POST XXVI


We Don't need Rehab...


Where do I start…

            It’s crazy that this is the first post on here since July 17th. I know I said in the last post that I would be back to post later. Yet, that was halted by my overprotective, loving mother. You see, I was Marchman Acted again; well Ex Partee. Once again, I was sent back to the place, I resented the most; SMA. Which I would now count it as a home away from home.

            That is a joke.

            I spent nine days there in detox. Nine days waiting around for the next move. When I got there, I had only one thing in my system, and it was not meth. My counselor there was decent, again it was the same one as the first time. She recommended me to go to rehab this time and how could I refuse. I did, because I would be without my computer, and I was determined about typing up my story.  Side note, I have yet to type any of that still till this day.

  I met some pretty decent people during my small, nine-day vacation. I could not count how many times I watched the newest Top Gun movie. But after like the fourth day of being there I was designated to be the guy who picked to watch movies. And everyone regretted it because I would only want to watch 80’s movies: Ghostbusters, Gremlins, and anything else that had any tone of horror movie vibes.

          To be honest I enjoy those days the most. I watched a movie that basically changed my perspective on how my mom dealt with me. I was pissed off at first, who wouldn’t. My free will as taken away and I was not able to be me. But the movie was Luca. It was a good PIXAR movie about a rebellious kid who wants nothing more to be his own, yet his mother is very persistent. There is some gay undertones to the movie as well and it was deep rooted for me.

            One of my favorite quote from the movie was when Luca asked Alberto at the end of the movie how would he know if he was okay when he went off to human school. It made me cry because it made me think of Tucker. During these days I wondered the same thing because before this he did not want anything to do with me. Nothing at all, yet I still had those feeling for him.

            When my time at detox ended, I was sent off to wizarding school….just kidding, I was sent to rehab at a place called DMRT; Deland’s Men Rehab Treatment.  Again, I was a little peeved because I could not have any form of technology there and I wanted the only thing I needed. My one true love, my computer. But this meant that I had to go back to the basics of writing; handwrite that shit.

            Boo.

           The plan was to be at the rehabilitation center for 120 days. That’s four months, seventeen weeks. Easy as easy does it. It was meant to be a good time, a simple short vacation as some of the supervisors stated to me during the hard days. Unfortunately, I only survived 47 days. Which, I can laugh about at this moment in time because it was days not wasted.

            I really enjoyed my first week at rehab. Even though everyone said the first week was the worst one because you were getting settled. It was the most enhancing experience I had. Everyone was friendly and it was as if I was being introduced into a brotherhood. The first day I got double meals and snacks, which was nice. The motto was to make the newcomer welcome. Like a cult to be honest.

            The worst part was the second week. I was alone to be honest. I started reading IT and that really fucked with my mind. When I read the chapter where the gay guy was killed in Derry I thought that the guys in the facility were hating on me for being gay. But that was all in my head because I was not the only homosexual there. There were two others there, Jack and Shane. Jack was more promiscuous, and Shane was more reserved. I learned a lot from both of them. One was not to be open about my life and the other was to be innocent and live in the moment and not the future.

            I started to go to church the first week I got there. It was nice experience. I learned that ethe things the Tucker tried to teach me when we were dating were valid. Like the phrase, “Hurt people, hurt people.” When the pastor said that during my first visit, I started bawling my eyes out and I had to excuse myself from the room. It took a toll on me, and I just needed a break from the sermon. I enjoyed church and it became the highlight of my week; especially after I found my high power.

            The second week I was there I had a few things happen to me. My wallet was stolen, and it was odd because everyone was saying that I misplaced it. But I know that someone stole it when I took my first nap. It was just weird because I took it to church and when I emptied my pockets when I got back, I placed it on my dresser and it was gone when I woke up an hour later…But yet, never found. Oh well, things happen to me all the time.  

            I was very involved since the first day I got there. I was active in class, talked during group, expressed myself to the other men, and even went outside to play volleyball. I sucked at the sport at first but then got better as I played more. I loved it to be honest: who knew. It helped me gain some more arm muscles and I enjoyed spending time with the other guys and feeling the sand between my feet.

            There was one incident that got me into the confrontation/ carefrontation circle. Some dude, I will name him Adrian here, was one of the guys I had a huge crush on. He was fit, beard, tattoo, and even had nice blue eyes. Well, he changed up his medicine and was part of the lollipop guild. I would call it what I normally called it, but I don’t want to expose the medicine he was on. Well, he always had to input his commentary on my volleyball tacti’s. One day I lashed out and said that I never met someone so straight that liked to put meth up his ass as much as him.

            He did not find that comment to be nice. That’s when I realized I had an anger problem. It was something that I needed to work on, and I did work on it. I tried to use my ticking time bomb tactics that I learned and overall, I think my anger got less and less of a problem. I could see changes as the weeks went on.

            But then the hurricane came, and I was feeling some type of way. I found out that Tucker was seeing someone else and that was something. On the same night I found out that my stepmom had a stroke, and I was still out a music device to calm myself down. The next day after finding that out I was outright sad. Someone overheard me talk about my medical situations and went around telling people, that pushed me over the edge. I was pissed off, more than normal.

            I took it out on everyone. The clients, the staff, the director. I vented to the nurse for about two hours. I called my mom to get her to calm me down, but she just made it worse, and I just wanted to skip rehab and leave. It was a mess, and I was the hurricane. After I calmed down, I realized I was meant to be there and that my health issues would be taken seriously.

            All in all, it was just a hug that I needed. Who knew???

            I want to take a second and talk about something that happened in a in house AA meeting. When I first got to rehab, I was in a meeting with just about four other people. Each were the people that made sure that my time there was decent. Jack, Shane, Huey, and Aric. These four witnessed me break down when we went over the four step from the big book. That was when I finally accepted and grieved over my diagnosis of having HIV. It was powerful and meaningful that it happened there because I was feeling as if I was going to be alone for the rest of my life.

            It’s a common feeling to have once you are diagnosed with the disease. Tucker never supported me or was there for me in the way I needed him. I had my family, but I needed someone to be there in a romantic and physical setting. I needed love. I needed compassion. I needed a person to actually care for me when I couldn’t do that for myself. At all.

            I was placed on a behavioral contract. Which meant I was not allowed to get in trouble at all or I would be tossed out of the rehab faciality. Which happened a week later. I swear they staff and the clients there had it out for me since I got there. But That would be playing the victim card and I do not do that anymore. See, I have grown.

            Two days before I got the boot, I was having trouble with my conjoining neighbor. He is the one that I though stole my wallet. He was the only one that had access to the room beside the front door, Which the supervisor at nighttime said she never saw anyone go into my room. Thing did not add up, so it made me think it was this kid, He was off mentally anyway and was the biggest negative Nancy I ever met. Fuck him, fuck him with a chainsaw real hard.

            Anyway, I overheard him say a funny quote. “I love it here and I never want to leave.”  I thought it was hilarious, so I wrote it on the white board which he did not like. He erased it and then I re wrote it After he said not to do it I didn’t yet someone else did it. I got pulled into the director’s office and disciplined for it. He said that it was involving the community, and I Was under the impression that me and Nancy were on the level of joking. I was wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things.

            had a lot of anxiety attacks that day. I overheard Nancey tell someone else the situation and then heard him threaten me. The other guy said that he was going to break my legs if anything happened. It was offensive to me, and I reported it. That was when the entire community got involved and took the leg breakers side. Boo fucking who. Like you threatened me then played victim. VICTIM. Felons and inmates are the worst cause they still have that mentality that they have to play the game. The game is over, you lost, and you need to reform.

           There was a lot of things circling the air those days. The men on the volleyball court pretended to be my friend. They were secretly going behind my back to tell the staff that I was still making angry comments sexually to them. Then the leg breaker said that I was starting high school drama when in reality I was trying to keep my side of the street clean and stay in my own lane.

            Ever since I got to rehab, I was being discriminated toward. I had condoms thrown at me, sexual advances, judged for being out and gay, and always talked down to for being vocal about my life, That was horrible. The staff called me needy, pushed me to the side, yelled at me when I needed someone to talk to, and always said I was being to sensitive. I needed help and none of them went to the extent to even try to help.

            I was forced to leave. No one tried to hear my side of the story. No one even cared. I was sent out in the rain next to the rehab peacock. That was one of the best parts of the time there. There were peacock and they were roaming the grounds plenty. I loved watching them. Others made comments about catching them and cooking them; or the robot guy made jokes that he would strangle one.

            I do appreciate some of the staff. I loved my counselor because she always knew that I was in danger or sad. She said I was being great at my lesson plans and took my recovery seriously. I was. I promise. I enjoyed my two techs that listened: they know where they are. One gave me rocks and the other jokes with me but gave me health department advice. I love and cherish them to this day; I thank you all.

            Of course, this meant that since I did not finish the 120 days I was going to have to go to jail….That’s right. I was arrested four days later and sent to the best place I could ever have hoped for, the Volusia County Detention Center: JAIL!

10.08.23

✌🏽


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