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Pawned My Wedding Ring. Part Eight.




I walked around the block until I found a local pawn shop. I needed money and that was my last resort. I had an ultimatum. Call my family to let them know I walked out of treatment and was walking the streets in Florida or pawn my wedding ring to obtain money for my journey.  I decided to pawn my wedding ring. In that moment, I wish I could say, I felt guilty, but I did not. I was in survival mode and the ring was all had to collect a couple of hundred dollars for a bus ticket and alcohol. It is complete insanity. Alcohol and drugs will take you places you never thought you would ever see and keep you there a lot longer than you would ever believe.


I made a couple of hundred bucks for the ring I vowed, in front of God, to hold a promise to my husband. Honestly, the vow was broken a long time ago and selling the ring was an afterthought until years later. I was relieved once I had money. My next stop was buying vodka. I started walking and after about ten minutes of not seeing a liquor store in sight I thought it was time to ask for a ride. I walked up to a small business and saw a gentleman walking out. I asked him if he would drop me off at the nearest liquor store. He did. I walked into the liquor store and purchased cigarettes, a coke, mini-100 proof vodkas and a small pint. I walked out and within ten minutes of walking to find the bus station; I did not have a care in the World. Suddenly, everything was okay in my World. The vodka momentarily took off the edge and the fear I had for my upcoming bus ride. I had a fear of riding the bus. I had never ridden public transportation of that sort and it truly scared me. I guess it was all the miles and the unknown ahead of me. I was a sheltered child. Throughout my course of addiction, I have seen and learned a lot about a lot. If anything, it has opened my eyes to various types of people, places, and things. In a lot of ways, I felt like “I lived under a rock.” It is not necessarily a bad thing. I find myself wanting to shelter my kids. But I do not know what is worse. Maybe informing them of the evil in this World may allow them to not take such huge risks. Who knows. Every family dynamic is different alongside every child.


I was not in a hurry anymore. The sun was shining on my face as I walked with my brown paper bag and plastic bag full of belongings. I walked for about twenty minutes and started to notice my surroundings and recognized the bus station up on the corner. Prior to the bus station was McDonalds. I stopped there and ordered two cheeseburgers. I ate one and saved the other. I was still being resourceful, you, see?! As I sat in McDonalds’ I started to become paranoid. I felt like the old man across the way knew I had left treatment against medical advice, and I felt like I was going mad. Truth is, I was.


The vodka was beginning to seep into my pores. I walked to the bus station and purchased a ticket. I was left with zero money after paying for my ticket. The bus for Atlanta was not leaving until nightfall. I had hours to spare. I sat there and made casual conversation with a black woman in her late 50s. I would take shots of vodka and walk outside to smoke anxiously awaiting my time to leave. At some point, I was left alone in the station. Suddenly, a group of about twenty-five military men walked in. I instantly felt tense. It was like something out of a movie. They began to undress, and I walked out to smoke. I walked back inside to gather my belongings to wait for the remainder of the time outside. I noticed my cellphone was about to die of charge. I panicked. I was already emotionally on edge and feeling some sort of way about the encounters I was having at the bus station. I did not want to leave without charge to my phone in case there was an emergency. Hindsight:  I was already living in an emergency!


In my impaired state of mind, I began to walk in the dark. I do not recall the time. It was not too late; I think the bus was set to leave around 8:30 or 9pm. I was determined to find a gas station nearby to hopefully get a charger, somehow, to my phone. That would have been too easy. I walked and guess what I ran across first, a bar. Amid this shady area was a hole in the wall bar. I felt right at home. I walked up and asked the bartender if he had a charger I could borrow for my phone. He let my phone charge as I began to tell him my current distress. I was waiting for the bus to take me home and I left rehab. I was honest. At that point, I did not care, and I was highly intoxicated. He served me shots of vodka and red wine. My favorite. While I made friends, there was a group of about five people that I befriended or befriended me as I waited for my phone to charge. After a little while, I guy from the group asked me if I wanted to step out back to smoke weed. Of course I did. Why not? Right. The last thing I remember from the bar is stepping outside to smoke. From that moment on until hours later I was unconscious or blacked out. Maybe, both.


I woke hours later in fetal position, on a stranger's bed, in sheer fear. 

 

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