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?

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.