Well, I made it to the spa. I have no more lifetime Medicare, Free Standing Psych Hospital days left over. So, not only will I never go back inpatient to Forest View (since 8/16/08), I get to go to Kalamazoo to Bronson. So, that was sad. But, now that I can no longer go there, God invented Facebook…Hypothetically.
Well, I have a new part. New to me. His name is Jaz, and he is 32. Protector, as that is all I am left with. He likes to fight with me around one pm for dominance. So, I look like I’m ODing. Slurring, slitty eyes, the whole thing. But Jaz holds the things the cult- The Brides of Satan- told me.
I was flooded with memories while I was in there from Saturday to Sunday.
Remember “Eddie Hamilton?” Well, after the High Priestess has told everybody what to do and how to do it, she leaned into me, holding my right hand with her left and said to me, “I can make you run this town, Suzy. You can own this town; call the shots. Would you like that?” I must’ve said “yes” or something because here’s this guy hanging with this four foot nothing woman with filed, stained teeth hissing dominance in my ear…What would you do? Easy to say…
So High Priestess (HP), tells me to tongue the dead guy- she graciously and ever so thoughtfully lifted me up to help me kiss, “Eddie”. Then she gave me a sacrificial Chris knife and told me to cut around his dick, and suck the blood out of his dick, while she diddled herself on the floor. Charming.
Next. The dude with the dark hair in the Blue Velvet robe, who wanted to tear me apart sexually and physically-he was arrested around Beltane in 1978 for procuring two skulls and various body parts for the holiday celebration. He got life. Be damned if I can think of his name. He was tall and thick. Thick, black curly hair. Black, Brown, greyish eyes. But he was the leader. He tried to tear me apart a couple of times. They had to pull him off me a couple of times. That was the most I ever feared for my life. Ever.
But, cults, regardless brainwash you. My brainwash was: if you do not join us, you must kill yourself (A reason I was hospitalized at age 40- had to go), or we will find you and kill you. I’m putting myself at a risk by writing this blog. But, dammit, the truth must be told.
I was seriously considering ending it. I was truly on the fence. Truly. It was bad. But, August 15, 2008, at the spa, I celebrated 7 years far away from a drink. Miracle.
It’s 3:50 am. My fucking cat would not let me sleep. She slept on every available part of my face she could. I think all my neighbors went out to the bar- 2;23, 3:00 am I’m woken up. I live above the garage. So the garage doors I hear. Every. Single. Fucking. Time.
I start Partial Hospital today. I have more memories. They’re in my journal. I’ll look for em, today…