alcoholism, bondage, Cokorado, Colorado Springs, Dante, domestic violence, drunk, Faith, God, guilt, hell, Homeless, inferno, prayer, Psych ward, religion, restraining order, rock bottom, sado masochism, spirituality, suicide, Virginia
The First Loss
(The blow up didn’t happen that night. It took me 24 hours to get wound up.)
This begins the end of The First Loss. By the end of this segment I will have fallen to the lowest point of my existence and will have become prepared for a virtual rebirth and re-acquisition of faith to a greater height than ever experienced before.
But first I had to travel the circles of hell. As a reader recently reminded me, it was Dante Aligheri who said of hell, that the only way to survive it is to go through.
THROUGH me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye.
Justice the founder of my fabric mov’d:
To rear me was the task of power divine,
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.
Before me things create were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure.
All hope abandon ye who enter here.
I got drunk. I got loud and began to rant. Stella called her “boyfriend” and asked him to come over to protect her. That certainly didn’t help matters. It was all her partners that I was ranting about.
I went to my room and passed out. The next thing I knew the El Paso County Sheriff was standing over me telling me that an ambulance was on its way. I asked him “why.” I wasn’t sick and I had not called for help. He told me that Stella had called them and said that I was threatening violence against her and threatening suicide. Neither of these things were true but it was a good enough reason to get me out. I objected and said that none of it was true. Her word carried more weight than mine. I was still drunk, but calm now and sobering up fast.
I sobered up in a Psych Ward. I don’t recommend it.
During the 72 hours I was there I was served with a Temporary Restraining Order. As I was getting ready to leave, I did an Outtake Interview and was asked again if I intended to hurt myself or others. I repeated that it was never my intent in the first place.
I was asked where I was going to go. I said that since I obviously couldn’t go back to where I had been and I had no money to get a place, that I was going to the street (Colorado Springs). The interviewer asked me what seemed a perfectly normal question given that I had just told him that I was now homeless. He asked me if I knew what the biggest danger of homelessness was. I answered that I supposed it was violence against me.
He said, “No. The biggest danger of being homeless is that you get accustomed to it.” That floored me. I won’t get into a deep discussion on the subject right now, but having spent a considerable amount of time on the streets now and observing and knowing other homeless persons, I see now that he was absolutely correct.
Anyway, I hit the street, but didn’t stay without shelter for long. My mother sent me enough money to get me a cheap studio apartment in Colorado Springs. I had hit the rock bottom of my existence to this point—or so I imagined.
The woman I imagined I loved not only threw me out she was a sex freak to boot. Her multiple partners was just the starting point for her deviations. She was also into bondage and pain and some other stuff I won’t go into.
Now here I was in Colorado and 1,700 miles away from anyone who knew, let alone, loved me. I had no job and was so firmly stuck to the bottom of a liquor bottle I just knew that there was no way out. I was wracked with guilt for taking money from my mother
I believed that I had sold my soul to Satan and was now reaping the rewards. I got on my knees and prayed for the first time in I don’t know how long. Faith was not gone yet. There was still a speck and I was about to wipe that out.
I prayed for death. I cried on my face on the floor begging God to allow me to die. I knew (at that time) that I couldn’t kill myself. When I continued to live and suffer the last of my faith flew away. If God wouldn’t even bother himself to allow my death then I no longer had any use for him or his religion. It was not that I stopped believing in any of the things I thought I believed in up to that point. It was just that I figured that I was so far gone into evil that God had completely turned his back on me. Praying to him from that point was just non productive garbage.
So I continued to drink and drink and drink and take money from mother for rent and booze. I halfheartedly looked for work and found none. Finally after several months and the hardest winter I had ever seen and the hardest winter that Colorado had seen in 20 years, I packed the smallest version of my stuff to that point, and with a vodka bottle in one hand caught the train back to Virginia.