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
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