“Someone in Heaven”-The Reverend Horton Heat

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…

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BOOM!

That’s street for, “yer world is about to get rocked”.  Prepare to be amazed…or disgusted.  At this point, I don’t really care which.

I am on a med known as Prazoscin, or minipress.  It’s many side effects suppresses night terrors.  It was like finding the Fountain of youth.  Although after several years of taking it, two weeks ago yesterday, I had my first night terror/flashback.

I was four and holding the hand of the High Priestess of the Oakland County Sect of The Brides of Satan.  She was four foot nothing, frosted blonde hair and the teeth- the fucking teeth of the satanist/cannibal.  Filed to a point, stained with blood, cigarettes, et al, and yellow.  Yellow, grey and red near the gums.  They use dentures to cover their cult teeth.  She was holding my hand- 4 years old mind you- and we were at a murder/suicide site on the East side of Washington Street in Oxford.  The East side of main street was the other side of the tracks.  Lots of rentals, Harleys-gang type riders and guns and coke- well, an 18 year old named, “Eddie Hamilton” had hung himself?  Apparently.  I was there with the High Priestess to disseminate the scene, and to make decisions.  See, the plan was to kill my makers and my parents and have me slide in the hooves of the High Priestess.  But, no.  God had other plans.  Alotta other plans for me and them.

So, it was decided.  “Eddie” would be dismembered (Chopped up) and covered in egregious amounts of lime and put to rot under the church in the village that had rebuked their advances.  “Eddie” was to rot under the now, UCC church’s bell tower.  Three days later in August, all that remained of, “Eddie Hamilton” were some of his teeth and some half rotted bones.  So, that was settled.

10th grade. 1989.  Miscreant.  Flurry of cause and effect.  New Kid.  Lasted three months.  Loved Elvis. Disappeared after three months and was never heard from again.  The kid’s name?  Eddie Hamilton.

So, that has been haunting me for two weeks.  Today, my rock and her daughter are driving to WA to begin a new life.  I have a sponsor who makes time to be a recovery coach, buy a recovery house, candle her mans ear, but not sponsor me.  So, in a few weeks, I’ll have seven years.  I did it with God, cuz these last three sponsors I had were the most hands off, except one, bat  shit crazy mugs I ever had.  7th step says- is your shit working for ya?

I had a dream about My Greek love-Joshua last night.  Why? I have no idea except that God wants to torture me.  Three, four years ago, Joshua was in Kzoo.  I had not seen him since he departed for Jerusalem in 1992.  We were to meet up in a year and I was to join him in Israel, happily blah x 3. When I came home from Greece, after recovering from Greek Chicken Pox, I told my father I had to return to Greece and then to move to Israel to be with Joshua.  My father had lived and taught in Kenya in the 60’s.  Israel and Western Africa were rumbling towards war.  I had no idea.  He denied me.   I sobbed and drank harder.  Twenty some odd years later in a home west of Kzoo.  Joshua was in the Israel military as a Tank Commander and had been a POW twice.  He had been married, had a beautiful boy named David, and was living with a white girl from IA who was his enabler.  He had turned into a 24/7 drunk with either MS or ALS.  Either way he has managed to take his enabler all over the world for several years.  But he was going to replace her soon.  MM hmm.  I walked out on him and ran like the wind.  They tried to catch me.  No no, Roma disappear, seely boy.  So, I had a dream we were back on Spetses and it was Christmas and it was frosty.  We stayed at the boys school there.  Where The Magus was filmed and the guy who wrote the Magus taught at the boys school.  Something about retsina, a roof, a full moon, gravel in his ass, and teradactyl doves the next morning.  But alas, that one was not meant to be.

Neither was the quarter mexican super duper special agent.  Neither was the biracial Emmy nominee comedian that I was engaged to a million years ago.  Discovered I was pregnant.  My Pediatrician told me the pregnancy was ectopic.  So I had a D & C.  Dusting and Cleaning as they are treated.  “Living room’s Done!”.  Then, I was ferried off at 19 to MN, for my first in patient psych visit.  That was where I saw DID- in a DUDE- up close and personal for the first time.  Mine was playing euchre or something.  My king picked me up with my folks with a bouquet of daises.  We went to the Wisconsin Dells, on the way home.  1999, after I lost touch with my king, heard he got married and was well on his way to a life of well deserved and earned success, I was at an OB/GYN.  Did the usual questions- how many children?  How many live births? The humiliating ones.  I told the RN my pregnancy-choke-was ectopic.  So she had me lift my shirt to see the scar.  I was uber confused.  Oh, there it is, she said.  No.  That’s from my belly piercing that didn’t work.  Well, then an argument of sorts developed.  Well, if it was ectopic, they went in through your belly button!  Nurse Ratchett hollered.  They did a D&C I said- that’s it.  Then, she thought I was trying to lie to her or some sick shit, I’m beginning to realize my doc lied to me and I could have had Jonathan Micheal, and this bitch is picking a fight with me!  So I- as graciously as I could, through gritted teeth, said something to the effect of you’re the nurse, you’re the goddamned expert, you should know!

The bitch walked out.  I’m fucking devastated, heart in the third level of this building and my doc comes in.  Oh, those years of acting and hiding the unnamed pain.  Smiled through the tears.  You alright?  She asks.  Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine.  When I left in 2007, to come to GR?  On Mother’s Day, I planted a Rose of Sharon for Jonathan Micheal.  It’s still blooming.

Well, I feel like curling up in the fetal position and shutting off my heart and brain.  How bout you?