Unlocking Ourselves

By Miles Patrick Yohnke

© 2018 All Rights Reserved.

Justine Kyomuhendo, in 2015, leading a class in Uganda.

Justine Kyomuhendo, part of International Youth Day, 2016.

It was 1984, and I was working as an assistant manager for a business in the Midtown Plaza, here in Saskatoon, the city I live in. I had to take the nightly deposit to the bank (found also within the mall) so I took a co-worker with me since it was store policy.

She was what society would call a stunning representation of the female gender. As we were walking through the mall we ran into another young person. He was a good looking guy who worked at a mens clothing store in the same mall.

You could tell he liked my fellow employee, and I guess he must have seen me as a threat. So, what do most do in cases like that? They find the weaknesses in another and try to knock them down. He knocked my style, or rather my lack of one. I mean he was right, I had no clue. I was one of those guys that would wear a suit with used white sport socks.

His words HURT! That event is locked away, tight in my memory bank. Though I am now so grateful for it.

Damaged, I went right out and bought a GQ magazine to self educate. James Garner was on the cover.

I wish I could tell you that everything changed for me at that moment, but it didn't. Everything seemed and felt foreign. I couldn't really grasp what was on those pages.

I felt I wasn't worthy. I'm this kind of person I thought. A lot of negative self-talk was going on in my head. I'm not entitled to dress or look like these people. Those emotions are in the back of one's mind when having self doubt. It was in the back of my mind. I couldn't break free from my own being.

In the fall of 1987 I bought my second GQ edition. This one had Kevin Kline on the cover. He was promoting his latest feature film, "Cry Freedom," the story and life of Steve Biko.

Like the tumblers of a bank vault safe, something clicked, and I became mesmerized within this issue. Vintage timepieces, fabric, draping, and composition; my veil had been lifted - and now I could see clearly.

What had happened? Why now, and not before?

There is a part of one's self that keeps holding on. Though at this time, in that current mind frame, I couldn't have told you that then (like I can now in the contents of this article).

I was managing a stereo store, "The Harmony Centre," during that time in my life. Part of me was very confident but in other areas, I was hiding. There was this girl that came into the store from time to time who was off the charts beautiful. Louise was her name. She made Paula Abdul and Cindy Crawford look mediocre.

Any time she came in to the store over the course of four years I'd hide. The other sales people would all run to her (as I'd look on from afar). It was a real event when she was in the store. We all talked about her after she left and everyone was waiting, just hoping for her next visit.

In 1989 while I was behind the counter at the store, in came Louise. With no other salesman in sight I was trapped, and now I had to help her. No more escape. Nowhere to hide. Pure panic quickly set in.

She came to the counter, looked at me, then spoke. "You have a pen and paper?" Weak in my legs, I searched our shop drawers until I found them. She wrote down her phone number. Her address was "642 Kingsmere Blvd." "I just bought a house. I'm having a house warming party, and I'd like for you to attend," she said. "Yes," I immediately replied.

I was flooded with emotions and thoughts. Why me? I can't go, I won't know anyone there. I was so scared but yet so happy! Maybe she sees some value in me, I thought. We had never spoken before. Maybe she thinks I'm worthy?

Worthy of her and her time?

After work, while I walked my regular five miles home, my eyes were fixated on that piece of paper, as if in a trance following a map to a buried treasure.

The night came, and I didn't go. I was just too scared to be around people I didn't know as I lacked the confidence in myself that I would fit in. Let alone be confident around Louise.

Like we see so many times portrayed in films - I finally got my confidence up to call her a few days later to ask her out. Without any hesitation, she said, "YES!"

We dated for about a year.

I was 26. She was 27. She was a nurse, and also a painter. In the eyes of society she had it all. She was beautiful. She had a great career. A large house in the most affluent area of the city at that time. A lifestyle created by her. But was she really happy?

Our relationship wasn't one of those where both of us surrendered and gave our souls to one another. We didn't talk about our self-doubts, our fears. I introduced her to the music of David Sylvian. She introduced me to the band, Spyro Gyra. Our relationship was more like that. Mostly on the surface. We simply were two people trying to find our way. But separately.

Was Louise a great painter? What I can tell you was she loved to paint. She loved to turn her stereo up to paint, getting lost in her works. Her neighbors kept complaining so the police kept returning. I finally gave her my AKG K141 headphones (which I still hope she uses), just to help her from getting into trouble. She painted from 10 p.m. until morning. She just loved

to paint.

My relationship with Louise brought me to a transformation point, from where I finally felt good about my outer self.

Our story ended, as she was searching for her "true self." The career and house were really more to appease her parents' and society's idea of success. She was only happy during moments of being lost while painting.

"I need to go to Seattle," she said one day. "I hear there is something going on there."

Remember, this was 1990 then, and just before the break out of grunge music. She sold her house, quit her great career, left town, and me.

I got on my bike saddle and more or less cycled for the next two years, living off of my savings.

Louise had shown me my true outer self. Now I needed to do the inner work.

I would start a new career in the fall of 1991, in the beauty and fashion industry. An area of my life that was once a weakness was now a hovering strength. Over the course of nine years, I would have many successes. One highlight was becoming the top producer for American Crew.

In 1997, out of gratitude for my services to the company, they flew in a lady from Denver to L.A. to take my measurements. They made me a custom, timeless, leather jacket, that I still wear to this day.

If you believe in all areas of your life, including your passions, you might find yourself having careers in them.

I still have those two GQ's, and that piece of paper with Louise's number and address in my night stand, next to my bed, along with my Dr. Suess books.

I am so thankful that I can find positive light within the dark shadows of mankind. That I didn't stop turning the pages of my own life's story. That there is so much more beauty to discover; not only within myself, but in all of mankind. It brings about a most wonderful and calm sense of security, and confidence. I so wish that others would follow suit.

Once I couldn't even read or write, let alone ask a girl out. I've changed that.

Now I fight for the same things that Steve Biko fought for.

To learn more about Justine Kyomuhendo, and to contact her, please click here, and to learn more of her work with "Dare to Dream," please click here.

Miles wearing the custom-made 'American Crew' jacket. Photo by Jenn Diehl.

To learn more about her, please click here