I'm Not Crazy

This picture is of me in Tartuffe. One more show today and then strike afterwards. Bye bye dress, pantyhose, high heels and drag queen make up...hello not shaving for days at a time, torn jeans, crocs and scratching my ass!

This past week I have also gotten addicted to an application on Facebook call Farm Town. Like I need something else to take time out of my day. eBay is enough and trying to keep up with cleaning the house and cooking. The best part is, I am alive and enjoying most of it.

My Life: So here I am in this loony bin and craving a cigarette and a drink. There are very few people here and I am allowed to walk around. It seems that it is a holding place where people are kept until someone decides where they are going to end up. My guess is either jail or the state mental ward. I want out! I didn't feel that anyone had the right to keep me locked up for trying to kill myself. It's my life and I should be able to do what I want with it as long as I don't physically hurt anyone else. (I still feel this way today).

I spent the first day walking around and wondering what next. The person behind the window couldn't answer any of my questions. I was fed and ignored. The next day I was sent in to see the shrink. Finally! She was a complete idiot and very easy to manipulate. She explained the procedure that I had to stay in this place for 3 days. I was furious and told her that if I didn't get out sooner that I would hang myself in my room. I was released that afternoon. I guess I was more than they wanted to deal with and I didn't have any insurance or money so why not let me go.

I had to call someone to come get me so I called Jim. I didn't think Ken would even want to see me. Jim came and picked me up. He told me that Ken had called the police and reported me missing. No one knew where I was until I called. I don't think the police even searched for me. Jim took me home to Stryker dog and Ken. Stryker was more excited to see me than Ken.

I spent the rest of that day and the next two days in bed. The pills I had taken had really messed up my body and I was quite ill. I heard voices in my head calling my name. I was sure that my dead father was calling out to me and asking me to join him. I didn't want to talk to anyone or see anyone. Ken went to play bingo.

Once I was back on my feet I had to get back to work. I barely talked and was very depressed. Sometime that next week Jim put together an intervention. He got together Ken, Janice, Rishi and himself and pretty much trapped me into talking about what I was going to do with my life. They told me how much they loved me and that it was hurting them to see me drinking myself to death. My response was I wanted to go back in the past and start over. That was the easy route, I thought. By the end of the intervention it was decided that I would get counseling from Whitman Walker Clinic on depression and go to AA meetings. I was going to hate every minute of it but decided to go along with the plan.

I found out where the AA meetings were and planned my first one. There were lots of gay meetings so that made it easier for me to go to one. I talked to Whitman Walker and they set up a counselor named Bob Kenney to see me.

The first AA meeting I went to I was scared to death. I walked into this church where all these men and women were sitting around a table and reading out loud from a book. I couldn't grasp what they were saying and felt like a deer in headlights. This was not going to be easy for me. I hated it and everyone in the room. Once the meeting was over I tried to get out quickly but a guy named Irving came up to me and welcomed me to the meeting. He asked me if it was my first time and asked me if I knew about the other meetings. He told me that my best bet was to go to an open discussion meeting at another church the next night. That is what I decided to do. Listening to people reading from a book was not going to help me, I thought.

The next night I went to the meeting and Irving was there. He made sure that I introduced myself to everyone. They were all so happy and cheerful. I just wanted to take a machine gun to all of them. no one could be this happy!!!! How could alcoholics be happy without drinking? I was sure that I had been through way more than anyone else there and that I drank twice as much as them. This was just another form of hell I had to endure.

After the meeting, Irving told me I needed a sponsor and that when I came back I should raise my hand and ask for one. I didn't want to go back again. I didn't want to see those phony people. I was still pissed that I was alive. Suicide never left my train of thought. I was constantly thinking of ways I could end my life...

Love & Peace,
Clayton

The Mess

I am so tired this morning. Last night after the show I went out with the cast to one of their homes and we had a karaoke party. I didn't get home until 2am and then the girls wouldn't let me sleep this morning. I feel like I have a horrible hangover and I didn't even drink anything. The party was fun though.

Today is another matinee and then one more weekend of being a woman. I'm getting used to the high heels but I don't think I could ever get used to the rest of the stuff that women have to wear. I'll be happy when it's over.

The next chapter of my story is painful to write.

My Life: I laid on the bed drinking my vodka and thinking that it was going to be my last night on earth. I was watching "Survivor" on TV. It was my favorite TV show and I thought to myself I'll never know who wins. I wasn't sad about leaving. I felt very content that I had done everything I was supposed to do. I wasn't going to miss anyone except my dog.

I had decided not to write a note. If I had, it might have gone like this:

Everyone,

I am freeing myself from all the pain of having to live on this earth. My body won't function without alcohol. My partner is angry with me on a daily basis. I'm broke and in debt up to my neck. My family never comes to visit me or even call. I always have to call them. I really don't have many friends. AIDS will probably take me anyway. My legs hurt, my head hurts and I no longer like who I am. People in general are just down right nasty and mean. I JUST CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE!

Clayton

I was going to go out like Marilyn Monroe. I fell asleep.

Time ticked away. I woke up and didn't know who or where I was. I had soiled myself and was in a strange bed. The only thing I was thinking was to get clean. I crawled (literally) on my hands and knees towards the bathroom. Once I made it to the tub it took every ounce of my strenght to get inside. The water felt nice and I cleaned my self off. Seconds felt like hours. I finished cleaning up and got out of the tub. My legs were like rubber and didn't want to function. I knew I was dying. I didn't want to be found dead naked so I put on some pants. The hotel room was a mess with a trail of human feces leading from the bed to the bathroom. It was like some really bad movie. I crawled towards the door. I blacked out.

By all means I should have died that night. I wanted to die that night!

I woke up.

I was on a stretcher in some sort of hospital. What the hell happened? This is not where I was supposed to be. How in the hell did I get here? There was no one by my side. I was alone in a hallway and I was strapped down. I called out and a nurse came up to me and forced me to drink some black liquid. It tasted like charcoal. She told me I had my stomach pumped and that the liquid would help clean out more of the poison. I asked to be unstrapped and she said it was for my own good. I was in hell!


I don't know how much time passed before someone found me and I woke up. Here is what I was told happened. Somehow or other I had opened the door to the hotel room and crawled to the elevator. I was found inside the elevator by a hotel clerk who called an ambulance. Because I had put on my pants with my wallet in my back pocket they could tell whom I was by my drivers license. The hotel let the police and emergency people into my room where they had found the empty sleeping pill bottle. I was taken to the hospital emergency room somewhere in D.C.

Being strapped on that gurney and feeling like my stomach had been turned inside out was not what I had planned. I asked them when I would get out of there and I was told that they were going to send me to a psychiatric facility. They asked me if there was anyone I needed to call and I told them no. I was taken from the hospital to the crazy ward and put into a room. There was no counseling, no explanations, no comfort.

I wanted to die. I wanted to die. I wanted to die...

Love & Peace,

Clayton

Hitting Rock Bottom

I am so tired this morning. I have been at the theater 7 days straight and today will be the 9th. One more show this afternoon and we get to take a break. Hooray. I am so far behind on everything.

Went to bed last night and our new baby wet the bed the minute we lied down. That was enough to wake us up for another hour.

Yard sales sucked this weekend. Why do people have yard sales when they only have trash to sell? Recycle people!

My Life: With the few items I had packed I started to set a plan in motion. Across the street from where we lived was a small wooded area so I thought I would go hide in the trees and drink myself into a drunken stupor. Then I thought of the bugs and the hard ground.

I finally decided I was running away from home and would just stick my thumb out and go where it takes me. I would leave my car behind and my boy Stryker. I didn't care about the eBay business, the house, or Ken. Hell, I didn't care about me anymore either.

Like a traveling hobo, I stuck out thumb at the first freeway entrance and got a ride within ten minutes. The guy was going to DC and he would drop me off there. Once there I wandered the streets for a bit. I was trying to make a plan in my head but nothing was coming together. I walked to the train station to check out the cost of tickets to Vegas or anywhere else. I was shocked at the prices and I didn't want to spend that much money right away. I needed a plan first.

I then walked to the YMCA in DC so I could get some rest. It was something like 12.00 for the day and you could stay for 8 hours. I layed around and sat around to hatch things out in my head. One thing kept coming up...I hated being alive. I left the Y once it started to get dark.

My next stop was the strip of gay bars I was familiar with. There was a somewhat cheap hotel near by so I rented a room. I left my stuff in the room and went in search of my knight in shinning armour who would take me away from everything and make me happy again. I spent a couple of hours drinking in the bars and no one paid any attention to me. I felt old and ugly. Most gay men are not turned on by men over 40. It's really sad that people can be so superficial. So that night I stayed by myself in the cheap room.

The next day came and I wandered the city like a homeless person. No one pays attention to homeless people and it was like I lived in a world where I was some kind of monster. Other homeless guys would bum cigarettes from me. I gave packs away at a time. My next plan was to do the same thing I did the night before but make it work. I rented a nicer hotel room, cleaned up and didn't drink until much later in the night. 2 AM came and I was alone again. A young man on the street started asking me a bunch of questions so I invited him to my room. I prefer men over 35 and he was not my type at all. We talked a little and did some drinking and drugs and then fell asleep. He was gone the next morning. He used me for what he could get from me.

I was so tired and so bummed out. I had no ego left. I hated myself, I hated Ken, I hated everyone. It was time to change my plan. I stuck out my thumb to get out of the city. Nothing. 2 hours later...nothing. I gave up.

I found my credit card in my bag and went to one of the nicest hotels I could find. I rented a room. It was beautiful and I decided It was going to be the place where I would spend the last minutes of life. I layed everything out. Vodka, pills, cigarettes, and fluffed my pillow and turned on the TV.

I contemplated about leaving a note and decided against it. I so didn't care anymore. My family never came to visit me, My lover hated me, I hated me. Life sucked. I knew Stryker would be ok since Jim was taking care of him. I plopped in front of the TV and watched for hours while drinking vodka and chain smoked. when i finally starting getting to the point where I was feeling tipsy, I took the bottle of sleeping pills and downed the entire contents. Someone would find me dead the next day since I only paid for one night. The last thing I remember was watching "Survivor" on TV. I fell asleep like Marilyn Monroe...

Love & Peace,

Clayton

Today Juicy, Yesterday Hell

This is Juicy. Scott and I went to the animal shelter on Thursday July 2nd to rescue a baby from jail. She is 7 months old and adorable. She has had all her shots, spayed and micro chipped. Cost to us was only $25.00. I am so happy we could give her a good home and have a chance at a happy life. Our other girls are getting along with her just fine.

Juicy slept with us last night and she had her head on my pillow most of the night. How anyone could put such a wonderful creature in a shelter, I don't know.

Today we are heading to a Fourth of July Party and tomorrow I have a full day of rehearsal for Tartuffe. Busy weekend again.

My Life: I have this huge scar on my stomach from where they removed the appendix. Since it had burst, they had to cut a much bigger hole than usual. Even though I am still in a lot of pain, I have to get back to work. While I was in the hospital, Ken got Jim to help him with the computer side of the business. He had no idea how to do any of it and he refused to learn. He said it was too hard. If anything happens to me, Ken would have to find a real job.

After working another few months long and hard we decided to go to Vegas. It was Ken who decided this more than me. I had no say since I really didn't have any money. He was in charge of all our finances. I was excited at the thought of free alcoholic beverages and slot machines.

We spent a week in Vegas and saw shows and did a little bit of gambling. Ken pretty much put all of it on a credit card. One of the cards I was totally responsible for. I didn't know it at the time but I was thousands of dollars in debt. I pretty much stayed drunk the whole vacation and Ken treated me like a second hand dishrag. we didn't spend much time together and when we did, he told everyone who would listen that he was ashamed of me. The week was one long blur for me. Even the plane ride home I was half drunk.

Back on the home front things started to get even worse. Ken was a very moody person and had no problem taking it out on me. The littlest things would set him off. If a bill came in the mail, he would be mad a me all day. If I undercharged a customer by a few cents he would tell me I was a horrible business person. This was the worst relationship I had ever been in and I felt trapped.

I would hide bottles of booze because I didn't want Ken to know exactly how much I was drinking. When he would find one, more hell for me. I didn't know it at the time but he was watering down my bottles of vodka. I guess I drank even more because of that. I wanted to hide from him on a daily basis. When we went out in public together I would have to put on a happy facade. If I didn't, there would be hell to pay. His torture was all mental. I was so susceptible because I lost my identity and I no longer loved myself. I really had begun to feel like I wanted to die. I had no self worth.

Ken was itching to go on another vacation. I had no money and told him we couldn't afford to go anywhere. He was spending our money at bingo and using credit cards to pay for things like electricity for our home. I already owed over $10,000 on one card alone. He didn't care and told me he was going to take a 3 day vacation by himself to Atlantic City. He left in his car on Friday and told me he would be back the following Monday.

My head was spinning. This was my chance to do something. I had no where to go and no money. I was ashamed at whom I had become. I called Jim to see if he would look after Stryker Dog if I went away for the weekend and he said he would. Stryker was my only companion at the time.

I packed a bag with cigarettes, a pillow, one pair of underwear, a clean shirt, a clean pair of pants, vodka, toiletries and a full bottle of sleeping pills that I had stolen from Ken...

Love & Peace,

Clayton