Metamorphosis

by Bryan Trumbull

The sky was dark and gloomy.
A silhouette tumbled and fell as she walked down the street, beer bottle in hand, trying to escape the pain of a broken romance and the emptiness.
Dismal parties, drinking nonstop, and lines drawn on the back of a toilet seat. She did the same thing night after night; the disease had taken flight.
One day, she woke up. This had to stop, so she picked up the phone and called a friend.
She bared her soul, telling how the disease had taken her soul.
Her first meeting back, she bravely said she had relapsed.
She began to settle down and face the facts.
She began to do the Steps.
Slowly and decisively, she began to look at her past.
She reached out and admitted she needed help.
Once again, she picked up the phone and asked the person who would sponsor her to take her through the Steps.
Looking deep inside, she saw that drinking was just a solution to her mind’s deceptive thinking that made her pick up the glass.
Carefully and lovingly, she shared her deepest secrets with someone who listened and told her they understood.
They guided her through the steps, telling her they had such respect for her willingness to share and cast aside the shame for the behavior that made her feel depressed.
She began to stand tall. She began to gain self-respect.
Still learning, she fumbled and made mistakes, but she admitted her faults and took responsibility for her character defects. She faced who she was with grace and became willing to change her behavior, which caused her to hurt others and lose her self-respect.
Growing and changing, the sky began to look fresh. The sun took on a brilliance that made her realize there was something with great power enveloping her with love as she took the action needed to become the woman she always was—strong, loving, and willing to pass on how she changed from a moth with beaten-up wings, barely able to fly, to a beautiful, soaring butterfly.
Love, self-respect, and admission of faults were her keys to the freedom to set her on course for success.
It is one year later, not a drink or a line to get through life. That is in the past. Setting forth on a glorious journey to happiness by living a life based on spiritual principles and love for all humankind.

Happy Birthday! This is the beginning of a life full of possibility and remarkable success.

Diane

soft glowing light radiating from an open heart

Encouraging, loving, kind

Inner strength powered by a brighter light emanating from the universe so wide.

Forever resilient no longer fighting the fight

A knowing powerless over her life, her eyes sparkle like blue-green emeralds because she has found a way to live a life free of fear and with her heart that can fill a stadium she shares with others how she came to the light.

Always willing to reach out to others who are struggling with finding their own inner light

Sharing her love and kindness telling them never give up on your life.

We are all worth saving is her guiding force. It shows in all her actions. Her talk matches her actions. She offers hope and faith to all who come into contact with her.

With a higher power, she turns over her life. She struggles like we all do. Life still has its ups and downs but she has the answer on how to live her life gracefully and sober. She found it within a simple but not easy program called the Twelve Steps. She found her strength and willingness to do whatever it takes turnover her self-will to a greater power and to stop listening to her lower power.

Her higher power holds her heart and she has taken flight over her own life. Thank you, Diane, for showing the program works if you just become willing to admit your our powerless and only a higher power can set things right.

Goodbye

Today I leave Southern California to say goodbye to my dad. He has less than 72 hours to live. I’m a bit apprehensive and on edge. My relationship with my dad has never been a close one.

My dad sexually abused me as a child. It caused me to get a diagnosis of complex PTSD later in my adult life. I am fifty now – not too happy about that to tell you the truth. I expected to be much further along in my recovery. I currently have nine months clean. It is the longest time I have had during my on-going battle with meth addiction starting back in 2001.

I need to remember that the purpose of my trip to Sacramento is to say goodbye to my dad. I had an earlier visit where I made amends for the effect my drug addiction had on them. I originally had intended to get amends from them for what they did. However, when I saw the state my mom and dad were in (my mom has dementia.), I decided to make amends to them. It was not easy. I was highly emotional and torn up with emotions. My dad cried when I asked him if I hurt him in any way and what could I do to make it better. He simply told me to not ever use again and proceeded to sob. This was the first time my dad showed me he cared for me.

Growing up he never told me I did anything right. I was told I was stupid every day. He never told me he loved me nor showed it. He treated me like I was a human being to humiliate time after time. In addition to him molesting me by inserting sharp objects up my anus, he verbally assaulted me daily. As a result, I came to hate myself, believing the only thing I had to offer to this life was my body.

Naturally, I have mixed emotions about his passing. A part of me is very sad; the other part is angry at him. I need to remember my reason for going to Sacramento is to be of service and be the son I would be proud of.

I have never had to say goodbye to a parent. I imagine it will be hard. In two more hours, I leave for my flight. I hope I can do what I am going up there to do. Wish me luck.

I arrived in Sacramento at 6:00 p.m When I first walked in, I could hear the oxygen machines and my dad breathing heavily. I was not prepared for what I saw in the living room. In the living room, in the middle of the room, lay my dad. He was so thin and looked like he was on his deathbed, which he was. I became overwhelmed with feelings. I went into the kitchen and just sobbed. I had so many mixed emotions about seeing him lying there lifeless. We are giving him dulatin; it’s a pain pill. We have stopped giving him his regular medicine for diabetes. We are letting him die in peace. I told him I loved him and forgave him. I truly meant it.

My niece is feeding him the dulatin right now. It’s hard to watch, She has to coach him to swallow the medicine.He is making so much noise as it goes down his throat. She has to massage his neck to encourage that he swallows the liquid medicine. She talks to him and tells him he is alright and to swallow. Now she is cleaning the mucus that gets stuck in his throat. It’s all too difficult to watch the closer he moves toward his death

She is sitting by his side rubbing his hands. She murmurs to him telling him to relax and that he is alright. The medicine is starting to do its job. He has become calmer. He still coughs here and there from all the phlegm. In a few short hours, my father is dead.

A DJ Saved My Life

grew up in a small, cow-like town. There was nothing around. There was nothing to do. I became bored and started to do bad things. I would steal from my mom. I would use the money I bought to fulfill my addiction to music. I bought so much music. My room was first filled with album crates then compact disc crates. My favorite genre of music was disco. It still is to this day. Disco allowed me to escape what was happening in and out of my home. My home was not a safe place to be.

Growing up I had no friends. Everyone was against me, even the unpopular people. I was in a subculture of my own. I often feel to this day I am still in that group by myself. I was the lone disco, King.

Disco music saved my life. The song, “Last night a DJ saved my life”, by Indeep was and is my theme song. A DJ did indeed save my life. The whole disco culture saved my life. I used music to escape and go somewhere else. I knew all the disco dance moves and had all the latest disco hits and the underground grooves only a die-hard disco fanatic could find. I was hooked. And it was an expensive habit. I had my own paper route with the Green Sheet to help pay for my habit. All my money earned went toward buying music. (to be cont…)

Even though I had my music, I had no friends. My friends were the music groups I loved to listen to: Chic, Donna Summer, Andy Gibb, the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever. I bought myself one of those music boxes that had lights that moved to the music. I had my own disco in my bedroom.

An Awakening

I’ve been struggling with using meth for a while now. Over the past few years, I have been in and out of Kaiser’s outpatient CDRP program. I had been using meth to escape facts about my life from my childhood. I had been severely molested by both parents. At one point, a pointed end of a screwdriver had been punched in and out of my anus. I am 48 now and just over a few months ago, I had to have a surgery to correct the damage that had been done. My past still haunts me.

When I first started using meth it was in the clubs in San Francisco. It was fun and I had a blast with it, but the honeymoon quickly ended within three months of me using the drug. It became a problem when someone introduced me to sex on it. I had never been able to enjoy sex in the past as I had horrific flashbacks from what was done to me. On meth, those flashbacks went away. For the first time, I was able to enjoy sex. I became instantly addicted. I partied every weekend and soon I no longer was going to the clubs but instead, I was glued to a computer looking for hookups to get high and have sex with or was glued to my computer watching porn non-stop. I was out of control and I knew it. I sought out sex with whoever would have sex with me. I was desperate for someone to show me they found me attractive and that I was worthwhile.

When my use began to affect my work, I put myself in a harm reduction program. I relapsed several times while in the program when I found out I had seroconverted. I didn’t care about life anymore; all I wanted to do was run. Sex and meth now had an even stronger grip on me as I tried to escape reality. I took myself out of the program and entered Kaiser’s CDRP program. During this time I had also been laid off and was in a dysfunctional relationship where we both were using meth on occasion. As a result, I couldn’t stay clean. I would end up being out of work for two years. It was at this point that my partner broke up with me because my money had run out, and as he put it: we were unhealthy for each other. A week before this happened, we were supposed to move into a home together. I had not made plans to move out and this took me by surprise. As a result, I was going to be homeless. Out of desperation, I called my parents to ask if I could come home. They said yes. I begged my partner to allow me more time to find a place to live beside my parent’s home. He knew my past and knew it was going to be hard. He told me it was not his problem. It was mine.

So, I moved home to my parents. For the first three months, everything was fine and I was happy despite still being out of work. I looked endlessly for a job for a year and was able to stay clean before I found one again. It was a drastic pay cut. I had been making a $100,000 in San Francisco. At the new job I found, I was making $12 an hour. My ego didn’t take it well. Plus, after the first three months of me moving in, my niece and her boyfriend weaseled their way into my parents’ home and began to steal from me and sell meth out of my parent’s house. When all this started happening, I began to struggle with having extreme night terrors. Once again I felt I was being violated in my parent’s home. My parents refused to believe or see that the niece and boyfriend were stealing from me and selling meth out of their home. Instead, I became the problem. I was told if I didn’t like it to move out. Since I was making such low pay that was not possible. My niece and her boyfriend stole all my

CD’s Ii had been collecting since a teenager. They stole my memories. I confronted my niece in front of my dad and told her to stay away from me. My dad said I needed help. When he said that I lost it. I told him I needed help because of him. I then began to spew the family secret. My dad just stood there and looked at me. When I was done, he turned and walked into his office and locked the door. The next day everyone acted like nothing and happened and everything was perfect. It was madness and the denial of what happened to me as a child pushed me over the edge.

I felt at that time I couldn’t handle everything that was going on. When I passed the drug test needed for my new job that following weekend I began to relapse again. Soon sex and meth were consuming my mind yet again. I was running fast and far. I had unsafe sex with many people. I discovered no one talked about and nor cared about your HIV status, so if they didn’t bring it up, I didn’t bring it up. After several relapses, I became scared and enrolled myself in Kaiser’s CDRP program again for the fifth time. As much as I was still trying to stay clean while in the program, I relapsed at 60 days. When my counselor met with me, she told me given my history, the only option they were offering me was an inpatient treatment program with Salvation Army Harbor Light (SAHL) in San Francisco. I became angry with her and told her to fuck off. I then left the program. I discovered later that this was a huge mistake. After being out of the program for two weeks, I relapsed again with deadly consequences. This is that story and how I finally did end up at SAHL

I was waiting to go into an AA meeting. I had a couple of days clean. I had just been kicked out of Kaiser’s CDRP program because I kept relapsing while in it. While standing out front of the meeting and watching people go in for the start of the meeting, my phone rang. I answered it. It was Dave, a guy I had partied with before in the past. He asked me if I wanted to play. At that point in time, I felt completely empty inside, had no hope for the future, felt I was a loser, and wanted to be validated that I was okay. As a result, there was no hesitation on my part; I immediately got in my car and drove to Dave’s house.

When I showed up, Dave was already naked and ready to go. He had been partying with meth for a couple of hours. I had to play catch-up. Dave was eager to get me high as quickly as possible, so we were on the same wavelength. I smoked and smoked the meth-like it was breast milk from my mother. In no time I had caught up with Dave in the sexual sensation. We had sex for hours. We took a break and Dave decided to get on the computer to find someone else to come over. He found a hot muscled guy that wanted to come over. His name was Mark.

When Mark showed up at Dave’s door, he was more handsome and rugged than his picture posted on a hook-up site would lead you to believe. I knew I had to make him mine.

The three of us smoked more meth and got horny. Mark whispered in my ear when Dave wasn’t looking that he wanted me to come back to his place, so we could play alone. Mark made some excuse why he had to leave while he slipped me his phone number. At that point, I knew he was mine. I had successfully stolen him away from my friend. After a half-hour or less, I told Dave I needed to leave and needed to stop. He was upset and told me so. I told him I would stay but I had things I needed to do. After saying our goodbyes, I left his place to head over to Mark’s.

As soon as I was in my car, I called Mark. He was very happy I called. He gave me his address and told me to come ASAP. I obeyed. Dave lived in a gated apartment complex off of Arden Way. When I got there and he answered the door, I instantly was turned on. He told me we needed to meet a friend of his to buy meth from as he was out. We got in his car and drove to a drug store and waited for his friend to show. Another car drove up and parked next to us. The person in the other car got out of his car and walked to Mark’s car window. Money was exchanged and we left the drug store to go back to his place. I couldn’t wait to get back to his place. I touched his crouch as he drove. We couldn’t get back to his place quick enough for my taste. We both had nasty sex on the mind. I wanted to do all sorts of nasty acts with him. When we got back to his place I discovered Mark had bought an eight ball. We would go through that eight ball in one night.

I discovered Mark didn’t have a pipe and I didn’t either, so we snorted a couple of lines. Neither of us preferred this method, so Mark came up with what we thought was a brilliant idea. He got some tinfoil and made a dip in it to place the meth. He then lit a lighter under the tinfoil. The smoke that came forth smelled of tinfoil – it was nasty smelling – but we were already so high we didn’t care. As he inhaled the meth mixed with tinfoil we began to get naked, Mark told me he was a nurse. As Mark undressed, I saw in this more personal atmosphere that he was more muscled than I realized. His body was glistening with sweat, so was mine. I was not as big as Mark and felt a bit insecure. However, my body and soul were filled with lust for this man, so I was able to ignore the feeling and get into the mood. We began to explore each others’ body with our mouths. Both our manhoods began to surge with primal heat. Pulling my head back Mark dug his tongue down my throat. I thought I would explode. Mark then got on his knees and began to suck on my cock. The need for me to have full on sex rose. He started to become rougher with me. His grip became tighter and his attitude mean. He told me he was going to make me his bitch. I liked the idea. I began to fantasize he was my new boyfriend. He picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his torso, and he then suddenly he slammed me against his bedroom wall. I became an animal. I stroked his body like it was the first body I had ever touched. We French-kissed like we were trying to suck the soul out of each other. I decided to turn the wheels on him.

I picked him up, his muscled body against my smaller frame making me crazy with lust. I slammed him against the wall, my tongue devouring every inch of his soul. I got on my knees and sucked his cock, taking it all the way down. The fire inside me was an inferno. I picked him up again and threw him down on his bed. I jumped on top of him and made him my bitch. I held him down while I rubbed myself against his body. It was at this point he finally realized I had a Prince Albert piercing in my penis. He began to tug on it. I thought I was going to die with the pleasure he created.

Suddenly he flipped me over on my back and now he was in control once again. He told me not to move and he left to get something. When he came back he was carrying a dog leash. He attached it to my Prince Albert like it was a dog collar. I was scared at first by this move but then my fear was replaced with animal excitement. He pulled on it and forced me to stand. He led me around his apartment with the leash saying how he was going to fuck me so I couldn’t walk. I was in an arousal state I had never experienced before. It seemed as if all my blood had rushed to my penis. I wanted to make him a happy man. He pulled me to him by the leash, and we both aggressively rubbed each other’s body. Suddenly he stopped and said let’s smoke some more meth. I readily agreed with his suggestion. He dropped the leash and just stared hungrily into my eyes. I wanted him to fuck me, to take complete control over me. I wanted him to make me his slave. I wanted him to make me feel I was the prize he had won. I wanted him to validate me. I wanted to be his object. As Mark left to get the tinfoil and meth, I happened to turn around and see my reflection in the long-length mirrors attached to his closet doors. It hit me at that moment what I was doing again, running from my past and running from my future and giving myself away to whoever showed interest. I become consumed with shame. I think I don’t want this life anymore. I think I am a loser. I see movies of my former childhood in my head. I suddenly realized I was recreating the abuse on some level, especially after letting him attach a dog leash to my penis. I looked down and saw the attached dog leash was swaying back and forth across my legs like a wet noodle. I wanted to give myself to him to run from the pain, but I was consumed with too much shame for whom and what I am. In anger, I yanked on the dog leash. The Prince Albert fell to the carpeted floor with a small thud sound. There was a momentarily sharp pain that ripped through my body, and then blood gushed and sprayed on the white carpet floor from the rip in my shaft.

Mark returned from the kitchen with the meth for us to smoke. He dropped the tinfoil and panicked when he saw what had happened. He told me blood makes him queasy even though he is a nurse. Not wanting to get more blood on his carpet, He told me to get in his bathtub. I was bleeding profusely. I watched with disbelief and growing fear as the blood filling the tub began to coat my legs. Soon the bottom of the white tub was no longer white – it was blood red. I took a deep breath when I thought this could be the end. It was like I was in a dream, and it really wasn’t happening. But I knew it was happening and I didn’t care. I had found a solution to end my life. I became calm and happy. I was tired of running and I was out of hope. I just wanted to die.

Mark came back to the tub and freaked when he saw how much blood I had lost. He left the bathroom and came back with gauze. He wrapped my penis in the gauze soon, however; it too was soaked with blood, and the blood began to ooze from under the gauze and coat my hands with blood. I liked it.

He wanted to call emergency. I told him that was not necessary that the blood would stop despite how much I had already bled out. I now knew I could possibly die and I didn’t want my suicide plan ruined. As high as we both were, Mark fell for my deceit. I then convinced him to get the tinfoil so we could shotgun meth down each other’s throats. I told him to let’s get high until the sun rises above the skyline. We quickly devoured the eight ball, neither one of us willing to face the reality of what was happening. My blood was still oozing out from under the gauze, but not it was a steady stream: it coated my torso. I felt serene and smiled when I thought my life would soon be over. I relaxed and lay back further in the tub, letting the blood coat my backside. I was enjoying this warm, blood death bath.

As I began to get slightly dizzy I stared into Mark’s now numb eyes. I think he saw how happy I was and didn’t know how to respond. I also think he knew I wasn’t scared anymore. I know it freaked him out, but he and I both ignored what was happening because we are so high.

Hours go by and eventually the blood stopped. The tub was now crusted red with coagulated blood. Mark started to play with himself. I rinsed my body off and got out of the tub. At this point, Mark was now into heavy dildo play with himself. He asked me if I wanted to see something. I was still so high and dizzy that I said sure. Mark then took a rather large dildo and shoved it completely inside him and then stood up and headed out to his backyard. He picked up some clippers and began to trim a tree. I thought this was the freakiest thing I have ever seen. In my twisted state of mind, It turned me on. I foolishly began to tug on my penis. It became semi-erect. Mark came back in and yelled at me. He is freaked I am stroking my penis. He asked if I am crazy. The reality of the situation had become clear to him now and he began to cry. You could have died he says to me. He insisted on taking me to the emergency. I told him it is not necessary that the injury will heal on its own. He told me with his voice shaking to remove the gauze. When he saw my shaft was ripped wide open he said that is not going to heal on its own. He ordered me to get dressed and took me to the emergency.

When we arrived at emergency, they immediately called a specialist to examine me. After the doctor examined me, I could tell he was in shock. The doctor told me as calmly as he could that skin tissue had died. He told me I need an emergency surgery. He would need to cut off the dead skin before he could sew up my shaft, he told me. I began to cry hysterically. Mark is holding my hand. I realized my penis was going to be mutilated. I become terrified. In sobbing tears, I spilled out my story that my dad stuck the sharp ends of screwdrivers up my anus among other items when I was a child. I told them every detail. The doctor and nurse are in shock. The doctor took my shaking hand and told me he will do his best to save as much as he could of my penis. I would rather have died I thought to myself than face this. As I am rolled into surgery, the attending nurse told me I needed to get help as tears rolled down her face.

When I came out of surgery and was back home. I called Kaiser. As I mentioned earlier, two weeks ago they had wanted to put me in an inpatient rehab. I had told them to go fuck themselves. Now I asked them in desperation if that opportunity was still available. I told them what happened, how I tried to commit suicide by ripping out my Prince Albert. They told me to come in that day, and they would set up an appointment for me at SAH

The next day I drove to San Francisco to have an interview to get into SAHL. As soon as I entered the intake coordinator’s office, she took one look at me and told me to sit down that I belong there. She asked me if I wanted to live. I told her I don’t know. She said if I wanted to live I needed to be back tomorrow to check myself in or don’t bother. Scared, I agreed to admit myself to the program. It was six months to two-year program. She told me I probably needed to stay the two years. I returned the next day and entered into SAHL’s rehab. I stayed at the rehab for seventeen months. In that time I had relapsed two times. The first time they let me back in. The second time they told me I needed to go to a primary rehab. I refused and left the facility the next day.

It would be the second biggest mistake of my life. I would continue to struggle to stay clean. I now have fifty-four days today and I am hoping this is the last time I have that time. I want so bad to stay clean and to live a happy life. Harbor Light taught me my life was worth saving. I now believe that and I am now fighting for my life.

lostmindsfound

Beauty comes from the inside

Recovery

Metamorphosis

Diane

Goodbye

A DJ Saved My Life

An Awakening