The energy of Hawai’i is unlike any where else that I’ve been. It takes an unbelievable potential to create land in the most remote place on the planet. Everything subjected to this strength for any amount of time will be forced to do one of two thing: stand up and face the incredible power to create and destroy simultaneously or run away from it. Those that fight find themselves somewhere between sleeping in a bed of phoenix feathers and being locked in a staring contest with the most horrific face of God.
I refuse to blink.
The past 72 hours have been trying to say the least. I’ve went from thinking that I could make something work at the apartment on Lewers to having lost access to what few possessions I have left. In what might have been an over response to that I then took everything I owned with me everywhere, which is no easy burden to carry in the midday sun and led to wanting to give up and run.
While I am still contemplating if I should stay in Hawaii or more accurately how long I should, I’m not going anywhere immediately. If I had the money, I would have bought a plane ticket home yesterday at 12:45 pm. I could have been back in Seattle in time to catch the 9 o'clock news on Q13. Instead of fleeing back to the forest I decided to implement a tactic I’m getting pretty good at, asking for help.
Now whenever I do so lately I tend to utilize everything at my disposal and add in a new element. I sent a text message to my contact at Chow, inquiring about other shelter options. Next it was a call to my behavioral health coordinator in hope she could pull some strings behind the scenes. Then more long distance text messages across the Pacific seeking guidance on how to improve my plight. Finally I decided to ask Oahu for help, in the form of a classified ad for assistance
CL: Hawaii > Oahu > Strictly Platonic >
I need a place to stay
I need a place to stay. It doesn't need to be anything special. I don't care if there is a bed. It just needs to be drug free.
I'm a recovering meth addict. Tomorrow will mark two weeks clean. Unfortunately I had to make the choice between sobriety and housing. I'd rather sleep in a Chinatown dumpster than go back to where I was. I just hope it doesn't have to come to that. I've tried shelter options but for a week now I've been told the same thing each day, try again tomorrow.
I don't have any money to offer, but I'm more than willing to help in anyway I'm capable. Yard work, small improvement projects, painting, I have experience in a wide range of odd jobs.
At this point I have been accepted into a residential treatment program. However there is a wait list that could be up to two months. I'm not expecting anyone to take me on for that full length of time, but even a couple days would help.
I’m currently in Honolulu but I'd walk across this island for a safe place to stay. I know it's a lot to ask. But any help you can offer would be appreciated more than you could ever imagine.
I didn’t honestly expect anything to come of it. Who in their right mind would take in an admitted drug addict. But without any other options I figured I didn’t have anything to lose and who knows, maybe I’d at least meet some interesting people in the process.
The first response was exactly what I expected. They were more than willing to take me in as long as I provided my full name, telephone number, social security number, bank account number and of course photos. Clothed, nude, up close dick pic, a cum shot, and one wearing just a pair of boxers while biting into a mango that’s juicy enough to dribble just a little, but not too much, down the side of my beard. Okay, it wasn’t that bad, but it might as well have been.
The first few were all like that. It seems there is an excess of phishing schemes here in Hawaii that are all designed to get your phone number and social media information. I’m not sure what nefarious motivations are at the heart of this, but I don’t want to find out either.
Then I got a response that offered some potential:
Maybe???
I will be upfront and say I am skeptical...BUT maybe I can help you out I get off work in about an hour, at the very least maybe we can meet and talk (and grab a bite to eat my treat). I am hoping you have a phone and can text or call me at 808 *** ****. Otherwise if you want to email me back we can set something up (but it takes longer). I am free for a few hours if you can get back to me soon.
Carl
The introductory admission of skepticism was actually the most reassuring thing I could have hoped for. I figured there can’t be too much harm brought upon me by just sending a text message. While I was using I texted countless people I’d never met before, many of which never even replied, so how could this be any different?
At this point I was at the main branch of the Honolulu Public Library. I had needed a place where I could just rest for a bit. I’d been toting around my case all morning and my body demanded a rest. There I could also update my residency status with the library and take advantage of their free wifi and power outlets. It was my Shangri La, but it also closed at 8 pm, so my time was limited.
I was also texting back and forth with my family and a couple of others who have offered a clear minded view to my chaos over the past few months. Carl replied just before I was about to call my father and told me where I could meet him, which was only short walk from where I was. I wheeled my case out to the sidewalk and established myself at our predetermined location.
Talking to my father is not an easy thing for me at this point. There is no one in my life that I hold in higher regard and it isn’t his judgement that I fear, but the judgement I force upon myself. When I speak with him I am reminded of all my faults and imperfections, all the disappointing things that I’ve done. His never ending love and acceptance forces me to contrast it with feelings of guilt and remorse. It is likely some subconscious mechanism enacted to maintaining an inner balance. Or maybe it’s some parenting trick he learned in Japan.
I was on the brink of crying throughout the entire conversation. I desperately wanted for him to make a decision for me. I wanted for him to tell me that he was going to make all my problems go away and that everything was going to be okay from here on out. I don’t know why I wanted this, my father has never been foolish enough to tell me that he can solve everything with the flip of his wrist.
While he could often solve superficial surface issues I’m usually told that he can solve nothing. I can only imagine how difficult it is to say while watching someone you love struggle, knowing that any assistance you give will only prolong their suffering. He’s right, I have to make the decisions for myself and take responsibility for what happens. No one ever said I have to do it alone though.
I was practically in tears when Carl pulled up. I quickly cut off the telephone call, apologizing to both parties for the overlap. We loaded my case into the back of his jeep and started down King Street.
Carl is an older man in which I quickly came to find I share two rather significant similarities with. We are both in recovery, albeit from different things and in very different parts along the journey. We’re also both gay, but in such a way that we don’t fit the mold of the stereotypical homosexual.
At some point in the 20th century society decided that in order to be gay you had to first be effeminate. You had to speak with a lisp and care more about your moisturizer than the score of the football game. Part of what took me so long to accept my sexuality is that wasn’t me. I’m much more comfortable in front in a jersey than I am anything you’d find at Brooks Brothers. It took me a long time to realize that I could be gay and still be myself, it’s still hard for some people to accept this.
Shortly after I came out I was trying to find my place within the gay community. I didn’t know where to start and being an alcoholic I naturally found myself in bars. It was almost assured that any time I went out at least one person would approach me and say something along the lines of, “What are you doing here, you’re not gay.”
This contributed heavily to an ever expanding identity crisis. No matter how much I would rather have been I knew I wasn’t straight. Now, after the personal hell that I put myself through in accepting myself, I can’t be gay either? I was lost somewhere between two worlds, with no one to look to for guidance. I eventually found the acceptance I was searching for, and people who understood the struggle I was having, in the world of sleepless nights and meth fueled denial.
Carl told me about his experience. While it was nothing like what I’d gone through, it was still the same. His life became unmanageable and his addiction had cost him everything. He never got into “anything hard” like I did (his words), but I’m starting to see that it doesn’t matter what your particular dope might be; cocaine, heroin, gambling, sex, meth, they all lead you to the same place once they take control of you.
At some point during the meal Carl decided that I wasn’t an ax murdering psychopath and invited me to come back to see his place. I couldn’t have asked for more. He lives in glorified studio apartment that passes as a one bedroom. It’s in a part of town I’d describe as Ala Moana, but some might call it McCully. I thought the best part was being right across the street from Don Quijote (imagine a Japanese Wal-Mart) until I he pointed out the bird's eye view of the fire station next door. “They like to play volleyball in the afternoon,” he informed me with a wink.
There are some house rules that I’m expected to follow, but nothing out of my comfort zone and the most important happens to be the one thing I was looking for above all else, no drugs. I have no idea how I could ever start to repay the generosity that’s been offered to me, but I’m sure in time I’ll come up with some good ideas in an attempt to do so.
Every island in the archipelago has a different manner in which it expresses the energy here. I was told that there is a reason Oahu has always been known as the gathering place. It expresses itself in what we’ve come to know as the aloha spirit of friendship, family and giving.
In my time here Oahu has given me everything I’ve asked for. When I was determined to continue my self destruction it made it as readily available as I could have ever hoped. Now that I am determined not to blink, it’s offered me a safe haven in which to foster my recovery, I just need to remember that when I ask for the right things, it tends to come with added bonuses. You’ll have to excuse me though, I think I see a volleyball net being set up.
(Pictures to be added at a later time)
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