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