Running Through Walls Headfirst: Without a fight, there's no chance of being more

By Keith Hammerschmidt

"Running Through Walls Headfirst" allows you to spend a day, or 44 years, in the shoes of Keith Hammerschmidt. Through this meaningful and inspiring memoir, you will find out what changed his life in a slow-motion blink of an eye. Join him in his setbacks and triumphs, while he fights to find his place in life; from love, parenting, careers, mental health, education, and everything in between.

Hammerschmidt's book is entertaining, inspiring, and interactive. Throughout the book, there are around 30 Reader Interactions, where you can reflect on your life and share a story of your own, with other readers – people helping people!

Let's make this world a better place, starting with us!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781667802732

Book preview

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Literary Productions

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Names have been changed.

Many stories have been embellished and illustrated for entertainment purpose.

Protected under Intellectual Property Law. 2021 by Keith Hammerschmidt

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book

or portions of the book at any level.

For information, email at [e-mail].

Running Through Walls Headfirst, eBook and paperback edition November 2021

For information on bulk purchases, please email Fighting For Average at

[e-mail].

Fighting For Average offers editing services.

Please visit www.fightingforaverage.org for submissions.

Published by Fighting For Average Literary Productions

Edited by Molly Gage, Modern Writing Services

Book cover and interior art by Brooke Jeschke

Printed in the United States of America

Print ISBN: 978-1-66780-272-5

eBook ISBN: 978-1-66780-273-2

Supporting Mental Health

Ten percent of net profit from every production sold goes to nonprofits that support mental health conditions.

Dedications

To my son, thanks for being my son, son. I’ll do my best to destigmatize mental illness. To my parents, I’ll pay forward all the love and kindness you have shown me. To my siblings, I hope to nurture a stronger relationship with you. To all my friends, for the good times we’ve had. And to all my friends I have yet to meet, we’ll meet one day. Together we will make this world a kinder place for all!

Thank You

Thank you, Leslie Kent, for being my biggest cheerleader throughout my journey of this production.

Thank you, God, who makes all things possible.

I love you all and thank you for being a part of my life. I wish you and your families all the best.

Gratefully,

Keith Hammerschmidt

Table of Contents

Running Through Walls Headfirst

Episode 2, Chapter 1:6 180-Degree Shift

Episode 2, Chapter 2:6 Personal & Professional Growth

Episode 2, Chapter 3:6 Work, School, and Wedding Bells

Episode 2, Chapter 4:6 The Drive, the Dream!

Episode 2, Chapter 5:6 Shit Hits the Fan

Episode 2, Chapter 6:6 My Son, the Gym & a New World

Episode 3, Chapter 1:6 The Mind Has a Mind of Its Own

Episode 3, Chapter 2:6 Career Change

Episode 3, Chapter 3:6 The Sales Struggle

Episode 3, Chapter 4:6 True Passion. Truly Grateful

Episode 3, Chapter 5:6 Time to Rewind and Push Reset

Episode 3, Chapter 6:6 Work, Work, Work…….and Oh Yeah, Work

Episode 4, Chapter 1:4 Empty Nester and Love

Episode 4, Chapter 2:4 It’s All about Bar Girl…and a Little Work, Too

Episode 4, Chapter 3:4 Mind Goes Astray, Relationship Decay, Demons out to Play

Episode 4, Chapter 4:4 Maybe in Another Life…or Maybe in This One?

The Sum of Episodes Lessons Learned? For Sure. Questions Unanswered? Of Course. Still Dreaming? Fuck Yeah!

Running Through Walls Headfirst

Try to do better than you think you can do, and chances are, it’ll be good enough. In my life thus far, this has proven true—to be the best me I can be, I need to keep going and growing. You see, I wasn’t always this awesome—haha! Through my general education years, I struggled with very low self-esteem and was riddled with anxiety. Before I graduated high school, I was a teenage father. As I got older, my brain decided, every now and then, to show me the world through the lens of mental illness. My talents had to birth themselves through painful professional experiences. My relationships didn’t always return the love I gave.

While putting this literary production together, I found myself reflecting on difficult life moments and realizing that every single one of them made me who I am today. Throughout this production, I share my struggles as a message to you: Despite the so-called normal struggles of everyday life, or even the struggles caused by mental health conditions, you can still live a happy and prosperous life.

To help explain how this production is arranged, I’ve included several digressions to note special reflections of my life. When I felt the overwhelming need to thank someone, I included A Moment of Thanks. When I paused in thought, I included an Author Pause. When I felt enlightened, I stopped for a moment of Author Wisdom. When I felt the need to raise a question, I included an Author Interjection. When I went through the editing process, I couldn’t help but notice how much of my life fell into the 12 Spiritual Laws of the Universe, I’ve seen the laws connected to a meditation practice in the ancient cultures of Hawaii and several laws connected to an ancient Egypt philosophy. But I notice similarities between all the laws and ancient Eastern philosophies too. So I connected those dots as Spiritual Law of the Universe. Of course, no life is without music, so I included several songs that had profound meaning at certain times in my life: These are Soundtrack Moments. And at the end of each chapter, I’ve included a short response to close the chapter with Keith’s Commentary Clip.

That’s a lot about me, isn’t it? Well, I’d like to hear about you, too. I think everyone can benefit from hearing others’ life experiences. So, I’ve asked you to share some of your memories and experiences with Reader Interactions, in the hopes that your story might help others out. Some are on sensitive topics—but others are just for shits and giggles.

I really hope you choose to share your experience—you just might help or inspire someone in need—and we all know what goes around comes around. Together, we can make this world a more tolerable, understanding, loving, and overall better place to live. It all starts with one, and that one is you. So please, join in helping me make this world a better place for all. Let’s run headfirst through some walls together.

For the full effect of this literary production grab, a beverage, your smartphone, plug in your headphones, and let the story begin!

Fighting For Average Presents

A Keith Hammerschmidt Production

Starring – Life moments of Keith Hammerschmidt

Guest Appearances by – Those who played an important part in Keith’s life

Running Through Walls Headfirst

Episode 2, Chapter 1:6

180-Degree Shift

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At 17 years old, I didn’t know much, but I did know that traditional high school wasn’t my thing. Actually, kindergarten through eighth grade wasn’t my thing, either. At every parent teacher conference from second through sixth grade, teachers echoed the same mantra: Keith has so much potential. But I couldn’t see what they were seeing. I didn’t think I could do better, so I growed up thinking I was stupid. (Growed up? I’m leaving that in here—that’s just funny!). Heck, I probably thought the word potential meant stupidity. I mean, if I already had so much of it, why would I think it meant anything else?

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I was very shy and nervous just about every second of every minute of every hour of every school day of my life. Riddled with nerves, I was socially and academically inept. Anytime other kids outside my small group of friends talked to me, I’d panic, my body temperature would rise, my heart would beat faster, and I’d become very uncomfortable. The thought of a teacher calling on me to answer a question, to read the next paragraph, or to figure out a math problem on the chalkboard caused anxiety to overwhelm me. I couldn’t read very well, couldn’t spell most words if longer than three letters. I didn’t understand much math or science, and I couldn’t remember anything from my history class. Every day, an active, silent heartbeat of panic raced inside of me. I counted down every slow-moving second on the clock—tick……….tock……….tick…………tock—praying for the day to end. Oh, I was also part the Title 1 program and in the lowest level of every subject. My grades often scored below everyone else’s in the same subject level, which is why I had to attend summer school.

I thought I was just plain stupid, and I assumed everyone knew it.

My second-grade teacher thought it would be to my benefit if I retook second grade. Of course, I didn’t think that was a good idea at all. Luckily, the principal—the school’s CEO and the one with the final say—came to my rescue. She didn’t think it would be a good idea to hold me back either and pushed me through to third grade. Looking back, I think she pushed me because she had seen others just like me over the years and knew holding me back probably wouldn’t do me any good. I think she was right, and I still thank Mrs. Principal for coming to my rescue and moving me into third grade. I think I could’ve probably repeated second grade several times over and not gotten any more out of it than I did the first time around—that’s just how it was for me back then.

Not much changed as I passed through the grades. I remember later, in junior high, a teacher reviewed my state testing scores in comparison to those of the other students. The teacher seemed totally taken aback and asked me if I had even read the questions. She showed me a chart of the student rankings. She pointed out the really low scores received by some kids, and then she pointed to my score, which was far, far below the others. I didn’t really know what to say. I hadn’t actually guessed the answers, but I guess I might as well have—I probably would’ve done better.

By the time I got to middle school, I already had a long history of underperforming in all aspects of school. But there was one area that I did perform well above others—the roller rink. I loved roller skating, and as it turned out, I was pretty darn good at it. You know how the jocks were looked at by the other kids in school? The jocks were the cool group, and girls thought they were dreamy and great? That’s the way people looked at me at the roller rink. Guys were in awe of my skating skills, and girls wooed me. Actually, at the rink, I never had to approach girls—they always approached me. It took me a while to bust out of my shy shell and get comfortable, but girls usually took care of that because they were always the first to say hello and start a conversation. All I had to do was to answer their questions: yes, no, maybe, I don’t know, okay. Looking back, they might as well have been talking to their hairbrush, given our one-sided conversation.

Later, during the summer after my sophomore year of high school, I met a girl at the roller rink, and we started dating hot and heavy. Her name? Roller Girl. When junior year started, I decided from the very first week that I wouldn’t be going. I had better things to do——like have lots and lots of sex with Roller Girl! I mean it was a lot of sex! It was freaking awesome, and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the day—I may not have been able to pass a biology test, but I was definitely learning all about the female anatomy!

I spent an entire semester going to Roller Girl’s house, skipping school every day. My parents never even received a phone call from the school telling them I hadn’t been showing up. Weird, I thought. But ultimately, I was the one who told my parents I hadn’t been going. I had decided that school, at least the school I’d been attending, wasn’t for me, and I broke the news to them that I wanted to transfer. They were obviously disappointed and concerned—with good reason. Although they were at a loss for words and seemed pretty hopeless about my shortcomings, they enrolled me in a different high school. I hoped this school would be different, but after a few days, guess what? I decided it wasn’t for me either. I don’t know why I thought a different school would actually be different, but I did.

It’s funny, when I think back on that time, it wasn’t like I was a badass or anything. I wasn’t skipping school to rebel. I just didn’t understand anything about school. I failed at almost every part of it, including the majority of the tests I had ever taken. To this day, I have no idea how I kept passing each grade, moving on to the next. Anyway, there I was, 16 years old and officially a dropout. School frustrated me, but I think deep down inside, I knew I needed to graduate so I could at least qualify for a factory job.

Unfortunately, by the time I realized this, I had missed an entire semester of my junior year, and my parents were at a loss. I was also at a loss and felt like a misfit in a traditional school, so I told my parents I wanted to go to the alternative school—otherwise known as the school dropouts attended in a last-ditch effort to graduate high school. I would have rather taken the GED test, but honestly, I felt I had a better chance of graduating alternative school than passing that Good Enough Diploma test. Plus, there were no Friday classes at alternative school, as long as I attended Monday through Thursday. Crazy, right? I figured that was one less day for me to be uncomfortably anxious.

Well, alternative school, here I come!! My dad enrolled me, and not over the phone, but with me, in person, at the school. I already assumed that only troublemaker, badass kids went to alternative school because they rode the same bus I did back when I was in elementary school. I was a little afraid of them back then and couldn’t really grasp that I was going to be one of them. I remember when my dad enrolled me. He led me up to the school where, standing outside in front of the door, stood about 10 of the oldest looking kids I had ever seen. I’m pretty sure some of them were in their 20s and could legally buy beer! Most wore some sort of leather or denim jacket and were smoking cigarettes or chewing tobacco.

Going to school with those badass-looking kids made me nervous for entirely different reasons than going to traditional schools with good kids. Alcohol, drugs, knives, beards, amateur hand tattoos, piercings, and bored and sullen faces were the reputation (and reality) of the alternative students. But even though I was really uncomfortable as my dad and I approached the school door, my dad just smiled a friendly hello. We walked right on through that motley looking crowd and on up to the school office. That was my first day of the second semester.

Surprise! Alternative school rocked! Turns out, most of the badass-looking kids were actually very nice, and I don’t recall a fight ever breaking out. The curriculum was set up a little differently than at a traditional school, and I found the teaching style suited me just fine. I finished my first semester at the alternative school with grades I had never seen before. I knew it was an alternative school report card, but I couldn’t wait to show my mom and dad. When I showed my mom my grades, her eyes lit up at the As and Bs—she was proud and thrilled. I could also tell she was relieved that I would now more than likely graduate and get my high school diploma. After my junior year was over, my mom decided alternative school was a great move for me. She thought I had just needed a different learning environment because I learned differently. I thought alternative school was a good move, too.

Toward the end of my junior year, I was hired as a dishwasher at a lounge and restaurant located inside the Awesome Hotel. At this point, I had my sights set on one thing: saving some money for a down payment to buy a sweet sports car with a bumpin’ stereo—a typical high school kid’s need. I worked as many hours as I could for that purpose and loved it! I had daydreams of driving my new car.

After a few paychecks, I was close to having the down payment I needed. Everything was going great in my carefree world. I had a job, I was making money, I was going to a school that didn’t make me anxious, and I was still having lots of sex with Roller Girl! It wasn’t hard to understand why she couldn’t get enough of me. I mean, geez, I was a good-looking kid with a no-shape teenage boy body. I was creating a solid foundation for my future, earning $4.25 per hour as a dishwasher, with the high ambition of buying a sports car with a bumpin’ stereo. Of course, I was also very sexually cunning—carefully choosing just the right, subtle words, dreamily spoken, Can we have sex? Can we have sex? Can we have sex? Can we have sex? This was all I had to say, 30 to 40 times a day, and wouldn’t you know it, she was always in the mood!

I was a sex machine, quite the stud, I’d say. I was good at sex! I mean, I was really, really good at sex, with great control, a mind-over-matter approach (or so I told myself), 30+ minutes, no problem. She could count on me! And better clear the day’s calendar because I’m shooting for the baker’s dozen, or at least the grand slam. But then, yeah, life got pretty fucking real when one little sentence came rolling off of Roller Girl’s lips: I missed my period.

What?

I was confused. This couldn’t be. How could she have gotten pregnant? We were always so careful, doing everything by the book when having unprotected sex. We strictly followed the rhythm method, a famously flawless form of birth control! She calculated the days before and after her menstrual cycle, and we avoided sex when she was most fertile—how could that ever fail? I mean, like I said, we strictly followed it! It just can’t be true! Roller Girl knew her biochemistry better than any doctor—she wasn’t stupid. She got mostly As and Bs in school, plus, she was good at algebra and had the X factor all figured out, da! Shoot, she even made sure to watch endless hours of TV-doctor shows just in case there was an episode that would add to her knowledge.

Did I say we strictly followed the rhythm method? Well, it was like clockwork, give or take a couple days or three or four before and after the first day of that day but not after the second day of the next day and before the second to last day. I mean that’s how simple the rhythm method is—bulletproof! —no need for a condom, booyah!

But, just to make sure we could put this all behind us and get a good night’s sleep, she bought an over-the-counter pregnancy test. She went into the bathroom, alone, to do whatever it is you have to do for that test, while I’m standing just outside the bathroom door. Tick, tock, tick tock, a couple minutes go by. I ask her how it’s going in there. She opens the door and says with worry, It’s positive. Gulp was the noise that came from my throat. How could this be, I asked Rhythm Method. We followed her fertility calendar precisely! We did, we did, we did! Didn’t we?

Being the super intelligent kids we were, we had enough common sense to know we couldn’t fully rely on the home pregnancy test, and Roller Girl scheduled a doctor’s appointment for a more accurate test. After all, those home pregnancy tests can’t always be trusted, right? I mean a house isn’t as clean and sterile as a clinic! So many factors to consider that could have thrown off the reading of a cheap, probably unreliable home pregnancy test. Like, who knows, did she get any toilet water on it? Did she get any faucet water on it? Did she get any lotion on it? Did she get any makeup or perfume on it? What about hairspray? Any one of those factors could probably throw off the reading big time, I mean, 100 percent, probably.

So, Roller Girl goes to the clinic to see how their pregnancy test stood up against the unreliable, cheap home pregnancy test, and you know what we found out? Turns out, those home pregnancy tests are actually pretty darn accurate. It was dead on. Ohhhhh shit. It’s positive! I had gotten my Roller Girl pregnant.

When I heard the news, I sat in stunned silence. It seemed as if my entire world stood still. I took a deep breath, and within a heart-pounding, slow-motion blink of an eye, my life changed right then and there. My entire life up until that point flashed through my mind. I needed to make some changes from within. So, I made a 180-degree mindset transformation. I went from someone who had a very low self-esteem, was full of fear, didn’t try at anything, and had no future direction, to someone who knew he had to start putting effort into everything. I had to start focusing on how I was going to change for the better and make something of myself. I wasn’t going to have my child growing up with a failure, a loser of a father. I wanted to be a good example of how to live. I wanted to be a positive role model for my child. I wanted to be someone my child could look up to and be proud to have as a father.

Spiritual Law of the Universe: The Law of Attraction

You get what you focus on. If you want more happiness, more money, or more meaningful relationships, a better life, you have to focus on what it takes to achieve it.

Roller Girl and I talked about our options, now knowing for certain she was pregnant. We could have an abortion. We could give it up for adoption. Or we could raise the child ourselves. I personally couldn’t fathom aborting, going through life wondering what our child would have looked like, acted like, and grown up to be like. That just wasn’t an option for me, and she was on the same page. So, that made it easier for both of us. We considered the adoption option, and we both agreed we would have a hard time with that, too. Going through life knowing that somewhere out there was our DNA, wondering how the child would grow up and what they would grow up into—what career would they have? What spiritual beliefs? What would their personality be like? What about their sexual orientation? At some point in life, we could be neighbors with our own offspring and not even know it! No, thank you. That left us with only one option: We would raise and nurture our child together.

Well, there we were. Roller Girl was pregnant, and we were going to be parents. Baggy shirts could no longer hide her slow-growing belly, and I had to let my parents know somehow. (My heart is pounding right now just thinking of this moment trying to figure out a plan to tell my parents that I got my Roller Girl pregnant—the memory brings back all the anxiety of that time.) After a few days of pondering the very best way to tell them, wanting to be sure to break the news in a mature, young-adult kind of way, I figured it out! I felt a heavy burden lift from my shoulders, my anxiety was relieved, and I felt much better. In planning how to break the news to my parents, I rehearsed every word. Anticipating their reactions and my responses to them made me feel like a real responsible man. Mmm-hmm, a man. A real responsible man!

Finally, the day to break the news came. I couldn’t let another day go by without telling my parents. I drove around town, willing myself to bravery and mustering up the nerve to tell them Roller Girl was pregnant. As I pulled into the driveway, well into the late hours of night, my heart was pumping fast, my chest was tight, and my stomach was full of butterflies (or maybe they were moths). When I got to the house, the nerves really kicked in, but I had to do what I had to do and tell them face-to-face. I walked in that front door, nervous but confidant. Walking past the kitchen to the living room, I turned left and went down the hallway and to their bedroom. Hi mom, hi dad, how’s it going? Whatcha doing? They were praying the rosary like they always do when getting ready for bed.

Well, I told myself, here goes nothing. Good thing they’re holding the blessed beaded prayers of Our Fathers and Hail Marys because they’re going to need it. I’m going to need it. We’re all going to need it. Do you have a minute? I have something to tell you. My heart started beating faster, my mind started racing with thoughts. Here I go. Here goes nothing. Here it is. Here it comes. I’m going to do it. I’m going to tell them: I just stopped in to say hi, I love you, and I want to let you know I’ll be spending the night at a friend’s house and didn’t want you to worry about me. Well, good night, love you both. Then I walked straight to the kitchen, grabbed a pen and piece of scratch paper and in a very mature, big boy manner, I wrote, I got Roller Girl pregnant. Be back when things cool down. Love you.

I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t tell them face-to-face. I surrendered. Three days later, I came home early in the morning, before anyone was up. I went straight to bed, exhausted from a late night. When I woke up late morning to get ready for work, I could hear some activity throughout the house. I was so nervous to look at my parents in the eye. I thought my dad was going to lose his mind and that my mom would take it with ease. But I was dead wrong.

While brushing my teeth in the bathroom with the door open, my dad approached me. He was very easygoing and supportive. He told me that they would help us in any way they could, that we would get through this, and it would be a good thing. I was relieved that my dad took it pretty cool because he was the one I was really worried about. The hard one was over, I thought, it was time to face my mom, the easy parent. But, oho shit, my mom could hardly look at me. In fact, I don’t think she did. She gave me the silent treatment with a defeated look on her face for at least a week, maybe two. I knew what she was thinking—they were still taking care of me, how in the world was I going to take care of a child? But luckily, everything settled down pretty quickly, and my mom and dad were very supportive in every way possible.

A Moment of Thanks

I can’t let another page go by without thanking my mom and dad. The support they gave me, Roller Girl, and our child was invaluable!

Summer ended, and I started my senior year at the alternative school. I passed my first semester with flying colors. My mom was super relieved and once again very proud of me. She told me that out of her five children, she was most concerned about me. She worried I wouldn’t graduate high school and would have a tough time in life. I replied with a smirk of laughter, thinking, Yep, me too.

With the responsibilities of a baby on the way, I worked as many hours as possible and saved the majority of my paycheck for baby items. I even worked double shifts on Fridays when the opportunity was there because I didn’t have school that day. Even though it was just making the minimum wage of $4.25 per hour as a dishwasher, I worked like I was earning $10 per hour. I had never heard of the term work ethic before I started that job, but I quickly found out I had a strong work ethic. I didn’t have to be told what to do. When the dishes were done, I cleaned counters. When the counters were clean, I organized the storage rooms. When the storage rooms were organized, I’d ask the cooks if there was anything I could do.

I didn’t realize this at the time, but I was actually displaying my ability and skills. I wasn’t aware of my skillset, but my natural work ethic made them identifiable and made them shine. I may have only been a dishwasher, but what I discovered and what others saw was someone who didn’t waste time. I utilized every movement with efficiency. I wanted to complete the most in the least amount of time.

One day while taking a food break, the assistant food and beverage manager shared with me a comment from the Hotel GM. During a manager’s meeting, he said he noticed whenever I was working everything was always clean and organized. My work ethic awarded me as the Employee of the Month and gave me my very first raise of $0.25. Wow! Now I was earning $4.50—plenty to raise family on! Hahaha!

My work ethic was still going strong on January 3, 1994, which turned out to be a day to remember. I was the only dishwasher working that night. The dining room was slow, the dishes were done, and everything was clean and organized. All I had to do before going home were the pots and pans. Then, the kitchen phone rang. The kitchen manager answered, and it was for me. I had a hunch, and when I answered the phone, I found out my hunch was right—Roller Girl was having contractions and was headed to the hospital.

Holy smokes, my Roller Girl is in labor! This is it, I need to get there, and fast. I went back to the dish room, kicked it in gear to quickly finish the pots and pans so I could head to the hospital and see the birth of my son. I didn’t want to miss that! The kitchen manager was kind of a nosey guy and got all up in my business. (Stupid joke, sorry. He just asked with inquisitive concern.) He asked me what the phone call was all about. I told him that my Roller Girl had gone into labor and was taken to the hospital. The baffled look he gave me said it all. He told me to clock out and get to the hospital. The birth of a child is one of the biggest events of a person’s life, and there I was thinking I couldn’t leave my extremely important job washing dishes until the kitchen closed and I’d finished cleaning all the pots and pans. How would they have ever managed it without me?

I left work and rushed to the hospital. My body filled with a high level of excitement and energy. I drove as fast as I could, within the legal limits, of course. I needed to get