Look to the Sky

(I wrote this  blog April 6th, 2012)

I said in my last blog, Break Stuff, that day nine was the hardest day here for me.  So far, day twelve - Good Friday has been harder.

There's this surfer guy from L.A. here who reminds me a lot of myself.  (Not the surfer part.)  He's been here for six months.  He has also been very supportive.  He's an artist.  He paints.

His girlfriend who he has been dating for eight years reminds me of Susan.  She is co-dependent.  She really cares about him.  She was just here a couple of days ago meeting with the director of CityTeam, Jonathon, about her co-dependency. 

The surfer guy is a huge baseball fan.  He's, of course, a Dodgers fan, but somehow also likes the Giant's.  He's just a really big baseball fan. He has been looking forward to today, opening day, for a long time. He was just telling me the other day how he was looking forward to taking his girlfriend to a Giants game this year - clean.  We were supposed to practice softball today.  

She got hit by a car this morning.  I guess things don't look good.  This tore him apart.  It's really affected the whole house.  It's really affected me too.

I worry a lot about Susan.  In fact, just yesterday I was thinking about what I would do if something happened to her.  Part of the reason I came to rehab was so I could at least cope with our not being together and be able to handle the day she leaves San Francisco.  

Unfortunately my crutch since I have been here has been cigarettes.  I had quit smoking for five years until a year ago when I started to become homeless.  I just really didn't care about anything.  I don't smoke much.  I only smoke about three or four a day, but that's three or four too many.  Today was the day I was quitting.  I woke up and did a bunch of push ups, situps and curls.

After we found out what happened, I really started stressing out.  I saw how hard it was on him.  That was hard to see.  I also internalized it.  I don't really want to get into it now, but while in my meth psychosis state, Susan died on me more than once in my "parallel universe".  Once, after learning this, I ran to Palo Alto - forty miles south of San Francisco.  (I think I wrote about this after I wrote this blog in a previous blog.  It may be a blog of its own some day.)  The voices have warned me of many things that have come true.  The voices warned me for Susan's safety.  I was "Fucking with the wrong people."  They were going to "Fuck with my family!"  I really don't want to get into all that insanity, but I really do worry about her.  


Now that I am clean and she hasn't been helping me (which inadvertently  helped me use sometimes - the voices didn't like that.) I'm not so worried about that darkness anymore.  In fact, at times, even when I was caught up in my addiction, I was glad not to be around her - for her.  I still worry about her day to day safety.  This is a big city.  Susan, like so many people here - runs, rides her bike....  That always worried me.  I guess it still does. When we used to ride together, I liked to ride behind her and slightly to her left.


I hated the way I felt this morning when my heart was pounding and I was pacing back and forth.  The most insane thing about it is, feeling that way in the past usually led me to using.  Luckily it was recreation time right after we found out about the accident.  We went to the rec center down the street.  I ran two miles on the treadmill with my Foo Fighters music playing.  It was a healthy escape.


I have only been here for twelve days and I already feel pretty close to these guys.  The guys really surrounded him when he found out.  Some also went with him to the ICU.


I also thought about how Susan must have felt when she found me dying and I was in the ICU and how she used to worry about me when I was away.  Now I want a cigarette!  Ahhh!


It's a tough day, but I've been praying a lot.  Even though it's a harder day than a few days ago when I was stressing out, I do feel better about things for some reason.  Maybe sadness and sympathy are better feelings than stress and frustration.


7:30 PM
It's been a long day.  The AM dishwasher wasn't around for his job so I did it.  Then I did my job - PM dishes.  This includes dishes for the guys in the house and our guests.  If we weren't in class, I was either helping cook or doing dishes - all day.  


Right as I got done, there was a guy laying out front who just got stabbed.  I know the guy.  He's in the wrong business.  I've been out there long enough to know who to avoid.  He's not of the best character.  He was actually once one of the evil voices in my head I wrote about earlier.  I only ran to Millbrae that time.   He was with an evil gang.  I was  "Fucking with the wrong people."


I was never interested in his product line.  I stayed in the hotel he stays once.  That's when that all began.  He has since told me in person that I was messing up his business by being near his corner.  I was the wrong skin color and I was going to attract the police.    


Again, I'm not really ready to write about that one.  I may never be.


It might be Karma.  It might be that he has simply chosen the wrong profession.  Maybe he'll find a new occupation.  I have been and will continue to pray that he'll be okay.  Maybe it will change his life for the better.


The cops did catch the guy who stabbed him.  I think the cops were just in the right place at the right time, because they had the guy on the next corner.  They weren't even with the guy who got stabbed yet, but somehow already had stopped the guy who supposedly stabbed him.  Perhaps he was running - I don't know.


I remember standing outside with a guy last night and noticed, "It's a full moon."  That always seems to matter here.  I'm tired.


8:30 PM  
The man from LA who suffered the tragedy this morning just returned.  We're praying for a miracle.  I didn't know the words to say, but we spent about a half hour alone together.  I've had a lot of loss in my life.  I didn't really know her, but I have learned that she is a beautiful, kind and creative soul.  She was also an artist - a painter.


His emotions were very similar to ones I have felt with loss.  I feel really close to this man I have know for twelve days.  I hope I can be there for him no matter what the outcome.  I told him about a paragraph I had just read in this book I have to read for a book report - The Purpose Drive Life.  It read: 


Because God made  you for a reason, he also decided when you would be born and how long you would live.  He planned the days of your life in advance, choosing the exact time of your birth and death.  The Bible says, "You saw me before I was born and scheduled each day of my life before I began to breathe.  Every day was recorded in your book.


It's been a hard day. I'll leave it to a San Francisco band to sum up how I feel:

 
When it rains it pours and opens doors
And floods the floors we thought would always keep us safe and dry
And in the midst of sailing ships we sink our lips into the ones we love
That have to say goodbye

And as I float along this ocean
I can feel you like a notion that won't seem to let me go

'Cause when I look to the sky something tells me you're here with me
And you make everything alright
And when I feel like I'm lost something tells me you're here with me
And I can always find my way when you are here

And every word I didn't say that caught up in some busy day
And every dance on the kitchen floor we didn't dance before
And every sunset that we'll miss I'll wrap them all up in a kiss
And pick you up in all of this when I sail away



And as I float along this ocean
I can feel you like a notion that won't seem to let me go

'Cause when I look to the sky something tells me you're here with me
And you make everything alright
And when I feel like I'm lost something tells me you're here with me
And I can always find my way when you are here 


Whether I am up or down or in or out or just plane overhead
Instead it just feels like it is impossible to fly
But with you I can spread my wings
To see me over everything that life may send me
When I am hoping it won't pass me by

And when I feel like there is no one that will ever know me
There you are to show me

When I look to the sky something tells me you're here with me
And you make everything alright
And when I feel like I'm lost something tells me you're here with me
And I can always find my way when you are here
 

BREAK STUFF

(I wrote this blog April 5th, 2012)

I truly love CityTeam.  I have been here for ten days.  We do great work here.  There are great guys here.  We are addicts.  I have to remember that.  Day nine was my most challenging to date.  It started at 6:00AM and was a challenge until I fell asleep which was probably after midnight.

Let me put it this way - space in my head is not for rent!  I am trying to own my part.  I am trying to understand that we are all sick.  There are a few people here that are here for different reasons than me.  I am learning that.  They are in life where they are in life.  I do care about them.  I do pray for them.

Our behaviors and actions is what ultimately makes us addicts.  I am doing all I can to not practice old addict behaviors.  I am not perfect.  I make mistakes.  I am here to get clean - forever.  I mean that.  I pray that's what all of us manage to do.  The truth is, probably less than 5% will. 

This program has only been around since 2004.  It appears from the graduate photos on the wall that there have been about 150 graduates.  Since I have been here, two of them have died.  One was hit by a train yesterday.  This is a serious disease.

If I didn't have enough things on my mind, I just recently saw Susan.  She had our dog, Phil in her arms.  He was attacked by another dog while she was out of town last Friday.  That was hard for me to see for so many reasons.  He might lose his eye.  He looked so pathetic.

I'm here to enjoy myself, but I am not here to play games.  I'm  here to be an honest person.  I've not always been able to be that way - because I am an addict.  My addiction created a hurricane of lies.  Some people here are not using, but they are still in their addictive behaviors.  This is hard for me.  It's hard enough to deal with the addictive personalities, but when my stuff starts to disappear, this frustrates me.

I do believe in Karma to some degree.  I figure if Susan had to be with an addict for 20 plus years, I'll have to be with 20 plus addicts for a year.  At least they're not using.  Many of them are in fact working a good program of recovery.

A couple of days ago I was allowed to go to the pawn shop to get out my iPod.  It cost $36.00 of my Monthy $59.00 GA check.  It's the first time I've done something half way responsible with my GA check.

The good thing about GA is that when a person goes back to work, they have to pay it back.  (I'm not sure if this is true.  It's what I believed at the time I wrote this.  Someone had told me that, but I think they meant it will come for your Social Security.  Actually, I guess if I collect it someday, I will have to pay it back.  If I do, I plan for it to be when I am old!  I'll pay back the universe somehow.)   Paying back is something I hope to do for the rest of my life to Susan, Society and The Universe.

The thing that started this "frustration" for me was a couple of days ago, Person A told me he was going to leave the program in a few weeks when he got his check.  That's not what we sign up for, but I wasn't about to break his confidence in me.  I hoped he may change his mind.  The next day, Person B and Person C were talking.  Person B said to Person C, "Person A will not be here much longer.  Person C said, "really".  Big mouth me who was concerned said, "That's what he told me."  I just assumed he was telling everyone. He wasn't. Person B has just been here long enough to know.  I can see it in others already too, but I'm trying not to make assumptions, even when I know!  

The next day, Person C went to Person A and said, "Dave told me you were leaving."  Well, yesterday morning, Person A asked me, "Why did you tell person C I was leaving."  I told him, "Person B said that."  Knowing I shouldn't have opened my big mouth.   Person A said, "I never told Person B, Person C told me you told him!"  I said, "I did.  I'm really sorry, I didn't realize."  I assume Person C was just being honest and perhaps concerned. I told him I'm not like that and he could trust me.  The truth is however, if your not going to be honest about your intentions - don't tell me.  If you need to come to me in confidence to let me know your struggling with not staying, make that clear.  I'll won't tell!  I come from a world where snitching gets you killed.  That's not where I am.  Don't come here with your own agenda, and put your crap on me!  This has to be an HONEST program.

I actually did not write the previous two paragraph until just now, May 26th, 2012.  Person A and B are gone unfortunately.  Person C has since offered to apologize to me.  I told him that was not necessary.

I am not a violent person.  The only time I have ever hit another human being is on the football field.  I must admit, it did feel good.  It was legal.  I don't even raise my voice.  I'm learning that I do speak a lot and a lot faster when I am frustrated.  I think people think I am being aggressive.  They tell me my veins pop out in my neck.  I'm sure they do.  To me, I am being passionate.  I usually hold things in too long.  I rarely lash out.  I lash in.  The most destructive form of lashing in involves a syringe.  

I was so grateful to have my iPod this morning at 4:00 in the morning when my mind was racing.  I didn't want to be up, but, as usual, I couldn't sleep.  I needed some heavy music.  Susan had the iPod last, so the heaviest thing on there was Foo Fighters - that worked.  Foo Fighters have honest, and inspirational lyrics about a Universe I can relate to.  The songs that ended up on Charlie and the Hot Chocolate Kids, just made since when I got to writing about that part of that blog.  After some of my anger was relieved, I listened to Katy Perry featuring Snoop Dogg!  

I am trying not to use bad language in this blog or when I speak.  I know I'm in a Christian program, but I come from where I come from.  My neighbor always says, "If I didn't curse, I'd be a saint."   I don't want to feel anger, but it is a natural emotion and I need an outlet.  What I really wanted to hear was Limp Bizkit.  (It's on my iPod now.)  With that said, Fred Durst says it best.  It's best loud.

Its just one of those days
When you don't wanna wake up
Everything is fucked
Everybody sux
You don't really know why
But you want justify
Rippin' someone's head off
No human contact
And if you interact
Your life is on contract
Your best bet is to stay away motherfucker
It's just one of those days!!

Its all about the he says she says bullshit
I think you better quit
Lettin' shit slip
Or you'll be leavin with a fat lip
Its all about the he says she says bullshit
I think you better quit talkin that shit

Its just one of those days
Feelin' like a freight train
First one to complain
Leaves with a blood stain
Damn right I'm a maniac
You better watch your back
Cuz I'm fuckin' up your program
And if your stuck up
You just lucked up
Next in line to get fucked up
Your best bet is to stay away motherfucker
Its just one of those days!!

Its all about the he says she says bullshit
I think you better quit
Lettin' shit slip
Or you'll be leavin with a fat lip
Its all about the he says she says bullshit
I think you better quit talkin that shit
Punk, so come and get it

I feel like shit
My suggestion is to keep your distance cuz right now im dangerous
We've all felt like shit
And been treated like shit
All those motherfuckers that want to step up
I hope you know I pack a chain saw
I'll skin your ass raw
And if my day keeps goin' this way I just might break somethin' tonight...
I hope you know I pack a chain saw
I'll skin your ass raw
And if my day keeps goin' this way I just might break somethin' tonight...
I hope you know I pack a chain saw
I'll skin your ass raw
And if my day keeps goin' this way I just might break your fuckin' face tonight!!
Give me somethin' to break
Give me somethin' to break
Just give me somethin' to break
How bout your fuckin' face
I hope you know I pack a chain saw, what!!...
A chain saw, what!!...
A motherfucking chain saw, what!!...
So come and get it

Its all about the he says she says bullshit
I think you better quit
Lettin' shit slip
Or you'll be leavin with a fat lip
Its all about the he says she says bullshit
I think you better quit talkin that shit
Punk, so come and get it

Now that that's out, I would like to add something about these guys.  I do love them.  For as difficult addicts are to be with, we can also be fun to be with.  Most of us started using at a young age.  We never really matured.   We coped with emotions that most people mature from by using.  While this is frustrating to be around, it can also be fun to be around.

One of the guys here from Texas is nuts!  Let's call him Tex.  His accent kind of reminds me of my Kentucky families accent.  While it's southern, it's definitely different.  Maybe it's more about the way he acts.  He lived in a hole in the ground in Golden Gate Park for nine years.  He also likes to crawl around on his hands and knees and act like a dog.  He sounds just like one when he barks and whines.  It's really messed up! (Not all of my Kentucky family act this way!)

Just before our first class, Tex drew these two crazy looking eyes on post it notes and stuck them over his eyes.  He made sure he had his head turned when the staff member walked in to teach the class.

The staff member spent a long time erasing the board, so the anticipation was of course building.  When she turned around, the look on her face was priceless!  I think the funnies part about it was how all of us "grown" men burst into laughter over something so childish!

The staff member said, "You guys need help."  She's right about that!  At the end of the class, she said something more important.  She said, "If you guys are stressing out about something, don't react.  Don't let on bad decision ruin the rest of your life."  She's right about that too.

Charlie and the Hot Chocolate Kids

"You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated.  In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it." 

-Maya Angelou

Introduction

I think Charlie and the Hot Chocolate Kids would be a good name for a rock-n-roll band.  It would at least be a cool title for a song.  Perhaps I'll write a song with that title when I get myself a guitar.  For now, it's going to be a blog.

If this blog gets posted, it should mean I have some significant clean time.  It will also mean that I have managed to do something I have wanted to do for months - be at CityTeam.

For years I have struggled to stay clean.  Many times while in my active addiction, I found myself wandering around the streets of the Tenderloin.  Occasionally, these teenagers would be out offering hot chocolate to all of the homeless people and addicts on the streets of The Tenderloin.  I always loved when the hot chocolate kids came by.

Mission in the Rain 

"The only people who ever fail, are those who never try"

-Unknown

2011 was probably the hardest year of my entire life.  For some strange reason, the year 2010 had always been a year I had thought about since I was very young.  I never knew why this was, but , I always thought about 2010.  I used to think, I'll almost be 40, but wasn't really sure why else.

While in San Francisco, as 2010 got closer, I started to really wonder.  I thought, "Will there be a big earth quake?" or "Will there be a big change in my life?"  It ended up being the year I died.  Had Susan not come home early that day, that's what it would have remained.

Since Susan saved my life, 2010 became the year I was going to get clean.  It would be the year my new life began.  At least that's what I believed - until I relapsed towards the end of the year.  Slowly but surely, it would become the year that I began losing my soul.  It would be the year I began losing Susan.  It would be the year I began crossing over to the "dark side".

I just couldn't understand how my death and all that Susan had been through for me wasn't enough to keep from using - so I used some more.  Somehow, using was always the answer to everything - including why I shouldn't use.  It doesn't make sense, but for some sick reason, at times, the only thing that scares me more than using again, is never using again.

2011 was so hard on me.  I suspect it was harder on Susan.  I gave up on all she had done for me.  If I worked and made a little money, I used.  Once I no longer worked, I pawned everything - so I could use. When those options ran out, I stole money from Susan, so I could use.  How ungrateful is that to the person who saved your life?  More ungrateful than I could bare to understand.  I did everything I could to escape my sick reality, which to me meant getting high.

Anyone in any type of relationship knows the one key ingredient to its success - trust.  Trust me was something Susan could not do.  Susan begged me to get help.  I begged her to help me.  Usually after she did, I ended up using again - even though I knew she would kick me out and I would hate being on the street.  All I could think about was that next rush and how it would help me "escape" reality.

She told me she would help me.  She told me she would buy me food.  She did.  Eventually, she didn't want me to keep coming to her for help.  She began believing it was not helping me at all.  I think this was really hard for her to see.  It was also starting to make her mad.  

I found myself being able to spend more time on the street.  I could eat at Martin De Porres, Glide and St. Anthony's.  It was hard for me to be around people, but I could if I was hungry enough.  I also ate food people left on top of garbage cans.  Occasionally, people would give me food - if I was around people.

It is very common in San Francisco for people to leave food on top of trash cans for homeless people.

Most  of my time was spent finding my next fix, meal or place to lay my head.   When I could, I was helping people get drugs, so I could use.  The middle man never got much.  Once I was high, I didn't have to worry about eating or sleeping for a few days.

Susan had handed me divorce papers around June, by November, it had sunk it - we were really going to be divorced.  I had to quit depending on her.  It wasn't all that either, I really just wanted to be with her.  Especially when I wasn't using.  I knew, that in the past, it made her feel good to help me.  I wanted her to feel good about helping me.  Perhaps I was holding on to that.  This time, however, I was too lost.  I think she was trying to cut the umbilical cord.

Susan rented me a storage space in the city for me to keep my clothes.  It was also to keep me away from her.  I also started going to this place on Capp Street in the Mission to occasionally take a shower, shave, brush my teeth and basically, feel like a human being.  I also began inquiring about shelter there.

I went the Mission because everyone there speaks Spanish and I didn't have to listen to people "talk about me".  The voices in my head were enough!  People were still helpful there - most of the time.  I guess pain is a universal language.  The old Latin American guys used to give my plantains and bananas.  As long as I wasn't tweaking, people always seemed to be willing to help.  Many times, even if I was tweaking, they would help me.

I used to go to Martin De Porres to eat back then.  Martin De Porres served lunch - soup and bread.  I used to have warm soup and bread for lunch and cold soup and bread for dinner.  I slept in a dark, industrial ally about halfway between the two.  Between the two, I noticed a mural one day.  

This is is exactly what "the voices" and now, people in the flesh seemed to be doing to me.  Especially people in the flesh.  Especially, evil people.  It seemed I was in constant battle with with them.  2010 - my chance at a good life was passed.  I was evil.  I had lost.  Or had I?  I had a little hope when I saw that mural.

This is the ally I slept in the early days.

I decided to apply for GA (General Assistance).  I could at least get food stamps and shelter.  I was granted it, but it didn't last long, because I couldn't make my work appointments.  If you miss a GA appointment, you lose your GA.  After cleaning  the streets of Chinatown a few times, I ended up using again and didn't make one of my work appointments.  I wasn't comfortable staying in the shelters anyway.  I was back to having nothing.

Thanksgiving was approaching.  Susan was going home without me, of course.  I knew I had to accept that we were no longer going to be a couple.  I knew I was going to have to be on my own.  I knew I was going to have to get clean - for good, no matter how hard it would be to deal with.  My feelings are so amplified when I am actively using.  It was hard to imagine coping with reality.  Still , I knew the only way I could cope with anything, including homelessness, was clean.

I had heard about this program called TAP. TAP was supposed to help a person get into a program.  The day before Susan left for Cincinnati, I went to TAP.  I was tweaking really hard.  I was really insane.  Still, I had to do it.  I knew Susan still worried about me on the street.  She also felt responsible for putting me there.  I put myself there.  I always told her this, but it was hard for both of us.  I would tell her that she shouldn't have to help me, yet would ask for her help.  I was really mixed up.  She was helping me less and less.  Her compassion was turning to anger - I was "using" her.  As hard as it is for me to comprehend, there is a lot of truth to it.  After all, that's what addicts do, we use.  I hated this. Still, every time before Susan and I parted ways she said the same thing, "Take care of yourself."  Those words always broke my heart.  TAP sent me to The Haight Ashbury Free clinic office which is now located at 1735 Mission Street in The Mission.  The whole detox system and rehab system was undergoing a lot of change at the time.

The rainy season was approaching in San Francisco.  Over the years, I had spent enough time Walking around the mission in the rain.  This always reminded me of the Jerry Garcia Band song, Mission in the Rain. Mission in the Rain is another song I never really heard until I lived it.

I turn and walk away then I come 'round again
It looks as though tomorrow I'll do pretty much the same.

(I did the SAME thing over and over and over again and again)

I must turn down your offer but I'd like to ask a break
You know I'm ready to give everything for anything I take.
 

(I've given everything I've had for anything I could get many times)

Someone called my name you know I turned around to see
It was midnight in the Mission and the bells were not for me.

Come again, walking along in the Mission in the rain,
Come again, walking along in the Mission in the rain,
 

Ten years ago, I walked this street my dreams were riding tall
Tonight I would be thankful Lord, for any dream at all.
 

(We moved her ten years ago and I was living my dream.  I had my dream job in my dream city.  In recent years however, I would be thankful for any dream at all)

Some folks would be happy just to have one dream come true
But everything you gather is just more that you can lose.

(I was losing everything)

Come again, walking along in the Mission in the rain,
Come again, walking along in the Mission in the rain,

All the things I planned to do I only did half way
Tomorrow will be Sunday born of rainy Saturday.

(I haven't finished anything in a while.  I think all addicts know what it means to do things halfway.  Recovery is something that cannot be done halfway.)

There's some satisfaction in the San Francisco rain
No matter what comes down the Mission always looks the same.

(when it doesn't really rain for 8 months, rain can be satisfying - at first)

Man Who Sold the World

"Those who try to do something and fail are infinitely better than  those who try to do nothing and succeed"

-Lloyd Jones

Detox was no longer at Ozonam in the South of Market (SOMA) Neighborhood where Susan and I had lived.  It was now at Walden House in the Upper Haight. There are three Walden Houses.  Detox is located at 815 Beuna Vista West.  It is referred to simply as 815.  The other two Walden Houses are at 890 and 214.  Named so for there street addresses on the streets on which they are located.

815 is a beautiful place.  It is a huge old building that has been a rehab for many years.  I think it used to be a convent many years ago.  From the photos on the wall, it appears as though they have been helping addicts at that facility since the early 1970's.  Based on its location in Haight Ashbury, it's no wonder. 

815 is located right next to Buena Vista Park.  Buena Vista Park starts at Haight Street and then goes straight up a hill.  It's probably a couple hundred feet difference in elevation from the bottom of the park to the top.  Once at the top of the park, there is a buena vista (good view).  815 is located about half way up the hill.

As nice as it was, I was not happy to be there.  It seemed some of the residents weren't happy for me to be there.  At dinner that night, the guy across from me said, "This place is going down hill fast."  As I said earlier, 815 was in a transitional period.  they had just started taking detox patients there.  I, of course, thought it was about me.  I was tweaking, but sometimes the reality of my paranoia is undeniable.  I thought about leaving, but Susan had sounded very relieved that I was there.  For as mad as Susan could be at me, she still cared.  I suspect she also needed me to take care of myself.

It seemed few cared about me at Walden House.  There were some exceptions. There was a counselor I had been in early recovery with, my new roommate and a Samoan woman who had just spent 10 years in prison.

After the first night of people 'seeming' to give me a hard time about how messed up I was, things started to get better.  It started when the Samoan woman said, "Don't leave."  She also gave me socks and underwear.

I got to know my new roommate a little better.  He told me how much money he made panhandling.  I hoped I wouldn't use this information to my advantage someday.  My roommate gave me a pretty new pair of shoes, and a t-shirt.  The shoes were too small.  He said I could sell them.  Again, I hoped I wouldn't need this advice.

My second day there, it seemed things were getting better.  I made a new friend - Shirley Temple.  This is what she called herself.  She kind of looked like - Shirley Temple.  She called me Charles in Charge.  She thought I looked like Scott Bayou.  No, let me rephrase that, she thought I was Scott Bayou!  She also told me how the the FBI, CIA, the Mafia were after her and even how the New World Order controlled her mind.  I could relate to this girl!  She really is a nice person.

As my mind began to quiet down, things actually were calming down around me.  I had been granted four days in detox.  This gave me until Friday - the Friday after Thanksgiving.  The problem with the Friday after Thanksgiving is nothing is open as far as human services go.  I went back to TAP.  Eventually, after some confusion, I was granted an extension in detox until Monday.  This gave me eight days in detox.  I was also given some information about long term help.  I was starting to like Walden House, but, it had a six week waiting list to get into the program.  There was also a cost involved.  This could come from GA, which I blew, but could maybe reestablish.

I was told about St. Anthony's program at Father Alfred Center.  I had gone to meetings at Father Alfred Center while I was in rehab at The Salvation Armies, Harbor Light, a few years ago.  I was a little familiar with it.  I had been eating at St. Anthony's, so I thought that mike make sense.  I was also told I was not allowed to have an income at Father Alfred's.  This was not a problem!  For some reason, I was still a little unsure about it being a Christian program - even though it was Christians that had been feeding me recently.  I think it was more that I didn't want to be a hypocrite.  I've never had a problem believing in God's existence.  My God was The Universe.  My problem had to do with my actions - not my beliefs.  My actions weren't congruent with those a Christian's God would find acceptable.  My actions weren't really congruent with those any one's  God would find acceptable.  Especially mine.  Maybe I needed to accept that my life's punishment was to live on the streets.  There were those on the street suggesting this to me.  Maybe this Christian God could save me.

I was also told about this place called CityTeam.  CityTeam is located in the SOMA neighborhood Susan and I lived.  The neighborhood I usually purchased my drug of choice.  This was good and bad.  It was my second option.

At Walden House, I pretty much ate and slept.  The food was so good.  It was nice to eat real food on Thanksgiving.  I was grateful for that.   Being on the street was so tiring.  I mostly slept the first few days.  I shared a room with only two other guys.  I was not on a mat on the floor amongst a sea of other homeless people like the shelters.  I could handle this.

The second night I was there, I walked into the bathroom and stepped into human feces in my bare feet.  The third night, while wearing my gym shoes, I walked into the bathroom and found a guy face down in the shower with blood pouring out of his head.  We called 911 and he ended up being okay.  The fourth night, a man had a heart attack in the hallway outside of my room.  They had to revive him several times, but he also made it. 

Walden House was turning out to be quite the experience.  I was told, that, a few weeks before, a man came in with a shotgun  to get his girlfriend.  To me, all the drama just made me sad.  It made me think about Susan finding me with blood pouring out of my mouth - face turning blue.  It also made me think of me finding my mother lying on the floor, pouring with sweat, dying when I was 12.  I felt really guilty that I was not able to use those experiences to keep me clean.  How could I have lost Susan to that evil drug after all of this?

By the weekend, I was feeling rested and grateful.  I did laundry for a man in a wheel chair.  I was starting to give back to The Universe.  I was also learning this new "system".  I traded a t-shirt and a pair of socks for a haircut.  I had not had one in a long time.  The guy who cut it, cut hair while in prison.  He used only clippers.  Needless to say, it was really short.  One guy saw me afterward and said that I looked like Kurt Cobain before my hair was cut.  I almost wanted it back!

I couldn't sleep Sunday night.  My mind was racing with anticipation.  I needed to inquire about these programs.  I was also having cravings.  My 40th birthday was about a week away.  I packed up my few things Monday morning and was on a Haight Street bus towards The City. 

I wanted to go the program and I wanted to use.  Right as the bus reached Market Street at the end of Haight, I looked out the window and saw a brand new pair of shoes.  They were Pumas.  I thought, "I need a new pair of shoes".  I hopped off the bus and lying in the gutter I saw the last thing I needed - a twenty dollar bill.

I can't tell you how many times something like this happens to me.  I have found twenty dollar bills right outside of my dealers "spot" before when I wasn't even looking.  Needless to say, I didn't make it to St. Anthony's that day.

 

We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend
Which came as some surprise I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone, a long long time ago

Oh no, not me
I never lost control
You're face to face
With The Man Who Sold The World

I laughed and shook his hand, and made my way back home
I searched for form and land, for years and years I roamed

I gazed a gazely stare at all the millions here
We must have died alone, a long long time ago

Who knows? not me
We never lost control
You're face to face
With the Man who Sold the World 

Beuna Vista

"Have you seen the roses?  There's a whole lot of colours"

-Syd Barrett 

I hate to jump all over the place, but, lets not forget, this is Beaty's Babbling Brain Blog.  I am currently in my last day at Walden House.  I mentioned it is on the side of a hill with a beuna vista.  I just went out on the fire escape.  I had to take in the moment.  It is truly beautiful.  To the right, Beuna Vista Park with the high rises of Russian Hill beginning to peak up over the hillside.  To the left, the tall evergreen and eucalyptus trees of Golden Gate Park.  Straight ahead, the rolling hills of San Francisco, covered in Victorian Homes with the steeples of the St. Ignatius Church standing tall amongst them.  Beyond that, one of the contrasting international orange towers of The Golden Gate Bridge peaks up from the waterway known as The Golden Gate.  Beyond that, Mount Tamalpais.

The San Francisco weather only matches the view - ajradable (beautiful).  It's probably about 70 degrees with big white puffy rain clouds in a deep blue sky.  They are the kind of clouds one would see in the Midwest - not San Francisco.  It's either sunny, foggy, or raining (in the winter).  Most of the year in SOMA, where Susan and I lived, it clear blue skies most the year.  The fog doesn't usually make it over the hills to our flat neighborhood.  Although I feel sad, I am grateful to be alive.

This is Walden House.  Detox is on the fourth floor.  The fire escape I was on is on the the fourth floor on the left side of the photo.

This is not from the fire escape, but the view was similar to this one.  The fire escape was higher.

Once again, the view was similar, but a little better.  These were shots taken during the sunset, which is different, but still beautiful.

Ride On

"Be wise with speed; a fool at forty is a fool indeed."

 -Edward Young

I did make it to St. Anthony's - Thursday.  I was a mess.  I met with Sister Mary.  She agreed to let me into the program.  The guy who did the initial screening on me, was skeptical, but agreed to let me with her.  He said I could start on Tuesday.  Tuesday was December 6th.  I'd be 40 December 7th.  I thought, "What a great way to start my 40's - clean!"  

I felt sad and guilty.  Susan had always made such a big deal over my birthday.  That's just the way her and her family has always been.  I knew the best thing I could do was check in to the program.  It was a year long program.  That seemed so long.  Next year, I could go home for Christmas.  

Susan came home Friday.  I told her my plan.  She agreed to let me stay with her over the weekend, so I did not have to sleep on the streets.  Saturday, Susan was sad.  She was going Christmas shopping at an arts and crafts festival - by herself.  She was tired of doing everything by herself.  I knew this would not change while I was in the program.  I didn't know when it would change.  The least I could have done was gone with her.   I was such an emotional wreck.  I figured I'd just make things worse.  When she left, I did the worst thing I could possibly do.  I pawned my computer.  It allowed Me to escape reality for a while.  I'd pay for this one.  Susan was really mad.  I was a complete mess.  I obviously wouldn't be checking in to St. Anthony's on Tuesday.

My 40th birthday became one of the worst days of my life.  I had never been so sick.  Even when I was sick, Susan would usually help me in some way.  I didn't bother to ask.  I did call her on my birthday.  She said in her usual sincere voice, "I hope you have a good birthday."  I didn't.

I spent the evening of my birthday leaning up against a concrete support for the I-80 approach to The Bay Bridge, tweaking, with diarrhea pouring out of me the entire night - Happy Birthday!  In all seriousness, I had never felt so miserable.  I brought it on myself.

It was the holidays.  San Francisco, the city we loved, was buzzing with activity.  The street cars and cable cars were decorated for the holidays as was Union Square and Market Street.  It reminded me of the good holidays in San Francisco Susan and I shared together.  I first became a street artist by selling photos I took of the tree at Union Square and the cable cars decorated for Christmas with the small HP Photosmart digital camera Susan's parents bought us before we moved out here.

I made Christmas cards to sell.  I remember the first time I set up at Union Square.  My stand consisted of TV dinner tray stands.  I made $80.00!  I was so excited.

Being around Union Square reminded me of those times.  Times when I had nothing but a belief everything would be okay.  Now, when I saw the happy crowds and street artists, I was sad.  Maybe I was envious. There's not much good about envy. 

I did some time on the street again.  Things get pretty blurry around this time, but I know I went back to Walden House detox.  This time, it was only for four days.  Not much had changed there.

In detox, some people were there to rest up.  Some people really wanted to get clean.  There were a few people in detox that had been at occupy San Francisco.  It made me feel good to see that one of them I checked in with that time is still here this time - nearly three months later.  He seems like a different person.  My roommate was a young man from Atlanta.  Actually, he was from Macon, but he moved to Atlanta after high school.  He became a cocaine dealer.  He reminded me of an old friend of mine.  He was obviously there to rest up.  He was considering selling heroin, because he heard you have "looyal chusthamers" with heroin. That's of course because heroin addicts get dope sick if they don't fix everyday.  Pretty sick.  He was young.  Misguided.  He was an addict.  Maybe money was one of his drugs.

Still, He seemed like a good kid.  I tried to tell him to be careful.  I tried to give him some advice.  I do have a little wisdom in the field he has chosen to pursue - look where it got me.

He had recently learned to rock up his coke.  He was selling it in The Haight.  I guess I smoked crack when I lived in The Haight.  I wasn't about to give him any pointers on better neighborhoods for him to sell it.  They were neighborhoods he didn't belong anyway.  He had only been in San Francisco a few weeks.  He was excited to go home for the holidays.  He was leaving detox to catch his plane home.  He had a cell phone and kept calling his friends and family, talking about "when he'd be home."  I was sad and envious.  I still told him how he could take a SamTrans bus to SFO in the middle of the night to catch his early morning flight since BART would not be running yet.  It's actually faster and cheaper to take the SamTrans KX express bus that runs down 101 anyway.  Faster if it's not rush hour, which is actually all times except the middle of the night on 101.

When he came back in January, he had a court date from a "charge" he had "caught" during his short time in San Francisco.  Perhaps it will put the young man on the right path. Walden House gave me a chance to rest up.  I was ready to get off the right path.  Oh yeah, he did give me one thing I didn't need back out there on the street - a cold.

 

It's another lonely evening
And another lonely town
But I ain't too young to worry
And I ain't too old to cry
When a woman gets me down
 

Got another empty bottle
And another empty bed
Ain't too young to admit it
And I'm not too old to lie
I'm just another empty head
 

That's why I'm lonely
I'm so lonely
But I know what I'm gonna do -
 

I'm gonna ride on
Ride on
Ride on, standing on the edge of the road
Ride on, thumb in the air
Ride on, one of these days I'm gonna
Ride on, change my evil ways
Till then I'll just keep riding on
 

Broke another promise
And I broke another heart
But I ain't too young to realize
That I ain't too old to try
 

Try to get back to the start
And it's another red light nightmare
Another red light street
And I ain't too old to hurry
Cause I ain't too old to die
But I sure am hard to beat
 

But I'm lonely
Lord I'm lonely
What am I gonna do -
 

Ride on
Ride on, got myself a one-way ticket
Ride on
Ride on, going the wrong way
Ride on, gonna change my evil ways
Ride on, one of these days
One of these days
Ride on
Ride on
 

I'm gonna ride on
Ride on, looking for a truck
Ride on
Ride on, keep on riding
Riding on and on and on and on
Gonna have myself a good time
Ohhh yeah
Ride ride ride
One of these days
One of these days...

Long Year

"Being alone is very difficult"

-Yoko Ono

I was back to being sick and homeless.  Anyone who's ever had the flu or a cold knows how miserable it is.  It's worse when you're homeless.  Actually, using crystal meth, seemed to help.  I think the reality was it just helped me not feel as much and helped me time warp through a few days.  If I had stomach problems, my stomach would be empty for a few days.  I'd rather use than eat.  I was probably getting back to around 130lbs.  Believe it or not, I've weighed less in years past.  Coming down was always a lot harder when I was sick, but, there was an answer to that - use.

I was getting used to living on the street.  Luckily, San Francisco did not get much rain this winter.  A couple of nights, it got down into the 30's - cold for San Francisco.  I usually slept with little more than a blanket and a piece of cardboard.    I always tried to wear layers.  It was a hard way to live.

I guess I didn't really want to get clean for the holidays.  Not long after leaving Walden House, I was walking down the street and found a five dollar bill.  Not enough to get high, but it was a start.  Although I had begged Susan to help me many times, I was always "too proud" to beg on the street.  I guess I was embarrassed.  People on the street used to tell me, "you need to lose your pride out here!"  This was a stark difference from my days of playing high school football and was taught to have "Tiger Pride."

On the side of our halftime locker room at our home stadium, in huge orange and black letters was the word, "PRIDE".  That was a long time ago.  Pride can be a confusing word.  Especially to young people.  I'm starting to realize that the people on the street weren't all wrong about losing Pride.  Humility is in many ways what I needed.

I didn't want to ask people for help, so I made a sign on a cardboard box.  It read:

HOMELESS

ANYTHING

HELPS

I then drew a little $ sign, a picture of a hamburger, a picture of a fountain drink, a cigarette and a smiley face.

I was humiliated, but, I went and sat at the corner of 5th and Market Streets with my sign.  After about five minutes a guy walked up and handed me a ten dollar bill and said, "God bless you."  I thought, "That was too easy."  It would in fact be the largest amount anyone would ever give me, but now, I knew how to panhandle.  I had fifteen dollars.  That could get me high.

I always felt guilty having people help me so I could get high.  It's not really what I was advertising.  Still, it was giving me faith in people.  So many people really seemed to care.  I was a truly miserable looking person so many times.  Sometimes, I wasn't even trying to get high.  Sometimes, I wasn't even asking for help.  People gave me food and money when I didn't even have a sign.  Sometimes, I'd use the money for food!  There were also a lot of groups and businesses out handing out food and things like socks.

I think I was starting to enjoy interacting with people again.  I kind of felt like a street artist again.  I used to love giving tourists directions and advice on what to do while in San Francisco.  Whenever I had an opportunity to be of such assistance, while homeless, I always offered my help.  Just about every time I offered advice or directions to those who were obviously lost or were asking each other, "How do we get to...", people paid me for my help.  This didn't feel so bad.  I was still getting high with the money most of the time.  This fact didn't feel so good.

I spent most of my time panhandling around the Powell Street cable car turnaround.  I never asked verbally.  I always had a sign.  People were usually pretty generous.  It was rare, but occasionally someone would give me a dirty look or make a not so nice comment. 

I remember one guy commented, "That's the cleanest homeless person I've ever seen."  I actually kind of took it as a compliment.  I tried not to look too destitute.  I was going to the self help center in the Tenderloin so I could at least shave, brush my teeth and clean up as much as I could.  I could at least look like I was trying to get out of this mess.  I wasn't going all the way to The Mission anymore.  I was accepting help from one of the neighborhoods I used in.  They spoke English in this neighborhood.

After that guy commented  on my "clean appearance", I thought, I'd rather be with my wife and my family during the holidays.  I'd rather be working.  I certainly wouldn't be sitting on a street corner with a homeless sign so I could make twenty dollars a day.  Twenty dollars was all I needed to get a hit.  That's how I was coping with my sadness - escape.

I started going to different churches other than Glide and St. Anthony's to get a meal.  These churches were smaller Christian churches and require that I sit through a short service before I got my meal.  The truth was, I wasn't really going for the meal.  I was going for the message.  I was seeking salvation.  Sometimes I heard something that gave me hope.  Getting high was still my way to cope.

It seemed God was really trying to help me.  I kept hearing about Jesus.  Maybe because Christmas was days away.  I made sure I panhandled enough on Christmas Eve so that I could get really high that night.  I went to my private little cove between Baker Beach and Golden Gate Beach in The Presidio.  I wanted to be alone.  I didn't want to think about previous Christmas's when Susan and I were home with our families - it was too painful.

My plan pretty much worked.  It was almost as if Christmas never happened.  On Christmas night, I started to feel guilty and sad, so I called Susan's cell phone with the last fifty cents I had.  I used the pay phone at the Golden Gate Bridge.  The same one I called her from after I left the ICU to use.  It was the best part of my Christmas, but I was very sad.  I didn't even talk to anyone in my family - Susan visited them.  She really is a good person.

For New Years, Susan's brother, Tim, was coming out to San Francisco to visit Susan.  Susan would at least not be alone for New Years Eve.  I was grateful for that.  They were going to see The Dead at Bill Graham Civic Center Auditorium.  Susan and I had done this many time in our ten years here.  I assumed I would have done it every year, but there were times when I was caught up in my addiction and we did not go.

I really wanted to see Tim, but I was so ashamed of myself.  I was really homeless this time.  

I pretty much did the same thing New Years Eve that I did Christmas Eve - I was alone at the beach in the Presidio. The only way I even knew it was midnight was by all the fireworks displays on the other side of The Golden Gate Bridge from all the Bay Area cities having fireworks.  Susan always loved fireworks.  It made me think of two years before when Susan and I were celebrating New Years Eve on Time Square - one of my lifelong dreams.  We also saw the Bengals Play the Jet's on Sunday Night Football.  It was the last game ever played at the old Giant's Stadium.

It was a long year.

 

Well I came in off a dead end street
Walked in slow took a back row seat 
Well I knew I had nothing new to say 

 So many people look sober now 
I couldn't help but feeling bad about 
Just having to be there anyway 

A friend of a friend from work came in 
I never knew what to think of him 
He always seemed to be so insincere 

I've always been afraid of a 12 step crowd
Cause they laugh to much and they talk to loud 
Like they all know where everyone should be 

It's been a long, long, long year
It's been a long, long, long year
How did I get here 

Well they were talking in a circle and I was by myself
And everyone was telling everyone how they felt
And it felt like so long since I was young 
Well that circle started moving all the way to the back
And I started wondering what I was gonna say 
And I still didn't know as it rolled of my tongue 

It's been a long, long, long year
It's been a long, long, long year
How did I get here 
 

Well I didn't say a word all the way to the car
A little later on that night at the bar 
I was telling everyone how bad my life had been 
He said well brother all you needs another shot
So I threw one down and said thanks a lot 
As I thought to myself well here we go again

It's been a long, long, long year
It's been a long, long, long year
How did I get here

A New Year

"But can one still make resolutions when one is over forty? I live according to twenty-year old habits."
-Andre Gide


I didn't bother making any resolutions.  I figured two things.  The crowds would be gone as would the holiday generosity.  They were.  I wasn't really trying to get high anymore.  I had been sick for a month now.  I was getting sick and tired of being sick and tired.

One night, I was laying on the sidewalk throwing up all night and one of the residents of the street I was on yelled out to me that they were going to call the police.  I crawled down the street.  I stopped throwing up, but I had the worst diarrhea you could possibly imagine (I'm sure you really want to) the rest of the night.  I tried to hide behind a dumpster.  It also rained that night.  I was feeling pretty hopeless again.  I was becoming so sick and tired, I rarely had the energy to make it out of the Tenderloin or SOMA to the non-residential and non-business allies.

San Francisco has a sit-lie law.  You can't sit or lie on the sidewalk between the hours of 7:00 AM and 11:00 PM.  This meant the police were waking me up every morning.  Sometimes they would wake me up in the middle of the night if a resident complained.  I was trying to lay down in the nicer and probably safer SOMA neighborhoods rather than the Tenderloin.  No one in the Tenderloin called the police on me, but the police still woke me up there.

Something had to change.  I was still using.  I really couldn't see a way out.  I was doing the same thing over and over again.  I wasn't really expecting a different result.  I knew it was insane.  One thing I never gave up on was praying.  I may have done it less, but I I never gave up.  I, like many people, especially prayed during some of the darkest times - if I wasn't too busy pleading with the voices.  When I prayed, I always prayed for Susan first.  I prayed our families.  I prayed for San Francisco - especially the people on the streets.


I got really sick again.  Susan bought me some pepto to help me get through.  I made a conscious decision to sleep by one of San Francisco's outdoor, twenty-four hour, self-cleaning bathrooms.  While good intended, they are usually mini crack houses, whore houses and shooting galleries after dark.


All I wanted to be able to do was to make it to the bathroom.  Things were no different that night.  I was up all night and not once was I able to use the bathroom.  However, not once did I have to relieve myself on the sidewalk.  I also didn't have to have the rude awakening of re-leaving myself in my pants.  I could thank Susan for that.  I think I drank that whole bottle of pepto.  It helped.

I slept past seven - in front of the Civic Center (City Hall)!  At around 9:00 AM, I was awaken by police taking my photo and writing me a ticket.  At first the cop was very direct.  "You can't camp here and your camping by a children's playground!"  I didn't even realize I was by a playground or that it mattered.  I told him I was sick.  I showed him the pepto.  He asked if I was an addict.  I said, "yeah."  He told me they could help.  He told me I would have to appear at CJC (Community Justice Court), but, they would rip up the ticket and would try to help me get clean.  He asked me, "Do you believe in God?"

This is the photo the cops took that morning

San Francisco really tries to help people.  It has always taken in those who are different or have lost their way.  

On one hand, it's hard being an addict here.  Drugs are everywhere!  For and addict, it can be like a kid in a candy store.  In some neighborhoods, it's no big deal to see people smoking crack, shooting up or having sex - right there on the sidewalk.  

On the other hand, it's good to be an addict here.  The leaders, the police and many of the residents are pretty understanding.  They really do seem to try to help people first. There really are a lot of programs to help people here.  The problem with that is addicts are master manipulators.  We don't even know it ourselves sometimes.  Still, in the end, we will only hurt ourselves, not to mention others, if we do not appreciate the opportunities and chances we are given.  Maybe if I were forced to get clean - I would.  Another chance?

I went to CJC.  I was court ordered to get on GA and put into a shelter.  I was told to come back in one week.  I also became aware that I still had some benefits from my last attempt at getting GA.  I went to the shelter that night.  It was at MSC South (Multi-Service Center South).  My bed was a top bunk in the corner of a room amongst a see of about 200 beds.  It was really uncomfortable, but I made it through the night.  


I thought, "Maybe I can do this."  The next morning, I used my back benefits to get high.  By not showing up at the shelter that night, I lost my shelter reservation until my next GA appointment in one week.  This really messed me up.  I ended up out at Ocean Beach this time.  It was cold.  They allow fires at Ocean Beach.  Years ago, there would be hundreds of fires on Ocean Beach.   Back then, I used to wait for people to leave their fires and I would go sit by them.  In the morning, I would search the beach for left over goodies, like hershey bars people would drop because they were making smores.


Now, there are only about dozen  fire pits.  Unlike before, you can only have fires in the fire pits. The beach is much nicer because of this.  It doesn't have a bunch of burnt wood and half burnt cans and melted bottles anymore.  I used to try to clean up the beach sometimes so I could at least do something positive.


I hung out by a fire pit with two young people from Modesto.  I told them my situation.  They were very encouraging.  While sitting beside the fire, I found a bag of marijuana.  I asked, "Is this yours?"  They said it was so I gave it to them.  They left soon after.  One of them came running back and said, "Hey man, you can have this pot."  I don't even smoke pot anymore.  I really haven't for eight years.  I used to say, kind of jokingly, once of started shooting speed, I was cured of all of my other addictions.  I did quit all the other drugs I used to use.  I used them all.  My favorite eight years ago was crack.  I hated crack before I started shooting speed, but, I still smoked it.  Crack was nothing to me once I found the lust of my life.  Marijuana was already a distant thought by then.


I always knew  it was nearing time the sun to come to rise when I saw the dog walkers and joggers start to come out.  This usually it meant it was time for me to leave Ocean Beach.  I usually went into hiding somewhere in Lands End or Golden Gate Park.  There are a lot of places like sand dunes, caves, thick brush, trees, and beach coves to disappear into.  Eventually, I would start heading back toward The City.  It's a six mile walk - if I walked in a direct route.  I've made that walk so many times. 


It was Saturday.  I thought, "I can probably use one more time before my GA appointment at CJC and not be a complete mess when I show up".  The last thing I needed to do was show up to my court house appointment - tweaking.


The pot I had was mostly shake , but I had about a quarter bag.  I figured I could sell it for twenty dollars in The Haight.  In San Francisco, different drugs can be found in different neighborhoods and specific street corners.  There's a couple of blocks in the Tenderloin known as "pill hill" for instance.  Sixth and Mission, in my neighborhood was conveniently speed.  The place for buying marijuana is in The Haight Ashbury where Haight Street dead ends and Golden Gate Park begins - go figure!

This is where Haight Street ends and Golden Gate Park begins.  I had some unhappy people after I took this photo.  I deal  with that a lot in The City.  One guy came up to me and Said, "You owe me a dollar for every picture you took of me."  I told him "No, you owe me a dollar for every picture you were in of mine!"  He didn't like that.  He said, "You don't even have my permission to be here!"  I laughed at him and walked into the park with my camera.  I'm sure he didn't mind my being there when I used to be "one of him".  I still am.  I wish he realized I was only trying to help people.  I would never go up and take a photo of someone up close, but if your in my landscape, your in my photo.  Perhaps I should have been nicer about his complaint and explained myself.  Sometimes, I just don't have the energy - believe it or not.

At the other end of Golden Gate Park, about fifty blocks way, is Ocean Beach - where I was that morning.  The dog walkers and joggers were starting to come out, so I began my walk to the other end of the park.  I figured I'd hang around hippie hill.  Hippie hill has a drum circle every day - especially saturday!  Just before you get to hippie hill there is a pedestrian tunnel that goes under Kezar Drive.  I had a seat on the hillside just outside the tunnel.  After about five minutes a guy came up and asked, "Got any buds?",  I said, "Kind of, I got some shake."


The guy who asked me had just moved here from Humbolt County, but had no buds or money.  I packed his bowl for him and let him smoke it.


About ten minutes later, this guy and three teenagers walked up to us and asked, "you guys want to have lunch with us?"  I said, "Sure!"  He handed both of us a bag lunch and said, "My name is Charlie."

I had been sitting on the hill to the left, just before the path that tuns off to the left.

Learn to Fly 

"The Lord is close to the broken hearted and rescues those in crushed spirit"  

Psalms 34:18

Charlie and his young friends were very friendly.  We all sat Indian style and ate our lunches.  I was very grateful, because I had not eaten in a few days.  It didn't even occur to me that I wasn't going to have any luck selling the pot with them there.  It was nice to talk to really nice people.  

They told me they were with a group called Youth With A Mission - YWAM.  They were there to help the homeless and to "spread the word of Jesus."  We began exchanging information about ourselves.  They said they were from Oregon.  We talked about how beautiful San Francisco and Golden Gate Park is.

I asked them about Oregon.  They asked me about where I was from.  I told them how I was from Cincinnati.  I told them how I was becoming very grateful for and how I admired people who did what they did.  Then it occurred to me.  I said, "You guys are the hot chocolate kids!"  Charlie said, "Yeah, we're doing that tomorrow night."  I said, "Cool, I always love when you guys come around."

They asked me how I knew about them.  I began telling them my story.  I obviously have no problem doing this, but I was a little more detailed with them.  I never know if people really want to hear about me all the time.  That's why I like writing.  At least you have a choice - especially if you've made it this far in this novel that was supposed to be a blog!  I knew it was going to be long.

I told them about my long struggle with meth addiction and how I spent a lot of time on the streets.  That's how I was aware of the hot chocolate kids.  I didn't realize they were coming from other states.  Charlie commented about how he had heard The Tenderloin was an "interesting" area.  I was always amazed at the teenagers who walked  around the Tenderloin after dark - serving hot chocolate.

I didn't realize they weren't even from The City.  The truth is, The Tenderloin, for as crazy as it is, it's not that violent.  There are also a lot of good people there.  Mostly, it's just addicts losing their minds, which can make people a little risky to be around.  I always thought The Tenderloin resembled an outdoor insane asylum in the middle of the night.  My state of mind probably didn't help.  The hot chocolate kids were usually out just after dark, so things weren't that crazy yet - usually.

Pretty much, if you're not up to no good, your fine.  If you're up to good and you're helping people, you're more than fine.  Most people there do appreciate people who help them - at least for the moment.  Especially if your giving them hot chocolate.

I explained this to them.  I also told them how many people in The Tenderloin are willing to help people.  Many people there have helped me - including other homeless people.  I guess I've often had faith in people.  This faith was sometimes lost when I was tweaking.  I just didn't really have faith in myself.  I was certainly growing tired of needing help all the time.  I always felt pathetic.  I guess it goes back to that word painted on the side of my half-time locker room wall - PRIDE.

I told them how I had just gotten divorced  from my high school sweetheart.  Susan and I used to hang out at hippie hill years ago.  We'd toss Frisbee or just hang out on the hillside.  It seems like Susan may have hula hooped sometimes.  She was a great hula hooper.  She was a hula hoop champion as a kid!  For the last few years her hula hoop hung on the wall.  We weren't doing "fun" things  as often.  I think everyone is guilty of that, but many times it was because I was using.

I told Charlie and his friends how I had been homeless for a while.  They were really interested and concerned.  They asked me if I believed in God.  I told them I did believe in Gods existence, but I could not truly claim to believe in God unless I lived a good, honest life.  In fact I told them that I believed I that I may have crossed an invisible line that made me evil.  It seemed "evil" people on the street were confirming this for me - including the devil himself.  I believed I could never repay the universe, especially Susan, the debt I owed for the wrong I had done.  I believed I may have to accept that to be my fate.  

I told them that, despite my belief, I wanted to at least live a good life, if possible.  More importantly, I wanted Susan to live a good life.  Although I always believed myself willing to sacrifice, my life for that, my actions were all that really mattered.  I know this is pretty messed up thinking.  I never really could sort it out.  All's all believed, is that when it came to being the husband, brother, friend, human being, etc. that God, Susan and so many other human beings tried to help me be, I failed.  I failed.

They asked me if I believed in Jesus.  I told them that I never deny the Jesus existed, but I never deny that Muhammad existed either.  To me, they were both great men, at the very least!  Son of God and Prophet is where I find myself wanting to be skeptical.   I don't know why this is, after all the amazing, undeniable, coincidences that have occurred in my life.  Things that have given me a belief in something way beyond my understanding.  Something I used to refer to as The Universe.  Why couldn't this amazing Universe I now refer to as God put a human being or beings on this earth that are in fact more than that.  Perhaps he could put a son and a prophet on this earth.  After all, he found a way to get to me - a really messed up drug addict.  Or did her?  Was it just evil who had gotten to me.  Had I just gotten to evil?  I never liked to believe so.  I always believed God would love everyone if we let him.  Even if it was just evil, it still meant something very important - there is a God.

Since I believe Good will always win, perhaps God is just so amazing that he is finding a way to lead me to the light.  It had been Christians who had been helping me recently.  I had been going to churches and hearing messages of salvation - even for someone like me.

I thought, "I might be able to buy into this if I never used again," something I have struggled to do for a long time.  To me, the answer was always God.  I believed and still believe the obsession to use will be lifted by working a 12 step program for the rest of my life - believing in a God of my understanding.

It's been said that before 12 step programs addicts pretty much died, went to jail or were put into institutions.  It sure seems that's the path I was on without a complete change in my life.  Even rehab is a form of institution.  

I also knew churches allowed 12 step programs to meet in their basements.  They have for years.  You do find people in 12 step programs who struggle with Christianity and religion in general.  I have heard people refer to themselves as "recovering Catholics".  Some of these same people have as strong a belief in a God of their understanding as strong as anyone I've ever met.  The most important things to me was they were living an honest life and doing something I've never been able to do for long - not use drugs. 

I know from being an addict that I can believe in them.  Their stories qualify them.  I have no reasons to not believe in Christian people either.  The part I always struggled with is that those who do not accept Jesus as their savior would go to hell.  There are way to many good people in this world of other or no faiths for me to believe in that.  If those good people were going to hell, then what kind of hell was I going to? Perhaps I was fixating on that too much.  The truth is, however, the things that were occurring in my life because of my actions were no doubt sending me to hell, even if it was just on this earth.  It also seemed Christians cared about people like me - people have knowingly and in my case admittedly been wrong.  People in twelve step programs also cared about someone like me.  Perhaps there was something about combining the two that might make sense for me.

It was becoming apparent to me that it was going to take a complete surrender of my life to get clean.  It was becoming obvious that meetings alone, outpatient or short term inpatient  rehab was not the answer.  I tried all of these.  I always wanted to get back to my relationship.  I always wanted to get back to my business.  I always wanted to get back to life.  I guess to be honest, at time, I also just wanted to use.  By not being able to stay clean, I was not living.  I was killing myself.  I was hurting others.  Susan begged me to take was much time as I needed.  Members of my family also thought this would be best for me and encouraged me to do so.  Susan always said, "If it takes six months or a year, we'll have the rest of our lives together!"  She was right. I remember a long time ago, Susan's brother was frustrated with me and suggested I do a long term program.  I should have believed in ALL of them.

I felt so guilty that I would not be with Susan.  I thought she was very alone out here - thanks to me.  I was not really with her when I was using.  I thought I needed to be with her in my recovery.  When I was clean and we were together, things were always good.  She had been such a big part of my recovery in so many ways.  I also thought it was ridiculous for me to live a few blocks away for so long.  The reality now is, I live around the corner and we are divorced.  I probably liked some of the "freedom" and privacy I had  also.  I knew it was hard to live in an institution of sorts - I had done it for two months in the past.  

I am a hard core addict.  I am self-will run riot.  As much as I hate it, I must accept these facts.  I must accept that, for a while in my life, I will have to be told what to do and when to do it.  Slowly over time, I will be integrated back into life.   This is what I can hope and pray for.  I couldn't do this for myself.  Susan invested so much into me.  I should have taken her and so many others advice.  Hind sight sucks.

I hope if one of the hot chocolate "kids" with Charlie happen to ever read this, they don't take offense to me calling them "kids".  The truth is, these young women and men were in many ways more mature than me.  They already understand what it means to help others.  I guess I'm just getting old also.  I still refer to my 20 and 21 year old brothers as "the boys".

One of the hot chocolate kids asked me if I was willing to accept Jesus as my savior?  He said, "What if I told you that I could guarantee you'll  go to Heaven if you'll accept Jesus into your heart and let us pray for you."  I replied, "I'd be willing to let you do that, but it didn't mean I would necessarily believe that is what is going to get me to heaven when I die - if there's a Heaven." 

I explained that what I really needed to happen was to stay clean and my worldly life to be better.  I had pretty much given up on the concept of Heaven on earth for me.  However, I was tired of living in hell.  A hell where my only relief came in a syringe.  

I thought this kid was innocent and maybe a little naive.  However, there was something about his confidence in what he was saying I truly wanted to believe in.  I know that he truly believed in what he was saying.  I respected that. 

They prayed for me.

Afterward, they went on to tell how my life would get exponentially better  if I believed.  I had no doubt about this.  Although it had been a while, the times that I had been clean, believed in God, prayed, stayed connected and cared about others, life was always good.  It would take me a little while to get out of the darkness, but, it always got better.  I would be happy joyous and free during these brief times.  I wasn't sure I deserved to be happy anymore.  

Charlie told me a lot about himself.  I never like to talk about other peoples personal life.  I won't even use most peoples names unless they are good people.  I figure good people deserve to be recognized.  Associated with me is another question!  I especially won't use other addicts names.

Charlie was not an addict, but I knew his heart was sincere.  Charlie, like many people these days, knew someone who was struggling with addiction.  It was something Charlie truly cared about.  I truly cared about Charlie.

They began asking me about getting into a program.  I told them about my history of attempts to get clean.  They asked me if I had heard of Teen Challenge.  I had.  My aunt Kathy and Uncle Giles, who are Christians, have always tried to help me -  when I'm available to them.  Years ago, Giles and I were meeting at Perfect North Slopes - a ski resort just outside of Cincinnati.  We were talking about God.  He was trying to steer me on the right path.  It was around that time that I had really began contemplating the idea of God's existence.  I was just realizing I was an addict.  I was searching.  Giles seemed less convinced that I was on the right path (He was apparently right at the time).  I always remember what he said to me, "Those who seek him, will find him."  Or something like that.  I was searching.  I was just taking the long way.

I also remember a time when Giles was talking to me on the phone years ago, trying to get me to check into a long term program.  He believed that's what I needed.  He was right.  He even looked up some places for me.  He told me he was getting on a plane to come out here and make me go.  He was trying to give me tough love.  Back then, I really felt guilty about the idea of leaving Susan alone out here for so long.  At some point during the past few years, Kathy and Giles even bought me a Recovery Bible and mailed it to me.

Apparently, Giles called and talked to me when I was in the ICU.  About a year ago, Kathy was trying to talk me into getting into a long term program.  She told me about a program she was familiar with through her church called Teen Challenge.

I explained to Charlie how I had heard of Teen Challenge.  I also told him how I didn't know if they had one here.  He didn't know either.  I told him about CityTeam.  I don't believe he was familiar with them at the time.  He said that when he went to YWAM, he would enquirer about Teen Challenge and that he would give me information.

I had earlier told him how I was a photographer and had my own street artists business.  I also told him how I had been part owner of a business earlier in life.  He said that if I got into that program, he would be willing to sponsor me financially so I could get back on my feet.

He said if I needed to take some classes, he would support me.  I was amazed at his willingness to give to someone he had just met.  Something like that wouldn't happen for six months, but it was still quite a limb to go out on for a homeless drug addict he just met in Golden Gate Park.  I told him I couldn't accept something like that.

I recalled how much Susan had invested in me and how many times I had let her down.  If I was going to get clean, I was going to need some kind of help.  Ultimately, I would have to learn to take care of myself one day.  I was so tired of always needing help and then when people helped me - letting them down.  

No matter what the future held, I had some new friends for the moment.  I told them I would be in the Tenderloin on Sunday looking for them.  We parted ways.  After they left, I walked to the other side of the pedestrian tunnel.  Charlie came back with his wife  and some more hot chocolate kids .  He asked if I would be in a photo with them.  I said, "sure".

Susan used to say I looked like a mentally ill person when I was high. I kind of see what she means!  I probably weighed about a hundred and thirty pounds

After that, I began walking back towards Downtown.  I was really contemplating everything they had said.  I was also concerned I would just let them down like I had so many others.

For years I had wandered the streets  looking for something on the ground.   Many times, I just had my head down.  I always found things.  Things like money, speed, cocaine, pot, cigarettes and signs that reminded me of people in my life.  Sometimes I'd see messages written in the concrete sidewalks.  Messages that had been written permanently in the concrete years ago.  These messages often spoke to the thoughts I was having just before I came upon them.  Sometimes, messages were written in chalk along the path I would walk.   Many were right in front of my house.  Some were in front of the Salvation Army when I was there.  

Many times I would be looking on the ground and I would see these little baggies that people sold meth in.  People called them "crack sacks".  I would point them out to Susan.  She always, said, "You know they also put buttons in those bags."  She also always used to say, "Look up!".  She also used to say to me all the time, "You can't do it alone."

I was walking down Page Street (one street over from Haight Street).  Just as I got to the corner of Page and Ashbury, there was a message written in the concrete.  It read, "LOOK UP"

of

Run and tell all of the angels
This could take all night
Think I need a devil to help me get things right
Hook me up a new revolution
Cause this one is a lie
We sat around laughing and watched the last one die

I'm looking to the sky to save me
Looking for a sign of life
Looking for something to help me burn out bright
I'm looking for a complication
Looking cause I'm tired of trying
Make my way back home when I learn to fly high

I think I'm done nursing the patience
It can wait one night
I'd give it all away if you give me one last try
We'll live happily ever trapped if you just save my life
Run and tell the angels that everything's alright

I'm looking to the sky to save me
Looking for a sign of life
Looking for something to help me burn out bright
I'm looking for a complication
Looking cause I'm tired of trying
Make my way back home when I learn to fly high
Make my way back home when I learn to. . .

Fly along with me, I can't quite make it alone
Try to live this life my own (and)
Fly along with me, I can't quite make it alone
Try to live this life my own. . .

I'm looking to the sky to save me
Looking for a sign of life
Looking for something to help me burn out bright
I'm looking for a complication
Looking cause I'm tired of trying
Make my way back home when I learn to. . .

This is the corner of Ashbury and Page that the message "Look Up" was  written in concrete.  I rode Susan's bike up there to photograph the message.  At first I thought, "that figures".  It's all up hill to The Haight.  I needed the exercise and I got some other photos.  The message was gone but now it's wheel chair accessible.  This is good.  I guess it was there when I really needed it.

Bridge Burning 

"All those memories you killed and your burning bridges you help build."

-Unknown

Later that night, I was hanging out in The Tenderloin.  I decided I would walk over to Polk Street to sell that pot.  When I got there, I realized I had lost it.

Sunday evening came around.  I decided I wanted to see my new friends, so I waited 0utside YWAM.  I knew where it was because it was across the street from Glide where I had eaten many times.  Around five o'clock, Charlie and The Hot Chocolate Kids showed up.  Just then, one of the kids from the park, Leah said, "DAVE!" 

They were so happy to see me.  I was happy to see them.  Charlie asked me if I had dinner yet.  I don't think I had, but I told them I didn't want to impose on them.  He said they would treat me to dinner.  I told him if the place wasn't too fancy, I would take them up on it, but I hated to always "take, take, take!"

About a half hour later, Charlie came back out and invited me in to YWAM.  He had gotten permission from the guy who oversees the program for me to come inside.  Charlies wife was going to cook spaghetti.  I went inside, cleaned up and met some more of these nice young men and women.  They were all so happy.  The spaghetti dinner was delicious.  

After dinner, Charlie asked me if I would take photos of them.  One of the kids, Christian was a photographer and had a nice Canon.   It had been a really long time since I had taken photos.  It felt really strange to have a camera in my hand, but it also felt good.  I couldn't believe they trusted me!

The guy who was overseeing the program asked me if I was willing to go into a program.  I said I was.  He said he could make some calls.  He called CityTeam.  He too had been homeless in San Francisco.  He himself graduated from CityTeam.

He set up an appointment for he and I to meet with the director of CityTeam on Monday.  All of my new friends were so excited.  Charlie kept commenting on how brave I was.  Some how, he really seemed to understand how much fear I had in me.  I suspect he could see it or sense it.  Eventually, they went out to give out hot chocolate.  We said our goodbyes and talked about how we would see each other in the future some day.  I hoped we would.

About a half hour later, I ran into Charlie and a couple of kids  again.  It gave us a chance to talk a little more.  I also got some hot chocolate!  They told me they loved me.  Somehow, I believed them.  Again, we parted ways.

As I was walking away, Leah chased me down and said, "Hey Dave, do you remember how you said you weren't sure if you were good or evil?"  I said, "Yeah."  She said, with the biggest smile on her face, "You're good, I can tell!"  It melted my heart.  I hoped she was right.  I hoped it was going to be my last night on the street.  Charlie and The Hot Chocolate Kids headed back to Oregon Monday morning.

I was supposed to meet the guy from YWAM Monday at 1:30.  I did.  He walked me to CityTeam.   

I filled out an application and interviewed with CityTeams director - Johnathon.  Based on my history of relapse, he questioned me as to whether or not I could stick it out.  So did I.  He asked if I was a Christian.  I told him I was raised that way but wouldn't call myself one today.  I told him I believed in God's existence.  I didn't tell him I thought I was evil.  

I told him that I had to be at CJC on Tuesday.  I had told the GA person at CJC how I might want to get into a program.  In fact, if I was in a program, GA would give me around $360 a month.  CityTeam would only take 25% for rent.  This would allow me to take care of some of neglected obligations and maybe even allow me to save a little to invest in my future.

For all I knew at the time, I was going to be court ordered into a program.  That is kind of what I hoped in the beginning.  CJC was really cool.  The prosecutor had even apologized to me for pressing charges.  (It was a camping ticket!)

Jonathon asked how many days I had clean.  I had three.  CityTeam requires four.  Stars were starting to align.  He was concerned about my level of commitment.  He was worried about how many times I had tried and failed.  However, I was let into the program.  I was told to show up on Tuesday, after my court hearing.

After I left CityTeam, I walked a few blocks down Sixth Street  with the guy from YWAM.  Although I had walked by it a thousand times, I had never been in CityTeam.  Once I realized what it is was all about, I kind of didn't want to go inside of CityTeam tweeking so I wouldn't judge it inappropriately or associate it with my using or taint it in any way.  

I asked the guy from YWAM, "Where does everyone sleep?"  He told me that after feeding the homeless, the rolled away the tables and at night, the put army cots out on the floor.

I know it sounds ridiculous, but at the time, that was an issue for me.  I can't even understand why now, because it's not really that big of a deal to me.  Back then, I was sleeping on the streets.  As much as I hated sleeping on the streets, I was having a harder time sleeping at shelters.  I have a lot of sleep issues.  I actually slept better on the streets back then.  Still, my intentions were to show up.

I told Susan I was accepted.  She was happy for me.  The one comment she made was, "You just have to believe in their God."  My past beliefs may have influenced Susan's a little.  We influenced each other.  We were together for twenty-two years.  Our beliefs were similar in some ways.  I truly believed in Gods existence.  She truly knew what it meant to be a good person.  

I also struggled with "their God", but that really wasn't a deal breaker for me anymore.  Christains had done so much for me lately.   Still, what they had done for me was but a fraction of what Susan had done for me in my life.  Obviously I was struggling.  One more night on the street.

The next day, I went to CJC.  The way CJC works is that people who comply with what they were supposed to comply with get called up before the people who did not.  I was called up last.  Although I didn't think it was a huge deal, I thought they might know that I left the shelter.  The shelter obviously knew.  It turns out the judge didn't have a file on me.  I explained that I had gotten on GA.  The prosecutor stepped up and said, "That's fine with us your honor."  Case dismissed.

Afterward, I met with the GA worker at CJC.  I was now approved for a ninety day bed at MSC South.  Once you get to that point, you can't lose your bed as long as you make your monthly GA appointments.  This meant I could miss nights here and there.  Since I was an addict, they didn't require me to do workfare.  This meant I didn't have to clean the streets.  Not being on workfare was meant to give me time to work on myself by doing things like going to meetings.  The GA worker was really nice.  She could relate to my situation on a personal level and was very supportive.  My addict mind thought, "Maybe I can do this with out a program."

I began wondering if I could exist at CityTeam.  I had a hard time staying in shelters.  I could never sleep.  This would frustrate me and I would leave.  I actually slept better on the streets if I was prepared.  I still hated it.  I knew I could at least leave the shelters.  I would not be aloud to leave CityTeam for thirty days.  I didn't show up at CityTeam.  I had just let a whole lot of people down.  I'm good at breaking hearts.  I figured I also burned another bridge.  The next day, I used.

 

These are my famous last words! 

My number's up, bridges, well, burned
 

Oh won't you let me twist your fate  

It's getting kinda late 

but I don't wanna wait no more  

Well may I have this dance of days 

Locked in your embrace 

Passed your test of faith  

Another time another place 

Another line upon your face 

Another in your way
 

Down crooked stairs, and sideways glances  

Comes the king of second chances  

Now throw him in the flame
 

Whatever keeps you warm at night 

(Whatever keeps you warm at night) 

Whatever keeps you warm inside
 

Your bridges are burning down  

They're all coming down  

It's all coming round 

You're burning them down  

It's all coming round  

They're all coming down  

Your bridges are burning down
 

Oh let me put you in your place  

I love it when you say 

Giving everything away
Tell what's in it for me 

Tell me now what's in it for me 

No one's getting this for free  

So tell me now what's in it for me
Whatever keeps you warm at night 

(Whatever keeps you warm at night)  

Whatever keeps you warm inside
 

Your bridges are burning down  

They're all coming down 

It's all coming round 

You're burning them down 

It's all coming round  

They're all coming down  

Your bridges are burning down
 

Gathering the ashes  

Everything thrown away  

Gathering the ashes 

Scatter as they blow away  

Gathering the ashes  

Everything thrown away 

Gathering the ashes Scatter as they blow away
 

Your bridges are burning down 

They're all coming down 

It's all coming round
You're burning 'em down  

It's all coming round 

They're all coming down
 

Gathering the ashes (Your bridges are burning down)  

Everything thrown away (They're all coming down) 

Gathering the ashes 

Scatter as they blow away (It's all coming round) 

Gathering the ashes (You're burning them down) 

Everything is thrown away (It's all coming round) 

Gathering the ashes (They're all coming down) 

Scatter as they blow (Your bridges are burning down)

Walk 

"The universe is unfolding as it should"

-Edwin Hubble

 

I really wanted to stop using.  I just hoped I could do it without a long-term program.  I needed to get my life back together years ago!  GA was going to put me in an SRO (Single Room Occupancy) – eventually.  I’d be okay if I had my own place.  I could put my printer and supplies in the room and be a street artist again.  I could take my cat’s, Reuben and Cerise back.  They were driving Susan nuts.  Susan is an animal lover, but she has never really been a cat person.  Reuben needs A LOT of attention and he is in to everything!

Once again, I was fooling myself with these thoughts.  I’ve never been able to stay clean on my own very long – even with the support of someone who loved me. 

What do they say?  Idle time is the devil’s playground.  It’s kind of like that.  Still, I was really struggling with being with people - especially people having struggles in their life.

I did make an effort.  I tried to stay at the shelter.  I told them I was an addict.  I was proactive about my housing situation.  I started going to recovery meetings.  I even had a guy who was willing to take me through the steps helping for about a week.  I really wanted to get clean.  I was using less.  I was still pretty miserable. 

The shelter (MSC South) I was placed in was one that made you leave during the day.  They get you up at 6:00 AM and have you out by 8:00 AM.  I had to check back in between the hours of 4:30 PM and 7:00 PM every day if I wanted to spend the night there.  One has to go through a metal detector each time one returns.  The first week I was there, someone was murdered.  He was stabbed in the heart over a chair.  This made checking in everyday even slower.  I felt miserable waiting in line for an hour everyday, but I didn’t complain. 

I was actually starting to become grateful.  The one good thing about MSC South was these huge fans to circulate air.  These huge fans created white noise.  I’ve always needed white noise to sleep.  I have slept with a fan since I was young.  Even when I was homeless, the hum of The City and the fact that I often slept under the 1-80 approach to the Bay Bridge created enough white noise to help me sleep.  I could usually sleep on the streets because I was exhausted from going on multiple day runs. 

This was also the case at MSC South.  It was really hard to be around people, but I did it.  I wouldn’t go to the shelter until the voices in my head calmed down.  I would usually try to sleep at least one night on the street because I was so exhausted.  I would end up missing about three or four nights each time I used.  Two or three nights, I would be very high or tweaking and one night, I would be exhausted.  I would usually be able to dose off a few hours on a vent on the ground or on the side of a building that produced a little heat – since I was never prepared to sleep outside when using. 

Not only was I starting to spend more time at the shelter, I was also taking better care of myself.  I was showering every day, eating better and sleeping a little better.  Sometimes I was using over-the-counter sleep aids, but I was sleeping better.  The nightmares were also going away. 

Since I was in a shelter and they had a phone I could use for ten minutes at a time, I was able to call and check on Susan.  When I was at the shelter, I wasn’t high.  I could have sensible conversations with her.  I also began reconnecting to friends and family.  I called my stepmother, Marilynn, often.  I called my older brother, Bob, often.  They both encouraged me to call anytime.  It was nice to have emotional support and someone to talk to.  I didn’t want to weigh anyone down with my problems, but I really needed to lift the weight from Susan.  

Marilynn has always been important to me.  She was my second mother.  She had also been around addiction off and on since she married my dad.  My dad really struggled after my mom died and just before he died.  Marilynn encouraged me to get and stay connected with people in twelve step programs.  She could also relate to losing a spouse and being on her own.  At least Susan is alive and healthy. I was also able to keep up with what was going on with my younger brother’s lives and talk to them sometimes. 

I was keeping up with my older brother, Bob, and his family.  I like talking to Bob about things like football.  That’s what we talked about most of the time.  We also talked about how he was doing.  I liked hearing of him and his family’s weekend trips and how his work was going.  I’m proud of Bob.  He had juvenile rheumatoid arthritis and other health issues as a child.  He chose to be a physical therapist.  He also has a beautiful family.  One of these days, I’m going to get to one of my nephew’s football games! 

I was also making friends at the shelter.  These friends were also going through struggles with addiction themselves.  We supported each other.  One morning, I even went to church with one of them.  It was the church right across the street from St. Anthony’s dining hall – St. Bonefice.  It’s a beautiful Catholic church.  I had gone there a couple of times during their weekly service to rest on the pews.  Someone would usually come by and say, in a nice Catholic way, “This is not a time to sleep”  I was usually just staring at the beautiful ceiling of the church.

I tried to go inside and take a photo of the ceiling, but there was a service going on and I didn't want to interrupt.

The first church service I went to was with my friend from MSC South.  We were hanging out together at Carl’s Junior on Sunday Morning.  A lot of street people hang out there.  Carl’s Junior on Seventh and Market is one of the few restaurants in Downtown San Francisco that will let you in to use the bathroom without buying something.  It says on the door it is for customers only, but they are pretty lenient.  Of course, people abuse it.  I did appreciate that place for their patience.  

My friend and I were both hanging out there talking about our recent experiences and our battle to stay clean and exist in the shelter and on the streets.  After a while a man from Whales came up to us and asked, “Can I buy you guys a cup of coffee?”  We thankfully let him.  We talked with him for a while.  A lot of people in this world are truly kind. 

I had met my friend about five months before when I was really in the darkness.  I had just gotten back from running to Millbrae (just south of SFO – about 20 miles away) because the evil gang in my head was not happy that I was staying in their hotel.   I was being set up for murder.  I was "going to the pen!"  I was really starting to lose it.

My friend found me sitting on the street.  He bought me a cup of coffee that morning – I didn’t really know it at the time, but, he didn’t have much either. 

He has a really strong belief in Jesus.  The first time I met him, I told him I was considering a program - perhaps a Christian program - He suggested TAP (This was before I had been there).  I didn't go.  I used again.  I would end up running all the way to Palo Alto -  from the devil himself this time.  This whole city wanted me out of here.  It seemed the world might of been coming to an end.  It was definitely supposed to be the end for me - on earth. 

Palo Alto is in the Silicon Valley where Stanford University is.  It is forty miles south of San Francisco.  I wasn't supposed to stop until I got to Texas, I was to be hung in Mexico, but that's whole other messed up story.

Now I was trying to get out of the darkness.  The truth is, in some ways, I was.  I had been praying a lot.  I was also not causing Susan as many problems either.  Although I was using, it had little to do with Susan's help.  "They" didn't like that she was renting me a storage space.  "They" wanted me to have nothing like "them".  "They" wanted me to take care of myself.  "They" weren't all wrong.  "They" weren't always mean to me, but, "they" scared me.  Enough about "them".

That morning, my friend and I went to Saint Bonefac - the church connected to St. Anthony's.  The service was in Spanish, but it was a beautiful service.  There something about a Catholic service that is beautiful and even heavenly in any language.  I was considering St. Anthony's again since I thought I burned by bridge at CityTeam.

I had also burned a bridge there, but it was not as big of  a deal and it had been a while.  I was feeling really guilty about letting my YWAM friends down.  I have let so many people down.  

I really never believed it could be possible to repay my debt to everyone.  It still seemed that going down the using road was only going to put me in a worse situation.  At least now, I had GA.  I had shelter, healthy food and a shower!

I really thought I might be able to get clean by being at the shelter.  There was a structure that held me a little accountable.  There was support.  I also knew Susan was growing impatient with me and needed me to take care of myself.  When I was trying, she was always very supportive.

All the times I had told her I was going to rehab, even after our divorce, she always said, "I know you can do it." or "I want you to be happy."  I want the same for her.

As usual, my self-will led me to believe I could do it on my own.  I hoped I could stay clean by going to meetings.  The truth I didn't want to acknowledge is, I am way to far gone to be someone who can just go to meetings and continue with life.  A  complete surrender is required.  My heart was trying to lead me in the right direction.  It was my head that always took me back to hell.

Even though I was using less, when I did, it was hell.  Not quite as dark as before, but it was dark.  I think that's because I wasn't letting Susan help me.  I also wasn't steeling from her or pawning any of our stuff to get high.

I was starting to feel a little more independent, even though I was still getting help from the city.  I wasn't relying on one person.  This made a difference.   I also tried to stay close and in good terms with "the enemy".

I may have been using less, but when I did, it was always bad.  One night, I was tweaking out at a shelter, at Golden Gate Beach.  I had a tarp over me because it had been raining.  I had been there for hours.  I wasn't paying attention to the tide. I also thought I was up high enough.  It was during a Pacific winter storm.  A rogue wave demolished my little camp.  It broke right over the top of me.  Talk about scaring the hell out of a tweaker!  I had no idea what had happened.  I was soaked and freezing cold.  My stuff had was either soaked or was washed away - including one of my boots.  I realized, behind me was this unstable cliff (due to the rain).  In front of me was the Pacific Ocean in the middle of a winter storm.  In the past I believed God sent waves to get me to leave places I was using.  If God ever wanted me out of that place, it was that night!  There had been times in the past when wind gust would literally blow my off my feet.  Since I was usually walking west and the wind blew east, it always seemed to be blowing back towards my home - when I had one.  I believe I angered God many times.

I climbed on top of a huge rock and froze for a while.  I was so scared.  Eventually the tide receded.  I found my lost boot, in the dark, washed up on the side of he unstable hill.  I of course had no flashlight.  The only light I had was from the lights coming off the Golden Gate Bridge.  I climbed up the muddy hill.  My bag of clothes was so heavy because it was soaking wet.  I was so cold.

I started walking back to The City.  I cut over 25th Avenue to Geary Blvd.  About half way back to The City on Geary at Masonic, I found a pretty dry blanket.  I wrapped up in it at the bus stop in front of the Hukilau Restaurant and waited for the sun to rise.

Another time I was hanging out with a guy I had met at Walden House.  He was in a wheel chair and needed help.  In return for my help, he bought a lot of speed.  I of course had plenty of connections.  We used way to much.  After doing my last, huge, 80 unit hit, I looked at the orange cap to the needle he prepared for me and noticed it had blood inside it.  I knew it was his blood, because he had terrible veins and his syringes were always full of blood.  I have to quit writing about this.  I feel it in my heart.  Evil takes aim at the same place I feel love.  The next morning, he told me he was HIV and Hepatitis C positive.

While I was using less, when I did use, things were going really wrong for me.  I have tested negative for both since.  I got tested about a month after it happened.  I won't know for sure until six months have passed.  It's probably been three since that happened.  I am going to try to wait until I six months clean before I get tested again.  I have enough anxiety.  Still, it's nice to get the negative test results back even if there is a possibility it could show up later.  It's in God's hands now.

Using less was making life better.  I felt a little healthier.  More sane.  Closer to Susan.  Closer to the idea of recovery.  I was going to meetings.  I was meeting with counselors at the shelter.  I even volunteered at the shelter.  I was going to church more on Sunday mornings.  I also decided to get reconnected.  I got a library card and started to go to the library.

I realized that half the people in the shelter hung out on the streets while not at the shelter and the other half hung out at the library.  I started to become part of the half that hung out at the library.  

It felt nice to get up in the morning, have breakfast and read the paper.  It also felt nice to lie down indoors after having dinner and taking a shower.  I also started reading.  Just like I found so many other "signs" out there, I found books - I always have.  I usually never read them or if I did, I didn't finish them.  I finished my first book in a long time at the shelter.  It was called, The Laughing Corpse.

It was a pretty good book.  It was fiction.   It was action - horror - mystery.  I always loved horror movies when I was a kid.  I think they made my life easier to bare with.

The Laughing Corpse was about this bad ass, 5'3", petite chick whose mother was into voodoo.  She didn't know her mother, because her father left her when she was young. Because of her voodoo ancestry, this 24 year old woman  became in animator in St. Louis.  Animators raise zombies.  Although she was an animator, she was also a Christian and a vampire slayer.  This book was, like I said, fiction.  The bad neighborhood with all the vampires, which from my internet searches, doesn't actually exist in St. Louis was called The Tenderloin.  I wonder where the writer got that idea from?

 

Some other crazy voodoo lady  had raised a zombie that was slaughtering families in St. Louis.    The Master Vampire of St. Louis wanted the 24 year old to be his human servant. He tried to seduce her into this.  She would have immortality without losing her soul.  She wouldn't buy it.

This rich guy was trying to get her to raise an old zombie who, it turns out, was into voodoo.  This was a big no no in the world of animators.  That's why the other zombie was going crazy. 

Raising old zombies would require a human sacrifice.  Not so old zombies - a chicken.  The 24 year old wouldn't do it.  The crazy voodoo lady had raised the zombie that went nuts for him.  She lost control of it.  They tried to force the 24 year old to do it.  The rich guy had a fetish for crippled women and chose his ex-girlfriend who was a prostitute in a wheelchair for the sacrifice.

In the end, the bad guy’s bodyguard who was holding down the prostitute to be sacrificed was killed by the 24 year old instead – becoming the sacrifice.  All of the bodies in the cemetery they were in began coming out of their graves as zombies.  The zombies ripped apart the voodoo queen and the rich guy, then, she ordered them back into their graves.  She was also not seduced by the master vampire of the city.  Although she was still a good person, it ended with her saying that rush she got from the human sacrifice and raising all the zombies scared her.

It was more for entertainment for me than anything.  It felt nice to finish something.  The people I had been associated with lately seemed to be either a vampire or a zombie.  Actually, I myself seemed to be either a vampire or a zombie sometimes.

Getting reconnected did something.  I had gotten facebook postings from my little brother, Alex, saying “David, I hope you get better so I can see my brother again.”  I got a posting from my young nephew, Tanner, saying how he missed me.

Once people saw that I responded to those postings, they began asking me, “How are you?” and saying, “I love you.”  Emails and messages started coming in. 

I began communicating with my family and friends.  My extended family is huge.  Every time I go to Kentucky to visit my Uncle Danny, I meet a new cousin.  In fact, the last time Susan was in Cincinnati, she went the The Pilot in Oakley.  After talking to some guy for a while, he turned out to be one of my cousins from Burnside Kentucky where a lot of my family live.  He said to her, “You must know Danny Beaty.”  Susan used her best southern accent to imitate him.  All the years with me and my family, it’s pretty good!  If Burnside had a king, it’d be Uncle Danny.  He’s kind of the King of all the hillbillies!  I can say that, because I’m a hillbilly at heart since my dad is from there.  Like my cousin that Susan met told her, “You can only take him in small doses!”  He knows Danny.

My aunts and uncles really mean a lot to me.  I joke about Danny, but he’s a good guy.  They have all at one point in time been very important to my life – they still are, but I had been so lost, I lost contact with them.

My older brother Bob and I, lived with my aunt Donna off and on just after my mother died.  She has two boys, and her husband Richard had two boys.  Richard was a race car driver.  Number nine.  We all had shiny blue matching number nine jackets with our names on them.  We were the pit crew for him.  Especially my brother and I since we were older.  It was just like that Kenny Rodgers movie out at the time – Six Pack.  I always play the theme song to that movie, Love will turn you around, on the guitar.

My aunt Sheila and Uncle Bill were my land lord for many years.  First, my buddy Scott from high school was my roommate, then my cousin Kenny – Donna’s oldest son.  We had a lot of fun when we lived there.  It was a two family house in Norwood.  (Yes, I lived in Norwood once!)   My grandma lived down stairs.  My uncle Bill would come over late at night after while aunt Sheila was at work.  Or, we’d go to his place a couple of blocks away.  Or, we’d meet halfway at the local hillbilly bar – Liebs!  I hope Sheila doesn't read this.

I already mentioned my aunt Kathy and Giles and how much they had done for me.  When I was young, Bob and I used to take a few friends down to Miami to visit them every summer.  We usually took a fishing trip to Key West. 

I do love my family.  I also have a lot of good friends that reached out to me – especially from Cincinnati.  For a while, I really only had two friends calling me from time to time.  For years many did.  It was me who could never be found and never returned or made calls.

The two guys who did call from time to time were both having their own struggles.  One of the guys was, in fact, in the ICU the same time I was back in June of 2010.  They are both old friends.  The other friend used to visit me at my Aunt Donna's just after my mom died. We have been through a lot together.  They both always supported me, even in my darkest days.  I really appreciate both of these guys. 

By being clean, I was also able call another old friend and neighbor of mine whose Dad died.  I hadn’t spoken to him in a while.  I was glad to be able to at least call and let him know that I knew how felt.

Things seemed like they might be on track.  I wasn’t happy.  I was sad, but I was beginning to see that I could exist without Susan.  I used to be afraid of not being with her – for me and for her.  Fear is the path to the dark side.  As Yoda told Anakin.  If Anakin feared losing Padme, he needed to let her go. 

This statue is in The Presidio at Lucasfilms

I’ve always liked science fiction.  One of friends since sixth grade name is Tony. Tony is one of my only friends who actually knew my mother.  I stayed with him and his family a lot after my mother died also.  Years ago when I was searching, he always told me to refer to Star Wars for answers.  .  Like OB1 said to Luke, “Let go Luke.   Use The Force.” Let Go – Let God.  There is reason it’s a blockbuster.

The day my mother died, my brother and I were at the neighbor’s house while she was in the emergency room of Bethesda North.  There as a Star Trek marathon on television.  The crew of The Enterprise was always searching The Universe for The Truth.  I’ll never forget the first words out of my dad’s mouth that evening, “Your mom’s in heaven.”

At some point, while wondering out there, I found another book.

I had to read this one.  My demons wouldn’t go away.  It seemed everywhere I went, my demons were after me.  I tried to stay away from them.  One time, I got my $59.00 on the first of the month.  I bought $50.00 worth of speed.  I went to my private little beach cove in the Presidio.  As usual, I went insane.  As usual, I was done!  I had $9.00 left.  I decided to buy a two liter of Soda at the Safeway off of Geary Blvd in the Fillmore.  I had intended to spend that $59.00 I had just blown on meth to get the ipod Susan’s brother had bought us out of the pawn shop.  I spent it on drugs.

Just before I got to Safeway’s door, I saw something on the ground – a brand new fifty dollar bill.

I had to look at it many times, but it was real.  Was this God giving me a chance to do something right?  Or, was this the devil giving me another chance to use.  I made it the latter.  I had sworn I wouldn’t use again.  I did.  I went to hell again.

Later that month, I was hanging out in the wrong neighborhood.  I was simply trying to buy a Hershey bar with my food stamp card.  Tweakers love sweets.  The food stamp computer was down at that store. 

As I left the store, a guy stopped me and asked, “You know where to get some speed?”  Of course.  He had just gotten out of jail.  He asked, “Do you know where I can sell some foodstamps?”  Of course.

I ended up spending the day with this guy – chasing a high.  The selling of food stamps was not working out due to details that aren’t important.  We ended up going to Safeway on Market to buy some instant coffee.  Safeway only had a couple of bottles. 

We went to Foodsco in the Mission.  They had ton’s of instant coffee – on sale!  We bought seventeen bottles for $5.00 each.   Latin Americans, like much of Europe, love instant coffee.  It’s pretty much those markets that keep instant coffee in business.  I guess Europe makes since because of Nestle’.  I did not know it was popular in most Latin American countries also.  They love Nescafe. 

Now, we were in The Mission.  We went to 16^th and Mission and found the closest burrito joint.  My new friend went in to see if there were any buyers.  I waited outside where two women ended up fighting.  One had a knife.  He came out and said, “Come on man!”  They were fighting in front of the door.  I said, “I’m trying not to get in the crossfire here!”  We went inside.  One guy bought all of them for $3.00 each - $51.00.

We now did the easy part – got the speed.  Now, he needed a place to do it.   I preferred not to, but, if I had to, I could walk down the street shoot up.  I’ve done it before.  It’s really not something I’m bragging about, it’s just that I’ve got really good veins.  I knew where I was going to do mine and it wasn’t going to be with him!  He was already tweaking and he had just gotten out of jail.  I could only imagine him high.  I suggested the park bathroom.  He wasn’t cool with that.  He asked me not to leave him.  He asked if there was some place he could use the phone.  I told him Self Help on 6^th Street.  He asked, “Do they have a bathroom?”  Yes.

He said he would be quick about it.  I told him he'd better be.  He wasn’t.  I needed something there anyway – a razor.  I was shaving while he was taking way to long to do his thing in the bathroom. “We” got caught.  We just got kicked out.  He walked around the corner and hid behind a car and did his on the street.  Then, he really started tweaking!  I finally lost him and did mine. 

I had just started going to Self Help on 6^th Street because it was closer to MSC South.  It was also much nicer because it was recently remodeled.  It was smaller than the one in The Tenderloin, but it was also less crowded.  It happens to be right across the street from CityTeam.  Another bridge burned.

I ended up back at MSC South.  I went to the two meetings a week there.  One guy who was trying to help me with the twelve steps was really nice, but I just didn’t relate to him like I did my old friend who used to help me with the twelve steps.  I missed him.  This new guy also gave me a bad cold.

I started reading the book, Angels and Demons.  It was very appropriate for my life.  Those who have read this blog for years probably remember the days of The New World Order and the Illuminati.  Eventually, that all became evil to me.  Through the process of if – then,  I knew there was a God.

Lately it had been Christianity that had been helping me – especially the Catholic Church.  I ate at St. Anthony’s.  I sometimes attended services at St. Boneface.  I got clothes from St. Vincent Depaul.  A ate, slept and showered at St. Vincent Depaul Societys’ MSC South.

Still, I believed Catholicism and Christianity had it’s flaws.  My beliefs were rooted in Christianity.  We attended a Church of Christ when I was young – It had it’s flaws.  Human's are flawed.  My adult beliefs were still in God, but Science meant more to me.  In the book, a Catholic Scientist had recreated the big bang at Europe’s CERN Institute in their high speed particle accelerator.

Art has also been a big part of my life.  I’ve always said that anything that comes from the soul, as I believe most art does, is in some ways, God speaking to us.  A lot of people have probably seen the movie, Angels and Demons.  The book was good.

In the past, it seemed I was following signs around the city to somewhere or nowhere!  It all began with blinking street lights for me.  I thought it might be spirits.  That was before the messages in the sidewalks.  That was before the voices.  In the book, they follow Raphael’s artwork around Rome to find the illuminati lair so they could save The Vatican. 

It was again, more about entertainment reading than anything, but my finding that book didn’t seem to be a coincidence.  I have always believed religion and science were heading in the same direction and seeking the same thing.

As I stated earlier, I was starting to call people and communicate on facebook with members of my family.  I started connecting with old friends.  I truly believed I might be able to stay clean – I think.

I started to write my blog again.  I wanted to be held accountable to a lot of people.  So many people supported me.  They offered to help me in so many different ways.  The support I received from some of Susan’s family members meant more to me than they will ever know.  Susan has an aunt who has pretty much dedicated her life to helping people in one way or another.  Her emails always helped me.

My family was also extremely supportive.  In fact, my Uncle Giles in Miami offered to fly me to Miami to “get a fresh start.”  I really felt like people cared.  I, however, needed to stop running.

Unfortunately, I kept using.  Some of my friends in recovery were really supportive after reading my blog.  They were also really honest with me.  They were straight up about the seriousness of my situation.  So was on old friend of mine – Doctor Rockstar.  He reminded of something I told him years ago.  He emailed me, “You hit bottom when you stop digging!  Stop Digging!”

In all my confusion, I missed my mandatory GA appointment.  Although I probably would have been more on top of things had I not been using, this time, it wasn’t all my fault.

My mail is still being sent to Susan’s address.  I had been asking Susan frequently if she had received anything from GA about my next appointment.  She hadn’t.  I also left a couple of messages with my GA worker.  It’s hard to get a hold of a homeless person.  When I went to check into MSC South one night, I was told my reservation was cancelled.  I was really sick.  This time, I caught a cold because I was around someone who was trying to help me who had a cold.  The next day, I went to the GA office.  It’s a long story, but I didn’t get back into the shelter.  I told Susan about it.  She offered to meet me for dinner at the mall.  She said, “You look awful”.  I felt awful.  The part that was hard, was that I was actually trying this time. 

I was fortunate that my GA worker at least understood enough to not drop me from GA.  Also, Susan offered for me to stay at her place since I was sick.  I wasn’t even going to ask, but it was nice to not have to sleep on the street that night.

The next day, I went back to the GA office.  I got the runaround, but no shelter reservation.  I hoped Susan might let me stay with her until my next appointment.  It was Friday and my next appointment was Tuesday.  She was apprehensive, but she agreed to let me stay.  I told her, “I’m really going to try to get into a program this time,  "I mean it!”  She’s heard that one before.  I meant it.  I’ve meant it before.  I told her I was going to ask about Glides rehab program  on Tuesday and if that didn’t make sense, I was going to ask CityTeam if they would take me.  Glide is a very liberal church.  I had not done laundry in a while and thought I could do it while at Susan's.

When I met her at the BART station on Friday, she had changed her mind.  Anyone she told, urged her not to help me.  Their advice wasn’t necessarily wrong, but I was so sick.  Susan rented me a hotel room in Redwood City.  I told her that I wished she hadn’t done that.  That I could sleep on the street.  She was probably right about me staying with her.  My feelings get so mixed up.  That can lead to me using.

Redwood City is about twenty miles south of San Francisco and the room was cheap.  It was nice though.  It was hard for me on the way there.  It reminded me off all of our road trips in California back when we used to take them.  She'd be dropping me off this time.  She bought me some food at a gas station and gave me $20.00 for more food over the weekend and Caltrain fare to get back to San Francisco.  I really felt bad that she had to spend money on me, but it really felt nice to be there.  I was so sick.  I slept most of the time.  I did get to watch a little college basketball.  I hadn't watched television in months.  I was sad, but I was comfortable.

Monday I took Caltrain back to San Francisco.  Susan let me stay with her.  I did my laundry and got up the next morning and made my appointment.  I got a shelter bed.  I then inquired about Glides program.  They only had outpatient.  I stayed for one session, but, I knew I needed more.   That night I went back at MSC South.  I volunteered in the kitchen that night.  It felt good to help.  At least now, I could attempt to go where I wanted to go - CityTeam.  I woke up Wednesday morning and went there.  There was a sign on the door saying they were closed.  It turns out they were on a retreat.  I used.


It took me to my usual place.  I used until Friday March 16th.  I felt defeated.  Once again, I wiped out Susan's help.  Sunday, on my way back to MSC South, I found a book:

I read it some.  It told me my behaviors were wrong.  It kind of scared me, but I thought it was no accident that I found it. When I got back to MSC South, I decided I needed some lighter reading.  I looked in my locker and saw this book that I had found at some point:

I thought it to be an interesting title.  I opened up the cover to see what it was about.  I saw this:

 

Monday morning came.  It was my third day clean.  I figured I would wait until Tuesday or Wednesday so I would have the four days clean required by CityTeam.  I felt sick and I was too tired to go all the way to Self Help in The Tenderloin, so I thought I would see if the one on 6th Street would let me in.  Self Help on Sixth Street is the one I got kicked out of for being with that guy preparing our syringes.  Self help didn't open until 9:00 AM.  CityTeam is right across the street.  I saw these guys smoking out front.  Being the addict I am, I couldn't wait.  In this case, it may not have been a bad thing.  I thought, "I have to at least ask.  I can't trust myself another day or two!"  I walked over there and asked one of the guys who I would need to talk to about getting into the program.    He gave me the House Managers name and told me he would be in around 11:00.


I figured I'd wait.  Around 9:00, I saw the guy who had kicked me out of Self Help.  I went up to him and apologized about "the guy shooting up the other day."  He said, "Don't apologize for him, apologize for yourself."  I told him that I had not intended to shoot up there.  He said, "You knew what he was doing."  I said, "I did."  He said, "He had three rigs."  I said, "One was for me, but I was not going to do it there."  I told him I had been trying to get clean.  He told me I needed stop hanging around people like that.  I told him I intended to go to CityTeam.  He told me, "They are good people - do that."  I apologized.  He said, "You're good." 


I went to Subway and got some water.  I then walked back to Subway and asked if I could hang out there until 11:00.  He said I could.  He also said, "If you need a reference, let me know."


Around 10:00, I stepped outside.  The guy who told me to talk to the House Manager saw me and said, "Hey, (The House Manager) is here."  I went inside and inquired.  I blurted out as quickly as I could, believe it or not, my story about The Hot Chocolate Kids, YWAM and how I had met the director a couple of months ago and how I really wanted to be at CityTeam!


He stopped me and said, "I need you to go to detox and call me when you get there."  He asked, "Do you know where TAP is?"  I did.

TAP is four blocks away.  I began to walk.  This was it.  No turning back.  No more burning bridges.  No more using.  I started to feel nervous.  I began walking faster.  I prayed, "Please help me God!", At that moment, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something in a window.

 

A million miles away  

Your signal in the distance  

To whom it may concern 

I think I lost my way 

Getting good at starting over  

Every time that I return
 

Learning to walk again 

I believe I've waited long enough  

Where do I begin?  

Learning to talk again  

Can't you see I've waited long enough  

Where do I begin?
 

Do you remember the days  

We built these paper mountains  

Then sat and watched them burn  

I think I found my place 

Can't you feel it growing stronger  

Little conquerors
 

Learning to walk again 

I believe I've waited long enough  

Where do I begin?  

Learning to talk again  

I believe I've waited long enough  

Where do I begin?
 

Now For the very first time  

Don't you pay no mind 

Set me free again
 

You keep alive a moment at a time  

But still inside a whisper to a riot  

To sacrifice but knowing to survive  

That first decline another state of mind 

I'm on my knees, 

I'm praying for a sign  

Forever, whenever  

I never wanna die  

I never wanna die 

I never wanna die  

I'm on my knees 

I never wanna die  

I'm dancing on my grave  

And running through the fire  

Forever, whatever 

I never wanna die  

I never wanna leave  

I'll never say goodbye  

Forever Whatever!  

Forever Whatever!!
 

Learning to walk again 

I believe I've waited long enough 

Where do I begin? 

Learning to talk again 

Can't you see I've waited long enough  

Where do I begin?
 

Learning to walk again 

I believe I've waited long enough 

Learning to talk again  

Can't you see I've waited long enough

Times Like These

"Life is not about weathering the storm, it's about learning to dance in the rain." 

-Unknown

I made it to TAP.  The young woman social worker remembered me.  She said, "We haven't seen you for a while.  How's it going?"  I told her I had a plan.  She was very supportive as usual.  I told her I had to get it this time.  She said, "If you don't, come back."  

I was back at Walden house.  I saw my friend who I was in early recovery with many years ago who is now a counselor at Walden House.  She said, "Hey, I'm glad your back.  I saw your name on the board.  What's going on?"  I told her I had a plan this time around.  I also told her how I was accepting that I would not be with my wife and how the only way I was going to cope with anything was clean.  She said, "It's sounds like you've had a breakthrough."  

Walden House detox was a lot more organized.  Walden House was different this time.  So was I.  I was still sick as a dog the first night.  My gang member roommate didn't like me being sick - he made that clear to me.  Sleeping, or I should say, not sleeping in the room with him was like sleeping with a grizzly bear.  He snored insanely loud with absolutely no rhythm to it.  If that wasn't bad enough, he kept turning on the light when I was trying to sleep and complaining about my being sick.  I felt horrible.  Not only did he snore like a grizzly bear, he was the size of one too.  I wasn't afraid of him, I was just annoyed and tired and sick! The overnight staff person let me sleep on the couch downstairs.  The next morning, he asked, "Where were you, on the couch?"  I said, "Yeah."  He asked, "Did I snore too loud?"  I almost felt sorry for him.  I said, "yeah, and I was sick."  I asked him, "Do you have asthma?"  He did.

The director of detox allowed me to switch rooms.  We were getting along, but I told her it'd be best if we were separated.  My new roommate was cool.  I let him borrow a pair of pants.  He ended up getting kicked out and never gave them back.  My third roomate did nothing but sleep and throw up for five days.  I ended up being at Walden House for eight days.  While there, I did a lot of writing - obviously.  About 1/3 of this blog was written their - i think.

At Walden House, they now had a detox meeting every day.  They also had a mandatory cleaning time daily.  I worked extra hard.  One day, I cleaned all the baseboards on the entire fourth floor hallway.  Susan and her late Grandmother would have appreciated that!  I also volunteered to do the dishes.  Walden House told me I was an asset to them.  They offered to try to get me into that program.  I explained how I thought CityTeam was where I belonged and they agreed.
Monday, March 26th was my start date at CityTeam.  Walden House called the MAP van to take me.  I somehow missed it.  I figured I'd walk, however, a guy who had just relapsed while at CityTeam offered me his bus pass because he was going there to collect his things later that day.  If you relapse while at CityTeam, you can't return for thirty days.  He said, "You're going to be there, right?"  I said, "I promise you, I'll be there."

I finally made it.  CityTeam is a great program.  I feel like I am surrounded by God here.  It has all the components I need for my recovery.  I get to work on myself.  I get to earn my keep by working here.  I also get to serve the community I used in by helping to feed those in need.

It's a laid back program.  They give a lot of "grace".  That said, it's a hard program.  I always knew it would be.  Just dealing with my addiction is hard enough.  It includes the pain of my past and all I have lost.  I live with twenty plus addicts.  We ALL have issues.  Most of them are working a pretty good program.  I love them all.  I have already written other blogs while I have been here writing this one.  I had too.  Writing does help me.  It helps me talk less.  Something guys around here like to suggest I try to do!  I'm a tweaker who had been through hell.  I had a lot to say when I'm not writing or working.  One guy here, "my homeboy" calls me turbo.  He's a good guy, but I always tell him, "You need to quit working (His Name)'s program!  He does.  I've been here for three weeks and I have thirty days clean today.  (at the time this was written).  I believe I have and I'm told I have grown in the three weeks I've been here.

I work really hard here.  We get up at 6:00 AM, put our army cots in the closet.  Eat at 7:00 AM. Classes and process groups start at 8:00 AM and go until 12:30 PM.  From 1:30 to 3:00, we have to study.  We work on book reports and other homework.  Eventually, I'll spend that time in the learning center.  From 3:00 PM to almost 8:00 PM, I work.  I've been doing the dishes and being the kitchen helper.  I get a quick dinner break at 5:00.  Three times a week we get to go the the recreation center down the street.  I work out and run on the treadmill.  The last time I ran, I ran three miles.  We also have a softball team.  I didn't even know I could play softball, but I love it.  Our first game is against the church I attend - City Church.  I'm the lead off batter!

We feed those in need Tuesday through Saturday.  We feed twice on Saturday and offer foot care, medical care and give out clothing on Saturdays.  On Sunday, we go to church and we may have a job.  We only get a job on Saturday or Sunday, not both.  During the week, it's lights out at 10:00 PM.  On Wednesday nights, I go to this church round table discussion from 7:00 till almost 10:00.  A few nights a week, I volunteer to go pick up food donations.  It's pretty much non-stop.  I also find time to write somehow.

In my "spare time", I either write, play guitar, or listen to my iPod.  Very rarely, I'll watch TV.  It's incredibly demanding and it's hard!  At the end of the night, we put the tables away and pull out the army cots to sleep on.  When I lay my head on my pillow, I know I have made it through another day - clean.  ti feels good.  I have lots of hope. 

As for my reservations about it being a Christian program - that's all they were, reservations. That part doesn't bother me for the most part.  In fact it does help.  They've found a way to tie the bible to recovery.  Actually, I'm learning that the bible is full of stories that relate to things people struggle with in their daily lives - especially addicts.  I do enjoy our Bible studies.  I heard a couple of guys say the Old Testament should be at least R rated.  Man has had his vices since the story of Adam and Eve I guess.

I'm still not one to take The Bible literally.  One pastor that was here teaching us a class one morning addressed that for me.  He said, "Think of it as the time God took to draw up the blueprint for the universe."   Thank kind of made since.  I'm still a man of science who believes God is our creator.  I'm coming around to this Jesus character.  It does make a little sense to me when it is referred to as The Trinity - The Father, Son and The Holy Spirit.  For years the number three as been present in my life for reasons I never knew.  It started with my always looking at crosswalk countdown signs being at the number three years ago.

I attend a church called City Church.  At my first service there, the pastor said that God came to us in the form of Jesus so he could know how it felt to be human.  That really made sense to me.

City church is a pretty cool church.  It's a young congregation with a lot of money.  Many of it's members are in industries like the tech industry or at least in the corporate world.  They're yuppies I guess.  They are nice people.  I guess I was once a young professional.  I may have even had a lot of money if I didn't party it all away.  The bottom line is, they recognize their lack of diversity and need to please God.  Because of this, they have teamed up with CityTeam.   It's a good marriage.  They give a lot to CityTeam.  Not only are they investing money, they also have members who come here  and volunteer by helping us feed those in need.  They also provide volunteers who do career coaching.

On my second day here, there was a pastor, Pastor Paul here from City Church.  He was doing a memorial service for a CityTeam graduate who  just died.  He said that one of the things he really had in common with the man who died was their love of Pink Floyd.  I thought, "I think I'll choose this church."  It was kind of chosen for me.  One of the guys here on staff liked my attitude and invited me to this round table discussion I mentioned earlier they have every Wednesday night with Pastor Paul.  The round table discussion is located in a nice mid-rise office building on Van Ness Avenue.  It's a good group of guys.

We have to go to church every Sunday.  I went to the City Church Mission location. (They have two.)   The Pastor their was Pastor Matt.  He opened up by telling a football story.  I thought, "I think I like these guys."   This last Sunday he talked about how he loved San Francisco history and architecture.  He was fortunate enough to get to go the the top of the Trans American Pyramid.  N0t the conference room, but the top of the point itself!

I told him how I got to go to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge.  I also told him how I couldn't sell them.  I even had to sign a waiver.  He showed me his photos on his iPhone.  He said, "How about we trade?"  Deal.

On the first day at CityTeam, we had a bible study.  As I said, CityTeam has a good way of tying the Bible to recovery.  We studied Matthew 23: 25-26:

²⁵ “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. ²⁶ Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean.

The study session also tied the verses to a couple of paragraphs in a twelve step text book we read to help us stay clean.  It read:

"It is not the matter of giving that is the question, but when and how to give.  that often makes the difference between failure and success.  The minute we put our work on a service plane, the alcoholic commences to rely on our assistance rather than on God.  He clamors for this or that, claiming he cannot master alcohol until his material needs are cared for.  Nonsense.  Some of us have taken very hard knocks  to learn this truth: Job or no job-wife or no wife-we simply do not stop drinking so long as we place a dependence upon other people ahead of dependence on God.

Burn the idea into the consciousness of every man that he can get well regardless of anyone.  The only condition is that he trust God and clean house.

Both of these readings make sense to me.  My faith in God is growing stronger every day.  It seem I am tested everyday.  For the most part - I pass.  I do have one demon left - cigarettes. 

So far today, I have not smoked.  It's Sunday.  I have a patch on my arm.  It's early.  You'll read in the future just how hard this place has been.  It's been frustrating and it has been heartbreaking.  It has been life.

For the first time in a long time, I don't feel guilty for being alive.  Although I am still filled with sadness and frustration, I have also felt hopeful and even happy at times - feelings I thought I'd never feel again.

Because I am slowly working on myself,  earning my keep, starting to repair some of the damages of my past and giving to the community, I am able to accept  that all Susan did for me in my life was not for nothing.  I intend to work really hard to do God's will.  I believe God gave me many chances to be with Susan.  I failed.  I believe God has a way of taking my wrong doings and turning them into something beautiful - one day at a time.

I am a one way motorway
I'm the one that drives away
Then follows you back home
I am a street light shining
I'm a wild light blinding bright
Burning and on

It's times like these you learn to live again
It's times like these you give and give again
It's times like these you learn to love again
It's times like these time and time again

I am a new day rising
I'm a brand new sky
To hang the stars upon tonight
I am a little divided
Do I stay or run away
And leave it all behind?

It's times like these you learn to live again
It's times like these you give and give again
It's times like these you learn to love again
It's times like these time and time again

THE BEGINNING