 Jakes
Testimony
Chapter One
I was born Sept.10th 1956 in Ft. Wayne Indiana, to Harry and Marjorie
Julian. On that day while my mother labored painfully and lovingly to bring
me into this world, she also endured the terribly tragic loss of my then
3 year old brother Billy Michael. He had fallen down inside of an outhouse
it seems and died of suffocation before he could be rescued. It was many
years later in my life before I realized what strength of heart my mother
surely possessed, and what a great gift of grace must have been bestowed
upon her on that day. She recently recalled the events of that day to me,
and she commented that having me was her real salvation at the time. I don't
quite know how to respond to that I must admit even now.
Chapter Two
I grew up in a home where although there weren't always a lot of
material things or money, the one thing I can say is there was a lot of love
(and noise)! Mom made do with what she had and I don't suppose I ever really
lacked for anything I really needed. My mother stayed at home and raised
us (all thirteen of us I might add!) as my father made his living as a truck
driver. I still have very fond memories of "going on the road" with him.
In a big family you have your share of conflicts no doubt. Looking back over
the years I guess it's pretty remarkable that we are still a fairly close
nit group. We moved to Fairmount Indiana when I was about 5 or 6 and that
is where I was raised until I graduated high school and left home to enter
the Air Force in January 1975. Our family life was not perfect or even normal,
but I would suspect in retrospect, like so many other American families,
we made the best of things as we could at the time. My parents gave us what
they knew. Such is life in small town America. It is where we all begin to
take our life’s roots I believe. Speaking of small towns, Fairmount
was the hometown of a few famous folks, like the actor James Dean, Phil Jones
the C.B.S. News correspondent, and cartoonist Jim B.Davis, creator of Garfield!
I suppose this is why I still tell folks today that I'm the "infamous”
son of Fairmount!
Chapter Three
I spent from Jan.30th to Oct.23rd, 1975 in the service of "Uncle
Sam" as a U.S.A.F. "security specialist". At first I guess I was a bit
overwhelmed to be out in the big bad world however I quickly got over that.
As do all good over-achievers, I got involved volunteering for anything and
everything. They seemed to like that and I guess I was still real naive as
well at the time. I never questioned much back then. A good troop just followed
orders. In the beginning I just wanted to be a good troop. I did really well
until the time came that I did finally dare to start asking why to someone.
Why was I in places I didn't think I was supposed to be, seeing and doing
things I just couldn't reconcile my mind or conscience to? At about that
point in time I found myself on their "wrong side". This tends to happen
to those good troops who dare to think or feel. Well of course I still haven't
and probably never will resolve the events of that year totally, but I work
on it continuously. The main thing is today I refuse to let any of those
dark demons control my world anymore. I had to learn to bring myself home.
I wasted far too many years waiting on a vindication or perhaps absolution
I'm sure now will only arrive on that day "when hell freezes over" or in
2050. I'd love to say so much more here, but I did "make a deal” and
if I disclose the terms (facts). I might have to kill you! Or maybe they
would get me first! HA HA .Anyway for the "Official "record I left the service
of Uncle Sam on Oct.23 1975 with an honorable discharge and my full benefits
intact as a OFFICIAL Viet Nam ERA veteran. I'd signed on for a four year
hitch. In and out in less than a year! They said at the end, I was "inadaptable"
to military life. Hmmm ...yet I still got all my benefits. Geez they were
awfully generous wouldn't you say? Anyway you can be sure of this, whatever
facts may still remain in dispute. I CAN and DO relate to the fine men and
women of our armed services who served proudly in combat for this fine country!
I am proud of the job I did and the services I was called upon to perform.
I did my job with pride and honor, and I will always hold my head high. I
will as long as I live, owe my life to a single moment in time with Sgt.
1st Class John "Brown Bear” McKinney who tagged me with my nick-name
"Jake". I'm grateful that he cared enough to tell me the truth about heroes.
Lastly to any parent who's ever lost a son or daughter to any sort of so-called
"official" military training accident, please heed this statement. As painful
as your loss might be, dare to question and even demand a full account. I
can tell you from experience that things aren't always as they might appear.
I suppose that's far more then I should ever say, so enough ranting about
this.
Chapter Four
The next part of this saga isn't much prettier, but it is part
of my story so I'll tell it myself, instead of waiting for the gossip mills
to "Expose it to my fans (Ha Ha). I'd never touched a drop of liquor until
the military, so I suppose it was somewhat of a natural progression. I never
knew how to feel about anything and didn't much care to either at that point.
I found out rather quickly if I drank enough, fast enough and long enough
I didn't have to feel anything except numb. This was the one feeling I did
not mind. I spent from 1975 until 1987 in and out of an alcoholic and drug
addicted fog I called my life. I drifted from job to job, town to town, always
dragging my poor wife and kids along with me. I learned to "steal or deal".
I got lost in the "White Lady” I learned how to slam a needle, and guzzle
bourbon whiskey 'til I drank so much I couldn’t get high or drunk anymore
no matter how much I put in me. I learned to survive on the "mean streets".
I made and blew more money than most folks ever see. I used to have a sticker
on my truck that read "my other car's up my nose". That just fueled my ego
I think looking back now. I had a great false pride in outsmarting the "heat"
as well. I found a certain sense of security in gun toting. I came to spend
every waking moment watching everything and everyone else perhaps just a
bit too closely. I would find myself inevitably in the bars, or anywhere
else for that matter, seated in the corner, facing the door, ever hyper-vigilant
at all times. The other end of that was to hide in curtained rooms and peek
out watching for "THEM". When I'd been crossed I found I could knock a
man’s teeth out with a ball-peen hammer, have another line, then drive
home, pick up and hold my child just hours later as though it had never occurred.
I had become a total Jekyll and Hyde. Numerous accidents and totaled out
cars. Waking up in strangers beds or even worse bringing them into my
wife’s when she was out of town had become a habit as well. But hey
I'd never got a single D.U.I, not even a single drug possession charge. Dope
dealers always get busted or murdered eventually don't they? In my mind these
things were the indisputable evidence of a lowly drunk or doper. After all,
my wife was still hanging around. I was still above ground and sucking air
so obviously I was "just fine”, and people ought to mind their own damn
business. I paid my taxes and voted like everybody else didn't I?
Chapter Five
Living a lie I learned is just not that easy. I found out after
a long while that no matter where, or who I ran to, I was still right there!
Alas completely alone on Jan.28th,1987 I "came to" one more time, in a shower-tub
in an empty apartment in east Wichita, a needle hanging out of my leg, water
running out all over the floor, and a sawed-off shotgun wrapped in a dry-cleaning
bag lying on my chest. I cursed "F*#K you God “, for letting waking
me up! I felt as though I had pulled the trigger on that shotgun, as if there
was an icy frigid Kansas wind rushing through my stomach, and all throughout
that barren apartment. In that moment I began a process of surrendering to
win. I got high one last time that morning, called up my wife and told her
I think I might be an addict/alcoholic. She responded "No kidding". It’s
about time you figured this out, everyone else already knew it". Then she
came over and drove me to treatment. Flat-lined twice in the emergency room,
I'd been to that particular hospital no less than 3 times in the previous
6 months after overdosing. In that moment on a cold January 28th, I began
to "get honest" just a tiny bit. I checked in and I stayed there. I've stayed
clean and sober since that day. Today I am so thankful to finally realize,
looking back through all those wasted years, I wasn't living, I was surviving.
I've come to see that not much else was possible until I was ready to make
a serious change in myself. I'd been with damn good woman throughout most
all this time, but being human, she finally had enough and we divorced shortly
after I got clean and sober. She'd stuck with me for over a dozen years (ten
of them married to me), and bore me two beautiful daughters, Sara and Mari.
I suppose after all the lies and broken promises, she just lost any trust
or love she'd ever placed in me finally. Today I know she had to stop the
insanity for her own sake as well as my daughters.
Chapter Six
Although I've been clean and sober for over 23 years now, I have
no illusions that I could've ever done it by myself. It's been purely "one
day at a time". Without the help of other recovering drunks and dopers, I'd
surely have died, or even worse continued to exist in my self-will made living
hell! It is by a true gift of Grace, and by reaching out to other suffering
addicts to try to help them that I get through each day. I'd like to say
I got clean, and life got "ALL BETTER" but "it just isn’t so". I guess
I still had a few more hard lessons to learn. You see, growing up in public
is a real pain in the ass. I had many things about my past to face and resolve.
I had to go through some things that if I'd seen what was coming in advance,
I don't believe I'd have bothered. Very thankfully I can tell you I've learned
to truly take my life each day, "one day at a time". I had put myself and
so many others through so much senseless pain. I'd never learned to open
myself up to anyone. Where I came from, a REAL man just didn't do that! It's
only in the past few years I've come to realize how wrong I was and just
how healing and rewarding, taking the risks of vulnerability and trust can
be. A good doctor once said to: "Clean house, trust God, and help others"
if I wanted to live and be sober. It took a long time but I finally heeded
his sage advice. I'd also hasten to say that I am not opposed to alcohol.
For me as a recovering alcoholic and addict, I cannot afford to take even
the first drink. That being said, if you're not the kind of drinker I was,
then by all means have one for me!
Chapter Seven
In the fall of 1990 I was working in Wichita Ks. for a major business
aircraft company. I was separated by then from my third wife (who was expecting
our son in Feb.1991). We hadn't been married very long. I'd have to say today
that we never honestly took the time to get to know each other very well.
As she put it so eloquently some time later, "Look, you wanted a son, and
I didn't want to live with my parents forever." I can only say today that
we both had mostly wrong reasons going into it. Maybe getting married was
a mistake, maybe not. In any case I know today that, “two sicks don't
make a well". Anyways out of our struggles came our son, Michael Paul. I
should say right off, he is certainly not a mistake rather he's a great blessing
and gift in my life today. For me, at least looking back now, his birth signaled
the beginning of a whole new life for me. The previous year had been full
of new struggles, difficult changes and stressful challenges. I was facing
the wreckage of my past, and healing from years of guilt and shame. Yes I'd
been in counseling for some time even at that point. Now being that I'm more
stubborn then a Georgia mule, of course, much of the "pain” was once
more, self -induced. I had a great job, nice home, and my wife had "moved
back in" again. So as far as I could see at the time anyways, I was in pretty
good shape. You see, "if you sober up a drunken horse thief, all you got
is a sober horse thief". It was finally time for this one to start getting
honest and hit some new "bottoms” in my life. I suppose in fact, I was
way overdue for it by this point in time. I guess "pride does come just before
the fall".
Chapter Eight
Much to my surprise and sad dismay, in February 1991, my world
would seem to come totally apart again. I'd been having problems with numbness
in my legs. I'd be standing at work and my legs would just go out from under
me. I went to the doctor and they started looking me over. I recall one time
my legs quit and my wife having to lift me and help carry me in the house,
now that was a sight. A month went by and then into another. They still weren't
sure what the problem with my health was and all I could do was try to go
to work and wait. Then everything in my world seemed to break loose! *Feb.
5th (hints of a possible layoff) *Feb.6th (Doctors tell my boss putting me
on indefinite medical leave may be necessary) *Feb.7th (Michael Paul) our
son is born) *Feb.8th (company layoffs occur) *Feb.15th (my wife takes our
son and leaves again) *Feb.18th (doctor tells my boss he's classifying me
"disabled" from my job; initial diagnosis: [chronic degenerative osteoarthritis
of the multiple joints] ) ….Geez What A Month! *March 23rd (company
notifies me by letter, "you have been placed on indefinite medical leave"..."you
will not be called back") *May (my divorce becomes final) My health continued
to deteriorate. I fell into a deep depression and began to have frequent
violent seizures. My body would swing from extremes of total numbness, to
excruciating pain in my legs and other extremities. In November of 91, I
found myself hospitalized at the V.A. after having a seizure in the blood
lab. *Nov.91 (new diagnosis: peripheral neuropathy with complex partial petty
maul seizures). As I look back now I could add "insane" to the list! I was
also trying to attend Wichita State University full time all through that
year! Well the day came shortly thereafter that my legs just gave out completely
and I was put into a wheelchair. And there I sat, wanting this son I couldn't
even take care of. I couldn't go to the bathroom on my own at that point.
His mother at the time had her own problems and wasn't taking to motherhood
very well. I’m grateful to her parents today as they stepped in and
have looked out for Michael and cared for him from the very start, and they
continue to until he turned 18. Although I miss him every day, he lives with
them for I know his life is stable there and I know they love him as much
as I do. I owe them a great debt that I know I can never repay. Also while
all this was happening I'd started the "turtle-paced" struggle to obtain
my disability benefits (that's a whole other story in itself). I'd have to
say at this point I had hit the bottom of the barrel with my health, and
yet even now I try to remember it's just one day at a time, and there are
no guarantees.
Chapter Nine
I spent nearly all the next 18 months getting my feet back under
me, literally and figuratively speaking. I spent a lot of time in personal
counseling (Thank you Bill Morris & Sweet Ms. Pat) and searching inside
of myself also during that period of time. I'd hasten to add that the time
had come in my life to make peace with my past and finally slay some old
demons. Part of that process launched me on the path I choose to walk even
today. (Every pun intended) I have learned that "Our secrets keep us sick".
Mine did, both emotionally and mentally for many years. I have come to accept
this as true for me, at least in part it's the reason I chose to write this
testimony. Now be clear on this fact however, although granted I've made
good strides in my addictions recovery process, abuse issues, bipolar manic
depression, P.T.S.D. fibromyalgia, type 2 diabetes. I strive for measurable
progress each day. I've not known a full pain free day (physically) in over
7 years now, but I suffer no illusions nor do I confuse the difference between
personal emotional conflicts, and medical health problems. I'm fully familiar
with both in my world. I suppose that this is why I've become a slightly
more tolerant human being over these past few years. Almost a year and a
half ago I received another thorough going over and was diagnosed with
Fibromyalgia. I know there is no cure for it at present, but I know if I
do what I can to take care of myself, I can still live a productive life,
albeit not painless for sure. A much wiser man then I once told me that "The
spiritual person accepts an equal measure of pain and pleasure for life has
always measured itself out this way". I spent most of the first half of my
life seeking pleasure and avoiding pain, the result being I never tasted
real pleasure and succeeded mostly in causing far too much pain. So I'm only
just now beginning my spiritual journey I suppose. I know that there is a
GOD always out there, and I'm convinced now that it's not me! Outside of
this I was very open-minded to learning all I could about other types of
spirituality. Having a Native-American heritage on my father’s side
of the family I had adopted and practiced many of these spiritual beliefs
in my life back then.
Chapter Ten
As part of my recovery process I'd kept a journal fairly regularly.
At what I refer to as my "Emotional Bottom" in August of 1992, a friend I
will treasure forever, stopped by to visit and having heard enough of my
self-pity at that time spoke this to me: "So, you can’t walk today,
tomorrow you may" ! He then gently took my sawed off shotgun from my lap,
went and put it in his car, and returned to my side. I never asked him about
that shotgun again and I don't know its whereabouts to this day. He asked
me if I was still journaling, to wit I said yes. He responded: "Then start
where you are and work with what you do have! You can still play your guitar
and you can write, right?" I said yes, and he said "then put your journal
away for now, and start writing some songs, and stop whining that you can't
work on airplanes anymore”! I believe every human being has at certain
times come to a crossroads. For me this intersection was a most crucial one.
I'm thankful today for his loving audacity in confronting my selfishness
and the priceless gift of focus I received from him that afternoon. After
he left, I was initially extremely miffed to have been called on my bull.
But I got over that by "telling God" this. I prayed: "Fine if I'm supposed
to write songs at this point, I'll know it, if you give me 100 songs in the
next 12 months. Otherwise I'll know it wasn't your will. Now I know that
HE isn't Monty Hall playing "let's make a deal” with peoples’ lives,
generally speaking. Still, this I said this on Aug.2nd 1992, and nonetheless
on Dec. 18th 1992 I finished writing the 100th song. I learned something
right then and there. "Watch what you ask God for, you may just get it!"
So during those next 18 months between doing my physical therapy, and spending
a few weeks in the desert with an old Indian medicine man, at some point
during my "spirit quest" I began to "get my legs back". I wrote over 300
more songs. I still don't know or understand how this all could’ve happen,
nor that I'd ever have that much to write about. Today I don't care. I just
accept it as part of my life passage. Also I can't explain today just exactly
how I got out of that wheelchair, except for a lot of hard work, prayers
and I believe today that it was a healing from God. I don't know that for
sure, nor do I dare to say it wasn't a miracle. I just choose to believe
it to be, by faith. I do know that while I've learned some new and painful
lessons, they were also some very humbling and healing ones for me too. Two
of my three doctors at the time were quite confused as they had both decided
in their "professional opinions" I'd never walk again. The 3rd doctors' response
was: "let them fight that it out between themselves, you just accept your
good fortunes, enjoy it and show your gratitude by rebuilding your life".
All I know is that chair now lies up in the attic of my garage. I keep it
specifically to remind me of where I came from.
Chapter Eleven
May of 1994 I packed up all I had and moved, as so many others
have, to Nashville. I knew no one here. But hey I had a "bag of songs", my
guitar, my health had stabilized, and a few dollars in my pocket. Things
were looking better for me obviously. I started out playing my songs on the
streets, lower Broad & 2nd avenue. A few months later I'd made a few
new friends, got my reality dose of Music Row, and met the most beautiful
creature I still swear today that the good Lord ever made! She is the very
breath in me now. After I married this beautiful Mississippi woman and moved
with her "over the river and through the woods" literally. I continue to
write new songs and I'm convinced that I was basically given the gift of
a second chance at my life. There are so many things left untold here. When
the CD coming out was a "miracle", as was finding, marrying Ms. Sandy and
our sharing in a "true partnership". Today my life is full and rewarding,
although I still have "Those days". The best part of all of this is that
I am living my dreams of a lifetime as my reality today. Go figure! Life
is good! I believe today that distant horizons ...well they are just lines
that are waiting to be crossed!
Chapter Twelve
There have been so many travelers along my way that I'm so forever
and deeply indebted to. They each one know who they are but even today I'd
suspect they have no clue exactly how much what they gave means to me even
today. I believe that my God today wears many "different skins". These travelers
I refer to here, I believe played a critical part in saving my life. I will
mention from Indiana: Mom, Dad,& family, from New Mexico; the late "Brown
Bear"(ah-koh my friend) & Jim P., from Kansas; my "OTHER" family, my
sweet daughters, Sara & Mari, my boy Michael, Tom, Vince, Charlie, Trish,
Michael W., Nancy C, Kim J, Brad H., Don, Mike R., and Lil Mike. In Tennessee:
Lou, John, Herve, The "Project" players, the gang at Woodland Studios, the
Woodbine and 202 bunch, Tina & Dana & of course Danny. You all "have
hung" when everyone else "gave up on me" including myself. I owe you each
"BIG TIME"! You each and every one gave to me, at just the right time, your
gifts of love when I didn't even know how to receive them. So fifteen years
have just flown by! So I sit here thinking about the past decade and a half
and all that has passed by my eyes, through my ears, from my lips. My heart
is full of joy and sadness at the very same time. My hair is shorter, and
yes grayer, my build more hefty, and even though my gait has slowed a bit
I'm very thankful to still be able to stand and have a gait at all. The past
10 years took my father to cancer, stole my mother away to dementia and her
death, but it has also brought me a beautiful healthy granddaughter Claire.
I've had many countless wonderful hours of struggles, idleness, laughter,
tears, fussiness, silence, which has been the ebb and flow of life and love.
Until marriage with my dearest Sandy, my partner and best friend, I had never
known that it could be so safe and secure. She has made me every day want
to be a better man because of who she's been and how she is to me. When I
moved to Nashville in 1994, I never dreamed life would turn in the directions
it has. I've taken a lot of different paths and had many ups and downs. I've
made a few really good friends along the way too I must say. And I have also
buried a few too many as well, but such is life.
Postscript(for
the readers and my fans)
This is my story, to this point, but please do come back often.
I'm quite sure that as the days and years go by more will surely be revealed!
I may be a fool or even still a bit naive, but I'm a DreamMaker and a SongKeeper.
I will not refuse to "consider that anything is possible, however improbable"!
Perhaps as I continue to heal, I'll fill in all the colors of my picture
and in time with faith, hope, and courage I'll finish and publish this book
in its entirety too. Thanks for stopping by and Gods speed to you. ......
Jake Julian
A Personal Note! If you find that you relate to this story in any
way, then feel free to contact me. If I can help you in some way I'd be happy
to do whatever I can! Drop me a line any time (no pun intended). {Please
take a moment to click here and have a listen
to some samples from my new project!}
 662-712-3081
Cell:662-609-4947
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