I woke on a stranger’s bed and through my confusion it was like every cell in my body was alarming me, I was in immediate danger. If you can imagine, waking in a distorted state of mind in a house you have never seen before and glancing across the hallway stood a man. My internal and external fears were telling me…stranger danger…run!
(A silhouette, to this day, I would not recognize if he was sitting next to me. That is scary!)
I was curled up in fetal position, clothed, with my cellphone in my hand. I immediately jumped up, and while the male said, “Hey” I bolted to find the front door. As I hurried through the home, there was a female and male in the living room amid a sexual act.
I ran. I was terrified. I was in a neighborhood I did not know, in a state that was not my own, and highly intoxicated trying my best to navigate what to do next. I RAN a few houses down and knocked on a couple of front doors. I was desperate and feared the man might run after me. I wanted help. No one came to the door(s) and so I did what I said I would not do…call my Daddy.
Surprisingly, he answered and was in complete shock. He thought I was in rehab. He listened as I gave him an elaborate story (that happened to be true). He heard it in my voice, I was petrified. He told me he would call Uncle Eugene (he was still working out-of-town) to come pick me up. He asked where I was, and I literally had no clue. I kept running and finally arrived at the front entrance of the subdivision. I gave him the road signs and continued to walk to where I saw more streetlights. He told me to keep my phone on me and wait for Uncle Eugene to call. I spoke to Uncle Eugene and tried my best to explain the scenic atmosphere that surrounded me. He was trying his best to figure out where I was from the bus station that I originally was camped out at. All my other “belongings” aka the plastic bag was still at the bus station along with my ticket.
As I walked to find a safer place to wait for Uncle Eugene, I panicked again. This is where my inability to process the actual reality of my current situation becomes hazy. I began to recognize where I was and knew that if I kept walking, I could return to the bus station and hopefully get back home to Atlanta. The initial fear of the stranger had left me and now I had a new unpronounced fear of what my family was going to do to me once they found me.
It was like I was aware that I was making bad choices, but also completely incapable of stopping the crazy train (insanity) that happened to be my life; and what made matters even worse- I was the one proposing my own ill-willed fate of destruction. If you have not noticed, I am speaking of the disease of addiction. It is cunny, baffling, and powerful.
So, after the fight-or-flight fear of being captured and sold into sex slavery subsided, I stopped answering phone calls from Uncle Eugene and Daddy. Finally, I made it to a fast-food restaurant, I do not recall which one. I believe that I did tell my Uncle Eugene I was there and then left because I erratically decided I did not want to be “found.” I quickly became very exhausted and tired from walking. I remember walking behind some old building to rest until I gathered up enough strength to find the bus station. My little heart was set on the bus station!
Not long after, a police officer stopped and said he was looking for me. He asked for my driver’s license, and I handed it to him. He then asks me what I was doing and so on. I asked him to drop me off at the bus station. He did, but never returned my license. It was ten minutes after he dropped me off when my Uncle Eugene arrived. Within those ten minutes, I chugged a fair amount of the vodka I had found with my plastic bag.
I was a hot mess. My Uncle Eugene had never encountered me in such a distraught state. Fairly speaking, and he is a retired probation officer, he probably had never witnessed such a deteriorating individual than one from his own blood, his niece. I was so far gone from the woman who would visit and work out with him and take bike rides on the beach strip.
As you can imagine, I was embarrassed. That shame, guilt, and embarrassment prompt me to keep the crazy train going…and going.
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