I wanted to live

I left off my last post about about the overdose in November 2016 that very nearly proved fatal. My mother found me; They said in the ICU that I was about 2 hours from death. My kidneys were going into failure.

It has taken 4 1/2 years to wake up.

People thought that I wasn’t there any more but, instead, the Lord is using this to reconnect me a better way.

For one thing, I am able to prove through a better relationship with my father. He just didn’t know. He didn’t really understand what he was doing. He was a working class kid from the North of England. He had a life in the lap of luxury in America and he was told he earned that and deserved that.

The first real sign of real trouble for him was my mother’s younger brother’s suicide attempt in England. Just yesterday I realized how sad that was for her. She didn’t really want to be in America. That clinched it for her. My father was very leary of mental illness and didn’t really want to tolerate that.

He came to visit us when I was about 12 or 13 and we were sitting in the family room in the basement and he said “i fancy you.” That’s what a British boy says to a girl he likes. I didn’t fell threatened by it. I knew he wasn’t well.

When I was 34 and was with Ian and Alex in Maryland he was dying of lung cancer at the psych hospital in England; he was going quickly. I sent him some American money which I knew that he loved and some pictures of California which I thought that he would like. I had just had a horrific hospitalization at the Charter Potomac Ridge psych hospital in Rockville, MD which closed not long afterward. I was very ill myself.

There I had had a bizarre fantasy about helping Black America.. I have written about this so many times.

So, I felt that I was called to do something for Black America and I was. But the way that I was called was improper and I have to relinquish it now. My ex had struck up an acquaintance with some Black, Dominican men in the woods of the Virgin Islands as a survey consultant and then went through the Hurricane there in the mid-80;s. He was still a refugee from that experience here in Reading when I met him. So, several years and a childbirth later we were in Buffalo; he had on his BVi St; Johns t.-shirt; and we were on the corner of Kenmore ave and St. Johns; and I had named my baby Ian, for St. John of the Gospel. (“ian” is Scottish for “John” and my ex’s famiIy is Scottish.) I wasnt clear about whether I was naming him for St. John the author of the gospel or St. John the Baptist. Either way it was about those beautiful opening lines of the Gospel of St. John.

I had joy at that time although everything was so desperate.

Then, we found ourselves in Germantown Maryland less than 2 years later after the harrowing trip back East from California to have the baby in 1993.

I was completely shattered and wound up in the hospital. They gave me a medicinal Molotov cocktail and I passed out for 2 days. I heard the other patients talking about it.

When I left I was NOT yet “out of the woods” as my psychiatrist put it.

Next thing I knew I was in Florida where people–including Blacks–didn’t appreciate my newfound racial politics. It was such sick serious shit there. A friend of my sons said as we were leaving there that the problem is that it is so HOT. It makes people mean.

My ex had backed off of his positive attitude about Blacks.

It causes trouble there and i didn’t understand.

So now I am here and my father is quoting everywhere (as I understand it) something I heard a black woman at the supermarket saying to me under her breath, that I was “a sick serious inconsequential piece of shit.” I saw the same woman last week and she did it again.

In short I am being used in the community here for all the crazy shit in my head.

So, Im turning in my badge. I did something nice a long time ago. I really did. But its gone by the wayside, We had Obama. I’ll leave it at that. Things have changed, Im no longer wanted or needed in that purview. Through her CANADIAN husband, this “little English girl” (me) got her walking papers as an American.

So, here I am being English again instead.

And I fully appreciate my mother for the first time in my life.

I just couldn’t have known. I was totally enveloped and eclipsed by her as a child and young woman. I did stupid things, not knowing. It was the silliest thing, a British American young woman in Harvard Square hanging around with a street person and her calling card–a Harvard Graduate–is that she is “without information.” It was the Truth! Yet, how ridiculous!

A decade later, seen at a department store shoe department with my two-year old son, I am observed asking him which pair of shoes he wants; “It is absurd” a middle-aged male fellow shoe browser ventures “to ask a 2-year-old to choose his shoes.”

And today I am remembered by my fellow mental patients in the 80s “doing things” (as my Harvard roommates said) “you just don’t do.”

Like holding up a man at Sears for about 45 minutes to choose a vacuum cleaner. Or similarly, south of here at the King of Prussia Mall, spending an hour at one women’s clothing store trying to choose between two sweaters.

Far, far, seriously far worse, I ordered friend and lover M. out of the car in Reading and made him walk 10 miles home in the middle of Winter.

Before that there was Boston after the break-up at the apartment in Somerville.

I was COMPLETELY DERANGED on not taking the meds properly and losing the physical relationship and the most obscene scary things were happening in or to my head. I laid down in the street at a bus stop. Someone called over a policeman. I told him I had a migraine and got on the bus. Throwing a check at a taxi driver because I didn’t have any money. Hiding under a desk ALL DAY at a temp workplace. Nobody came in.

Walking into a coffee shop in downtown Boston and asking for a cup of coffee because there wasn’t n ATM nearby and I didn’t have any money on me.

Then, there was Cali, at that same time, where I went to visit old roomie, S., who didn’t want to see me. I got lost on foot in downtown San Francisco and somehow I found my way back to her apartment and got on a plane home. That mad skill, of always being able to find my way, followed me for the rest of my life. lol!!! Here I am now!!!

That’s all for now.

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