Voice of Freedom..

I was beginning to question the voices in my head. Where were they leading me? I was feeling robbed of my youth. Life was slipping away. Every agreement, pact, or decision I had made about myself and the world seemed linked to some strange voice whispering thoughts into my head. I found myself alienated from the people I loved and isolated to an island of paranoia, where thorns and thistles entangled me each day.

In my last attempt to find the voice of freedom for my soul, I started running. . literally. My first goal was to run around the block. Approximately a six minute run. My body shouted in protest. After two minutes, I was suffocating. I was holding my side as a knife twisted around my insides. I knew this was going to be a long haul.

The next day, I strapped my new running shoes on and continued my mission. Voices shouting, "You can't do this!," became more vigilant. Day after day, I pushed further and further fighting against every thought of discouragement. After a few months of agony, I finally crossed a milestone: I ran 3 miles. I was building momentum. I started working out with weights. I added push-ups and sit-ups to my new regime. In three months, I went from 8 push-ups to 50. I went from 132 lbs. to 152 lbs. New energy was growing. I was feeling awesome. My head was even becoming more clearer.

I started playing basketball. I had not dribbled for 6 years, but soon found the bottom of the net. And then. . . I was singing again. I started a new classic rock cover band. We were actually playing gigs in local bars. Somehow life was emerging again. I was seeing possibilities for the first time.

Yet a question still lingered. "Do I have what it takes?" The gutter was still not far away. I was still relatively alone. One word could send me back. I needed a stronger voice in my life to keep pressing forward.

A friend at work, (another) Chris, began initiating with me and encouraging me. He was the "Andy Dufresne" (Shawshenk Redemption) in our workplace, speaking hope where most longed to be free. Chris was attending part time at Kansas University. He was my very first friend in life with ambition to reach for the moon. Chris was charismatic and engaging. He was taller than the rest of us at work in every way. The paper packing job we shared, for Chris, was definitely temporary. He was perhaps the only employee out of 300 who used his 10 minute break to study. The rest of us viewed our job as our best chance at survival. Our break times were used to cope with our lot in life. We saw the top of the ladder as becoming a foreman or "Pressman," the printing operating position where most retired making $30,000 a year. Chris saw differently.

One day Chris invited me to play golf. I had not played since I was 11 years old. He was eager to mentor me on my golf swing and techniques. I started improving. One day we were playing. We came to hole eight. Chris suggested, "Use your wedge dude!" I grabbed my wedge, 136 yards out, and dropped my first hole in one. What a blast!



One day at work, Chris brought the ultimate challenge. "You should go to college, dude!" I told Chris frankly, "I don't think so." I did not take him seriously. I couldn't. He obviously didn't know me and where I had been. He was missing the banner over my head that announced, "This Dude is Going Nowhere!"

But Chris would not give up. Every day at work he pushed me to think outside of what seemed impossible. Eventually he managed to talk me into taking the A.C.T. to qualify for college enrollment. I had never heard of the ACT. I told him I had not studied since I was 15 years old. For some reason, he believed I had potential.

I found myself, in some surreal way, signed up for the test on a Saturday morning. I was sort of just going along with his fantasy. I had little expectation of anything but embarrassment.

Saturday morning came. I showed up to see what would happen. The ginormous test was placed on each desk. My mind was blank. I had forgotten most from my two years of high school attendance. The room was full of juniors or seniors in high school already on their way to college. I felt definitely out of place. The silence in the room was unnerving. I couldn't wait for it all to be over.

Three hours later nearly everyone was finished. I was still sweating, re-reading every question and making sure I had written intelligibly. I turned in my test.

While I waited for the test results, I was sure Chris would hear the news, that I would not qualify. A week later, I received a total composite score of 17. Local colleges required at the time a minimum score of 15. My good friend Chris, unlocked a newfound freedom and power to rediscover potential lost in my youth. I would be forever indebted to him and his voice in my life.

I applied to the University of Kansas. In the Fall of 1991, I officially became a college student. I would embark on a new journey of some of my greatest challenges. Though I was ecstatic, many unanswered questions still loomed over me. Would I even be able to pass a class? Would I even be able to finish a semester? Would I cave in to new voices and return to the couch potato evil twin?


College roommate golf outing..

Baffled By The Light..

A year after my twin had gone off to college, my Dad was traveling to visit her and insisted I come along. I was reluctant. My sister and I hadn't talked since the night I humiliated her in front of her friends in my drunken rage. I didn't want to be reminded of the trauma I saw in her face that night. I wondered if visiting would only resurface disappointment, anger, and pain associated with our past broken relationship. Nevertheless, somehow I ended up on the road with my Dad to see her small college town.

My plan was simple. Stay quiet in the front seat. Reject interaction. Avoid any awkward eye contact. Keep my guard up high.

My Dad and I pulled up to her house. Immediately, Alicia runs out smiling and bubbling with excitement. She jumped into my Dad's car, full of life and radiance. She was like someone I was meeting for the first time. Something had for sure changed.

She no longer looked "disgusted with me," as she had written in her last words that violent night a year ago. She didn't even seem to remember it was her "Evil Twin" in the car. The way she talked to me was like she either had complete amnesia, or had just woken from an operating table after being pronounced dead. I was baffled.

Alicia talked about her friends, her music, and great college experiences. Yet something above it all made her alive and infectious. Her eyes seemed full of confidence, joy, and compassion, even towards me. She looked at me with this kind of love I had not seen before. I was certainly at a loss for words.

I was struggling to hide deeper in my seat. Somehow my thick layer of pride I used to reject the non-anarchists of the world, like herself, was not working. I felt powerless.

She began sharing her story. She shared how her last year had been "life-changing." She must have used that phrase a dozen times. Girls down the hall in her dorm invited her to a "Bible study." She explained that she had discovered a "personal relationship with God." "He is changing my life," she announced excitedly, as we passed through the flint hill sights of Manhattan, Kansas.

We came to a scenic view where my Dad parked and stepped out of the car to take pictures. I stayed in the car while Alicia kept asking me countless questions. She seemed desperate to find me. However, the stronger she pushed, the louder a voice began screaming inside, "Shut her up!" Like the scene in Good Will Hunting where the psychiatrist kept repeating, "It's not your fault. It's not your fault!" There I was, agitated, squirming, and repulsed by all her words and kindness. Yet admittedly, I knew deep inside my soul, I wished them to be true.

I gathered my arsenal and attempted to close the conversation with a rebuttal and rejection of her newfound Christianity. I acted as if she were oblivious to what she was missing out on in my world. I shared in a cynical way, "The only difference between you and me is that I can do whatever I want and now you can't." Not very profound, but enough I hoped would keep distance between us.



I expected my comment to surface some old "disgust" I was accustomed to receive from her. I hoped to walk away revealing only a brainwashed girl struggling to find her own identity. Instead, Alicia was not irritated. She did not argue. She did not even turn away. Alicia just seemed to let go of me right there. Her eyes welled up with tears. She patiently and compassionately smiled. She seemed strong and confident, willing to wait for the conversation to surface again some day in it's own time. She turned our attention to the scenic view of the city and we suddenly started talking, as if for the first time.

Alicia had my attention. The walls I had put up for so long to keep her out began to crumble down that weekend. She won my trust and my friendship. Though I would still keep far from her world, Alicia, from then on, would not go away.