Even though the beginning seems dramatic, this story is a good one. It has a happy ending. There is growth and understanding. But I didn’t always know that.
I could say that it all began the day I walked outside naked, but really that was the culmination. Maybe it began in January 2014, or back in India in 2012, or the day I was born, or even before that. I guess it’s easiest to begin in the middle, and just fill in where I need.
My aunt L. died Dec. 24, 2014. I was on a train ride home from my second stay at a Crisis Center when I got the news. This one was in SoCal. I’d decided to flee my home in NorCal and was heading who knows where. To Italy eventually. First down to Texas, then up to DC, I’d somehow see and convince the President to send me to Italy where my friend was stationed in the air force. Home was dark and damp. Home was suffocating. I needed my best friend. I’d find a way to her. But I never made it that far. When I was near the CA / Arizona border I was running out of gas and called 911, professing that I was about to break down on the freeway, and a few other embarrassing statements. When they found me they took me to Riverside Behavioral Health in Blythe. I tested negative for every drug except weed and nicotine. This was the second time I was held down and given a shot to ‘remain calm.’ No one would hear that I was afraid of needles, or even ask what I was experiencing. I was insane to them, something to be handled, not reasoned with.
I stayed Thursday-Monday, and was released December 23rd. I left my car with half my belongings at the impound lot, slept in a motel, and the next day started my train and bus journey home. I was on the last stretch of the night train when I read my Facebook feed and found that my aunt had passed. She’d been diagnosed with lung cancer that January. Maybe I should have begun there. Maybe I will next time.