Every time you access a memory, you change it. (Quote?)

On Tuesday, January 30, 1990 my mom opened my bedroom door and woke me up at 5:00 am. 

Her friend, Lucy Mitton was standing behind her. Lucy Mitton was one of the few people who treated me like a real person. 

She saw me. 

She was blind to the fact that I was a bad person.

I don’t remember what my mom said but… as I emerged from a sound sleep I started putting the pieces together.

I was being sent away. 

If I was “good” I would be back in a year.

Lucy Mitton was there to make sure I didn’t run away…

Or throw a massive temper tantrum that made my mom afraid she couldn’t control me. 

My brain tried to keep up by thinking…

“What about Brian Woods? He’s going to have a girlfriend by the time I get back!”

“I’m turning 16 in five weeks! I don’t get my license now!”

“The whole world is going to forget me in a year.” (A year feels like infinity when you’re 15.)

But there was a little part of me… and this seems crazy looking back but I distinctly remember this… that thought…

ADVENTURE!

I sat in the back of the car on the 5 hour road trip to Sundance WY and decided that I was going to grow up to be a famous guitarist… like Slash from Guns N Roses.

I wasn’t allowed to listen to GNR… because listening to rock music opened you up to becoming possessed by Satan… and my mom did NOT want me to be possessed by Satan.

When I look at this memory there are a few different snapshot…

Snapshot 1: Waking up and thinking, “Why is Lucy Mitton in my bedroom?”

Snapshot 2: Leaning against the door of the car on the way to TC listening to a Carmen song (Carmen was Christian rock so I was allowed to listen to him. You can’t get possessed by Satan while listening to Christian rock.) The song said, “Your desire is the confirmation… the destination is there!” (If you bang your head while you read that you’ll capture the hard rock vibe.)

I remember thinking, “I’m destined to be a famous guitarist!”

Snapshot 3: Pulling in to the Teen Challenge “campus” and thinking… “Gasp! THIS is where I’m going to stay for a year?!!” 

In my mind I was hoping it would be a nice facility… like the lock-up hospital my mom had placed me in a few months earlier for being a bad kid.

The office… where the orientation took place… was nice enough. By far the nicest building on campus, and 30 years newer than the other buildings. 

I think they started people out in the office so the parents wouldn’t realize how dilapidated the rest of campus was until they were committed to… having their kids committed.

Even though this place was called Teen Challenge, the facility in Wyoming was one of the last places that housed minors due to Wyoming’s loose legislation on such things. 

These kids did NOT want to be here. 

So this OLD, deteriorated army barracks was the perfect place to CONTROL them. 

Nestled in the freezing cold Black Hills, the nearest town, Sundance, was several miles away.

All 1000 of Sundance’s residents knew to call the Sheriff immediately if they saw a stray teenager sneaking about.

Snapshot 4: Being in sky blue, cinder block dorm room with Florence Moorehead, an uptight little woman who moved like a fast-forwarded mechanical robot with a stick up it’s ass. I suspected she had sucked on a lemon once then someone came and hit her on the back so her face was permanently stuck in a “you suck” position.

Florence placed my suitcase on the bottom bunk bed. The medium-sized suitcase I’d packed in 30 minutes after being told I was allowed ONE suitcase of belongings for my one year stint.. And I didn’t know the roll-your-clothes trick back then! 

She opened the suitcase.

She removed every. single. item. and inspected each one to make sure there was no contraband…

Like secular music (the kind that doesn’t talk about Jesus and therefore sends you straight to hell)...

Or cigarettes…

Or lighters…

Or drugs (My mom was convinced I was on drugs and searched my room regularly even though I was TERRIFIED of drugs.)

I was flabbergasted that I got to keep the belt from my robe. They took that from me at the lock-up facility to make sure I didn’t hang myself when nobody was looking… which would’ve been hard since there were cameras everywhere. 

Apparently hanging yourself was ok… as long as you didn’t listen to secular music. 

I don’t remember telling my mom goodbye. 

I don’t remember meeting the other students for the first time. I do remember feeling equal parts fear and adventure at the thought of meeting them… these terrifying hooligans who were so naughty that their parents sent them away to get fixed. 

I was worried because deep down I knew I was only a pretend bad kid. I was the invisible kid who never rocked the boat or did ANYTHING that would send me to hell (which was pretty much everything).