Intimate Portrait Part Two: Scars

Comfort is something that all people enjoy, even the people who love change. As a child I grew very comfortable of my surrounding that I called life. I was 11 years old, and summer was had finally arrived! I had close friends and an awesome family. Not to mention the vacation we go on every summer and roller hockey was about to start. I was almost a teenager, and didn’t feel like going anywhere but where I was. I also had a great new dog that kept me company whenever I was lonely and played with me whenever I had the energy to play. I had just finished the best school year of my life thus far, and planned on the summer following suit. I would soon attend YD (Young Disciples) at church and start to be able to actually fit in with the older guys. I loved to play sports with them, even though I did get shoved into a table once and had to go to the hospital for staples (that was by an older girl named Tina). Life was good and nothing could tear it down.
One problem with me when I was young (and still today) is my reliance on others. I have always trusted people too much, and still do, especially when I get close to them. It is there, at the point of love, in which I almost rely on their trustworthiness to get me along. This was true with my parents. I had always been dependant on them, and always relied on them for everything. I almost even held them to a superhero standard. I honestly saw them as near to perfect. I saw flaws every now and then, but they didn’t matter, I was too naïve to see deep into a few things. Looking back I can poke hole in some things that I now notice, but to me then their marriage and lives were impeccable.
I still remember the day I realized that the world is not all that it is cracked up to be, and the person I trusted most was not a superhero at all, but a man. I can’t remember the day or even month, but I do remember it was summer, and I was up late. I had spent the day sunning around hitting golf balls with a baseball bat and spending time at church (church was the only place I could go online). I went home before dinner, and I remember my dad sitting me down and telling me he loved me, which I thought was pretty weird. I knew he loved me, and he didn’t usually say it that way. There was something eerie in his voice, but I was too young to notice or even care. After dinner and some play on our home computer, I scooted off to bed.
I woke in the middle of the night and just felt crappy, I’m not sure if it was a bad dream, a loud noise, or just one of those times. First I checked my parent’s room to see if they were sleeping. I might have wanted to sleep in their bed with them, but I think I was past that stage. Either way, they were not in their bed and I was confused. Then I ventured down the stairs to the living room. I got to the bottom of the stairs, and that’s it. The look on my mother’s face was one I wish I had never seen and never want to see again. It was a look of despair and hopelessness. She possessed the look of a broken heart. I asked her “Mommy, what’s wrong?” I was then told immediately to go to bed and I would hear about it tomorrow. I shuffled off to bed in a state of disorder, and finally drifted off to sleep on a wet pillowcase.
I woke to an arm around me. This threw me further into a mental state of chaos. This was no regular arm, no random arm, and no mommy arm. It was the hairy arm of my father. Why was he sleeping in my bed? Why was he cuddling with me? When the heck did he get home?! I really can’t express the utter level of disarray I was in, and I am sure that you have had moments like this. It really was a terrible feeling. My stomach was turned upside down and my mind was totally blank. As I woke to this, I woke my dad and he didn’t tell me anything that was happening except he was either apologizing or saying he loved me. My mind was a little blurry, but he was doing something like that. I wandered downstairs into yet another scene of confusion. I am not so sure who was all downstairs but I do remember my mother. My mom had the same look from the night before, but deeper and more obvious.
The next thing I remember was going on a surprise trip up north later that afternoon. We went up to my Aunt and Uncle’s house for a couple of days with my Aunt and Uncle and not my parents. This was okay because they had Super Mario 3, so I would be satisfied. I was still unaware of what was really going on and the whole time my Aunt and Uncle just told me that my parents had some problems they needed to sort out. I probably had one of the most uncomfortable stays of my young life away from home those next long hours. I felt so confused for so long and couldn’t get my mind off of it.
When I went home I finally found out what was going on. I didn’t know the magnitude of the situation at the time, but I felt the consequences. My dad had to tell me what was going on and I’ll never forget it. His face was cast down with guilt and panic, and his voice resonated with weakness. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but I remember what he communicated. First he apologized to us, but we didn’t know why. Then he started balling, that’s when we all started crying for no reason. The next things he told me shook the very foundations of my life. He told us that he had been having an affair on my mom. Ouch.
It still hurts to write this entire story and it pains me that you all read this, but it I one of the biggest part of my life, and life was so different after this little incident. I had found out what happened that night and what had been going on the past months. The man I trusted most had taken my world and tipped it upside down. He had been doing meetings with a woman form our church one-on-one (foolishly) and had gotten a crush on another woman. She returned the crush, and they started sneaking around. The woman also had a husband and children, but that didn’t stop them. I have never learned of the extent of this affair and still wonder about a lot of it. I did learn that on that night my dad was on a date with this woman and didn’t plan on coming home that night, if ever. I’m not sure about details on that night either but it doesn’t matter, it hurt. Somebody had caught my dad in the act with this woman (maybe at Denny’s) and he had a realization at some point of all that was going on.
I am glad my dad came back, but sometimes I’m not o sure my mom has always been. My fears of divorce were thrown in my face and it was as bad as I had dreamed. It felt like my soul was being torn in at least two places, and I can’t imagine the pain my mom felt. The family went through a ridiculously hard next couple of months of my mom yelling at my dad and my dad crying constantly. The one man she held responsible for her life had betrayed her. It brings tears to my eyes to this day to write this, and I’m sure the reading of it will reap tears as well.
My life was already changed. Soon the church knew, and my dad was forced into resigning before summer was over. This meant a lot of changes had to come. Thank God my dad made good friends because he was given a construction job after he was done at Faith, and I’m not so sure if he ever liked it as much as he could have. His whole attitude was changed for a while, and so were all of our attitudes toward him. We lived in a parsonage (home owned by the church) and since he wasn’t an employee of the church anymore, we had to go. Also, we received quite a hefty discount at the Lutheran school I went to (My brother and sister moved onto Public School) which meant I could no longer go there because of the cost. This, in turn, meant that I lost touch with a lot of my friends at the time. My world was flipped.
The end of the summer drew near and my thoughts turned elsewhere; Public School. I had never been out of my comfortable class of 10 friends. Soon I would be thrown into a world of people and things I had never known about. Seventh grade was probably the hardest year of my life, and a lot of bad things happened to me, most of which were my fault. I was forced into attending Holland Woods Middle School, and hated it. I still have a little resentment towards it to this day. I started my year by playing a game I loved more than most; tackle football. I had played flag football for a couple of years now, but never was loud enough to get attention. Tackle was no different. I was pretty small, and not as fast as a lot of the guys. I also didn’t try very hard because I was afraid of embarrassing myself or hurting someone else. I was shy beyond belief and barely said a word to anybody. I remember trying out for wide receiver and failing to impress anybody including myself. The whole year of football I think I started one or two games, and failed in all of them. I was the back-up center, and the only reason I ever played was because the guy in front of me had grade problems. This year set a trend for the rest of my football career, and it is a sad story. I will never know what I could have been.
School was terrible. I said about 10 words a day the first couple of weeks, and cried when I got home. I missed all of my friends and I missed my life. I missed my mommy too because she had changed (reasonably so) and I missed my dad who was home more but so full of guilt it was hard to catch him not crying. I missed a normal life of peace because we were hunting for a house. School, like I said, was just silly. I really wasn’t learning much except how to avoid people. My main friend was a guy named David Hammond, who was a little bit like me. We used to talk about little books called Redwall and then the conversation usually stopped or turned to video games for a few minutes. Looking back I realize that I could have made a lot of friends, but never talked. A lot of people would talk to me, and I would just shy away, and this trend still haunts me today. I remember my first crush of public school. Her name was Amanda, and I had never seen a girl like this. I wished I could talk to her, but I was way too shy for that. One day she even saw me in the hallway and tried talking to me but I blanked out. I was a mess! I did try to reach out once by trying out for basketball, but the coach told me I would be the sixteenth guy if he could have sixteen. I cried the whole way home (which was only a few minutes’ walk), and never tried out for a sport again.
Life moved on and we eventually got our house in the country and really far from my school. The really hard part of this process was that we had to clear the land and put our house on it. The land was mostly forest and the ground was mostly clay. I didn’t help much, but I know my father worked vigorously to get it done in time. These were hard times still, and I did go drag brush at times but it was still hard emotionally. I could tell that my mom didn’t love my dad like she used to and hadn’t forgiven him yet. I didn’t realize the depth of the pain in her heart, and the disappointment in her mind. I didn’t realize that although my dad apologized all of the time he could never make up for it to my mom. I was trying to move on, but it was hard with our future hung up in the rafters. By the time we moved I think it was sometime the later fall of 1999, and I was still at Holland woods. This meant that my mom now had to drive me to school before she went to work. This was weird and the first months were tiring because of my addiction to video games. Video games were (and still are) my escape from reality and my reality at the time was full of change and bad things.
I finished up my year at Holland Woods and was just excited to be done. I remember the last few days there were good, and we spent a lot of time outside running around. I only had about 1-2 friends, and I never went to anybody’s house or anything. I was my own best friend. The summer after that year had nothing memorable in my mind. I think I hibernated in my basement and played Dreamcast and computer games all summer. I’m sure my parents could tell you how bad it was, but I was full of self pity. I started gaining weight and didn’t really notice or care.
The next school year I had to go to yet another brand new school. This one was Central Middle School, and was even bigger than anything I had ever imagined. I felt lost on my first day there, and probably did actually get lost. I played football again, but this time had a little fun. I still wasn’t a starter, but I made a few friends with some of the guys on the team. I also knew a few people at the school form earlier in my life. I actually started to talk to people at Central but was still very shy. That year our football team won every game, and had a blast doing it. We were the best in Port Huron, and were very proud of it. One of the games that my family came to Jenni had Sampson on a leash, and somehow he got away from her and ran onto the field. That’s one of the few stories I remember from that year (although I have a lot of random memories). Of course throughout the year my parents started to get a long a little more and more, and life got better and better. I even got a basketball net at some point to play on. I was going to be the next Joe Dumars at some point in my life. We also spent more time with family and spent time up at my Grandma’s as much as possible, and those times will never be forgotten. Matt was always in trouble and making my parents pull their hair out, or being mean to me. Even when he had a girlfriend he picked on me, but she liked me. I remember she called me the caveman because I was always in my room playing video games.
The summer of that year was fairly different than before, and had an impact in my future. That summer my life was changed. My dad had started something great at Faith Lutheran Church in the form of a yearly Mexico trip. They kept it going for a couple of years after he left, then things got complicated. Anyways, I had a chance to go on this trip. I will never forget the ride down. I was a kid amongst teenagers and felt really out of place. I still didn’t say a whole lot to most people, and was more shy than usual. I knew a few people from the church, but they were all old and I was young so I didn’t fit in very well. This meant I felt pretty alone, but I was very used to being alone.
When we actually got to Mexico I was thrown into the real world. This was a world most people in America only fear or see on television in cheesy advertisements. I was cast into it for a week, and it was scary. The level of poverty upon first glance was so foreign to me all I could do was cry (I still had a big heart). I came to realize that although these people had very few possessions, they were rich beyond my wildest dreams. They had what the King had told us to have; faith like a child. They were recklessly in love with Jesus because their hope could not be in this world. I still wish I could live like this more, and I think a heart like the poor is something of a precious jewel. This week I saw God in numerous ways for the first time I can honestly remember. I finally had an almost tangible relationship with the one who kept my family together. I knew the one who had kept me safe through some tough times at school (there was a problem at Holland Woods the year before I went for those of you who remember) personally. I saw Jesus in the feet of the people who had little but loved more than anybody I had known. I have since been to Mexico 5-6 more times, and have a real heart for the people here; or do they have a real heart for me? I will never forget where I met God.
The next stage of my life posed a lot of problems for a lot of kids, especially in the spiritual realm. This next adventure was Port Huron High School, and my teenage years. I moved onto a new year of football and into the realm of swearing. My freshman year of football was short lived but was also a lot of fun. I started making a lot of friends here, and some of these friendships last to this day. It was here that I met Sean. The same Sean that I talk to as much as I can these days, and the same Sean that I plan on knowing my whole life. I did break my thumb pretty early in the season and had to sit out for 4 weeks. During those weeks I didn’t miss football honestly. Our coach was really hard and loud and loved to get in our faces. The injured people used to sit around and laugh at everything the team had to do for this guy, and when we came back it was really hard on us to get back in the swing of things. Our team was decent that year, but I enjoyed the fellowship of our team more than actually playing.
Other than football, school was intimidating, but I was slowly morphing into the real me (still haven’t finished the metamorphosis). I started to actually talk a decent amount, and even got a detention for talking. I used to be really goofy; actually I still am. I did develop a foul mouth somewhere along the line, and still have it at times. I hung out with a few people and traded football and hockey cards. My grades started to slip as I began to care less and less about homework. I think the problem actually was that homework mattered more and I couldn’t use decent writing skills to pull the wool over my teacher’s eyes as much; and I hate math. This year also marked the year my dad fell in love again. We went to the Cornerstone Church for the first time when it was in McMorran arena, and I remember being scared of people dancing and raising their hands. Most of my family didn’t like it much, but my Dad loved it! I remember my first time at youth group in the grove mall. I was wearing my football jersey and was so afraid. I think part of the problem was that I met Alexis first, who was a total extrovert, and I was very intimidated of her personality. I never could talk well to girls. My first official girlfriend was in ninth grade and her name was Ashley Bloink. She was a cool girl, but not what I thought she was, so instead of actually breaking it off, I just started to ignore her, which was bad. I have always been bad with ending relationships.
The next chapter of my life is yet to be written down, but I can promise that I will write it someday soon. On the horizon is the tenth grade, and some pretty significant changes and meetings in my life. Tenth grade was one of my favorite times in High School, and I will never forget the people I met, or the hearts I broke years later, or the heart revealed to me as life went on.