My Story: Why I Do This the Way I Do

You wouldn’t know by looking, but I grew up feeling different from everyone around me.

Our home carried a tension I could feel long before I could understand it.

My Father

As a boy, I never understood why my father carried so much anger and bitterness.

But the truth is, he earned every scar.

He spent three years of his boyhood in a Nazi concentration camp.

He was just a child.

Small enough to disappear in a crowd.

But old enough to understand how cruel the world could be.

His father was killed in the Battle of Moscow when my dad was only two years old.

His mother and two brothers survived the ordeal.

When the war ended and he reached America at nine years old, he could not speak a single word of English.

Not one.

He arrived with a German name, a German accent, and blond hair and blue eyes that marked him before he ever said a word.

Kids mocked him, picked fights with him, and blamed him for a war he did not start.

Then came the orphanage: five punishing years of predawn chores, shoveling coal into a stove, milking cows, and hard labor he never chose.

He tried to run away three times.

Each time they caught him, beat him, and dragged him back.

So no, he did not flinch.

He made my brother and me flinch.

He carried his trauma like a weapon, proof the universe had cheated him and owed him something back.

He was angry.

Bitter.

Certain life had given him a raw deal.

All of it, the weight and the heat, rolled downhill into our home and into my childhood.

I grew up under a past that never left him.

My brother and I learned early to be careful around him.

That environment shaped how I saw the world.

Growing Up Different

My hearing loss was there early, before anyone knew what it was.

As a toddler, my mom noticed I didn't always respond when she spoke to me.

She took me from one specialist to another, trying to understand why I seemed to live in my own quiet world.

Years passed before the truth finally surfaced: I had a profound hearing loss.

By second grade, I was fitted with a behind-the-ear hearing aid.

As a preschooler, I also had a slight speech impediment.

Words with the letter "R" came out sounding like "W."

The kids on the school bus noticed right away.

They would shout, "Hey Paul, you waskerley wabbit!"

They thought it was funny.

But to a young kid who already felt different, every laugh landed hard.

I grew painfully aware that I wasn't like the other kids.

I kept my hair a little long to hide my hearing aid.

I was shy, socially awkward, and constantly trying to cover how inadequate I felt.

Most kids learn how to blend in.

I learned how to disappear.

Still, I tagged along with friends who were into sports.

On a field or court, my hearing loss didn't matter.

Effort mattered.

Heart mattered.

It was the one place where I felt like I could keep up, where the rules made sense, and where nobody cared whether I talked funny or wore something behind my ear.

Even then, I was still an introvert trying to fit into a world that didn't feel built for me, but sports gave me a small space where I felt like I belonged.

College

After high school, I headed to Lees-McRae College in the mountains of North Carolina.

I didn't yet know what I wanted to do with my life, but I could keep playing football.

The Lees-McRae Bobcats had a tough football program. While I was there, our team won the East Bowl and a JUCO national championship.

Things were different back then. Fall camp was brutal. No students on campus yet, only players and coaches.

In the beginning, we practiced four times a day.

Some guys couldn't handle it.

The older players called it taking the Night Train.

They packed up and left in the middle of the night, never to be seen again.

As the season went on, we practiced in the snow.

The weather was miserable, but movement kept you warm.

As long as I kept moving, I could push through the wind and the cold.

My college ID. Sunburned from football practice.

After two years, I transferred to East Carolina University. Bigger campus. New energy. A fresh start. I loved it!

I still didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I started as a Business major, but I was so far behind the times I didn't even know how to turn on a computer.

Too embarrassed to ask for help in the computer lab, I eventually changed majors and switched to Psychology.

I wanted a better financial future than the one I grew up with, but I didn't know how to get there.

That's me on the left, after a weightlifting workout.

Hyperhidrosis

On top of everything else, I dealt with hyperhidrosis, excessive sweating of my hands, underarms, and feet.

I changed clothes constantly, avoided handshakes, and dreaded summer.

Every night in bed, I prayed and begged God to heal me.

It absolutely dominated my life.

After moving to Arkansas, I found a specialist in Little Rock.

Surgery changed everything.

My feet still sweat a little in the summer, but the constant embarrassment is gone.

I am deeply grateful.

Thank you, Lord!

Years later, I would learn there was a name for my condition.

It’s called BOR Syndrome.

A genetic condition that affects the ears, neck, and kidneys.

My ears are constantly ringing.

Our wedding day, November 23, 1999.

"The Business"

My first exposure to Amway came when I was a kid.

My parents were involved for several years. Since they could not afford a babysitter, they took my little brother and me with them to meetings and rallies.

I remember the atmosphere.

Upbeat. Positive. Patriotic.

My mom would cut pictures out of magazines and tape them to the refrigerator.

Many years later, after I transferred to East Carolina University, I came across Amway again.

I had joined a gym near campus and got to know the owner.

One day, while I was working out, I saw him using an Amway spray bottle to clean the mirrors.

Not long after that, I decided to get involved.

I started going to hotel meetings and attending major functions with 20,000 people there.

I read the books and listened to the tapes.

They taught us how to talk to people.

They called it F.O.R.M.

Family, Occupation, Recreation, Money.

I struggled with it.

I was an introvert.

I had hearing loss.

I was already self-conscious.

I was dealing with hyperhidrosis.

I avoided attention when I could.

We were given phone scripts.

If someone asked, “Is this Amway?” we were taught to avoid the question.

That never felt right to me.

I made the calls.

I talked to people.

I did the best I could.

Toward the end, my sponsor, who had reached the Direct level, told me how the people at the top made most of their money.

It was not only the products.

They were also making money off the books, tapes, and functions.

I could not ignore it.

It did not feel right to me.

So I walked away from "The Business."

Mrs. Gravely and AIM

For years, Mrs. Gravely and AIM were in the background of my life.

My mother met Janice Gravely through a monthly Christian Women’s Club meeting.

Mom told me Mrs. Gravely would often fall asleep during the meetings.

At the time, her health was not what it used to be.

That always stuck with me.

Mrs. Gravely and me.

At some point, she introduced BarleyLife to my mother.

I would sometimes go to Mrs. Gravely’s house to pick it up for my mom.

I didn’t think much about it at the time.

But it stayed in the background.

Eventually, I found out she was a graduate of UCLA and an international speaker.

Her story was featured on Paul Harvey and published in Reader's Digest and Guideposts.

She had lived a full and accomplished life.

By her mid-seventies, her health had declined.

At one point, her family was considering hiring a full-time nurse.

Then something changed.

Little by little, her health improved.

She lived another twenty-five years.

She passed away at 99 years old.

She didn’t share what she found because she needed the money.

She shared it because it made a difference in her life.

That stayed with me.

Starting Out in Arkansas

After Laura and I got married, I moved to Arkansas.

I worked for a company called Nystrom.

I called on schools across Arkansas.

I sold maps, globes, and educational materials.

Several times a year, I flew to company meetings in Chicago, Atlanta, and Houston.

On paper, it was a good job.

But it never really felt right to me.

And I was away from home more than I wanted to be.

I knew what that would cost me over time.

When our son was born a few years later, it became even clearer.

I wanted more time with my family, not less.

After a while, I stopped doing that.

I started a lawn care business.

I also drove a school bus.

I did this for several years.

Working hard, doing what needed to be done.

I was exhausted most of the time.

I didn’t want a future where I was always gone and worn out from doing yard work.

And when I got home, I was too tired to do anything with my son.

So I sold my lawncare equipment and only drove a school bus.

It was the only job I’ve had where I didn’t feel like I had a boss.

Most people would call that a step backward.

For me, it was one of the best decisions I ever made.

I was there as my son grew up.

I didn’t miss any of the moments that mattered.

It Never Left Me

During all those years, I always had network marketing in the back of my mind.

It never went away.

I understood leverage.

I understood how time compounds.

Not every dollar has to come from you being there.

I knew network marketing worked.

I simply had to figure out a way to make it work for me.

I didn’t have a sponsor who could teach me marketing.

So I had to teach myself.

I bought books, audios, and courses.

I invested thousands of hours.

And thousands of dollars.

Over time, a few things became clear to me.

Any attempt to persuade people creates resistance.

I was not looking for everyone.

I was looking for the right ones.

This was not a convincing process.

It was an elimination process.

That shift changed everything.

How I Work Now

I’m not a network marketing superstar.

I’m a dad, a husband, and a businessman.

I spent years learning what does not work.

And what finally does.

So what do I do?

I do this in a simple way.

No hype.

No chasing.

No convincing.

Just sorting.

Why I Shared My Story

I’m not a victim.

Life hit hard.

Hearing loss.

Health challenges.

Money pressure.

I’m still standing.

And I’m better for having gone through it.

I wasn’t willing to stay where I was.

So I changed how I approached this.

It starts with something simple.

A small 3x2 card.

It’s for people who know that Sunday night feeling.

You’re already tired thinking about it.

“How much longer can I keep doing this?”

If this makes sense to you, you’ll know.

If it doesn’t, that’s okay too.