loved had been shrouded by this feeling in my heart that I was undeserving of love. An idea that had rooted itself in my own self hatred and quite frankly, an animosity towards what I felt had been a subpar life when it came to caring for others. The roots of these feelings had been watered by my own mistakes over the years that I held as my reasoning behind why I felt those ways. But the true issue had made itself known as being these lies ridden across my subconscious. 

I’ve been surrounded by love, love abounding in ways I could never explain here and hope I can try to show next time I see you. I’m learning to love more and more as the days go on, but boy has God shown me how. It’s impossible to explain without knowing mercy. Mercy to forgive, mercy to love myself again, mercy I’m shown after running away, mercy for all the things I wish I could do-over. But most importantly, mercy knowing that I am forgiven of all I’ve ever done, do or will do. 

So here’s to living in Love, a good friend, and our merciful God. 

The following months, filled with excitement for this new Hank, flew by. Before I knew it, I was headed home for Christmas and back again for New Years with my friends. A new personality had sprouted over these months since moving to Tampa, as the fear of losing it had all but disappeared whilst 2022 rang in with the same joy. 

It’s June 28th now, my 24th birthday. That same joy and love is being built upon with every passing day. I wish I could tell you how it happened but I don’t know how. You’d think after 37,000 words I’d be able to come to some kind of conclusion, but boy I just can’t. It’s hard to communicate feelings, words are easy but no matter how many times I repeat them, I can’t explain this feeling of joy. It’s not some rollercoaster high of emotions, that I’m sure of, but it’s been sitting quietly in the pit of my chest. The love takes me as the time goes, I love to be around people. Something I never thought I’d be again was an extrovert, but hey here we are, can’t complain. But whatever it may be, I know the Lord is at the center of it. And no matter where the feelings may go, I trust Him with it all.

I wish I could give you a good one liner to end on but it seems kinda wrong for me to end now, considering my life feels like its only just begun. So I guess all I can say is thanks!

Thanks for reading and thanks for caring!

I love you,

Hank

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’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.