Another Name I Call Myself

This here will be my exhaustive testimony. That is to say, this is my life story in regards to major struggles, major victories, and the like. I have changed some names to protect the people involved, as some of the story is likely to shock. So here goes...

So I was born. The end! Ha, just kidding. But I really was born. Into a pretty strong Christian family (note, I don't say household, but family - this will be explained shortly). My grandparents are/were both church planters and Christian authors, pretty famous in the Southern Baptist community, as it were. My great grandparents were also church planters and other similar pioneers. My uncle is also a pastor, and my mom is a very strong Christian, having the "pastor's daughter" mark forever on her records (I kid).

Anyways, I didn't say household because my father was a douche. A big bag of it. My elder brother, 5 years older than I, can tell you some horror stories, but I am luckier than he. My bio-father was an alcoholic, drug-addicted, abusive man who cared about nothing and no one but himself. I can't attest to this being true today, though from secondhand accounts, it sounds like not much has changed. He used to beat my mom, make her clean his bong(s), drink a LOT and then proceed to stampede around as angry drunks do and basically screw himself over in our eyes. My brother has confessed to me several occasions in which he was beaten, including a scary event that led him to be thrown into a cabinet, followed shortly by a television set.

All that to say my mom left him when I was about 1 year old, and he then proceeded to kidnap us and terrorize us and such further, until my mom finally divorced him by the time I was 2. And even though I preach against divorce, as the Bible considers it a sinful thing, I am thankful God forgives, because I might not be alive had she not been ballsy enough to break off that relationship.

With that little back-story, you'll notice I never grew up with a father figure. My only real male adult model was my grandfather, and he'd had Parkinson's disease to the max since I could remember. I used to hang out with him while my mom and grandma would go out - we called it Dado-sitting (Dado was his nickname) - and we'd play go fish, and watch cartoons, and eat cheese saltines (yes, they made them) and ramen noodles. But he couldn't talk. He mumbled. He couldn't walk well, as he was always stiff as a board. He drooled, he had difficulties using the restroom, etc. I loved my grandfather very much, but there wasn't a whole lot I could learn from him in that state. He eventually died, leaving me stranded and feeling hopeless.

As a child, I went to church with my mom. We had one church, called Greater Valley, that met in a high school and I loved it as a kid. The only problem was, it shut down, because the pastor moved out of state and the school we met in didn't want to rent to us anymore. So we moved to another Southern Baptist church, where I eventually "accepted" Christ. I say it in that way because I was like six years old, and didn't know what that meant, or who Jesus was. I just wanted to be dunked under water in front of everyone and get a book and necklace like my brother did. After that, I became disinterested in church. I didn't go to Sunday school anymore, and during sermons, I would lay on an A/C vent and play with a ziploc bag of action figures I always brought from home. This embarrassed my mom a lot, because we sat in the front pew (she was in the choir) every Sunday. There were even times we'd go to church at night, and there was one time I refused to leave the car. I sat there, alone, in the dark, for 20 minutes, just crying and wondering what I did to have such a crap life. I was only 7 years old at the time.

After a while, my family stopped going to church. My g-pa had died, and my uncle who had pastored our church for a while, moved to Michigan. We didn't have strong roots apart from that (granted, my grandma is still tied in deep, but we didn't follow her around like a lost puppy so to speak). So from 8 years old to about 14 years old, I didn't go to church. I had no desire to. There was nothing I gained from it, or so I thought.

I skipped the fourth grade. What I mean is, I didn't go to school that year. At all. I was supposed to be home schooled, but never did my work, and my mom, who was a teacher, was always at work. So I sat around watching Maury and Three's Company, doing nothing all day. I finally went back to school and found myself as an outcast. First of all, it was a new school. Second of all, I hadn't been educated for a year. Not to say I wasn't smart, because I was. Terribly gifted for education, I suppose. But anyway, I felt left out a lot. I was also a large child, as I am a large man now. Both my parents are larger, so I got the large genes (which is funny because my brother is tiny).

So I was alone. Sort of. I had a friend, who became my best friend for about six years, named Jaymie Chavez. He was a rambunctious, anger-ridden troublemaker, and I was the quiet, reserved outcast. The perfect pair! We kind of leveled each other out: I toned him down so he wasn't so angry and throwing desks at teachers as much, and he brought out some life in me. We were good friends up until sophomore year of high school, where we pretty much drifted apart. But anyway, he was one of my only friends.

A small side note, that is curious given the fact that Jaymie was around. Throughout this period of life, I became "clinically depressed." I had cried myself to sleep at night, found no purpose for being alive, the whole nine yards. I even thought for a time that my mom hated me for who I was and what I'd done to act out against her (including throwing a shoe down the hallway at her, stealing money from her purse, and a few other things here and there). She ended up putting me in a drug study for anti-depressants that involved bi-monthly blood samples. I hate needles. HATE them. So, needless to say, I dropped out of the study midway through it, and felt more ostracized by my mom (who actually has been my greatest supporter, and looking back I see only love from her).

So yeah. Jr High was an interesting time. Jaymie and I moved to yet another school for 6-8th grade, and tore it up. Sixth grade was kind of bust, except that I found an outlet for my pain in flag football. I was a lineman, and got to hit people, so I found joy in that. Seventh grade was pretty boring if you look at it. Not much changed there. But Eighth grade was a major turning point in my life. I had figured out by then that being funny and borderline insane made people like me, and ignore the fact that I was larger, weirder, or smarter than them. So I acted out a lot, to the point where I felt comfortable doing the YMCA in front of my entire 8th grade class.

Then high school came along. Jaymie and all my friends from Jr High went to Peoria HS, and I went to Centennial HS. So basically, I was back at square one again. I went numb: I didn't talk to most anyone, I reverted to avoiding people so they'd leave me alone when it came to my weight or whatever. It was terrible. Second semester of my freshman year, I was in a theatre class, because my brother was in theatre when he was in high school, and I kind of knew the teacher. So I took the class. It was there that I met this kid named Victor, who introduced me to Young Life. I resisted his charms up until an All-state club about 2/3 into the semester. All-state was horrifying, but interesting, so I continued to go to the regular clubs, sitting in the back on a furnace, trying to be invisible. What I loved about YL was that is felt pretty welcoming. Plus, I was in the same room with pretty girls, who weren't staring in disgust at me, as well as Victor who was up front a lot, making an utter fool out of himself but enjoying life all the same. He really inspired me and was an amazing person. Then I realized he was a senior, and I wanted to hang out with him more.

He was going to a camp that summer called Wilderness Ranch in Colorado. So naturally, I wanted to go as well. And I did. A six-day backpacking trip through the San Juan Mountains. I was about 300 pounds at the time. A 300lb. 14 year old asthmatic kid backpacking for six days is insane. But somehow, I did it. And while I was there, I learned who Jesus really was. I still remember dedicating my life to Him for real under a starry night sky, sitting on a rotting log somewhere in the mountains.

After that, I continued to go to YL, and continued to be in theatre. I stepped it up and actually started working tech for theatre, which quickly became a passion for me. I was the sound guy, and I absolutely loved it. I also worked on the sets, and had a blast there as well. The only bad thing about theatre was that it attracted a somewhat dirty crowd. It was hard to keep a strong, clean walk with Jesus when most all your friends were hooking up and drinking, smoking, etc. and then talking about it the next day. But God got me through. I started to Jr. lead YL club my junior and senior years, and after graduating in 2007, I started volunteer leading for the same club.

As difficult as I had thought theatre life was, I had no idea how difficult college would be until the end of my first semester at ASU. But first, let me do a quick historical view of my romantic life before moving on.

I have had 4 major crushes in my lifetime. I had one in 5th, 8th, 12 grade, and my freshman year of college. The first was a girl named Jordan. A cute little redheaded girl who lived down the street from me. Now, you must understand that with only a mother raising you, and having never dealt with romantic feelings before, a nine year old boy can get confused. I didn't know what to do exactly, so at recess I would stalk her. Yep, I was a creeper at the ripe old age of 9. I would watch her and write notes about her in this little booklet I had. Looking back, I wish I had just let her go early, because it was a shameful time for me. On Valentine's Day of that year, I got her a box of chocolates and a card and put them in her mailbox that morning. Later on, I went by to see if she'd gotten them and what she thought. Her little sister opened the door, with the empty box of chocolates in her hand and brown goo all over her face. Jordan then walked up to the door, took the card I'd given her, and ripped it up in front of me.

Needless to say, I was rejected. Moving on. My 8th grade crush was named Julia. Now, one thing you need to know now is I really liked her because of two things: 1, she was beautiful. and 2, she was an amazing Christian girl. I still hadn't quite mastered this whole butterflies-in-stomach syndrome yet, so with her, I still sort of creeped around. I joined student council because she was in it. I joined njhs because she was in it. I went to all the dances because she was there. I pretty much did everything that year to get closer to her. About halfway through the year, I started leaving anonymous notes in the hallways between classes, and her friends would pick them up and share them with her. Pretty soon, her secret admirer was notorious for this sort of thing. Over winter break, I got her a little bear and necklace with a card saying that it was me the whole time, and wondering if she'd like to go out with me. Oh how naive was I. Upon returning to school, I saw her the first day. She proceeded to come up to me, pull the necklace out of her pocket (she never wore it), said "thank you" and walked away with a smile. So I guess my "will you go out with me" question never really clicked in her mind.

Fast forwarding to my senior year of high school, I found myself liking this one girl pretty intensely. Her name was Rhonda (name changed). I had been in the middle of a nasty breakup with her and her ex, who was still a good friend of mine, and had seen how great a girl she was, how Christ-like she could be, etc. It was funny, though, because I knew nothing would work out. She was going to California for school after graduation, and I was staying here, and I'd seen enough tv and read enough internet crap to know that long-distance relations aren't the way to go (or so I thought, anyway). I would talk to her about this girl I liked, and told her I also liked another girl that was her good friend, but that neither would work out and such, I guess trying to get some pity points. In the end, I told her it was she I liked and that I knew nothing would work out, and she basically just agreed with me, though she was sorry about the whole thing.

So by now, after three major letdowns, I had a pretty strong sense of worthlessness in the realm of dating and such. Having no father to teach me how to handle this stuff, and only hearing empty words of encouragement from my emotionally driven mother (which weren't really all that empty, but they felt like it), I kind of gave up on that part of life. I figured that if God really wanted me to date, eventually he'd give me the hook-ups. I had a strong sense of doubt that I'd ever have a successful relationship with a girl, and that kind of thinking will really drag you down, especially given this sexually driven world we're in. Everywhere you look there's starry-eyed lovers strolling hand-in-hand, chick flicks with false hope, etc. It really gets to you, you know? You can even read my old blogs here and on myspace and see where my head has been in regards to male-female relations.

Anyway, I went into college thinking this way, but still kind of hoping God would answer my call. He did. Sort of. There was this girl that I had led with in YL for a year or so. She wasn't single; her boyfriend led with us. Her name was Emma (name changed). And like I said, we'd led for a year together when I was still in high school. She was leading again my freshman year, as was I. We found out that we both went to ASU's west campus, and started to hang out more. By this time, her boyfriend Norm (name changed) had proposed to her, so they were engaged. As we hung out more and more, we got to know each other better. We would eat lunch together, talk about her wedding coming up, talk about club kids and other leaders, talk about anything you might think two people would talk about. We got pretty comfortable as good friends and fellow leaders.

I started to feel the old butterflies again, but continually told myself to stop, as she was engaged and there was no way that it would work out. I started to notice her being quite friendly towards me in a way no other girl has been. She would openly volunteer herself to be in skits with me in club that were a bit confusing to me (the one I recall most is the zit pop skit, for those well-versed in YL skits). It was weird.

Then, one fateful night, she called me, crying, and wanted to talk about some issues with her fiancé. I agreed to hear her out, and proceeded to try talking her through it all, moving to texts eventually as it was later in the night. I made the mistake of telling her that I liked her, and was absolutely baffled when she told me she'd date me had she been single. To think I had finally found someone who liked me for me was shocking and new. I guess we ran with the idea, because the rest of the night, rather than talk about her issues with Norm, she started to ask me what-if questions such as, "if we were together, would you go dancing with me?" and other such questions. Several times she asked if she was leading me on, but I had no idea what that even meant at the time, so I said no.

That was a friday night. The very next day, I had arrangements to go see Trans-Siberian Orchestra with not only Emma and her parents, but also Norm, and a club kid. It was the most awkward experience I think I'll ever encounter. The whole time, Emma would be trying not to cry, and I'd be trying to not scream out loud. The show was good though. The ride home was...quiet.

We continued hanging out, for longer periods of time, doing things together like going shopping for winter camp stuff. I even skipped a couple classes to hang out with her. She'd come over to my house and we'd hang out in my room (note: my room had no door, so I felt it was a safe environment), go to the park and talk, whatever. Her family life was a mess, so whenever crap happened, she'd come to me rather than Norm, and I forget why. There were also more issues with Norm here and there, and I would counsel her.

We were basically dating minus the physical part. Winter camp came and left, and afterwards we exchanged some letters of thought to each other about what was going on. She felt that God had placed me in her life to show her Christ's love in a vivid way because she was feeling out of place. I basically told her how I felt that God was telling me to love her by letting go through various things that weekend. It was weird, because we both read them in front of each other (not aloud, but right there). Anyway, we agreed to dull down our relationship.

It didn't work too well. The thursday of that week, we kissed. Three times. I still have the date saved, because I'm weird like that. Regardless, that was pretty much the turning point of the whole shebang.

After that, she felt great remorse and felt like she cheated on her fiancé, and with good reason. She basically said we can be friends, but there were boundaries that needed to be placed. The problem was, as I see it, that we both genuinely loved each other. She eventually went on, right before Christmas, to tell me that, though she'd said before that she loved me, it was never true. She thought she did, but found she really loved the "thought" of me, rather than me. I thought that was a total cop out, as did several other people I confided in (go see Prince of Tides with Barbara Streisand and you'll see why).

Christmas came and went, and we were still leading together and schooling together. We were even supposed to carpool to/from school (we had also made our schedules together so we'd be able to hang out more). About two weeks into school though, I realized that carpooling wouldn't happen. Emma had found out I talked to another leader about what had transpired, and she was PISSED.

This led to an unfortunate night of suck where we all ended up meeting with our head leader, who then basically made us all kiss and make up, sans the kissing, obviously. That was the first time I'd openly cried in front of a grown man since I was a wee one.

We finished that second semester up leading together. I never hung out with Emma at school, even though we saw each other pretty much every day. To throw a wrench in the works, she had asked my mom to make her wedding dress for her, and for me to walk her grandmother down the isle. So Emma would visit rarely to check up on her dress, and for nothing more. She even got worried it wouldn't be finished in time, as if I would tell my mom to not do it anymore out of spite. But the dress got done. I was never told I was no longer in the wedding, but had assumed so.

To put the pickle on the crap sandwich of this situation, the wedding was the day after my birthday. So I'm basically doomed to remember this whole thing every time my birthday swings around.

Obviously this led to some issues. I was suicidal for a week or so. I avoided all social contact with anyone, never answering my phone or anything. Several people were highly concerned I was ready to go jump off a bridge or something (not that Arizona has many bridges to jump off, but you get my drift). I brooded for awhile, and then realized a major lesson had just been learned. God had shown me what it felt like to replace Him as first in your life. It was the worst feeling I could have ever experienced, because I felt hopeless, worthless, alone, dejected, insert-your-favorite-sorrowful-adjective-here.

But I did learn after all this that, even though the experience has proven otherwise, God has a plan for me, and He has given me great worth, and I am not a failure, but I'm still learning. And though, because of these past experiences I feel I might fall during any formal relationship, or that I might fail the girl, I know God will help me through it, and that I'll persevere somehow, and God will be glorified through my relationships someday.

That's about where I am now. Not much else happened after that, besides me growing farther away from my head leader and pseudo-mentor Dave. I just find my beliefs not falling into place with his; it's not that we're not both Christians, it's just that he has vastly different perspectives on convictions about things and it makes me feel judged sometimes.

So yeah. I'm here, I'm growing, and God loves me. What more would you like to know?

Honestly though, I've said this was exhaustive (and exhausting), but I did paraphrase some of it, out of laziness, forgetfulness, and security. So if you'd like to know more about my story, feel free to ask me. You'll find I'm quite open about pretty much anything.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you feel blessed by God for another one of His amazing tales!

~@othern