The Hole Within

CHAPTER 35

Mom had been counseled on tough love and preparing herself for my probable death. There were at least a dozen or more trips to the emergency room for overdose of drugs and/or alcohol. I would either drink too much too fast and get alcohol poisoning or I would overdose on pills or, most dangerous, I would overdose on both. Sometimes it was intentional sometimes it was a miscalculation. Mom would always accompany me to the emergency room and bring me back home.

The last time I overdosed mom called the ambulance, let them pack me in and said goodbye. She refused to go with me. I went to the hospital alone, went through the treatment alone, woke alone and lay there for a long time before she could come get me as they would not release me on my own. That experience brought out my fear of abandonment and being alone which made me think twice about swallowing a handful of pills.

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Mom had started to go to metaphysical meetings. We had taken in a roommate, Rhonda, she lived in our basement help us with the rent. She ran the local women's shelter. She had become involved with seminars about finding the light inside. Mom asked me if I would join them, she must have thought it might help me. It certainly could not hurt. Tim and Danielle where the spiritual leaders. They taught us to trust in the universe for all our needs. I lost myself in the seminars. Swept up by the chanting and singing, the sharing and the hugs. I bought into it hook, line and sinker. Tim and Danielle became my new God. The things they preached became my new scripture. I engaged in what they called breath therapy. One would lie on their back and breathe quickly while their partner held their hands and gave support. The hyperventilated brain causes a kind of altered state. We were supposed to get in touch with past traumas. Then we would start sobbing, reliving the event, while our partner listened, soothed and comforted. I bought healing crystals and stones, lit incense, and smudged my room with sage. All too soon it was coming to an end. Tim and Danielle were moving back home to Santa Fe, New Mexico. After consulting with my mom, I went to them and asked them if I could go with them. They had a sort of commune (read: cult) that they operated out of their home. I knew that they loved me, they told me they did. Surely, they would take me in. I needed their help to heal from the anorexia, the drugs and alcohol, the multiple personality disorder, and the sexual abuse. I was dismayed when Tim asked me how much I could pay. He told me the cost to live there was fifteen thousand dollars. I only had about seven thousand left from my hospital pay out (read: bribe). I did not even have half of what they wanted. I told them what I had and after begging and their deliberation they relented. I was going to pay them seven thousand dollars and go live with them in New Mexico.

I know that I drove there but I do not remember doing it. Once again, I was probably driving in a drugged or drunken stupor. I arrived and met some of Tim's other followers. There was Abigail, who spoke with a heavy German accent, Elizabeth, a dark hair blue-eyed aloof woman, Max, a burly bearded man who was older than me and finally there was Kelly, a dark haired seventeen-year-old with crooked teeth and a quiet smile. During my stay, there were others who came for a week or two then left but the main group always stayed the same. The house was huge, centered around an indoor courtyard with a full-size indoor pool and a spacious above ground redwood jacuzzi. Kelly took my bags and was told to show me where I would be sleeping. The room was off the kitchen. It was a garage converted into curtained off bedrooms with a mattress on the floor in each section. Both Kelly and Max slept out there. For some reason, it did not feel strange to sleep out there out there with two men, just a flimsy curtain making walls between us.