Witness to Withness

Being There for myself

It is said that no man is an island
How can I know if I have never been there?
I am driving toward the destiny
Please tell me When I get near


It is impossible being with others if you do not know how to be with yourself.

         As I got ready for a different kind of experience, namely living with others at Sun house, I needed to take with me a viable understanding of self. This is not as easy to establish when one's support system is at best unclear. Sure I had contacts with my father and grandfather. I am sure neither of them knew what to do with my craziness. Dad listened to me and attended to others in a whimsical way. He did come with a hamburger. He was never one for talking much. My grandfather saw me as lost and in need of prayer that the devil be cast out. He was sure I was demon possessed and had an Indian friend praying for me. I was studying to be a minister and doubted that what he said applied to me.

         So I can honestly say I was learning what it meant to be on an island with people drifting around me. I learned over time that I could not be there for others unless I could be there for myself. I knew people were there, I just never could get close enough to trust anyone. This was in contradiction to what the church spoke of. "Look out for others and forget about yourself". I was therefore emptied into a world of escape. I was shy and introspective to a fault before I ever entered the hospital. I lived off of the imagination stirred by books I read. In some ways the various encounters I had with my fantasy of who I wanted to be were not off base at all. At least I was somebody: A disciple, a friend and helper, a witness, a deity, a biblical character and a transformer who could make life be molded to meet the need of self. I honestly believe that under the right conditions anyone could be just as out of touch as I was. Living on a "island" was my way of saying to the world I counted, even if I could not at that point determine whether others were worthy of my trust.

         I can remember some of the reason for being cautious. There was one patient who was roundish and almost a blob, who acted like he was picking speck off the floor. It was disturbing to me, I was included and seen like him in my own mind. I can remember one character who loved Elvis Presley. He frankly scared me, because he bragged on having a prison record. There was a man who took on a James Dean persona, another, Charlie who just acted strange. When he got to his half way house setting he was the reason that neighbors nearby got upset. There were others too numerous to mention. I knew about them and yet never made the relationship connection. I was a witness without being involved. That would need to change. I was angry and it was eating me alive. I could sense people did not respect or take me seriously, so I moved to that place. When asked by a social worker how I wanted to die, I said with my beloved in my arms. I heard him talk with others about what he considered my odd take on life. That was the last meeting we had together. Oh well!!

         There was help on the way. I was sent to a place called Multi-service. It was a transitional place. People came from the community to get supports. It was the same place my dad took me before I was put in the state hospital. I had high hopes. I met a man in a wheel chair who capture my imagination. I had kept to myself, but this man put me in a position of believing that all my internal nurture was not in vain. I was about to make my first real friend since leaving Taunton.