Hurt

 Therapy time, for me that is. I’m always hopeful that someday my posts here might reach someone and help them make sense of things in their life.

Hurt, thats a word that has different functions . A noun to describe my feelings and a verb to show the action of my feelings.

I feel hurt (the noun) from long ago as if it was yesterday. If a hurt cuts too deep and I can’t make sense of it I will put it away. That type hurt always comes back to me. Each time I feel it as if it just happened. It will sting, burn and  break something inside me and quickly becomes something I can’t look at anymore, it’s just too overwhelming.

I write about things to help me sort them. When writing I have the time to think about a thing and describe what I feel about it in detail. This process seems to help me look at and reconcile things from my past that I’ve never been able to put away for good.

I don’t write seeking pity , my stories can be hard to believe. I understand because sometimes it’s hard for me to believe my stories and I’m the one that lived through them.

The “hurt” that’s in my mind today is from 37 years ago, when I was 16.

This may be lengthy so I understand if a person doesn’t read it all, but like I said , this one’s for me.

At the age of 16 I had already dropped out of high school. By that age I had been introduced to drugs and alcohol, mostly by my siblings. Once in that world there are endless sources of corruption so I can only assign the beginnings of that life to my brothers and sisters.

I’m the youngest of 5. In my childhood my siblings and I were very close. Being the youngest, they all took care of me. My oldest sister was 10 years older than me. As I’m sure it is with other families, some of the duties of taking care of a young child fell to the older siblings.

My sister would take care of me a lot of the time. When I was a child there was a real sense of maternity I felt towards her.

When she was 18 (I was 8) she had a child. She was unmarried and the father had nothing more to do with her once she became pregnant. Not long after giving birth she met another man and got married. He was in the marine corp and was stationed in California so she and my nephew left home to live on the other side of the country with her husband.

The loss of someone close was hard for me. That particular nephew was the 1st child I ever loved so the two of them moving away was a bit of a shock for me.

After living in California for a few months my sister met someone else that she left her husband for and started a new life with.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the family the new partner was a heroin addict. The next 8 years would see my sister, nephew and new partner move around to many different areas in the western part of the US then back to Cleveland , Ohio where her partner hailed from.

At this time I was 16, like I wrote , I was already drinking and using many different illegal drugs. I know now that using these drugs were an attempt to self medicate and deal with my autistic mind. As odd as it sounds now IV drugs were always taboo to me and I considered them to be quite dirty as I did the people who used them. In hindsight I can see that how you administer an illegal drug doesn’t make it better or worse as far as moral concerns go.

I was a recent high school dropout and my world seemed to be shrinking , not expanding as my peer’s were. My situation became overwhelming and I eloped (typical behavior for me). I was working at a grocery store as a bagger at the time.

One morning I woke up, went to pick up my check and cashed it. I caught a local bus to the main terminal with the intentions of traveling to Los Angeles, basically just to see it and explore.

I didn’t have enough money for that ticket so instead I decided I would go visit my sister and nephew in Ohio, without letting anyone know I was leaving or coming.

The bus trip took about 18 hours. My mother and I had visited my sister and family the previous winter (it was fall by then) so I knew how to find her house once I arrived.

I knocked on the door and her partner answered . At 1st he was confused at how I had gotten there alone but welcomed me in their tiny one bedroom apartment.

My sister and nephew arrived home an hour or so later and were both happy to see me. My 1st night there was pleasant enough but the next day was when my “trouble” started.

At some point that day it was decided that my sister , her partner and I would be going to buy some heroin while a friend watched my nephew. I know that seems like I’m saying it was just “hey let’s go get some smack and we did” . There was some conversation 1st. The partner seemed apprehensive about the idea of me participating at 1st but my sister assured him that I was “cool”. She did half heartedly express some reservations about me participating herself but I can see now that this was all just conjecture so they could rationalize getting high to themselves.

To this day I don’t know for sure why I went along with it. Maybe I was masking and trying to fit in. I was always so confused in those days. Whatever the reason, I did go along with it.

The three of us got in the car . My sister was driving and her partner was seated in the passenger side in front of me. On the way to the seedy side of town ( I imagine that’s always where the heroin is) the partner decided to fill me in on what would be expected of me during the purchase phase of the event. He handed me a loaded pistol and told me that a person would come up to his window for the transaction. If the person presented a weapon or if he (the partner) told me to I was to start shooting.

It’s all like a movie that plays out in my mind now, it’s like part of me doesn’t want it to have happened so I look at it through a different lense. 

Luckily the drug purchase went fine and there was no need for me to shoot anyone.That sounds so nonchalant I know, but that’s how life was for me then. I would follow whatever path to wherever it lead with no ability to sense if I may be putting myself in danger, trusting those around me to have my best interest at heart , especially my siblings.

So after we arrived back at their apartment the friend that was watching my nephew brought him home and it was decided the two of them would stay there and my sister, her partner and I would go to another apartment in the complex and use the drugs.

We arrived at the apartment , it belonged to a middle aged woman. She was what I would describe as a “skank”. I know that sounds horrible but I don’t know that I could fully describe her. I found out that she is the one that actually paid for the drugs but didn’t have a connection to buy from. As it often turns out in that world the purchaser gets to get high for the service of finding the drugs. In this case it included the 3 of us that had gone to get the drugs.

Another thing I was unaware of is that we would being doing something called a speedball. This is a combination of heroin and cocaine. I now know that is a potentially deadly combination.

I was nervous but my sister was there. The maternal bond I had with her assured me that this insane situation was somehow ok. The 3 of them talked and decided that I would be the one to go 1st. I think that was just to assure them that I wouldn’t back out after they got high.

The skank wanted to be the one to inject me but my sister insisted since I was her brother that she would be the one to do it. They cooked the two drugs together in a spoon ( I’m crying at this memory right now, as I always do) , sucked it into a syringe then had me wrap a thick rubber band around my upper arm , then she did it. She injected me with heroin and cocaine and I let her do it.

The next few hours are still a blur to me now. I remember feeling warm then sliding from the couch I was sitting on into the floor as my body went limp. I can remember the skank , after she had gotten high, touching me in a sexual manner. I rejected her and there was some commotion and I can remember her asking my sister if I was gay because I didn’t want her. I don’t remember much more of that night from that point. I have flashes of memories from that time that I avoid as best as I can 

The next day when I woke I was back in my sisters apartment. I felt so unclean. My memories were confusing but not nearly as confusing as the fact that my sister , someone I trusted to keep me safe , had done the exact opposite without any thought about my well being.

I was 800 miles from my home, 16 years old without a dollar in my pocket and only the clothes on my back. I left the apartment and started walking. I didn’t know where I was going but I knew I had to get away from there. I walked into downtown Cleveland. It was a very bad part of the metropolitan area. I was hungry and didn’t have any money. I happened by a Salvation Army location that was running a flop house.

I went in to see if I could have something to eat and it was explained to me that I would have to register to stay there before they could feed me. I did so and I got a meal. Afterwards the rep of the Salvation Army led me to a room that was to be where I slept. There were 4 cotts in the room , 3 of them occupied by African American men who seemed to be in their middles ages. I was scared so I did not stay. It was night time by then.

I was in a large , strange city all alone. My internal compass was pointing towards home, 800’or so miles to the south. I came across an interstate on ramp. I walked the ramp to the interstate and began walking south with my thumb out hoping to hitch a ride.

I’d seen stories on television showing people “hitch” rides and were able to do so and make it to their destinations. The reality in 1988 was that most people didn’t give rides to hitchhikers. I was the size of a grown man at that time, larger than some so I’m sure that detoured people from giving me a ride as well.

I walked for a few days. I was able to find places that would give me water at restaurants but there wasn’t any food to be had.

There were some people that gave me rides. One in particular was a middle aged man that exited the interstate after he had picked me up to take me to his friends house to get high. I felt danger. About a mile off the interstate at a stop sign I jumped out of the vehicle as it was coming to a stop. The man pulled a gun from the console , pointed it at me and told me to “get my candy ass back in the car” . Just at that time another vehicle pulled up behind him to the stop sign and spooked him so he drove off.

I made my way as fast as I could back to the interstate about a mile away. I was scared the man would come looking  for me so I climbed an embankment under an overpass and slept there on the gravel that night.

The next day, or later that morning as it started to become light I made my way back to the roadside and began walking again. I was just south of Cleveland at that time. I walked for what seemed like the entire day before anyone stopped to offer me another ride. It was a kind enough man. We didn’t speak much and he carried me another 100 miles or so south just north of a city named Columbus. He exited the interstate and let me out at at truck stop and wished me well.

I thought for sure one of the many truckers would give me a ride further south and if I was lucky all the way back home. Again my hopes were based on things I had seen on television and again I discovered the reality was much different. No one would give me a ride. I had to keep heading south so I began walking on the interstate again . Night had fallen again. I was in a rural area of the state and the traffic had become very sparse . I became afraid of my surroundings. I was scared a wild animal would appear from the woods or fields that surrounded me and take my life. As usual my fears did not come to pass.

However a state trooper did appear. He pulled over behind me. He handcuffed me and put me in the back of his cruiser while he ran my Liscense . He questioned me as to why someone my age from states away was hitchhiking on the interstate at this time of night. I didn’t fully explain my situation , I just said I was trying to get home. 

He did give me a ride. After he explained that hitchhiking was illegal he carried me back to the exit with the truck stop and told me if he caught me hitchhiking again he would take me to jail .

He sat in the parking lot watching me for what I assume was the rest of his shift because shortly after dawn he pulled off.

I decided I would risk jail and get back out on the interstate and hitchhike . A couple hours went by and I heard tires rolling on the side of the road behind me. I was afraid it was the trooper but when I turned to look it was what my friends and I called a “hoopty” which was our slang for an old junk car.

The “gentleman” asked if I needed a ride , I said yes and got in the car. The guy was a very rough looking character. He had long unruly hair and his clothes seemed dirty and torn. He liked to talk. He explained to me that he was the treasurer of a motorcycle club and his appearance seemed to match. Turns out he was a pretty nice guy. He carried me from Columbus to just north of Cincinnati. Along the way he gave me a few beers and smoked a joint with me. It never came up and may not have mattered to him but I suspect he thought I was older than I was.

So he dropped me off, it was mid afternoon and despite the fact it was fall the temperature was quite high that day. The fact that I was drunk and high didn’t help much either but I persisted walking south on the interstate . I came to a bridge, it was crossing the Ohio river. There was no walkway for pedestrians as it was illegal for any to be there but there was an elevated curb about 8 inches high and maybe a foot wide so I decide to walk across the bridge amongst the heavy trafic utilizing the narrow curb.

By this time the heat and sweating from walking had worn off my buzz from the alcohol and marijuana that I had a couple hours before. Just then another state trooper pulls up behind me and angrily demands that I get in the back of his car. After I complied we proceeded to the other side of the bridge which was in the state of Kentucky. The trooper seemed to be concerned for my safety and questioned my sanity for attempting to cross the bridge on foot with cars zooming past inches away.

The same as the trooper before, he ran my ID and questioned what I was doing so far from home alone at my age . He explained to me the cops in Kentucky did not take kindly to hitchhikers or vagrants and I should be careful, then he let me go about my way. 

Soon after I got a ride from an older gentleman. He didn’t seem to be mean or angry but when he informed me that the price of him giving me a ride was for me to perform oral sex on him and I refused  he immediately pulled over and directed me out of his vehicle , which I was happy to comply with.

So it was getting close to night time again and I was exhausted, likely because of the alcohol. I was so thirsty. There happened to be a creek about 200 feet down a hill where I was walking . I went to it and drank what seems now like gallons of water. Luckily I never felt any ill affects from having drank striaght from a creek without boiling the water.

I climbed back up to the interstate and began walking towards an over pass about a mile away. Despite the fact that it wasn’t dark yet I decided to rest under the bridge. It soon became night and I stayed there ,attempting to sleep, until the next morning for a third night.

Sometime during the early dawn the next day I emerged from the overpass and began my trek south again. For what seems now was half the day I walked with my thumb out attempting to attract a ride. My physical state was poor. I hadn’t eaten in 3 days , my feet and legs hurt from all the walking and having not bathed in so long I can only describe myself as “ripe”

Luckily enough a car stopped. To my surprise it was two young ladies , seems like they said they were 20 and 21 respectively. I think they may have seen me from a distance and thought me attractive but as I was well aware , up close and personal, at that time I was anything but. I felt ashamed of myself for being in that condition and not able to present myself in an appealing manner to those two young ladies. 

I was still just inside the northern border of Kentucky with its length and the state of Tennessee between me and my home in Alabama. I felt the girls had begun to regret the decision to offer me a ride because of my state at that time but by then I was already in the back seat of their vehicle. The girls were very nice and gave me food and drink. They carried me to the middle of Kentucky to a city called Lexington. When they were dropping me off I wanted to show gratitude for what they had done for me but all I could say to them was that they shouldn’t pick up any more hitchhikers. I think I was just trying to explain to them that they could have put themselves in danger by picking up a stranger.

At this time I didn’t have much left in my tank. I was totally exhausted and I was starting to get cramps in my legs from the dehydration. I didn’t get back on the interstate . I knew I couldn’t make it much further. I walked into town. I saw a bus station I decided to stop at and ask to use the phone. The attendant obliged and I called my mother. I can’t explain why I hadn’t done this on that journey before that time except to say she was part of what I had run away from in the 1st place.

She instructed me to stay there at the bus station. There wasn’t enough money for her to purchase a ticket but she gave my brother gas money to drive to Kentucky and get me. I fell asleep in the waiting area of the bus station that afternoon and was awoken by another attended in the middle of the night asking if I could identify the man trying to gain access through the locked front door. It was my brother. We didn’t speak much, he and I weren’t close. The only time we interacted at that point in my life was to do drugs, anything other than that always seemed a hassle to him so I avoided any conversation. He did take me to a fast food drive through and get me something to eat. After eating I slept the 5 or 6 hour drive home in the back seat.

After a day or two at home my mother gave me a letter she had written me when she had discovered I ran away and was with my sister in Ohio. I can’t remember the exact words but what I took from it was she said she had always tried her best with me and if I wanted to be somewhere else than with her she was ok with that.

Upon arriving home my father scolded me for running all over the country worrying my mother.

I felt so unimportant to everyone. My sister cared so little about me she injected me with drugs. My mother seemed to be ok with me being someone else’s concern and my father , well I’ve come to believe that he didn’t know what to make of me. He reached out later that week and took me on a ride in the car. We had lunch and both acted as if nothing had happened. Close to arriving back at home he asked me what the problem was , why I had ran away.

I couldn’t answer because I didn’t really know.  I didn’t know I was overwhelmed and eloped . I didn’t know I was autistic. Looking back he was the only one that seemed to care about me and not themselves.

Each time I relive this memory it always hurts (the verb). 

Even after putting it all into written words I’m not sure what to make of it. It’s this big ball of anger and sadness that just won’t pass from my mind. 

How could they?

How could I?

It would be many years after this before I started to get to a place in my life that wasn’t just confusion.

I’m a family man now. I have a wonderful and loving wife ,daughter and son. 

I still get confused but the love from my wife and children has always been able to raise me above those feelings.