Sunday, August 9, 2009
My Nephew
I found out yesterday that my brother's youngest son is going to be on "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire". I'll keep everyone posted. YAY!!!!!!
The Year of Living Madly
What a horrible night last night. My legs hurt so bad that it actually brought tears to my eyes. I don't think I have ever had that intensity of pain from neuropathy before. I had to take painkillers and lay in bed all night. Still a little pain this morning but at least I can bare it.
My brother-in-law Paul was in town this weekend and built a wall in the unfinished bathroom in the basement. He also installed a toilet. Now I don't have to go upstairs if I need to urinate.
Scott had a tooth break apart and just fall out of his mouth on Friday. He gets to see a dentist on Monday so he is in pain until then. When both of us are in pain at the same time it's not a fun household to be in.
My life: That first year of getting sober I was filled with anger. I called Bob Ball everyday and started to work for him once a week for a couple of hours cleaning his house. He and his partner never cleaned and the place was a mess. Random fact: Bob was the only son of Football coach Herman Ball. His dad worked with the Redskins for a while and a couple of other teams. Bob fast became my best friend.
I still went to therapy once a week and it was getting easier. I would talk about everything and get it off my chest. My anger was so bad at times my face would turn bright red. Everyday I would think about suicide.
My first day of sobriety was August 13, 2000. Each month at the AA meetings I would get a chip to celebrate another 30 days of clean living. There were people in the meetings that had years and years without a drink. I never thought I could be one of those individuals. I really disliked them too because I thought that no one could be that happy all the time.
About 6 months sober and I had to have another operation. It seems that after they removed my appendix I had a hernia. I spent another week in the hospital having that repaired. My scar was getting bigger.
Around eights months sober the one thing I knew was coming, happened. They say that it is the hardest thing to go through without slipping and taking a drink. Death. I took Stryker to the vet and was told he had cancer and he was in a lot of pain. I stayed with him as they gave him the shot. He died in my arms as I cried. I am crying now as I write this. It is still a very painful thing. He loved me unconditionally and never wavered. Ken tried to be supportive. It was a lonely house without Stryker but I did not drink or drug over the loss.
My one year anniversary was coming up soon. It was my nephew's birthday and he was going to have a big party. I was going to have breakfast with Bob at the Cowboy Cafe in Arlington. Just another ordinary day.
I was in the office when I heard Ken yell from downstairs to turn the TV on. I stood in shock at what I saw. One of the Twin Towers were on fire. Then a plane flew into the second tower. What the hell was going on? I heard a loud noise and went to look outside. There was a plane flying so low that I thought it was going to crash into our home. It passed us over and exploded. Smoke was everywhere. We lived only a few blocks away from the Pentagon and heard on the news that what I had just witnessed was that attack. It was the end of the world, I thought.
Within minutes, people were scrambling everywhere. They were climbing over fences and cutting through yards to get home and away from all the chaos. I kept calling Bob and there was no answer. I tried his cell, no answer. I had to make sure he was alright so I got in the car and drove to the cafe. Bob wasn't there. The place was packed with people who didn't know how they were going to get home. More chaos. Outside people were everywhere crying and looking like they were going to die. I realized Bob would not be coming and I would talk to him later. I had to do something now. I was overwhelmed by what I saw. I offered my driving services to anyone who needed them. One lady told me should was going to stay put until she could reach her husband. The next guy I asked was very grateful and said he needed a ride to Annandale.
Here I was in my car with a complete stranger giving him a ride home. He was employed at the Pentagon and told me that everyone was evacuated from the building and that they could not get to their cars. It took an hour to get him home in all the traffic that day.
That day, I began to feel something other than anger. I had done what I could do. It wasn't a heroic act or anything extraoridinary but it made me feel good about myself. I was finally on the right path. The road to recovery.
Love & Peace,
Clayton
My brother-in-law Paul was in town this weekend and built a wall in the unfinished bathroom in the basement. He also installed a toilet. Now I don't have to go upstairs if I need to urinate.
Scott had a tooth break apart and just fall out of his mouth on Friday. He gets to see a dentist on Monday so he is in pain until then. When both of us are in pain at the same time it's not a fun household to be in.
My life: That first year of getting sober I was filled with anger. I called Bob Ball everyday and started to work for him once a week for a couple of hours cleaning his house. He and his partner never cleaned and the place was a mess. Random fact: Bob was the only son of Football coach Herman Ball. His dad worked with the Redskins for a while and a couple of other teams. Bob fast became my best friend.
I still went to therapy once a week and it was getting easier. I would talk about everything and get it off my chest. My anger was so bad at times my face would turn bright red. Everyday I would think about suicide.
My first day of sobriety was August 13, 2000. Each month at the AA meetings I would get a chip to celebrate another 30 days of clean living. There were people in the meetings that had years and years without a drink. I never thought I could be one of those individuals. I really disliked them too because I thought that no one could be that happy all the time.
About 6 months sober and I had to have another operation. It seems that after they removed my appendix I had a hernia. I spent another week in the hospital having that repaired. My scar was getting bigger.
Around eights months sober the one thing I knew was coming, happened. They say that it is the hardest thing to go through without slipping and taking a drink. Death. I took Stryker to the vet and was told he had cancer and he was in a lot of pain. I stayed with him as they gave him the shot. He died in my arms as I cried. I am crying now as I write this. It is still a very painful thing. He loved me unconditionally and never wavered. Ken tried to be supportive. It was a lonely house without Stryker but I did not drink or drug over the loss.
My one year anniversary was coming up soon. It was my nephew's birthday and he was going to have a big party. I was going to have breakfast with Bob at the Cowboy Cafe in Arlington. Just another ordinary day.
I was in the office when I heard Ken yell from downstairs to turn the TV on. I stood in shock at what I saw. One of the Twin Towers were on fire. Then a plane flew into the second tower. What the hell was going on? I heard a loud noise and went to look outside. There was a plane flying so low that I thought it was going to crash into our home. It passed us over and exploded. Smoke was everywhere. We lived only a few blocks away from the Pentagon and heard on the news that what I had just witnessed was that attack. It was the end of the world, I thought.
Within minutes, people were scrambling everywhere. They were climbing over fences and cutting through yards to get home and away from all the chaos. I kept calling Bob and there was no answer. I tried his cell, no answer. I had to make sure he was alright so I got in the car and drove to the cafe. Bob wasn't there. The place was packed with people who didn't know how they were going to get home. More chaos. Outside people were everywhere crying and looking like they were going to die. I realized Bob would not be coming and I would talk to him later. I had to do something now. I was overwhelmed by what I saw. I offered my driving services to anyone who needed them. One lady told me should was going to stay put until she could reach her husband. The next guy I asked was very grateful and said he needed a ride to Annandale.
Here I was in my car with a complete stranger giving him a ride home. He was employed at the Pentagon and told me that everyone was evacuated from the building and that they could not get to their cars. It took an hour to get him home in all the traffic that day.
That day, I began to feel something other than anger. I had done what I could do. It wasn't a heroic act or anything extraoridinary but it made me feel good about myself. I was finally on the right path. The road to recovery.
Love & Peace,
Clayton
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Goodbye Bette
I met Bette when Scott was going through his cancer treatments. Her and her daughter Michelle worked at the storage unit where I rented a small compartment. I also went to the auctions there monthly to get things to sell on eBay. Bette and Chele came over to the house in Arlington and helped me clean when Scott was sick and we had company coming to visit.
Last weekend she and her daughter along with the grand kids went to a water park for a family outing. All of them climbed the giant water slide in anticipation of a wild ride. Bette told Michele she wasn't feeling to great and so Michele went first. At the bottom, she saw her girls ride the water with glee. her mother was no where in site.
A group of paramedics were running up the stairs and Michele was scared. It seems her mother, Bette, had some kind of attack and died before she could ride the slide. Bette was only a couple of years older than me. She would give you the shirt off her back if you needed it. We would talk on the computer sometimes daily and we loved Farm Town on Facebook. I sure am going to miss her.
I am going to make some food for the family and bring it to them this week sometime. I know what it's like to lose a mother. I only hope when I go, I go as quickly as she did. Goodbye Bette, you will always be in my heart,
My Life: Back to AA. My body was saying drink, my mind was saying go to the meetings or die. Without alcohol I shook so badly I couldn't write my name. I blushed bright red when I was scared or embarrassed. I had panic attacks for no reason. I thought of suicide at least once every five minutes. I didn't think I would ever like people again. Ken was at least supportive.
The next meeting I went to I sat with Irving and when they asked if anyone had anything to say,Irving grabbed my arm and raised it for me. I announced that I needed a sponsor and that was all I could get out of my mouth. During the meeting break, what looked to me like a giant of a man came walking towards me. I was sitting down and he looked 7 feet tall with a white beard and a big belly. No, he did not look like Santa, he looked like a mean biker in my eyes. He introduced himself to me as Bob Ball and told me he wanted to take me on as my sponsor. I sort of cried a little and said OK. He gave me his phone number and told me I had to call him everyday regardless if I had anything to say. This was going to be very hard for me.
I also started counseling at WWC. It was one of the most difficult things I had ever had to do. I sat In the room with Bob Kenney and he would ask me how my day went. The typical response from me would be: I hate people, they piss me off. No one cares about anyone else these days and they are all rude and self centered. I hate my life. I'm angry all day long and I want to die.
He would then ask me things like what would I do to change these things that were happening around me. What if I put myself in other peoples shoes and what about the people who do love you? To me it was all crap.
The people around me didn't know what I was going through. I didn't let anyone in on who I was except the 2 Bobs. They were my outlets. They were the strangers I confided in. They didn't judge me. They were understanding and supportive. When in public I avoided eye contact as much as possible with everyone else. I stewed in my head about how I wanted to kill certain people and myself. This was going to be a long road ahead of me.
The AA meetings would talk about GOD and prayer and a higher power. What a bunch of shit to me. I had no God. One guy told me his higher power was the barbie doll. Another said the ocean was his. They told me to just figure out something I could respect and make it my higher power. It didn't have to be the God I grew up with and never believed in. It didn't have to be Mohammad or Buddha or any other religious figure. It could be anything. It would take me a while to choose a higher power.
AA has 12 steps and I had done the first one quite easily. I admitted I had a problem and that I was an alcoholic. The second one is to believe in a higher power. ARGH! This isn't going to work for me. I hate AA and all the people except Bob and a couple of others. I want ice cream!
In the meantime at the home front I could see that Stryker dog wasn't up to his old self. He was moving slower and would sit outside on the balcony by himself and look at the sky. He was so beautiful when he did that. He was my best friend and I was afraid I was going to lose him. Ken was being his old self again and getting angry with everything. Maybe I rubbed off on him. I was feeling a pain in my side where my appendix was removed and knew something was wrong there too. Bingo was still on the weekends along with yard saleing. Life continued on...
Love & Peace,
Clayton
Last weekend she and her daughter along with the grand kids went to a water park for a family outing. All of them climbed the giant water slide in anticipation of a wild ride. Bette told Michele she wasn't feeling to great and so Michele went first. At the bottom, she saw her girls ride the water with glee. her mother was no where in site.
A group of paramedics were running up the stairs and Michele was scared. It seems her mother, Bette, had some kind of attack and died before she could ride the slide. Bette was only a couple of years older than me. She would give you the shirt off her back if you needed it. We would talk on the computer sometimes daily and we loved Farm Town on Facebook. I sure am going to miss her.
I am going to make some food for the family and bring it to them this week sometime. I know what it's like to lose a mother. I only hope when I go, I go as quickly as she did. Goodbye Bette, you will always be in my heart,
My Life: Back to AA. My body was saying drink, my mind was saying go to the meetings or die. Without alcohol I shook so badly I couldn't write my name. I blushed bright red when I was scared or embarrassed. I had panic attacks for no reason. I thought of suicide at least once every five minutes. I didn't think I would ever like people again. Ken was at least supportive.
The next meeting I went to I sat with Irving and when they asked if anyone had anything to say,Irving grabbed my arm and raised it for me. I announced that I needed a sponsor and that was all I could get out of my mouth. During the meeting break, what looked to me like a giant of a man came walking towards me. I was sitting down and he looked 7 feet tall with a white beard and a big belly. No, he did not look like Santa, he looked like a mean biker in my eyes. He introduced himself to me as Bob Ball and told me he wanted to take me on as my sponsor. I sort of cried a little and said OK. He gave me his phone number and told me I had to call him everyday regardless if I had anything to say. This was going to be very hard for me.
I also started counseling at WWC. It was one of the most difficult things I had ever had to do. I sat In the room with Bob Kenney and he would ask me how my day went. The typical response from me would be: I hate people, they piss me off. No one cares about anyone else these days and they are all rude and self centered. I hate my life. I'm angry all day long and I want to die.
He would then ask me things like what would I do to change these things that were happening around me. What if I put myself in other peoples shoes and what about the people who do love you? To me it was all crap.
The people around me didn't know what I was going through. I didn't let anyone in on who I was except the 2 Bobs. They were my outlets. They were the strangers I confided in. They didn't judge me. They were understanding and supportive. When in public I avoided eye contact as much as possible with everyone else. I stewed in my head about how I wanted to kill certain people and myself. This was going to be a long road ahead of me.
The AA meetings would talk about GOD and prayer and a higher power. What a bunch of shit to me. I had no God. One guy told me his higher power was the barbie doll. Another said the ocean was his. They told me to just figure out something I could respect and make it my higher power. It didn't have to be the God I grew up with and never believed in. It didn't have to be Mohammad or Buddha or any other religious figure. It could be anything. It would take me a while to choose a higher power.
AA has 12 steps and I had done the first one quite easily. I admitted I had a problem and that I was an alcoholic. The second one is to believe in a higher power. ARGH! This isn't going to work for me. I hate AA and all the people except Bob and a couple of others. I want ice cream!
In the meantime at the home front I could see that Stryker dog wasn't up to his old self. He was moving slower and would sit outside on the balcony by himself and look at the sky. He was so beautiful when he did that. He was my best friend and I was afraid I was going to lose him. Ken was being his old self again and getting angry with everything. Maybe I rubbed off on him. I was feeling a pain in my side where my appendix was removed and knew something was wrong there too. Bingo was still on the weekends along with yard saleing. Life continued on...
Love & Peace,
Clayton
Sunday, July 26, 2009
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
Sunday, July 19, 2009
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
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
Sunday, July 12, 2009
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
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
Saturday, July 4, 2009
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
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