let us not forget the men and women who are out on these streets this holiday.
they are suffering. I am suffering in my own way. I miss my family. I miss my mother. I know she misses me. I miss my sister. she may not miss me. She may not care about me.
You know what. I just read something that ED fuentes wrote about me awhile back.
It was in a "welcome " statement to me. I never read it before. He mentioned that I was writing about my recovery. I stared at it. I used to read statements from people who went public about their substance abuse issues and alcolholism. I never thought I would do that. In fact, when I read what Ed wrote, for a moment, I said to myself,"I wonder who that guy is?".
Then I realized, he was talking about me. For that moment, before I realized it was I, I started to try to find out who the person was who wrote it. I forgot that I have been clean for over a year. But what it did was make me remember the reason I went public about my past drug use- so I could help people.
I am sure that my discussion of it will diminish as time goes on. One of the reasons I went public is because of Jamie Lee Curtis. She is also a Graduate of Westlake School of the Harvard School , Westlake School. Harvard-Westlake school family. She gave me the courage to speak out as well. She does not know it. She would not remember me at all though we talked when she was at Westlake. I have a funny store about her. I will tell it during the holiday season . She scared all of the younger Harvard School Boys. She had a crush on one but he was scared of her. The Reason? He was the fastest boy in his class at Harvard School.
Jamie Lee Curtis, the actress was faster than he. Young boys found it hard to deal with those things back then. I thought it was funny to watch them struggle with those issues.
So I realize I did the right thing. It may come back to haunt me. I may not get a job because of it but that is ok. I can be honest about who I am. I feel free about discussing it because it helps me understand about all that transpired. I hope it helps some one else. I pray that it does.
I was hurting so bad about an hour ago. I have not hurt like that in a long time. My guts ached. I longed to be home. I have always been a home body. It hurt so much. This time last year, I was in jail. I was in the worst bunk in the whole place-no privacy, no nothing. traffic walked by my bed 24 hours a day. IT was in the middle of a 100 bed dormitory. The only thing that made me feel good was writing letters for people.
I cried everyday in jail. I cried every day during the holiday season. I had several court visits. Each time I thought I was being released, or at least I prayed I was. It was not until later that I was told I may even go to prison. I lived with that thought every day of the day and night
I lived with that thought even though I knew I had done nothing. I lived with that thought knowing that my mother refused to go to the hospital and they say I neglected her. I lived with the evidence my sister sent to me that she had to TRICK my mother and LIE TO MY MOTHER in order to take her to the hospital. I could not do that because I had no car. Yet I was accused of neglect and worse.
I was cut off in jail. I could not remember any phone numbers. I was in shock. I know how my mother felt when she flashed back about being raped because I wondered if the experience I was going through was real or imagined. Was I in a dream? The guards would come up to me with this deep concerned look on their faces. We had some pretty deep and wide ranging conversations. They believed they could spot a lier in a minute. They believed I was telling the truth. The top jailer in the place told me. "You are no abuser. You are not lying. I realized along time ago that some people get screwed in this system. I realized a long time ago that some of these public defenders really sacrifice people for reasons that only they know. " Those words helped me survive.
I remembered all of these things today. I am reliving them because my healing process has begun in the smallest of ways and over a very long period of time. I sat on my bunk and ate alone on Thanksgiving Day. I was devastated. I was devastated today thinking about my mother, who would give anything to see me. Those were her words passed on to me.
I truly hope that Heather Mac Donald begins to write about people with alzheimer's disease and how much it affects the family and how decisions made about anything relating to a alzheimer's patient needs to be thoroughly scrutinized ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES TO BANNING a person from his own mother. They know not what they have done to her and me.
I wrote about Reagan. Yes, I felt close to him because he was a Harvard School family member. I did not feel close to him because he was a President. I felt close to him because he had alzheimer's victim as was my mother. They have something else in common.
Mr Reagan sent my mother her SAG card when he was president of that organization.
there are many things that bind us, bond us. There are so few that separate us. I wish we only could see that.
I know my mother loves me and aches to see me. I hope I can see her and be with her before her memory goes. It vanished for a second and I am here. I do not know if my sister loves me. I figure she does not. It is a shame. She has deep resentments. She could change everything but chooses not to do so. She knows nothing except her slanted view.
What do they say about recovery. Help us accept the things we can not accept. that is the one thing that I did absorb and working so hard to accept things everyday. Accept and adapt.
I hurt so bad an hour ago I thought I would pass out. I kept going because I must keep going until the truth is told just like the t ruth must be told about skid row. I do not know what the truth is about Skid Row. No one does. No one is an expert about this place. It is a place like no other. There are worse places but there is no worse place that is in the middle of the most advanced technology in the world that can dessiminate information , instantly, to literally every corner of the world with just a simple click. With the change of a channel. with the whim of a director or producer.
Yes I hurt today. I hurt today because I strive to not be alone in the middle of a crowd like those men you see in the picture.
I hurt today because I have come so far. I am clean. I worked hard to be clean and I was clean before all of this happened. Thank god I can still see and hear my mother's words
"walter, you have matured right in front of my eyes."
There is a man named Mark. He has been in prison most of his life. I met him in July. He lives in Skid Row. He lives in the building right next to where I am typing.
He was an addict. He has been clean for a couple of years. He never thought he would earn the respect of his father. His father called him up from Chicago and wants him to come home and run 2 businesses. His father is retiring. "Walter, I never thought it could happen. I never thought I would earn his respect. Anything can happen, walter. You do not deserve this. I spent 20 years in prison and I know you do not know this. Keep the faith. Keep strong."
I was happy for him. I was sad for me. I must wait my turn. I earned the opportunity to have my mother see the change in me as I saw the change in her and we were able to experience eachother. I knew how my mother felt years ago. However I did not know my sister felt anything. If I had I would have done something. It was natural for me not to think it too unusual that we did not communicate because my uncle disappeared. but I do remember my uncle writing me. I never wrote my sister. I called. she could not pick up a phone call and read it over and over again. I did not know sister. I did not know. My father was alone and my mom was alone. My father's sister died from an abortion in 1930. He had no siblings. He was a great teacher but he could not teach me about something about which he knew nothing.
The same with my mother. She had brothers but they were not close. She tried to be close with the youngest but she did not know how to communicate and her baggage from aspects of her life. She was 20 years older than he that is why she tried to raise him.
I can teach about considerations that must be made with alzheimer's patience because I am living the consequences of misunderstanding and prejudice about them and my old drug used coupled with resentments and personal baggage that my sister holds.
what I am speaking about is America. it is potentially the case in America in one form or fashion.
Yes, I hurt today. I try to report fairly and objectively and I strain to learn the time and way to say things.
good afternoon world. I love you.