And Now It's Time for a Breakdown!

"Tuesday's Gone"

But it seemed like a good day for a breakdown!

No job, no money for dope, no money for anything. I began to do the unthinkable. I began stealing money from my mother and my son for drugs. That was the worst, most horrible feeling in the world but drugs will make you do anything and not even your family is off limits to your appetite for destruction. This added to my depression, anxiety and the need for more drugs to cover the pain.

The one thing I never did was prostitute myself for drugs. I would have committed suicide before doing that. I even pawned 2 large diamond rings that my mother had given me when I was a teenager. My life consisted of putting gas in my car, buying crack and riding around town smoking crack which any person who has ever smoked crack will tell you is nearly logistically impossible. You've got to load your pipe, hold your pipe up, light your pipe, all the while attempting to keep your car in the road. It was awful but at the time necessary.

In January of 2006 my breakdown came. I could no longer juggle mom's books so that she would not find out about the stolen money. I made sure I always got the mail. I disposed of her bank statements for 3 or 4 months. She never seemed to notice. There had been a bottle of wine that had been saved for a special occasion that I opened on a cloudy Tuesday afternoon while mom was taking a nap. I drank most of it, packed a small bag and left to go to a friend's apartment to stay. I knew he would want a sexual relationship in return for letting me stay there, feeding me and buying me cigarettes and booze. He was a highly functioning alcohol who drank a huge bottle of wine at night. But, somehow, I don't know how, I managed to keep the sexual relationship at bay. I dodge that bullet, so to speak.

My friend had a job that required he wake up at 3:30 AM, prepare for his job (he worked in radio), shower, dress and be at work by 6:00 AM. This meant he went to bed at 8:30 PM without fail. I would watch television from the time he went to be until went to bed and passed out from the liquor until 3:30 when he got up. Then I would go get in his bed, sleep for a very few fitful hours only to awaken with that familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach remembering what dire straits I was in and that I had left my mother and son in. I would drink all night and go out on his balcony to smoke. It was easier to be on that balcony at night because during the day I saw people leave their apartments for their jobs, taking their kids to school, bringing in groceries. The bank had repossessed my car by this time so I never left the apartment. I didn't have a job, never saw my child and had no money for groceries. Never in my life had I felt so worthless. I had no idea how I was going to get out of this situation either. I was hopeless.

Sometimes when I would smoke on the balcony at night I would feel demons all around me. I felt the urge to jump off the balcony but it was only on the 2^nd floor so I would probably just have paralyzed myself! I couldn't shake the feeling that something was after me. Needless to say my anxiety level was higher than it had ever been.

One day I got up, showered, which I rarely did, washed my hair and got dressed. Then there was a knock at the door. No one, I mean no one, ever came to this guy's apartment. I asked who was there and a male voice called out “Hinds County looking for Sheryl Denise Wall.”