Insanely Peeing In The Wind

I know that some of you know about how Insane Mama and I met…but I am going to take this opportunity to put my side of things out there. Now that I am behind schedule and have read some of what IM has written… I have been debating posting mine…but …what the hell.

In May of 2005, I was in one of the worst places (mentally, physically and emotionally) that I have ever been in. I had a disaster of a marriage, two very young boys (the only two things that were holding the very thin strings of my life together.) That was bundled with my years of being unhappy (with myself, my life and everything around me.)

After several attempts at “escaping”, I landed myself at a hospital that dealt with “Dual Diagnosis” (mixture of substance abuse and emotional/psychiatric issues) clients. When I walked into the hospital, I told the intake people that I was “lost.” I had no idea what to do with myself. I was too chicken shit to kill myself but did not want to live as things were. Yes, that is how bad things were at the time.

After meeting with my doctor and getting settled in my room, I began the routine of going to groups to talk about “issues” and spending time in the common areas with the other patients. I quickly learned a few things:
1. There were far fewer “crazy” people there that I expected (most there for severe depression issues)
2. I had A LOT of shit that I needed to get out.
3. I actually did not hate life – I hated what my life had become.

After I started talking in groups and when I learned that writing was going to be a valuable tool for me, I started to really open up. I guess that my stance was that since I was there…I should do everything in my power to get better. There were a lot of people there that just walked the walk and talked the talk. I had done that before and …well… this is where I landed. This time it would be all or nothing.

I knew, from the time I walked out of my first group, that my marriage was over. It saddened me, but I just knew it. The twists and turns that my wife and I had gone through over the past 15 years had left us both scarred and, at least for me, I could not go back to that life. Though I knew that…I still went back and forth in my head about so many issues; the kids, our business, our home, etc.

As a man having been involved with the same woman for since I was 22 years old, and the emotional trauma that I had sustained over those years…I feared being on my own. Would I be alone forever? Would I ever see my children? Had I lost my balls forever? Did I even know how to talk to women anymore? These were all things that terrified me.

I had horrifying flashes of me being a social retard out in the real world. I was so out of tune in so many ways that I started my stay there with an extreme fear of leaving the facility…into the wild.

After the first few days…I knew that I was in the right place. I began writing…a lot. It helped me to organize my thoughts…which enabled me to talk about things in group so that people could understand what I was trying to get out. My writing surprised even me. I knew that I could write ok but did not know if anything coherent would come of just writing without thought, direction or over analysis. I just sat and wrote. I wrote about my childhood, my late teens, young adulthood, my marriage, my sons, being in jail, being sexually assaulted, being adopted and having my balls residing within a certain woman’s purse. All in all it all felt good…just to get it out. Knowing how good it felt to write, I began talking in groups about my writing, sharing my poems and revealing things that I had never spoken of.

Things were going quite well, although the doctors could not seem to find the right mix of medications for me. I would go from zombie to agitated bastard…and back again. But by this time I had met some pretty cool people…and some that I felt shared some of the same history that I did. I felt that I could open up to them to discus what was going on (kind of a continuation of group mixed with my new found “socialization 101.”)

Then, one day, as I was sitting in one of the afternoon groups, two new people came in and were asked to say a little something about why they were there. I elbowed one of the guys next to me , gestured to the second girl and said…”she’s kind of hot.” He nodded, with a smile and told me to control myself. The first girl mumbled her name and said that she would not be able to do or say much for a few days (we all knew that …her body chemistry might be a bit off.) Then the second girl looked up, introduced herself and proceeded to stun the group by making some sexual comments about her recent past (shocking only because it was her first group.) I looked back at my friend and just smiled.

To be Continued...