Each day I awaken, and for a few moments, or sometimes even minutes, I feel as I did before October 28. Then the images come rushing back over me. I have had intense memories in the past, but now I get actual pictures.....slide shows of 3D vibrant images of my life over the last month. I recall "coming to" in my living room , My hands in handcuffs behind me, surrounded by police....I don't know, like 3 or 4 or 5 of them glowering at me like some sort of bug. Then I see Teresa. She had not been in our home since Friday morning. It was Sunday night. She had spent the weekend caring for her Mom in Dayton. Sue, I know now had called her and told her I was drunk and violently angry, and so they had gotten a motel room to "hide out." This was a new trick....something that had never happened before. But then too I had never in my life been more enraged, or felt more devastatingly betrayed. The preceding Thursday morning, as Sue was "guilt tripping" me about having had communication with a woman who had contacted us to explore her potentially acting on her life long need for consensual spanking, I had in our IM said something to the effect of "Ok then I guess I'll just have to spend the afternoon killing myself." She is in her mind firmly convinced that she acted out of fear I was suicidal. (BTW all you "alcoholism nuts" out there I was not drunk, had had no alcohol, and was only vaguely miffed........just tying to implode what seemed to me at the time to be passive aggression born of feelings of jealousy and being threatened.) She called 9-1-1. She told me she had phoned them, and I told her certainly I was not staying there (in our condo loaded with BDSM paraphernalia and equipment and a huge cache of knives, etc.) to await their arrival. To this day Sue insists that she had no idea that if you called 9-1-1 that the response you get is from police. Even if you call them and tell them your lover is in your condo with hundreds of knives and is threatening suicide, she insists she thought that the response would be something like a squad of roving social worker crisis interventionists. So I got in the Smart Car and I left headed for........where.....where do you go wait to be apprehended by the police? I have no idea why, but the nearby giant Wal Mart came into view, and I turned in. Yeah, I went to Wal Mart. Now isn't that an interesting commentary on the state of our/my life? I waited in the parking lot for a while. I called Sue to verify she had, in fact, called the police hoping against hope I didn't have to be going through all this. She told me she in fact had. As as my call with her was in process, I heard a tremendous number of emergency vehicle sirens, and assumed they were coming for me. It turned out later I was right. I told her I was not home and hung up. I decided that I should divest myself of all my knives. I got out of the car and took them all off and out of pockets, etc. I placed them in a canvas bag in the back of the Smart Car. Eventually I decided waiting in the Wal Mart parking lot was stupid. I went into the store and began wandering about aimlessly. I went to the rest room. As I was in the Men's Room the phone rang. I let the call go to voicemail. When I got out of the rest room, I went outside and listened to the voice mail. It was a police Captain telling me that they wanted to talk to me and were worried about me. I called the return call number. He very pleasantly told me they'd had a call expressing concern about me, and they needed to see me. I told him where I was in the Wal Mart parking lot. By that time I was in my car. I described my dress and my car and where I was. He told me he was in the Wal Mart lot too. I suppose they had in some way zeroed in on my phone signal maybe even when they left the voice mail to know where I was. I described my location in further detail and in a minute he and I were together. I approached him saying I was fine and that the report of any concern about me was a huge mistake. I remember taking off my sun glasses so he could see my eyes thinking I was demonstrating through body language, that I was open, and hiding nothing. I told him I had a Masters Degree in Counseling Psychology and a professional history with suicide crisis intervention work, and that I was in no risk of committing suicide at all. At this point this interaction was just he and I, and was pretty affable. In a minute a couple more cop cars arrived and more officers joined us. As they were witnessing the Captain's and my interaction, and he was catching them up about me, three more cars arrived and more cops got out. Then more, and a van, and a paddy wagon all surrounded us like some red flashing emergency light decorated wagon train encircling us in the Wal Mart parking lot. As we spoke they hand cuffed me behind my back. One of the cops there explained sarcastically that they had no way to know that I might be a tremendously dangerous ninja who might manage to kill all of them. I told him I was a 61 year old man with a ruined right shoulder and shot left knee, and that I could not possibly be any sort of threat to any of them. Another cop told me that his uncle was 61 and that he'd rather fight any man alive than have to fight him. I responded that I was not his uncle and that I had no desire or intention of fighting him or any other police. I have an absolutely ruined right shoulder we have planned to replace this summer, if I am still here. Having my hands cuffed behind me is excruciatingly painful for me. I've learned several times over the last weeks, that is a detail that has no interest or concern for police or corrections officers. Bizarrely after we were all assembled as though we were in some sort of a meeting in a conference room, the Captain went about the process of introducing me to all the assemblage of police officers, and also gave them a synopsis of my situation as he understood it. How remarkably civil! I am quite proud that I remained calm despite my shoulder pain and how terrified I was. I was as in charge of the situation as was my "new friend" (or so I treated him) the Captain. It was the last experience I have had of being in charge in a situation. I suspect I will never be in charge of any situation ever again. I am now every one's submissive.
His colleagues were not nearly so friendly. One of them pushed by me almost knocking me down as he walked by. We were in a huge open paved parking lot. There was nothing but room, well room and numerous cops and police vehicles, all around us. He had no reason to do this. He was trying to intimidate me, and to goad me into some sort of resistance or aggression. I grimaced and groaned from my shoulder pain but did nothing. As he went by, one of the other officers told me this guy was their computer specialist. I assumed he was there in that this incident had begun with an IM chat between Sue and I. He brushed by me again, this time telling me quietly in my face that he had already found me on the Internet, and he was reading my Blog. If you are out there asshole, I hope you read this. You are a coward. You are a very brave man when you have someone in hand cuffs surrounded by a dozen or so well-armed fellow thugs. Why don't you give me a crack at you one on one and we'll see how you come out then? I have been amazed at the absolute cowardice of police and how absolutely terrified they become in the face of any sort of meaningful resistance from those they have in captivity, even when their captives are unarmed and hopelessly out numbered. They are the worst example of fifth grade bullies. I'll never again regret any report I ever hear of any injury being inflicted on any police. I'll forever celebrate each officer's death.........but I digress.
So another cop asked me, if I lived in both those condos referring to our home. I told him yes and he commented, "Wow that's really nice." I had the distinct impression he'd have been happier had I lived in a tar-paper shack. He told me that he and three other of those assembled, who had been some of the later arrivals at our "crime scene," had been patrolling our condo complex on foot, in flak vests, with rifles and a shoot on sight order, directed at me. They told me I was fortunate that they had not shot any of our neighbors accidentally in response to my behavior. I went on repeatedly telling them about who I was, how this had happened, what a misunderstanding this all had been, etc. They frisked me. I told them that I collected knives and had lots of them, but that I had none then. I knew from Sue she had told them of my knives when she called 9-1-1. I had on a short leather jacket. There were bumps down inside near its inside vest pocket.
Apparently something was in that pocket. An officer kept reaching down inside the pocket and could come up with nothing, but kept feeling something. I told them, truthfully, that I had no idea what was there. Finally the Captain suggested taking off my jacket to search it. I offered to comply entirely with that.....trying as much as I could throughout to diffuse the situation, continuously calling these scum "Sir", etc. They removed my cuffs and ignored my obvious pain as they removed my jacket, and then, as they put it, "hooked me up again."
Finally, this law enforcement genius, after about five minutes of concerted feeling of my coat lining, managed to extract from my jacket's inside vest pocket, two small pen knives each with blades about 3/4 inches in length. He acted as though he had managed to unearth the Watergate conspiracy, although, as he held up his newly "discovered" weaponry, some of his colleagues smirked at the ridiculousness of trying to imagine how those knives could have been employed lethally.
The Captain asked me if I would consent to their searching my car. As respectfully and politely as I could, I informed him that it was my understanding that I had the right to refuse to submit so a search of my vehicle by police. I told him I'd been in enough seminars etc. to understand that to ever permit that was a very unwise practice, and a voluntary surrender of constitutional protections. I, of course too, assured them there was nothing illegal in my car. Certainly, I was not involved with drugs or anything contra-banned. My concern, of course, was my bag of knives in the back of my car. While I don't think having those was illegal, too, I feared that they would make something of that, even without basis. I am glad I made that choice. Eventually, as I got to court from the later incident that evolved, I found that even though no charges against me involve weapons, the court and prosecution have frequently made a great deal of my knives, inferring that no one could have so many were they not a criminal, or mentally ill. Anyway, he concurred reluctantly that it was my right as a citizen not to have my car searched, if I didn't want them to. He kept repeatedly, discussing with the brain trust of police that had assembled about me, how this had happened, and that I had a Masters Degree in Psychology (opening our encounter with that gambit turned out, it seems, to have been very helpful).
There was a tall, very big, obese cop who was particularly thuggish. I am sure he was trying to be "bad cop" to the Captain's "Good cop," or perhaps he was just the neanderthal jerk he appeared to be. He began lecturing me that as far as he was concerned, they had probable cause to search my car without my consent, charge me, confiscate my car as being used in the commission of a crime, and put me in jail. He assured me I'd be there for a very long time, and that I deserved to be. I apologized, and told this pig I understood how he felt, and how sorry I was that this whole series of mistakes had happened. I told him how I felt terrible they had had to interrupt their tremendously important activities (jerking off in jelly doughnuts:)to deal with such B. S. etc. The Captain proceeded to tell me that it appeared that I had a terrible power and control conflict in my relationship with Sue (how ironic). He told me that if any "bitch" had ever put him in a spot like I was in, he'd end that relationship immediately. I concurred that was likely what I needed to do. At that point the whole little pig pen, all the "guys," began sort of scratching and sniffing uttering epithets about "damned bitches...they are the root of all evil," and the like. I would have joined them in scratching and sniffing and decrying all the evil bitches, who did nothing but confound poor hapless men, had I not been hand cuffed. I knew in that moment "I had them." After more explanations of how I might have caused them to kill some of my neighbors because of this false suicide report (like I made the false report?), and how all the old people out for their morning walks in my condo complex had been frightened by their patrolling our complex with rifles, and how it was all my fault, and how I needed to end my relationship with the evil bitch, and commiseration, that it was going to be really hard after 8 years (they'd asked me how long Sue and I had been together)to end my relationship, and numerous abject and obsequious apologies from me, they "unhooked" my cuffs. I groaned as I moved my arms back in front of me. The Captain inquired why. When my shoulder is in an uncomfortable position for any period of time, the pain when moving it through whatever range of motion is required to get it back to the narrow window that hurts less, is the most acutely painful part of my current shoulder disability. I reminded him of my telling them of my shoulder, and asking them to please not cuff my hands behind me. He told he if I had just asked, they wouldn't have done that to me. (I had of course asked like five times.) This was either his cognitive dissonance at having hurt his new good guy friend, who was after all, just the hapless victim of an evil bitch like all our brothers anywhere (male pigs of the world unite:) or was just his way of adding sarcastic insult to injury.
Amazingly, after another lecture from the intimidating obese pig, that if I wanted attention by threatening suicide, I should be able to see that I'd get all the attention I wanted and more, they told me I could go home. I got in my car and they parted the encircling barricade of cop vehicles, to allow me to pull out. There seemed to be a cop car that followed me as I began the short about a mile and a half trip home, but he turned off.
I was free of them. I have not been free of that experience since. I feel terrorized, enraged, heart-breakingly betrayed by Sue, humiliated, depressed, emasculated, and like life is meaningless. I expect police to come break into my home and get me anytime, and to take me away or worse. That is just what they did three and a half days later.
I went home and called Teresa. She had no idea this had happened, and was mystified as to how or why. I called Sue and told her that I had been arrested and released, I hoped she was happy, that the consensus of the police was I should end our relationship, that I was home, not good, but safe and I hung up.
That began a weekend of my drinking way to excess, and being enraged, horribly violent to sue, still supporting her through a podiatric out-patient surgery she had that Friday night, and taking her with me to visit Teresa for dinner at her mother's in Dayton Saturday night (Halloween). I was civil and fine for her surgery, and the visit to Dayton, but was horribly evilly angry and abusive the rest of the weekend. Twice Sue fled our condo in fear for her health/life...both Saturday night...and again Sunday night. Sue could better describe these events if she wants to. I have no actual memory of these events. I was pretty far gone to drunkenness. The combination of the estimated 4 to 5 fold increase in the effect of each alcoholic beverage because of my gastric bypass surgery, and my enraged depression, had me incapacitated mentally. Obviously, I am not directing Sue or anyone to do or write anything. It is I who am now coerced to live life as I am ordered to...not the reverse.
I know sharing this is going to open me to more well-meaning comments from the "alcoholism cult" members. It is good for me to begin learning to play with those and find ways to appear to accept them as helpful and mouth back their platitudes. I am sure that the court will mandate that I spend time worshipping at an alcoholism cult center, and on-going worship of the "higher power" with the other drunks in AA. It is going to be a challenge to maintain who I am as I undergo their very skilled brain washing
I began this post describing my awakening this morning. It was one of the worst in recent days. I awakened snuggled up next to Sue after a close restful night for once. Then as the waves of reality washed over me and I remembered all this I began crying, and crying, and crying, and crying, and........ Sue moved to the other side of me to hug me from behind. My feelings are so confused. I want Sue and T so much and need them and love them so much. I feel so horribly betrayed by them, and angry, and like I don't know what a relationship with them will or can be. It clearly will be nothing we have known. I am no longer who I've ever been. I am no longer Dominant, or masculine, or extroverted, or assured, or strong. I hate myself and would gladly welcome death. I dream the police will come for me again. Were I able to trade my life for 2 or 3 of theirs, I could die happy. I don't know who or what I am, so when I say to them "I love you," I have no idea what that even means. How can I love, when I have no idea what or who "I" am...? What does 'I love you" coming from me even mean now? I awaken recalling the agony as they carried me from my front room to the car hand-cuffed behind me t the police car. I screamed at my shoulder pain as I rolled about in the back seat of the car as they drove me the ten or twelve country miles to the jail where they took me. I have pictures in my head of my jail cell where they kept me locked up solitarily for the first two days without toilet paper, or soap, or a vessel of any sort to be able to drink water, or clothes. I did have two "blankets" made of the kind of quilted material movers use to pad furniture, one of which had some mystifying concoction of straps which was supposed to enable you to hang it around yourself like a sort of cave man garment. It never worked. In that is was about 50 degrees (F) in the jail at all times, I stayed wrapped in them all of the 23 hours a day I was locked up. They let me out from midnight to 1:00 AM, when no one else was out, to have a shower...the one time I was able to bathe, phone, clean the feces from my hands with soap, have a towel, etc. The shower was a horror show, even when you were there alone with just a guard. I frequently flash back to images of it. Finally after 2 days they had me interviewed by a supposed mental health professional. I can tell you, as a mental health professional myself , she wasn't high on the continuum of skills, even as a clerical support person to a professional. She did determine in her wisdom, that I wasn't a suicide threat, and they then gave me a jail uniform, plastic sandals (no socks), a towel, two blankets in exchange for my previous furniture pads, two bars of soap, a plastic sippy cup, and a small baggie with tooth paste, deodorant, a "tooth brush" about one and a half inches long, and a ball point pen refill. I was then allowed to eat in the day room with the other prisoners, and was locked out of my cell in the day room with the other prisoners about 5 or 6 hours a day. This was in some ways better than solitary, but then too, it was freezing, and you couldn't have your blankets with you outside your cell, and being bare foot but for plastic sandals, and canvas pajama pants and a short sleeved v-neck top, at 50 degress temperature or less was terrible. Whenever time in the day room ended and they instituted a lock down, everyone hurried to their cells to get under their blankets on their beds (steel platforms with a one-inch thick vinyl covered foam pad)to get in the blankets and try to get over the constant chill you lived in.
You do need to know that Teresa and Sue did everything they could to get me out of there. They tried to get them to provide me the nutritional supplements I am required to take because of my gastric bypass surgery, and my other medications. They provided all of them to the jail nurse, but she either refused, or just wasn't competent to get them to me (I did receive two doses of one med and one vitamin druing the four days I was in there. This is about 10% of what I need to not go into a gastro-intestinal health crisis in relatively short order, and to drastically worsen my arhtritis.)
Teresa and Sue worked with the "victims advocate" and the prosecutor, and the public defender assigned to represent me before the court at that time, to get me out of there on pre-trial probation with this alcohol monitor attached to me. Wearing the monitor has made one of my feet go numb, a concern for a diabetic, and has been changed to the other leg now after my first month required to wear it. What with exhausting our credit between the two of them, I now have competent legal counsel who is actually interested in defending my case. How that debt will ever be repaid in our current economic circumstances I have no idea. The attorney conferenced with Teresa yesterday on the phone for an hour, and has met with me. He feels there is significant hope of having my domestic violence charge dropped, in that there was nothing in my behavior that fits the law's definition of violence. That then might obivate my other charge of inducing panic (I was threatening to harm myself). I am so grateful for their hanging in with me, and advocating for me still as I have become a useless, criminal, drunk, mental patient.
So anyway, I am tired of typing. I have stopped crying for now and perhaps I can get on to whatever it is that will fill this day until I can sleep again, and hopefully forget for a few hours. I really have no desire to continue to live, nor can I see anything ever again I want to live for.