Category: Ambition of the Heart – Chapters

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then I’d wake up.

Two years ago I sat down and wrote all I could remember about my own life in hopes I could make more sense of who I am and what my personality is. After some thinking, I’ve decided to type up what was written on those notebook pages with the thought that I may decide to let others read it. Throughout these chapters there are details and stories that I haven’t shared outwardly and ask that you not respond in the way you think I’d want you to. Instead I want you to respond honestly. Wether that be with joy, care, anger or reprimand and maybe even with nothing at all. Whichever that may be, thank you for taking your time to read, I love you.

07-07-2020

By the time you read this, Lord knows where I’ll be. Maybe across the country in a studio, working on a project with people I never expected to meet. Maybe near people I love, working a basic job that I’d become content with all due to the fact I’m near people who make me happy. Or maybe I’ll be in the same exact place I’m in now. Lord knows. But nevertheless I do not write this out of my own self-pity or in the reminiscence of memories I wished I’d cherished more or things I should’ve done different. No. Nor do I wish to make myself out to be a victim of any kind, that of which I’m sure I am not.

Truth is, I’m not entirely sure why I’m choosing to write this. I’ve got a lot of things I want to tell people, especially my family, and I’ve got no clue how, this seemed like a good option. On these lines and in these pages I’m going to tell stories about myself. Some might bore you, some may excite you and some may pull you in. Others could make you angry or sad, I have no control over that, I’m just here to try and make sense of myself and search for some kind of emotional freedom.

So reader, I wish to tell you that I am wildly unhappy with my life and hope that in writing, I’d be able to find joy again. And before we begin, thank you for coming along on this journey with me. May we both find a little piece of ourselves along the way.