Ok so I went back and read the last 2 blogs and it is hard for me to believe that was my life. That was my life? Living it seems like such a distant memory. I am so not that person today. How did this switch happen? How is it that I was able to get it together in such a way that reading these things I did and places I have been seem like another life? Thinking about it makes me shudder. I am getting real close to the next phase of my life. Which by most standards is still outrageous and bazaar. My life is one of a cuckoos nest. So let me get to it today. The next chapter at least shines hope on my life. Right now where I am at, it is bleak. I was so hopeless. So lost. Without a clue how to make it different.
I arrived back in Brenham still in a daze from the whirlwind of events that I had been through. I was sad, very sad. Holding back tears on that drive was impossible. The fear of not knowing what was coming up was so overwhelming. Thoughts were swirling in my head. That drive took forever and I didn't exactly know where I was going. No contact with my family for so long, the feeling that I would be rejected was something that very well could have been a reality. Stopping at a road side park to think for a while. It was a place I had been to many times. Walking among the rocks in the dry creek bed scared and alone. Don't think I was clean, because I wasn't. I still had coke on me and not doing it was not an option. I was addicted to it. I kept doing it. Although it was so different. The fun was gone. I was alone and keeping up with the pace that cocaine sets for you is not ever easy. I remember sitting in that roadside park crying watching the cars go by on the highway looking at each one thinking maybe, just maybe, Cindy would drive by on her way to her mothers and I could go with her. I couldn't keep one thought together. Everything was scattered. I was probably having withdrawals from the lack of crack.
The one thing I could think of was that I needed to visit the grave of my fiance. From the moment he so tragically died I was on the run. I had not looked back. I had not dealt with his passing. The pain was great and I needed to see his grave for myself. A year had passed and I was at my bottom that day. In all reality I didn't even know where he was buried. That day, the day we buried him was so far pushed back into my memory that I couldn't remember. I eventually found it and parked trying to remember where I was that day in the cemetery. I remember the tent, and the people, and could envision in my head where I thought it was. When I couldn't find his marker something happened in me. I fell apart there in the cemetery all alone, I fell to pieces. Crying hysterically and searching for his name anywhere. Going from grave to grave crying and talking to myself. Begging. I was in a state of panic. I could not have been in the wrong place. He had to be there. I finally found a bench to sit on and sat there completely defeated. Head hung, completely exhausted and sobbing. I don't know how much time passed before being able to regroup and trying to recollect where he could be I had already looked where I thought he was. Going back one more time before I left, I found it. He didn't have a headstone. All he had was a metal spike sticking out of the ground with his name on it which was overgrown with foliage. I sat there for a while praying and crying and wishing that he had not left this world. This makes my eyes sting with tears still to this day. I was so alone and afraid. Had no idea how to live my life. There was no end in sight to this madness I was in. I had to leave. I couldn't stay there. Getting in my car not feeling any better, if not worse, than when I came I pulled out of the cemetery driveway and caught site of a car sitting on the side of the road. It was his mother. How long had she been there? She was watching me. Watching me in hysterics running all over the place. Watched me fall apart. Watched me do drugs. I had to do drugs. I was running solely on them. I had no sleep. I was living on maybe 1 or 2 hours of sleep a day for a long time now. I was ashamed. I left but not before we made eye contact. I found out later in life that she was never ever able to get over his death. She could not speak to me without becoming saddened by what could have been. The grand baby we didn't give her. The marriage that never happened. The life her son might have had if I had done things differently.
Seems like such a long day in my life. Going through it in my head I know it was all in the same day. After leaving the cemetery I for whatever reason thought that I could go to the movies. I bought ticket to see Schindler's list. Sitting through this became impossible. How could I sit through an entire movie without having to do more coke. I made it about 45 minutes in and walked out. I still to this day have never seen this movie.
Drove to my trusted friends from the past. The older group that I had long ago been separated from. They had become afraid of me because I was a trouble maker and they liked the way there life was. I had nowhere else to go. When I arrived there I could sense immediately I was not welcome. Although none of them came right out and said it I knew. Called a friend and asked what was wrong with them. They thought I had broken in to there home and stolen money and drugs. I hadn't but they didn't seem to care. So I left.
Where do I go? It was getting late and I was losing steam. I needed to get to sleep and soon. I considered sleeping in my car but was too paranoid. So, I drove home. The only place I knew to go. It had been a long time and a hard road since I had last seen my parents and full well expected not to be welcome. They had already changed all the locks in the house to keep me from stealing. So when I pulled into the driveway and looked at my bedroom door, which had an outside entrance, it was cracked open. She had left it open for me like all the times before. I couldn't believe they still wanted me. I was not worthy,but I went in anyway. My mother was awake and must have heard me or seen the lights because she came to my room and I basically fell into her arms crying. She kept asking what was wrong and I could not speak to her. I could not tell her. What would I say? She pushed no further and saw me to bed.
I full well intended on covering more than one day in my life but this is what came out. One day. One of the lousiest days of my life. A breakthrough in a way. My life was not ok, I was not ok. This life I had forced on myself was full of regret and pain and loneliness. There was no amount of drugs that could cover this mess I made of myself. Shredded. My soul and spirit was shredded. How was I to pick up the pieces and reassemble my life? Did I have the tools to do this? Not at that moment I didn't. Things never got worse than that day, but I surely wasn't capable of making them better. Something had to happen to change my life. It does, but not this day.
Till the next time.....
