Well, I guess Love and Death is over,” said my bass player, Val, with a smirk as I stepped off the bus to find him standing there, smoking what was most likely his twenty-fourth cigarette of the morning. “You’re going back to KoRn, aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” I said, waving a cloud of smoke away. “And get that smoke out of my face.” I laughed and changed the subject. “Come on. Let’s go sound check.” The truth was, I didn’t know what I was going to do, and I was in no mood to talk about it. But everyone else was.
“Well, well, well,” said my drummer, Dan, as Valentine and I walked into the club where the sound crew was setting up. “I can’t believe we weren’t at the show where you jump onstage and play with KoRn for the first time in, what, eight years?”
“Look. I didn’t know it was gonna happen,” I said, laughing. I wasn’t going to let these guys goad me into anything. “How was I supposed to know they were gonna invite me onstage to play?”
“Well, if you go back to KoRn, you’d better bring us with you,” Dan joked.
“I’m not going back to KoRn,” I said flatly. “You guys are idiots. Now come on, let’s sound check.”
The rest of the tour went pretty well, and after a few weeks all the Internet insanity over the big KoRn reunion died down. I didn’t hear from Munky, Fieldy, or Jonathan the rest of the tour, so I tucked the experience away. By the time the tour wrapped up, Jennea and I were both exhausted and anxious to get back home to chill for a while.
And chill we did. Actually, I chilled in Nashville. Jennea went to my parents’ house out in Bakersfield to spend some time with them and her cousins.
I wasn’t even home a week when something extraordinary happened. I was listening to some instrumental spiritual music that helps me focus on the reality of the spiritual world, along with some teaching messages about Christ’s glory, and I suddenly felt that familiar, tangible presence begin to come all around and inside of me. It was so strong and so consistent, and an overwhelming feeling of being caught up or taken into another realm surrounded me, as if dozens of angels were in my house. It felt like I was literally drunk with a love that can’t be experienced from the earth—something only tapped into through Jesus in the spiritual dimension. It was so real.
The whole experience lasted about a month, which was longer than any of my previous experiences. Truly like heaven on earth.
It was during that time that I got the phone call from Munky.
“You know, we’re hitting the studio soon to start writing for our new record,” Munky said a few minutes into our call. “What do you think about coming down and trying to write with us? See what happens?”
“That’s cool,” I said. “But I don’t think it’s the right time for that now. I just signed a record deal with my other band. Thanks for thinking of me, though, bro.”
“Well, I just want you to know that it’s great to be connected to you again either way.” Then he added, “Just think about it. If you change your mind, let us know.”
“Will do. Thanks, man, really. It’s so great to be talking with you again,” I said. And I genuinely meant it.
Tempting as it was to take Munky up on his offer, there were a few issues that I just couldn’t reconcile. One of them was Jonathan. He was not in good shape in his personal life, and I knew it. A drug abuser knows a drug abuser, and that dude was abusing drugs. I didn’t know what kind, but I knew it was something. I was not worried about myself slipping back into drug use. I was and still am done. Completely. Free in every way. But I didn’t want to come back into a band where there was drug abuse going on right in front of me.
I tried to let the whole idea go and get on with my life, but for some reason it kept popping back into my head. I fought it for a couple of days, and then I decided I should do the smart thing and talk to God about it.
God, this isn’t going away. KoRn seems to be everywhere I go. No matter what I’m doing, KoRn is there in my face in one way or another. I ran away from it, and now here it is again. What should I do? Could this be you doing something here?
Eventually I came up with what I considered to be a foolproof plan.
I decided that I would call the band’s managers and tell them that if I’d ever consider coming back to KoRn, there’d be a few things that would have to happen before I agreed to it. I figured there was no way they’d agree to everything I asked for, and that would be the end of it.
See? Foolproof.
I was brimming with confidence when I called Jeff Kwatinetz, KoRn’s manager.
“Hey, Jeff, it’s been a long time,” I said.
“Hey, buddy, how’ve you been?” he asked. “It’s great to hear your voice.”
“I’m good, man. I’ve just been raising my daughter for the last few years. Now I’m wondering if maybe this KoRn thing is supposed to happen. It’s wild,” I said, laughing. “I’ve been runnin’ away from you guys for eight years, and now here we are.”
“Well, we love you, bro,” Jeff assured me. “We’d all love to have you back.”
Here goes, I thought.
“Well, I have a few questions. I have this new band, Love and Death, and we just signed a record deal. We need to tour, so if I came back, would it be cool for us to get on the KoRn tours like Fieldy’s band has in the past?”
“Sure, bro, that’s no problem,” Jeff said without so much as a pause. “We can definitely make that happen.”
“Okay . . . cool,” I said, caught a little off guard. I hadn’t expected him to agree to that so quickly. “Well, as I said, I’ve been raising my daughter for the last eight years, and I’ve given my entire life to Christ, so there are one or two songs that I’d rather not play. It would just be awkward for me as a dad, ya know?”
“Bro, of course. You guys have dozens of songs, so everyone can bend a little to compromise. Whatever makes everyone happy,” Jeff responded.
Whoa. I did not see that coming. Apparently my plan wasn’t as foolproof as I thought. Or was it? In the end, Jeff agreed to every other request I brought up.
Maybe this call with Jeff was the sign I’d been waiting for.
But just to be sure, I decided to seek out the advice of a few other people. The first was Pastor Ron from the church in Bakersfield where I had first met the Lord.
“Hey, Brian, great to hear from you!” Pastor Ron said as soon as he heard my voice. “How are you doing?”
“I’m doing good. Something has come up though. KoRn has asked me to come back,” I explained. “And this time, their managers have agreed to my requests, and to take my solo band on the road with them. Got any advice for me?”
I was totally unprepared for his answer.
“Brian, Debbie and I have been praying that you’d go back to KoRn for a while now. This is your family. There are so many of your fans that hate the thought of Jesus because of coldhearted religious people. You can help change that if you go back.”
“Wow,” I said, genuinely taken aback. “I’m not sure I expected to hear that from you.” I paused for a second. “I think maybe it’s time though. Things are lining up perfectly.”
“Well, we back you 100 percent, Brian. If you need anything, just call.”
One down, two to go.
Next, I called my friend Nicole Miethe. She and her husband, Hayden, were great friends of mine. I first noticed them at an event in Nashville right after we moved to town. They were hard to miss because they looked wild like me with lots of tattoos and funky hair. Hayden even had one of those big ole beards like the Duck Dynasty guys, which is pretty funny because he’s also a rapper in a band called Vinyl Jones and the Domestic but doesn’t look like the typical rapper-type. They’re also involved with media like me. In fact, when we met, they were shooting the pilot for their forthcoming reality show about their family (complete with eight children) to various networks.
Anyway, Nicole has one of the strongest spiritual gifts I’ve ever witnessed. She hears, sometimes shockingly, accurate words of destiny for people from God’s Spirit. I thought it would be a good idea to run the whole scenario past her to see what she thought. I told her about the Carolina Rebellion concert, the conversation I had with Sonny, and the call I’d had with Jeff.
“I feel like all the pieces are lining up,” I said, already knowing that of all people, Nicole would completely understand where I was coming from.
She agreed. “This has destiny written all over it, Brian. You could be such an incredible influence on people. I feel really good about this. God is doing so many different things that are outside of the normal church mentality nowadays.”
Okay, that’s two.
The last person on my list was my dreadlocked, tattooed pastor friend, Clint. Clint pastored a church in Nashville called SlowBurn, and I’d been going there for a couple of years. I thought he’d be in favor of me going back to KoRn, but after I brought him up to speed on the situation, he told me that he didn’t feel like it was the right time—which is what I initially told Munky.
Hmmm.
“I could totally see it happening someday, buddy,” he said. “Just not sure that the right time is now.”
I took it straight to God.
Lord, I really felt like I needed three different friends that I trust to all confirm that going back to KoRn would be a good call. But Clint has come back saying he’s unsure if now’s the right time. I really don’t feel comfortable moving forward with this yet. What do you want to do from here?
Take note: this may seem weakminded on my end to some people, but the foundation of God’s entire system is humility, and in the spiritual realm these types of actions regarding big decisions carry much weight and significance.
About a week later I went out to my birthday lunch with Nicole, Hayden, and Clint. As soon as Clint arrived at the restaurant, he came right up to me and said, “Hey, buddy, I gotta tell you, I’ve been praying a lot about what we discussed and the more I think about it, the more I’m starting to feel good about the timing of it all. How are you feeling about everything?”
Before I could respond, Nicole chimed in. “Clint, we feel the same thing. This is what Brian was created for. The circumstances are all falling into place for him.”
“Definitely,” added Hayden. “Brian, I think this is exactly where people like us need to be. Churches are full of people being fed spiritually, and a lot of them hardly do anything to make any impact. Things like this need to happen.”
“I agree,” I added. “I’ve been seeing this direction open up ever since I got onstage with the KoRn guys. But it sure feels good to have all of you backing me up.”
This was turning out to be one awesome birthday.
I felt so good inside because I really started to own my decision in my heart about returning to KoRn after talking to my friends. And I needed to feel extremely strong inside about it because I knew I would face a lot of naysayers throwing mud at me over the decision in the near future.
Right after lunch, someone forwarded me an e-mail from a girl named Jennifer, who saw me play “Blind” with KoRn at the Carolina Rebellion festival. She was wasted at the show, but when she got home, God reached out to her and touched her. Here’s what she wrote:
The day Rebellion started we were back at our tent grabbing some beers before going back over to the venue, and we were handed a flyer for a free event in Charlotte, which one of the bands at Rebellion was going to be playing at. Brian “Head” Welch, the ex-guitarist of KoRn, and his new band were playing in Charlotte also. Actually, KoRn was also playing at Rebellion, and I had never been a fan since Brian had left. So when I saw that he was going to be at this event, I was in! Well, to my surprise, at the end of KoRn’s set, Brian Welch reunited and played with them for the first time in eight years. Well, this all intrigued me so much that as soon as I got home I ordered his autobiography and dived in, which is saying a lot, because I hated reading even something as short as magazine articles!
I cannot find the words to begin to describe the feelings that flushed through me reading his life story and all that God had done for him. I completed his book on the nineteenth of May and went to bed with so much weighing on my mind. I woke up the next morning, Sunday, May 20, 2012, and went to church for the first time willingly in over twenty years. I no longer had any fight left inside me and no one else to turn to but God. I had Brian “Head” Welch’s book Save Me from Myself held tightly to my left side, as close to my heart as it could be. For through Brian, God had brought me to this church of complete strangers, knowing I was supposed to be there.
I found the chair farthest away from people, closest to the back, wanting to be noticed and not at the same time. The entire drive there, I told God that he had to give me a sign that I was really supposed to be there. Once I got there, I began to plead with him to send someone to me, because I didn’t have the strength to find someone myself. In actuality, I was scared!
Well, of course, he spoke to me through the pastor’s sermon. So, of course, I sat and listened. Then the end came, they all prayed, and boom—church was over. I dropped my head in defeat feeling even more alone. I just began to beg him to send someone to me and then told myself that if no one came to me, I would wait until I no longer heard any voices, and then I’d leave when no one could see me, because that is exactly how I felt—invisible—and now, even more unwanted than I had ever felt before in my life. I was confused as to why God had done so much to get me there, yet was not sending anyone to me.
Finally, with only a handful of people left in the Sanctuary, a woman placed her hand on my back. I cried, relieved that I wasn’t invisible, and that he heard me and sent someone to me. In fact, it was the woman’s twelve-year-old daughter who saw me and told her mom to go and talk to me. Pauline began to talk to me to see if she could help me or figure out what was wrong. She then went to find whoever she could to come and talk with me.
Thanks to God sending me Brian and his story and for sending me Pauline. That morning, around 12:15 p.m., with Pauline at my side, the pastor led me in prayer to accept the Lord into my heart and SAVE ME!
As I sat in my car after lunch in the parking lot just outside of the restaurant and read Jennifer’s letter, everything clicked for me—any doubts I had left in my mind finally vanished right then and there. Through Jennifer, Jesus showed me a picture of what he was going to do with countless other fans. I was completely floored and humbled, and I sat there in my car in tears at the thought of how good, nonreligious, and nontraditional God’s wild ways are.
There was just one more person I needed to talk to—Jennea.
Over the years, whenever KoRn’s managers would reach out to me about coming back, Jennea had always been the one to say, “No, Dad! Don’t go back in KoRn!” And who could blame her? I wasn’t exactly winning father-of-the-year awards back then. Not only was I away from home a lot, but I was also so strung out on drugs that even when I was at home, I was never fully present. Besides, when I left I had told Jennea it was so that we could spend more time together. If I were to go back, what kind of message would that send? Still, she was older now and a lot more independent. And she did get a kick out of seeing me perform onstage with KoRn again.
There was no use putting it off. Jennea was still at my parents’ house, so I gave her a call and just came out with it after a few minutes of small talk.
“Nea,” I began, “since Carolina Rebellion, I’ve been talking to the KoRn guys about possibly coming back. What do you think?” I held my breath.
“I think it would be awesome!” Jennea said, sounding genuinely excited.
I have to admit, I was a little surprised—again.
“Well, you always said no way over the years, so why do you think it’s a good idea now?” I asked.
“You saw them, Dad,” she said. “Everyone is happy now, and sober. Love and Death plays music that sounds a little like KoRn anyway, so I think it would be great. Besides, they’re your best friends.”
She had a point. Things were different now. I was still concerned about Jonathan, but everyone else seemed to be doing really great.
I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure if Jennea’s enthusiasm was because she really thought it was the right thing to do or if it was because of all the free concerts and festivals she’d get to go to. But either way, I was glad she was fully on board.
That night I texted Munky, Jonathan, and Fieldy so we could set a date for all of us to get together at KoRn’s studio in Bakersfield.
Hey, I talked to Jeff. Looks like this is gonna actually happen!
This is crazy. Let’s set a date soon to jam, cool?
Within minutes, all three of them texted me back.
I love you, brother. This is amazing; I can’t believe this is happening. I feel all giddy, lol.—JD
Right on, man, can’t wait!—Munky
Yeah, man!!!—Fieldy
Since we were all eager to get started and KoRn’s studio was in Bakersfield, where Jennea was already staying with my parents, I hopped on a plane a few days later. I don’t know what I was more excited about: jamming with the guys or seeing Jennea sooner than we had originally planned.
When I got there, my parents were almost as excited as I was. That made sense. They had known the KoRn guys for more than twenty-five years. They were like family. In fact, my dad told me that the day after I made my surprise appearance onstage at the Rebellion festival, he saw the video online and was so overcome with emotion that he shed some tears. I took this as one more sign that this was the right thing to do. That felt pretty amazing.
It got even better the next day when we all met at the studio to start writing. As soon as I walked in, I noticed guitars, amplifiers, and all sorts of musical instruments and equipment sprawled all over the place. It was just like I remembered it: messy and dark—exactly what a rock-and-roll studio should look like.
“Man, this place is a wreck,” I joked.
“Yeah, but it’s all ours,” Munky said.
“True,” I agreed. “It’s got a great vibe to it.” It did bring back memories.
“I remember recording vocals for ‘Ball Tongue’ with Jonathan and our producer Ross for our first album back in 1994 in this same exact room,” I reminisced. “We made Ross take us on a drug run without him knowing it, and when he found out, he was fuming!” I couldn’t help but chuckle at how stupid I used to be. Man, I’d come a long way since then.
As we stood around talking and laughing about the old days, it was almost as though not a single day had passed. Eight years later, the connection between Munky, Fieldy, and me was just as strong as it had ever been.
A few minutes later, Ray showed up. David Silveria, the original drummer for KoRn, had left the band back in 2006, and Ray was the new drummer. I was looking forward to working with him, mainly because of his positive personality and attitude.
“What’s up, guys? You ready to rock this?” Ray said with a big smile.
“Yeah.” I reached out to shake his hand. “I’m so stoked to work with you. I’ve heard a lot of great things about you from these dudes.”
“Oh, right on, man,” he said, nodding. “I really appreciate being in this situation. Believe me, I don’t take it lightly. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to sit back and watch four original KoRn members going nuts in front of me while I play the drums.”
When we started jamming out our first song idea, everything clicked just as it always had, but better. Having Ray playing with us was very refreshing. David was awesome back in the day, too, but Ray really helped me feel relaxed. I also quickly learned that he had all kinds of funny David Lee Roth (Van Halen) impressions from touring with Roth for eight years, so that was a bonus.
Nothing, however, could compare to the musical connection I felt with Munky. There’s just something that happens when Munky and I play guitar together. It’s like we’re twins or something. Everything he plays blends perfectly with what I’m doing, and vice versa. And Fieldy’s bass has always gone beautifully with our style. He and Ray were doing ridiculous tricks in the rhythm section from the start. It was a great jam session, and by the end of that first week, we all knew that it was all gonna work out great.
The only strange thing was that Jonathan only came to the studio for about five minutes in the beginning, and then he was MIA for the rest of the time. Since his issues were one of the only lingering concerns I had about coming back to the band, I decided to call him and see where he was, health-wise and emotionally. I’m glad I did.
“Hey, brother,” he said, sounding exhausted. “I’m sorry I can’t come down. I need to detox from these prescription pills I’ve been taking. I’ve been addicted to Xanax and some other medications. Plus, my son Zeppy was just diagnosed with diabetes, and I’m freaking out. I just need to get better, bro.”
“I’ve been there. You know that,” I said. “Listen, I’ll be praying for you. You get yourself better. We need you.”
I wished there was something more I could do for him, but I knew the best thing I could do right then was pray for him and trust that everything would work out.
In the meantime, Fieldy, Munky, Ray, and I got together off and on and recorded all kinds of song ideas for our new record. We’d usually jam out for three or four days and then come back the following week. After the second week we’d take a break and then come back a month later. Every so often we’d all flock to my parents’ house for dinner. My dad is famous for his tri-tip steak, and my mom makes some killer side dishes, so we were eating like kings. Fieldy’s mom and stepdad also lived in Bakersfield, so we’d eat there too. It was seriously just like old times. In fact, with the exception of Jonathan’s absence, things couldn’t have gone better. Then one day, out of nowhere, I got sick with the flu, had a little panic attack, and started questioning whether I was making a huge mistake. It was weird. It was like panic fell out of the sky and landed on me all of a sudden and I was like, “What am I doing back in KoRn?!”
I texted Nicole, and she called me right away and prayed for clarity. In the end, I figured it was just the flu making me feel confused, and after talking with Nicole I could see clearly again that I was doing the right thing.
One bad day didn’t mean I was going in the wrong direction. It just meant I was having a bad day. I really should have been thankful I’d only had one bad day because Jonathan was having dozens of them.
And lately Jennea was having a few of her own.
I knew she was having trouble during our Love and Death tour, and I was hoping that spending a few weeks away from all of us at my parents’ house might help even things out a bit, but it didn’t. She was still spending far too much time holed up on her own, texting and tweeting her old friends from Arizona. Plus, over the past several weeks, I had noticed a definite shift in her attitude toward me both in person and on text.
We started butting heads more than ever before, and we got into some really horrible fights. In the last chapter of my book Save Me from Myself, I wrote about the shouting prayers I had with God when I was going through an especially trying emotional time, and I mentioned a dark moment when I actually screamed “F—you” to God. I also wrote that if Jennea were to ever say anything like that to me, I would forgive her so fast, just as God forgave me.
Well, I was about to live that out in real life.
One afternoon while Jennea and I were back in Nashville, we got into it over . . . actually, I can’t even remember what we were fighting about. I just remember that I was really stressed out trying to juggle music, traveling, financial untangling, being a single dad, and staying on top of Jennea, her schoolwork, and her chores. More often than not, I’d choose the wrong words or say something in the wrong tone, and it would set her off. (She gets that from me, by the way.) One day our bad moods collided, and in the middle of a heated argument she got up and stormed out of the house. I ran outside after her and yelled at her to get back in the house. Then, instead of defusing the situation with love, I said something I probably shouldn’t have, and that’s when she hit me with it.
“F—you!” she screamed.
“What did you say?” I asked, my entire body tensing up.
She paused for a second and then buried her face in her hands and wept. I think she was every bit as shocked as I was to hear those words come out of her mouth. I also think it overwhelmed her a little to realize just how badly our relationship had deteriorated.
I wish I could say that was the worst of it, but it was only the beginning. We had so many fights back then, it was hard to keep track of them all. Pretty much anything could set us off. Sometimes just me messing with her too much—trying to be funny—would start a fight. Or we’d fight because she wouldn’t do her schoolwork, or because she was spending too much time on her phone or on Facebook.
Man, the Facebook thing again. It drove me crazy. I had begun to suspect particular girls weren’t helping the situation. And then there were the boys—some of whom she didn’t even know. They were just friends with her other friends. I had made it clear to Jennea that I didn’t want her talking to boys until she was older, but she insisted that they were only friends, so I let it slide. Sometimes I was just a pushover. Big mistake.
One day while Jennea was in the shower, I noticed her iPhone sitting on her nightstand. When I picked it up, I saw a trail of, let’s just say, extremely inappropriate text messages.
I was quickly losing control of the one person I trusted God to keep closest to himself. It felt like my insides had been ripped out. I couldn’t hold my emotions together, and the tears started falling. Where did I go wrong? Why am I such a failure as a dad?
I was completely devastated. I think it really freaked Jennea out too. When I confronted her with what I’d found, tears streaming down my face, instead of getting all defiant like she usually did, she rushed over, wrapped her arms around me, and started apologizing profusely.
“Dad, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I won’t ever do it again. I promise. Please don’t be upset.” Then she started crying.
At that moment everything I had asked God to do for my daughter over the years seemed like empty, unanswered prayers. I was so confused, but I had to make a serious choice. Would I be so offended that I’d shrink away from God? Or would I trust that he would answer all those prayers in his timing?
I chose to trust and wait patiently in my pain and confusion.
In the meantime, I made it abundantly clear to Jennea that she was, under no circumstances, to have any contact with the kids she was texting—ever again. Needless to say, that ultimatum did nothing to improve the atmosphere around our house.
For the remainder of 2012, our lives consisted of traveling from our home in Tennessee to Bakersfield, where I continued to work with Munky, Fieldy, and Ray on KoRn’s new album. Jennea traveled with me, and while it wasn’t all doom and gloom, that dark cloud over her head always seemed to come back. It was so painful to watch her sink lower and lower into depression. I tried to talk to her, but I never seemed to have the right words to say. I always seemed to make matters worse.
We talked about getting her into counseling, but she was dead set against it.
“No, Dad. We can work this out. I’ll be okay. I just need some time,” she would argue.
I so wanted to believe her, and for a while I did. Until one day I noticed something different about her arms.
She had started cutting herself.
That was the limit. Like it or not, she was going to counseling. I had tried having her talk to a counselor a couple of times shortly after moving to Nashville because she was having trouble connecting with other kids her age, but the counselor hadn’t felt like a good fit to Jennea. So, as I had done so many times before, I went to Jesus to find out what to do.
God, I need help with Jennea. I need help quick!
Take note: a lifestyle of continued communication with God always produces results.
A few days later I was texting a friend of ours named Wendy, asking for advice, and out of nowhere she had a revelation.
Brian! I cannot believe I didn’t think of this until now! I think I have someone for Jennea to meet who may be a big help!
Really? Fill me in.
I have a friend named Cristi who is a counselor. I think she would be perfect for Jennea to talk to! Here’s her number.
Okay, thanks!
Filled with new hope, I wasted no time in getting ahold of Cristi.
“Hi . . . Cristi?” I started. “This is Brian Welch. Wendy gave me your number and said you might be able to help me with my daughter, Jennea.”
“Hi, Brian! Nice to meet you.” She sounded very sweet. “So did Wendy tell you anything about me?”
“No, not much,” I answered. “Just that you counsel young people mostly.”
“Yeah, I work with a lot of young adults. I actually fly to LA a lot and work with a few teens in the entertainment industry.”
Well, I thought, that helps.
“I work in LA, but I live here in Nashville. I’ve toured with my daughter and her friends in their band when they were around Jennea’s age, so I’m really looking forward to meeting you two.”
“Yeah, us too.” Now she had me curious. “What band is your daughter in?” I asked.
“Paramore,” Cristi said.
Whoa! Paramore was one of Jennea’s favorite bands.
“Awesome! How soon can you see us?” I asked.
We made an appointment for early the following week. I was so excited. Not only did Cristi specialize in working with teens in the entertainment industry, but she was the mom of the lead singer of one of Jennea’s favorite bands. If Jennea was going to let anyone into her life to help her, Cristi would be the one. Once again, God’s hand was all over our circumstances, and for the first time in months I started to feel like everything was going to be okay.
The first counseling session went pretty well, but it was clear we still had a long way to go. Jennea believed lies about herself and about me, and they clouded her view of reality.
“Jennea, do you believe that your dad loves you?” Cristi asked about halfway through our session that first day.
“No, I don’t think he loves me,” Jennea answered sternly. “I think he only cares for me because he has to.”
Ouch.
“You don’t think I love you?” I replied, flabbergasted. “How can you say that? I left my entire career to take care of you. My whole life revolves around you. I do love you; it makes no sense for you to say that.”
Jennea sat silent and shrugged her shoulders. I looked over at Cristi, who was giving me a look that said, It’s okay, stay calm. I’ve got this.
“Jennea, what goals do you have for your life at this point?” Cristi asked, momentarily defusing the tension in the room.
“Well, I wanna get one of those old vans and live in it so I can tour with my own band all the time when I’m old enough,” she answered.
“Jennea, I’m sorry,” I interrupted. “But I have much bigger dreams for you than touring in an old van. Besides, I don’t want my daughter living out of a van as a homeless person.”
Cristi and I tried to speak into Jennea’s life about all the future greatness she was capable of, but Jennea’s walls were built up so high that no quick fix was going to break them down. I was frustrated by what I’d heard, but I had to quickly learn to celebrate the small victories; at least Jennea was willing to talk to Cristi. That was a huge step. The ironic thing about all this was when I was around Jennea’s age, my mom put me into counseling for being distant from our family, and I acted very similar to how Jennea acted in Cristi’s session.
Before we left, Cristi put together a plan. Since we would be traveling back and forth between Nashville and Bakersfield for a few more months, Jennea would start doing weekly Skype appointments with Cristi. Amazingly, Jennea was open to that.
Cristi also had a plan in place for me.
“Brian, if things don’t start to get better soon, or if she starts harming herself again, we’re going to have to hit the nuclear button and get her some serious, long-term help, okay?”
“Got it,” I told her. “Here’s hoping it doesn’t come to that.”
Over the next few weeks, things started to turn around. Jennea and Cristi kept up with their weekly Skype sessions, and I prayed that we’d be able to make it through all the difficulties without having to push the nuclear button. But just in case we didn’t, I started working on a plan B.
I had a friend named Tiffany who had been running a boarding school program for at-risk teens called Awakening Youth with her husband, Travis, and her mom and dad, Dee and Dean. I first met Tiffany and Travis at one of my solo concerts back in 2011. They had brought a bunch of kids they were working with to our concert because a couple of them were fans of mine. The cool thing was, I ended up meeting all the kids after the show, and they actually prayed for and encouraged me more than I encouraged them. Jennea got to meet all of them, too, and she had a great time—though she did mention to me that she could never be in a boarding school like those kids.
“Dad, if you ever tried to put me in a place like that, I would definitely disappear,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I’d run away for sure.”
Good to know.
Every once in a while after a big fight between me and Jennea, I would call Tiffany up and ask for advice. But after Cristi mentioned the nuclear button, I figured it couldn’t hurt to call Tiffany to ask her about her school and if she might have any openings the following year.
“Hi, Tiffany. It’s Brian,” I said, trying to sound upbeat. “How are you guys?”
“Hi, Brian. We’re good,” she answered. “How are things going with Jennea?”
“Well, it’s challenging, but we do have some decent days with no blow-ups, so that’s good.” Then I decided to come straight out with it. “I’ve just been thinking . . . if things get worse, what would you recommend? Would you have any openings next year if it came to that?”
“Well, it’s hard to tell because we have a couple of new girls coming in at the beginning of the year,” she said, sounding apologetic. “But we could discuss it in more detail if you really get serious about it.”
“Okay, well, I was just wondering,” I said. “I have her in counseling right now. Things will probably be okay. I’m just trying to put a back-up plan in place. You know. Just in case.”
I really did believe that Jennea would be okay and that she wouldn’t need to be sent off anywhere for more intensive therapy. I held on to that belief for dear life. After all, things were going well with Cristi, and the holidays were right around the corner. Jennea always loved going to my parents’ house for Christmas, and with everything going so well with KoRn, I had every hope that we would both have a great Christmas.
Little did I know, we were all about to experience the most difficult Christmas we’d ever had.