A little bit more in detail

I think many readers may want to know more in detail of what happened to me. It's not a pleasant story and I wish most of it hadn't happened, but unfortunately it has and now I must deal with it. I'm glad to be able to get back to my blog if even for a little bit. Sure, accessing it from the pulbic library is not ideal, even though I try to keep this effort of mine PG-13 or above, it's still not considered apropriate by some people's standards. So, here it is in slightly more detail than I've dealt with it so far.

Anyone who has been reading this blog knows about the problems I was having on the housing front so I will not repeat those details, but what happened from there may be a little unclear to my readers.

After being removed from my house, I had no place else to go and I found myself unable to think clearly at all. I walked seventeen miles to a small city called Sunbury, thinking I could hit the homeless shelter there. Had I been able to think more clearly that night, I might have called family members first. I cried throughout half of this journey, too. My world seemed to be crubmling down behind me and I'd had to leave most of my possesions and my two cats, including the one who had been forced on me behind. I worried about what would happen to the animals and was myself uncleara bout what to do.

It took several hours to make the trip that Halloween night. I'm sure that's exactly how most people would have wanted to spend any holiday, walking along the highway with nothing but your clothes and three journals in your hand. The journals were later thrown out due to a misunderstanding, and their loss is keenly felt by me, although I'm sure historians will not share my grief over this misfortune.

I didn't find the place that night. Instead, I made it to a bench outside the county's human services offices, hoping to wait there to find my caseworker that morning. Fortunately, I did not have to wait all night. The police found me and I relayed my story, making it to the shelter. Those two officers that night restored my waning faith in that profession. (And Frederick Dyroff, you were reported to the OIG in Pennsylvania that June night you decided to foolishly flash your badge.)

Confused, saddened, and distracted, I made my way to the caseworker that morning. I was low enough to make the attempt to end my life, but still able to realize that was not the best option. I spent two weeks in the hospital, trying to set my mind in order. (Actually about a week was spent on that, the other week was them trying to find some placement options.)

While the two weeks were quite restful, you know I came out with a diagnosis of schizoaffective disoder which I was unable to accept. I still have my doubts, but now I can see how it might fit, simply because I would interpret somethings differently due to religious background. (Mormonism is full of mysticism, although some members deny it.) Who wants to admit to hearing voices in any case? I believed it was normal for people to get answers to prayers although it was always personal advice. (And who's to say the prayer's weren't really being answered that way?) Of course, as I understand it my tangential thinking pattern, which I've gotten used to over the years is part of it as well.

I tell you this because this website is about honesty in many ways and the hardest part sometimes is being honest to yourself about yourself.