Even though I am not at my best physically or mentally I have the energy and desire this morning here in California to blog and get you all excited about a guest blogger article I will be posting as soon as I work out some kinks with the format. I love it when kind people reach out to me to write for free about something to do with mental health and sometimes it takes a while to get it published but please follow me if you are interested in this topic, what to do when a loved one is suicidal.
I’ve been suicidal many times in my life and have also been on the helping end with a loved one who is suicidal and this guest article really talks about some important things to do and not to do when someone is struggling with suicidal ideation. So stay tuned!
On to the true story of the day! I couldn’t make this s#$t up! This is about a story of my interesting life that dates back to circa 1988 when I was living on the streets of New York City choosing homelessness over a nice warm bed at my parents’ house in California. I will start at the ending because it is the best part, honoring my late father’s memory, which I just found out about from my mom a lie he told me to get me off the streets of New York City and safely back home into recovery from drug addiction.
Winter time, freezing cold, chosen homelessness, illegal drugs constant (which I won’t get into to not glorify my drug addiction back when I was 18), punk rock scene, 14 year old runaway named Carrie dying in a fire at the squat we lived in where a rival gang set it on fire and she died in the fire, desperation, broken, suicidal but the only plan I had to kill myself was to go out in a bang with drugs and activities never to be mentioned even here where I am anonymously blogging.
It was a freezing day and I decided to call home from a payphone booth on a corner where I would frequently panhandle to get my drugs of the day and maybe a slice of pizza. My dad answered. I was out of money and desperation was in my voice. I asked him if I could come home. They loved me so much and I put them through hell with my choices from age 16 to party hard and lie and steal. I was not to be trusted. My dad arranged for a flight home, the next flight available and told me the flight was non-refundable. Finding out later that this was a lie and my only chance from them. If I didn’t get on this flight, they would not trust me again and as usual used tough love they learned in classes for how to deal with loved ones who suffered from drug addiction. This was the lie though that saved my life and I am eternally grateful to my dad for telling it.
Somehow, by some miracle I got to the airport in New Jersey, through a snowstorm, late, running through the airport, lying to security that my bus had crashed so they would push me through without a wait so I could make it on that flight. I barely made it on that flight. Flying home was terrible, I had a hole in my nose, frostbite on my hands and feet, a desperate will to live by the grace of God, who kept me safe this whole time. I was a proclaimed atheist spewing my nonsense to others who would listen. Yet protected by God through the insanity of actions even though I had no belief despite being raised to believe in God.
I was a wreck to say the least and the last thing I wanted was to admit defeat to my parents who were loving but very strict and controlling which led to my rebellion. The plane landed in California and I was one of the last to get off it. I found out just the other day from my mom that they were waiting in anticipation but with doubt if I had even gotten on the plane. How I feel for them now the hell I put them through back then. But I got off and all I remember was the silent drive home.
They had their terms or conditions I had to follow one of which was to go into a drug rehab program called Kaiser. I did reluctantly because I was still in denial over my drug use. It was there that I was introduced to the 12 step programs and it was in them that I finally found God and believed for the first time in my life that there was a power greater than myself that could restore me to sanity.
Stay tuned for part two of this true story. But bottom line is that even though I have only 6 months today off off weed, the good news is that I am finally addressing why I used drugs to cope with life through the steps with a trusted sponsor and the best part is that I am being honest about my life and love and thank my Higher Power for all my life, the good, bad and the ugly. For without hardship there is no glory.
Peace to you all!
If you are struggling today with drug addiction, know there is hope for you, even if you have relapsed. There is always hope until we draw our last breath and I’m not done breathing yet. Haha. Let’s see now how my God will help me through thee next 50 years. I can’t wait for more will be revealed.
Peace, love light and joy
Michelle aka Victoria