When Jonathan Cried for Me
Copyright 2011 by Innovative Social Dynamics, LLC
All Rights Reserved
Smashwords Edition
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Innovative Social Dynamics, LLC.
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Cover art by Laura Chanelle
To book Carter Lee for a personal appearance or speaking engagement, contact Innovative Social Dynamics, LLC at info@innovativesocialdynamics.com. For more information, visit www.innovativesocialdynamics.com.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Part I - Who the Hell is Carter Lee?!
Chapter 1 - My Search for Meaning
Chapter 4 - A Merry-Go-Round of Memories
Chapter 5 - A Nightmare in Disneyland
Chapter 7 - Who Knows What is Good and What is Bad
Part II - The Mind and Self-Esteem
Chapter 8 - Divorce Counseling
Chapter 10 - Redefining Self-Esteem
Chapter 11 - A Fire Burns Inside
Chapter 13 - Reinventing my Psyche
Chapter 14 - The Evolution of Freedom
Chapter 16 - Neural-Linguistic Programming
Chapter 18 - Is This Thing On?
Chapter 21 - Peel Back the Label
Chapter 22 - Discovering My Meaning
Chapter 24 - PB & J? No Thank You
Synopsis
When Jonathan Cried For Me is a tremendous story of struggle and redemption. After a childhood filled with sexual abuse at the hands of a pedophile, paired with violence and intimidation at school, Carter Lee was destined to become a monster. Against all odds, he took control of his destiny and turned his life around. The foundation of this metamorphosis was the attainment of True-Inner-Peace, through the cultivation of True Self-Esteem and Total Self-Confidence. This book provides a road map for others to attain happiness in their lives through the attainment of True-Inner-Peace.
Carter is blatantly honest about his inner demons and wears his heart on his sleeve. More than just a motivational, inspiring, educating, or entertaining read, this book transcends any one genre by coalescing strengths of each form into a powerful teaching tool. He is witty, unconventional, and has a knack for describing highly technical mental processes in layman’s terms. Sometimes controversially, but always with honesty, Carter delivers what so many of us need: a real way to facilitate internal change.
Dedication
To my father, Terry: the man who showed me that it was possible to change and transform, whom I cannot thank enough. Through the years you have been a father, teacher, mentor, and my best friend. I am so proud that I have become so similar to you.
To Christian: my friend, brother, stepson, and so much more. No label will ever accurately describe what we mean to each other, and none is necessary. You were the reason I started to change, and I couldn’t think of a better one. The most proud accomplishment I will ever have is being a part of your life and helping to raise you.
Introduction
You must read this first in accordance with the Prophecy! I forewarn you now; if you don’t read this introduction first, an evil genie will appear at the end of the book and curse you with three wishes. At first you will think it’s a dream come true, but you will be hoodwinked, flim-flammed, led astray, bamboozled even; because, of course, he is an evil genie, and he will twist every wish and turn it into a nightmare. For instance you may say, “I wish for all the money in the world.” Then he will be one of those dorks who takes things too seriously and he will say in a deep, powerful voice, “Your wish is my command.” And then, all the money in the world crashes through your roof, killing anything alive in the vicinity except for you; no, not you! You don’t get to die. You have to finish your two cursed wishes. Or one of your wishes may be the ever so popular, “I wish for a room full of monkeys in tuxedos.”
Who doesn’t like a monkey in a tux?! Then he does the whole “As you wish” bullshit routine; the room is filled with monkeys, and they stomp around destroying everything in the room while doing a jig. You get the idea; it becomes a whole “thing.” So, just do yourself a favor and avoid all of this and actually read this introduction, in accordance with the Prophecy. No monkeys were hurt during the making of this project.
When I started the original concept of this book, it read completely different than it does now. Much like my life over the last four years, this project went through an extreme transformation. I started this book with the hope that it would help people understand how to transform one’s mindset from a negative one to a positive one; how to be filled with healthy self-esteem and full self-confidence, similar to my own transformation. With that point still intact, it has become so much more. I feel, and truly believe, that this book has now become my purpose and meaning in life.
What once was a step-by-step, bullet-point essay of self-improvement is now a vessel on which I have chosen to share my story and message. As I was writing the original version, I felt something was missing, and one day I realized what it was. No matter how much sense the information I reveal may make, so many people would wonder, “Who the hell are you that I should read your book and philosophies on a healthy way to go through life?” I also felt that I was hiding the most important lessons I’ve learned in gaining inner peace, because I wanted to protect people close to me.
My family and friends have been nothing but supportive since I decided that this book should be the vessel to bare my soul. In fact, the support I receive from people, sometimes strangers whom I just met, has been so overwhelming that sometimes I cry. I can’t believe that my life has transformed from something so hopeless and empty, to one that is so incredible and beautiful that I don’t know what to do besides cry. If you have never felt the overwhelming joy of being so proud of your story that it’s brought you to tears, follow my lead and you will.
I chose to tell my story with the purpose of not only legitimizing my philosophies that I share throughout this catamaran of honest emotions, but also with the hope that this can be a tool for someone to achieve the greatest gift of all: the gift of True-Inner-Peace. This is when you have great self-esteem and kick-ass self-confidence. It’s when you love yourself and love being yourself every day. But this book goes much deeper than that. I wrote my story because life is difficult and messy, and giving firsthand evidence of my transformation will, I hope, inspire you to change and find peace within yourself. After all, we deserve as much peace as we can get.
Life is not simple. Life is not easy. And I get pissed when people say it is, because they’re wrong. That doesn’t mean life is bad, or negative, but quite the opposite. Life is a beautiful, precious thing. It is the ultimate love that we often look for that stares us in the face every day. Even the simplest things in life can become difficult or hard because life is always changing, every day, at every moment. Just when you think you have a situation or quandary figured out, a new dilemma is formed because of a change in the current. A butterfly flaps its wings and somewhere a breeze starts.
I have chosen to share my story in a very honest way, and trust in human nature to understand this, for this book is to be a positive tool for individuals regardless of their judgment of me. I’m going to the bottom line of my story: I was a physician, a scientist, searching for a way to tap into the hidden strengths that all humans have. Then an accidental overdose of gamma radiation altered my body chemistry. And now, when I grow angry or outraged, a startling metamorphosis occurs. Oh wait, I’m confusing my life with that of the Incredible Hulk again; I digress.
When I was eighteen I was diagnosed with chronic depression, and four years ago, at age thirty, I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). It stemmed from childhood trauma that at one point my brain blocked out, only for the memories to return to me later in life. I was very overweight, and I was a broken individual. I now show no signs of chronic depression or PTSD. I am not on any medications. I lost the weight, and I can’t imagine ever feeling broken again.
As you read this book, you will learn exactly what I did to transform myself and change my mindset to benefit my every action and thought. I don’t like most self-improvement authors, as they rarely offer anything tangible for transformation. I do the exact opposite. You will learn my philosophy on life and see how I have obtained such a great outlook on it; and more importantly, the outlook of myself, even though my early life was a blueprint of how to develop a child into a full-grown monster. My wish is that this book will challenge you, teach you, make you laugh, make you cry, and entertain you. At some point it may offend you, but I urge you to finish it. Some of the details I reveal are graphic: they are rated MA for violence, sexual situations, and strong language. Please keep in mind that the harsh details I share actually happened to me. It’s what I have to live with, and I tried my best to mitigate it for you. I believe everyone who reads this book can benefit in some form or fashion. More importantly, I believe that anyone open-minded enough to hear my philosophies and practice my advice will benefit in many ways.
There is no greater gift than that of helping someone find who they truly are, helping them change the negatives into positives, and embrace and love themselves fully. Many people have done this for me, just as they had people who inspired them, and now I hope I can pass on this tradition, pay it forward, and do it for others.
Again, sometimes it gets too overwhelming….
Part I - Who the Hell is Carter Lee?!
Well I've searched and I've searched
To find the perfect life
A brand new car and a brand new suit
I even got me a little wife
But wherever I have gone
I was sure to find myself there
You can run all your life
But not go anywhere
Take away, take away
Take away this ball and chain
Well I'm sick and I'm tired
And I can't take any more pain
Take away this ball and chain
— Social Distortion, “Ball and Chain”
Chapter 1 - My Search for Meaning
And you may ask yourself
Well…How did I get here?
And you may ask yourself
How do I work this?
And you may ask yourself
Where is that large automobile?
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful house
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful wife
— Talking Heads, “Once in a Lifetime”
It was four years ago, 5:00 on a Friday evening, when I was sitting next to the rest of the cattle who were getting ready to escape monotony for two days. They would talk about the picnics they would go on, or a couples’ dinner, or the game. As for myself, I was trying just to breathe. It was that time again, the same time I faced every day of the week, the lonely inevitable. I packed up my stuff in my briefcase, said my goodbyes, and headed off to fight traffic in my disheveled Jeep Cherokee to only face the unavoidable.
I spent most of my commute home trying not to rear-end people as I flipped through radio stations, occasionally glancing at the road in front of me with almost an indifference of crashing into someone, frantically trying to listen to anything that wasn’t related to love or life. Channel surfing and trying not to kill people on the highway was a sufficient distraction for the time being. For the moment I was safe, at least for the commute home, unlike those sharing the road with me. Exiting Houston’s Highway 10, I headed to my suburban neighborhood, filled with cookie cutter houses. As I approached my house I tried not to get my hopes up, desperately attempting to avoid the disappointment I could feel mounting. This was impossible though, and my heart sank as I saw that once again I was pulling up to an empty driveway.
Neighbors were outside trying not to stare and would still wave to be polite. I felt like someone with an awkward handicap. I left all of my shit in the car. I walked up to the house, opened the door, walked in, closed the door, and before I could even say hello to the dogs, I collapsed. It wasn’t because I felt sorry for myself. It wasn’t because I wanted sympathy, because I doubt my dogs were impressed by my display; they would have been much more impressed had I opened the back door for them so that they could do their business. It was for the reason that I had to collapse. I collapsed because my wife Katelyn had left me just a week before, taking my stepson Christian with her. The reality was setting in.
Initially my relationship with Katelyn started out great. It was practically love at first sight. The first two years were very fulfilling for both of us and you could just feel the love pour out of us. Our energies were intertwined and we were both dedicated to Christian. However, there were issues with communication, and I wasn’t truly healthy. Our relationship began to suffer. The kinks in the armor of our relationship grew into gashes, as small problems became big problems. But in the end, we were two very different people, and we eventually grew apart through the last two years of our marriage.
I was once a man who ignited a room with excitement when I walked in. I was once a man who was motivated. I was once a man who was a professional wrestler and a dream chaser. I was once a man in a beautiful house, with a beautiful child, with a beautiful wife, with a beautiful dog (insert Talking Heads song here). I was once that man. Now I was just a three hundred pound fat-ass, lying in the foyer of my house, crying and drooling like a pathetic fool. Now I was just the angry man I had become in my marriage, with no inner peace, no self-confidence, and no hope. I was just three hundred pounds of excess fat, anger, and a shitty self-esteem to boot.
The dogs looked at me like, “Open the goddamn door already.” But I couldn’t. I could only lie there. I knew that the more I walked into my house, the more it would hurt. I didn’t know how I would conjure up the strength to stand, so I lay there, in the foyer, sobbing myself to sleep, as I smelled the stench of old food in the sink.
As I woke up in my new cozy tiled bed, I realized that a new scent had joined that of the rotten food…dog feces…next to my face, in fact. Fair enough, little ones, and very apropos. Waking up was always very difficult during this time, very similar to when I had lost loved ones in the past and the death was still new. The first few seconds when I awoke were fine, but then I would remember, and a chill would cover my whole body, followed by a seemingly endless flow of tears. After reflecting on how I used to wake up next to someone I loved in a bed, rather than the floor, I finally stood up and realized I had been asleep for six hours. I was disappointed that my only means of escape didn’t last longer, and that I had to wake up at all. I then finally let the dogs out. My new nightly routine of chain-smoking and living in my head would then ensue. What a hoot! This time it was different however, as I found I was running out of reasons to keep on living.
Night after night I tried to think of reasons to stay alive, but I was out of hope. I was done. I didn’t know who I was anymore, and all I knew of what I had become disgusted me. I had been through enough trials and tribulations in life, enough valleys, that I wasn’t about to face this one too. If this was life, what was the point of living? What was the point of getting the courage to face life since everything I loved was taken from me? What was the point? I had achieved so much, only to lose it all or push it away. My marriage was collapsing. My job was following a similar path. I didn’t like anything I did. Everything was fucked! I thought there was more to life than this, but if life were to continue along this hopeless path, I was tapping out.
I was at the end of my rope.
I went into my bedroom and got out my shotgun. I cradled it for over an hour, staring off into memories on the edge of the bed where passionate love could once be heard, in a house where once love could be felt, but now I was by myself with gun in hand. I remembered laughter filling the hallways of the house, the smell of lilacs, my stepson’s birthday parties, family dinners, and the sound of toys being played with, all creating a beautiful symphony of noise, love, and life. Now there was just heavy silence around me, and the noise of painful memories that no longer brought joy to me.
Sitting on the bed, I looked down at the gun, and then looked up at the picture of my family, and I put the cold steel barrel in my mouth. My finger was just on the edge of the trigger. As I gripped the barrel with my teeth I thought that my last sensation in life would be the taste of metal and gun oil. It had actually come to this, Jesus. I had been through so much pain. I had caused so much pain. The happy ending I fantasized about as a child never materialized. Forgiveness, healthiness, true love; it was all bullshit. As I had the barrel in my mouth I saw the picture of Christian. I couldn’t do it while looking at him. At that point I didn’t think I would be able to be in his life anymore, or I wouldn’t even have gone this far. I spat the barrel out of my mouth and turned his picture around. I wasn’t crying or frantic; I was ready.
I sat back down and assumed the position. This time, however, something else happened. Maybe it was because of seeing a picture of Christian. Maybe my subconscious was reaching out to me, but a thought ran across my mind. It was me, as a miserable shocked child, and a promise I had made to a childhood friend that I would have a better life. This is what I allowed myself to become? So far gone from hope that I would do this to my friends and family? I then moved from sadness to anger.
This was the gift I had given myself, that traumatized child who wanted a better life? I had been a man filled with dreams and aspirations. I had suffered so much and my solution to this suffering was now suicide, not becoming better or changing the things around me, or myself. I threw the gun to the ground and I screamed, “Fuck!” over and over again, as tears streamed. I screamed and screamed. I felt so hopeless, but I made the most important decision of my life by not pulling that trigger and having the resolve to fight and live. How, though?
If I were going to continue on, it couldn’t be the way I had been living. I couldn’t keep going through life filled with anger, hopelessness, sorrow, and doubt, feeling unattractive and unlovable. I couldn’t expect other people to fulfill what was empty inside of me. If I was going to persevere, I decided that I had to live life on my terms. I was going to need a whole new mindset.
I had always had a deep connection to Jesus, or so I thought. I was a Born Again Christian plugged into the church, and truly had faith in Christ as my Lord and Savior. I had even done overseas and domestic missionary work. I was not one of those annoying missionaries who tried to convert everyone by cramming their faith down others’ throats, but everyone who knew me was aware of my convictions.
During our wedding, Katelyn and I even made sure the message of Jesus was put in the center of our ceremony. I had tried religion my whole life, so for once I was going to try something different. My faith in Christianity was changing, and I knew that wasn’t the answer, but what was?
It was only a minute or so after throwing the gun down that I saw a book my dad had sent me earlier in the week, Man’s Search for Meaning, by Dr. Viktor Frankl. Dad had originally read the book in college. He told me that it was a great inspiration to him and his mindset, which I greatly admired and envied. So I picked up the book, took the dogs back outside, and I began to read.
Dr. Frankl was a psychotherapist and survivor of Auschwitz and other concentration camps in World War II. Through his experience in those camps he founded Logotherapy. Dr. Gordon Allport, one of the founding figures of personality psychology, called Frankl’s philosophy the “Third Viennese School of Psychotherapy.” Where Adler focused on the will to power, and Freud focused on the will to pleasure, Frankl focused on the will to meaning.
After the first few chapters, the book had already grabbed me, and I couldn’t put it down. Here I was, reading about this man who lost his family, his home, his clothes, and who endured torture, yet still found meaning in his life and the will to continue on WITH HOPE and JOY. This gave me a great deal of comfort. I want to make it clear that my comfort came from the mindset Frankl was revealing, not because he went through something worse than I had. In fact, one of my main concerns when I share my story is that the reader or audience will think I am trying to make them feel better by pointing out that I perhaps have been through tribulations worse than theirs.
People often try to “comfort” others by just pointing out how it could be worse. Imagine the following situation.
“I have a throbbing headache,” said George the Painful.
“Well if it makes you feel any better, I get migraines daily,” said Randy the Idiot.
“Yes, your migraine issue all of a sudden just took my headache away,” said George the Painful.
This method of “comfort” doesn’t make any sense, yet people do this to others all the time. And what’s worse is that this logic is all too common in the motivational/self-improvement world. Often you hear speakers and authors share horrific stories to comfort others. It’s a way of saying, “It could always be worse,” but that doesn’t take care of our pain now, does it? They share their stories yet don’t really reveal any transformational methods for someone who is suffering. Because of this, I’m very careful to only share stories that reveal meaning to what I’m trying to teach. It’s pertinent to understand the transformation I went through because of my experiences.
Pain comes from many sources, but the cause is less relevant than getting to its foundation. Pain itself is the problem.
Dr. Frankl’s book was a quick read and I didn’t put it down until I was done with it a few hours later. I learned so many things through the book, but one quote really stuck in my head: “Everything can be taken from a man or woman except for one thing: the last of human freedoms to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” I was at a fork in the road— would I turn left or right? I decided to choose my own way; I went straight ahead.
Chapter 2 - Friends and Fears
The soul is dyed the color of its thoughts. Think only on those things that are in line with your principles and can bear the light of day. The content of your character is your choice. Day by day, what you do is who you become. Your integrity is your destiny - it is the light that guides your way. —Heraclitus
I had only lived in Texas for a few years and didn’t have very many friends. I had made Katelyn and Christian my world and only had one or two real friends beyond them. I remember calling my friend John, or “Holliday” (his hip-hop persona), and telling him that Katelyn had left me. Holliday and I are very similar people. He’s younger than me, but really reminds me of myself in regard to chasing dreams. Where I had once chased the dream of professional wrestling, he was trying to get his name out there as a rapper. The problem with reaching out to Holliday is that he didn’t think Katelyn had actually left me for good. He figured we just got in some lame fight and that she would return. For the first few weeks after the separation with Katelyn, there was little hope of anyone in Texas comforting me.
Three weeks later, Holliday called me and asked to come over so we could talk. I assumed he meant about my situation, so of course I obliged and thirty minutes later he was knocking on the front door of my house that was now in disarray. I answered the door, and he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. I could relate. Holliday is around six feet tall with a muscular physique. Very intelligent, well spoken, and confident, he reminds me of the rapper 50 Cent, except he is white and hasn’t been shot a million times. I had never seen him before with such sorrow in his eyes. He walked into my house and slumped down on my couch in defeat. I was actually worried about him and almost welcomed any issue other than my own as a good distraction, but I was really worried that someone had died in his life or he lost his job.