I was just reading about The Bay Bridge LED lighting. I've seen photos in the paper, but I have not seen it in person. This means that I have not photographed it.
I love bridges, especially suspension
bridges. I love the Golden Gate Bridge. I think the last time I was
really happy was back when I wrote the blog, Top of the World in
2010. (8/23 - I had to open in to connect it. I just read a little. It brings tears to my eyes that those days are over.) It wasn't too many days later, I relapsed and began losing
everything.
I had cleaned up after nearly dying and
being in the ICU. Susan got us to the top of the south tower of the
Golden Gate Bridge. I really was on Top of the World. I was happy.
While I have been grateful since then, I can't say that I've been
happy.
My high school sweetheart and soul mate
had to divorce me after years of sticking with me through all the
insanity. I was homeless for 8 months. I was in a drug rehab for
over 4 months and then I couch surfed for a couple of months. I
lived in a “piss in the sink”, cockroach infested hotel for 4
months. I then relapsed and attempted suicide by jumping off the top
of a parking garage by San Francisco International Airport.
I was in the hospital for 6 months and
I am now back in drug rehab. I've been here a week and someone stole my brand new phone that quit working. I haven't seen my family in almost 3 years. The last three years have been very hard. Very hard.
I have no idea if I'll ever get to be a Street Artist again. I am passionate about this, but I am a physical mess. I like to believe I'm not disabled, but I am. I'm in a lot of pain and my balance is wobbly.
I just want to take a photo of that LED lit Bay Bridge. I'm just trying to think about something besides my reality. It's not horrible, but I'm not really happy. I am grateful to be alive. I know there is a God. I believe I'm here to let that be known in some ways. Why else?
God does love me. I was on my way to hell. God saved my soul. I do feel pretty certain of this. Even I can have my doubts, but I seriously know better. I sometimes feel like I would have liked it if my suicide were successful if I simply no longer existed. Years ago, I used to say, "I wish I never existed!" I do exist. I have to believe it's for a reason.
I need to try to not be so down. I do love this beautiful city, it's just so much of it reminds me of Susan and I - all the good times and the good that was supposed to be.
I finally got move rooms. I love my new room. It's clean and quiet. I was ready to leave this place a couple of days ago. I could complain about so many things about this place, but I won't. I am grateful for it.
I like my job here. I only do it 9 to 12 hours per week. I have already been recognized as the person who will gladly sit in so someone can take a break or eat or if they are sick.
The last program I was in, I worked my butt off! This one is pretty laid back. I love the groups. I like many of the counselors. Some of the residents are real a-holes. I don't even talk to some. They are a-holes. Actually, believe it or not, I don't really talk at all here - unless asked to participate in a group. I don't know what it is about this place that it has so many a-holes.
For instance, tonight I was on the 1st floor waiting for the elevator. Some young guy next to me ask, "What floor you going to?" I said, "The second." He said, "Why do you have to take the elevator to the second floor?" I held up my cane and said, "You are only supposed to take the elevator if you are disabled." He asked, "Why you got that?" Just then, I staff member walked up to him and told him not to take the elevator. I'm sure he didn't want me stopping on 2 because that's where the offices are. I never took these elevators when I was here and was not disabled. The steps are so much faster and healthier. People here are lazy a--holes.
Yesterday, I walked up the stairs and fell when I reached the top one. I just wanted to see if I could. Well.... The elevator is slow enough without EVERYONE riding it. I hate that I struggle on the stairs. It is also like my old climbing days - going down is a lot more treacherous than going up. I am grateful that I am alive, but I think I will always be a little handicap. That sucks. Being an insane handicap drug addict who has lost everything sucks.
Where was I? Who knows. Where was I going? I now know - nowhere. I guess I will be on some type of restriction the whole time I am here. It becomes a "buddy system" which I already participated in. The only difference after 2 weeks is I can be the "head buddy". I can take people where THEY need to go. I still need people to go with me where "I" need to go. I need to go to the hospital A LOT, to the library and to practice my trades - writing and photography. Speaking of photography, I just got in "trouble" for taking photos on my phone - by the director of the program.
I've never photographed a person - except myself yesterday. He saw me taking photos of myself with my phone with Cincinnati Reds outfit on. He was outside my window. My room overlooks the outside "smoking" area. I took it because the Reds just pitched a no hitter against The Giants and I thought it would be nice to post it on Facebook. I was proud to be a Reds fan in San Francisco. I was threatened by a huge ex-con for wearing my outfit. This place is full of ex-cons. He was joking. I think. I hope.
Today, he saw me taking a photo of a poster on the wall. It said "Recovery is Beautiful". I thought it would be great to post on Facebook. I was trying to be transparent to the Universe. The director saw me taking it and took me to my counselors office. He said I was not allowed to take photos. He ask her if she knew I had a phone and if I filled out the agreement. "Yes" and "Yes". He asked why I was taking photos if the agreement says I cannot? She said, "It doesn't say that." I told him I was a photographer and I couldn't help myself. He said that it was not allowed and that it was "a little weird" that I as taking photos of myself. Actually, it's even more "a little weird" that he was looking in my window. I, of course, did not say this.
Today is the 4th of July. Tears just filled my eyes. I don't even know why. It's not like I ever made a big deal of this holiday. I guess it's just the daily situation I'm in. I wish I were a "normal" person.
The only thing I had been doing to feel good was taking photos and I writing. I now know it will be a while before I get to publish my writing. I do get "something" out of doing this - publishing that is. I guess it's the response and my monitoring the readership that I get. I know I'm here for recovery, but I just can't sit still.
In fact, right now, I'm "working". Since I am disabled, I work the front desk. I hate admitting that I'm disabled. Anyway, I'm watching a detox client yell and complain at a staff member about needing a towel. I don't get it. I am so grateful to be here. When I was told not to take photos, I did not argue one bit - I just wrote about it. Sure, I'll miss it, but rules are rules. I put myself here. While it is a hard truth, I am grateful to be here. I have a roof over my head and I get three meals a day and even some recovery from my addiction - I hope.
Now someone is screaming out the door. The director just intervened. The director asked, "Did you call him the N word?" The client said, "He told me to suck his d--- like 20 times yesterday!"
This place is so.... I don't know. All of us are here for "free". I mean we have all paid a heavy price in many ways, however, we haven't "earned" this help in the traditional way. I don't have insurance or pay anything. Some of us have MediCal or Social Security, but still - we don't "work" for it. As difficult as this place is in many ways, it is hard to get into. There is a waiting list. I spent 6 months in the hospital and am viewed to be "mentally challenged" for obvious reasons.
I could go on and on and on - babble and babble and babble. I like my job at the front desk answering phones, being the "operator" and paging people on the intercom. It's good experience.
I am on my way to a good life. I'll never be "normal", but that's okay. Back before I lost Susan, I use to say, "I wouldn't change a thing." Hindsight makes me realize - I would. I wish I could even change my behavior after losing her. I wouldn't mind deleting that suicide attempt. It sure would get a lot of metal out of my body - and improve other things. My internal damage creates lots of issues for me these days. I'm also not a big fan of limping with a cane. That internal damage is even worse though. I leave it at that. I have a lot of issues.
I'll be okay. Things are rough, but at least I'm not homeless. That's what I don't get about these people raising hell. Most have probably never been homeless. While many have problems that grant them financial aid, they do not appreciate what they have. This country and especially THIS CITY takes care of people like us. I guess I should be grateful I am "disabled". If the assistance comes that my social worker tells me is coming, I will be comfortable. Probably in pain still, but comfortable in other ways. Heck, I am grateful for the assistance I have already gotten and am getting. General and Laguna Honda Hospitals were wonderful places to "live". They saved my life in so many ways - General actual did "save my life!"
The truth is, if I wouldn't have relapsed over and over and over, I wouldn't have kept losing things. I do need to stop. I promise everyone, the next thing to go will be my life. I have to know that. Even yesterday, I was craving using a little. That's insane. I CAN'T! I always pick up where I left off. I left suicidal. I left off at the gates of hell. I just now said, "Jesus" out loud. I just can't help my emotions about this. It's even a bigger deal than I am making of it. When I was tweaking, I was at the gates of hell. It was so terrifying. My goodness, I just flashed back to it and wow. (I just typed it and flashed to it. It was so horrible. Apparently, I am scarred for life by that.) Words will never explain the darkness. They just can't. Please believe me. You never want to even get near it. I promise you that.
Which makes me realize - it's beautiful outside. I am so grateful to be alive. I may not be "happy", but I am grateful! I may even be happy - someday. Just feeling that possibility may even be a tiny bit of happiness.
I HOPE. I pray every day. I need to pray more. I need to keep that God connection. I will likely be alone the rest of my life. This is a hard fact for me to swallow. God will always be with me. He will always be with everyone. We must stick with God.
(8/23 - Since I never named that blog and it was the 4th of July, I thought Jimmy Hendrix's Star Spangled Banner at Woodstock might be appropriate. And, I am living where the Summer of Love that took place that same year.)
I have no idea if I'll ever get to be a Street Artist again. I am passionate about this, but I am a physical mess. I like to believe I'm not disabled, but I am. I'm in a lot of pain and my balance is wobbly.
I just want to take a photo of that LED lit Bay Bridge. I'm just trying to think about something besides my reality. It's not horrible, but I'm not really happy. I am grateful to be alive. I know there is a God. I believe I'm here to let that be known in some ways. Why else?
God does love me. I was on my way to hell. God saved my soul. I do feel pretty certain of this. Even I can have my doubts, but I seriously know better. I sometimes feel like I would have liked it if my suicide were successful if I simply no longer existed. Years ago, I used to say, "I wish I never existed!" I do exist. I have to believe it's for a reason.
I need to try to not be so down. I do love this beautiful city, it's just so much of it reminds me of Susan and I - all the good times and the good that was supposed to be.
I finally got move rooms. I love my new room. It's clean and quiet. I was ready to leave this place a couple of days ago. I could complain about so many things about this place, but I won't. I am grateful for it.
I like my job here. I only do it 9 to 12 hours per week. I have already been recognized as the person who will gladly sit in so someone can take a break or eat or if they are sick.
The last program I was in, I worked my butt off! This one is pretty laid back. I love the groups. I like many of the counselors. Some of the residents are real a-holes. I don't even talk to some. They are a-holes. Actually, believe it or not, I don't really talk at all here - unless asked to participate in a group. I don't know what it is about this place that it has so many a-holes.
For instance, tonight I was on the 1st floor waiting for the elevator. Some young guy next to me ask, "What floor you going to?" I said, "The second." He said, "Why do you have to take the elevator to the second floor?" I held up my cane and said, "You are only supposed to take the elevator if you are disabled." He asked, "Why you got that?" Just then, I staff member walked up to him and told him not to take the elevator. I'm sure he didn't want me stopping on 2 because that's where the offices are. I never took these elevators when I was here and was not disabled. The steps are so much faster and healthier. People here are lazy a--holes.
Yesterday, I walked up the stairs and fell when I reached the top one. I just wanted to see if I could. Well.... The elevator is slow enough without EVERYONE riding it. I hate that I struggle on the stairs. It is also like my old climbing days - going down is a lot more treacherous than going up. I am grateful that I am alive, but I think I will always be a little handicap. That sucks. Being an insane handicap drug addict who has lost everything sucks.
Where was I? Who knows. Where was I going? I now know - nowhere. I guess I will be on some type of restriction the whole time I am here. It becomes a "buddy system" which I already participated in. The only difference after 2 weeks is I can be the "head buddy". I can take people where THEY need to go. I still need people to go with me where "I" need to go. I need to go to the hospital A LOT, to the library and to practice my trades - writing and photography. Speaking of photography, I just got in "trouble" for taking photos on my phone - by the director of the program.
I've never photographed a person - except myself yesterday. He saw me taking photos of myself with my phone with Cincinnati Reds outfit on. He was outside my window. My room overlooks the outside "smoking" area. I took it because the Reds just pitched a no hitter against The Giants and I thought it would be nice to post it on Facebook. I was proud to be a Reds fan in San Francisco. I was threatened by a huge ex-con for wearing my outfit. This place is full of ex-cons. He was joking. I think. I hope.
Today, he saw me taking a photo of a poster on the wall. It said "Recovery is Beautiful". I thought it would be great to post on Facebook. I was trying to be transparent to the Universe. The director saw me taking it and took me to my counselors office. He said I was not allowed to take photos. He ask her if she knew I had a phone and if I filled out the agreement. "Yes" and "Yes". He asked why I was taking photos if the agreement says I cannot? She said, "It doesn't say that." I told him I was a photographer and I couldn't help myself. He said that it was not allowed and that it was "a little weird" that I as taking photos of myself. Actually, it's even more "a little weird" that he was looking in my window. I, of course, did not say this.
Today is the 4th of July. Tears just filled my eyes. I don't even know why. It's not like I ever made a big deal of this holiday. I guess it's just the daily situation I'm in. I wish I were a "normal" person.
The only thing I had been doing to feel good was taking photos and I writing. I now know it will be a while before I get to publish my writing. I do get "something" out of doing this - publishing that is. I guess it's the response and my monitoring the readership that I get. I know I'm here for recovery, but I just can't sit still.
In fact, right now, I'm "working". Since I am disabled, I work the front desk. I hate admitting that I'm disabled. Anyway, I'm watching a detox client yell and complain at a staff member about needing a towel. I don't get it. I am so grateful to be here. When I was told not to take photos, I did not argue one bit - I just wrote about it. Sure, I'll miss it, but rules are rules. I put myself here. While it is a hard truth, I am grateful to be here. I have a roof over my head and I get three meals a day and even some recovery from my addiction - I hope.
Now someone is screaming out the door. The director just intervened. The director asked, "Did you call him the N word?" The client said, "He told me to suck his d--- like 20 times yesterday!"
This place is so.... I don't know. All of us are here for "free". I mean we have all paid a heavy price in many ways, however, we haven't "earned" this help in the traditional way. I don't have insurance or pay anything. Some of us have MediCal or Social Security, but still - we don't "work" for it. As difficult as this place is in many ways, it is hard to get into. There is a waiting list. I spent 6 months in the hospital and am viewed to be "mentally challenged" for obvious reasons.
I could go on and on and on - babble and babble and babble. I like my job at the front desk answering phones, being the "operator" and paging people on the intercom. It's good experience.
I am on my way to a good life. I'll never be "normal", but that's okay. Back before I lost Susan, I use to say, "I wouldn't change a thing." Hindsight makes me realize - I would. I wish I could even change my behavior after losing her. I wouldn't mind deleting that suicide attempt. It sure would get a lot of metal out of my body - and improve other things. My internal damage creates lots of issues for me these days. I'm also not a big fan of limping with a cane. That internal damage is even worse though. I leave it at that. I have a lot of issues.
I'll be okay. Things are rough, but at least I'm not homeless. That's what I don't get about these people raising hell. Most have probably never been homeless. While many have problems that grant them financial aid, they do not appreciate what they have. This country and especially THIS CITY takes care of people like us. I guess I should be grateful I am "disabled". If the assistance comes that my social worker tells me is coming, I will be comfortable. Probably in pain still, but comfortable in other ways. Heck, I am grateful for the assistance I have already gotten and am getting. General and Laguna Honda Hospitals were wonderful places to "live". They saved my life in so many ways - General actual did "save my life!"
The truth is, if I wouldn't have relapsed over and over and over, I wouldn't have kept losing things. I do need to stop. I promise everyone, the next thing to go will be my life. I have to know that. Even yesterday, I was craving using a little. That's insane. I CAN'T! I always pick up where I left off. I left suicidal. I left off at the gates of hell. I just now said, "Jesus" out loud. I just can't help my emotions about this. It's even a bigger deal than I am making of it. When I was tweaking, I was at the gates of hell. It was so terrifying. My goodness, I just flashed back to it and wow. (I just typed it and flashed to it. It was so horrible. Apparently, I am scarred for life by that.) Words will never explain the darkness. They just can't. Please believe me. You never want to even get near it. I promise you that.
Which makes me realize - it's beautiful outside. I am so grateful to be alive. I may not be "happy", but I am grateful! I may even be happy - someday. Just feeling that possibility may even be a tiny bit of happiness.
I HOPE. I pray every day. I need to pray more. I need to keep that God connection. I will likely be alone the rest of my life. This is a hard fact for me to swallow. God will always be with me. He will always be with everyone. We must stick with God.
(8/23 - Since I never named that blog and it was the 4th of July, I thought Jimmy Hendrix's Star Spangled Banner at Woodstock might be appropriate. And, I am living where the Summer of Love that took place that same year.)
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