Benny

Belmont Hills Hospital

October 19 – November 3, 1995

Benny had a large sore the size of a silver dollar in the middle of his forehead. The doctors had him wear a baseball cap, or other type of hat, as an attempt to restrain him from his harmful compulsions. Benny was at Belmont Hills Hospital because he had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. He had been at Belmont longer than anyone else. Two months was a long stay since Belmont has not considered a long-term treatment center. Most of the patients were at Belmont for suicide attempts. After such an attempt, the patient is put on a 72 hour hold, and then it is not usually long before they were released. But Benny was not at Belmont for suicide watch and was not packing his bags to leave when I arrived.

Benny's sore was a result of his obsessive rubbing. He tried to explain to me as not being able to stop doing something once he started; his compulsions created an inability to restrain himself. Benny had to be accompanied by staff when he showered, brushed his teeth, or even just washed his hands. Without staff intervention he might end up washing his hands for hours. The availability of Belmont staff was not generous, and so when I arrived Benny had not showered in five days.

On first meeting, Benny and his sore had quite an uninviting character. It was easy to feel agitated or nervous just watching him obsessively pace or count ceiling tiles. Sometimes I just wanted to grab him and shake him in an attempt to rid himself of his jitters. But Benny was not a difficult person to avoid. He kept to himself and was uninterested in involving himself with the group. Like most other residents, If found myself, at first, not purposely avoiding him, but just making little effort towards engaging myself with him. It was during a Friday night movie when our two separate worlds would unexpectedly collide.

It was Friday – the beginning of another exciting weekend full of mandatory and monotonous movies. Don't get me wrong – weekends were the best days at Belmont – but still we were caged. I definitely felt that watching movies was a better waste of my time than sitting through redundant therapy sessions. Unable to any longer sit on the maroon carpet watching the stories of other people's lives in an attempt to defocus myself from my problems, I walked out into the main hallway. The alternative to watching movies was hanging out in front of the nurse's station – just where Benny always paced during movies. I watched him assume his nervous movements as he attempted to rub his pussing sore – my idle eyes seemed to dance his him. This strange boy, and the ideas that filled his head during hours of walking, suddenly intrigued me.

I'm not exactly sure how our conversation began, but it would last for over an hour. As I conversed with Benny, I realized he had some of the most incredible insight on his and other people's lives. His words were full of expression and clarity reaching much deeper than the shallow whispers shared by other residents. He shared with me his sadness and frustration from being transferred from hospital to hospital. Unlike me, he really wanted to get better and felt he was willing to jump through any hoop to do it. Due to different facilities understandings of OCD he had been sent from place to place in an attempt to place him somewhere where he could be helped. He was hoping to get transferred to Stanford Hospital, but was currently struggling to find payment since his insurance was unwilling to cover it.

I found myself opening up to this strange boy. I shared with Benny my fears and hatreds of being away from home; and Benny truly listened. While we talked, he did not pace and kept consuming eye contact. My conversation with Benny was the first I had had at the hospital where the main topic wasn't drugs.

From that day on, and until I left, Benny grew to be my one friend at Belmont that I truly trusted. I did not fear that he spoke to me through selfish motives. I spoke to him when I was upset, when I needed someone to listen, or when I needed to speak not a word. Benny taught me that a friend can be just a welcome away. The day I was discharged from Belmont Hills Hospital, Benny was still pacing the same hallways.

I Love to Never Forget

Aloha and welcome to apartment 206!

Today I want to share and recognize the amazing bond that Jason and I share: The history and love of Michelle and Jason.

Even though Jason and I lived around the corner from each other when we were young and ran with the same social group throughout junior high, we were merely acquaintances (that had onced danced as nervous twelve year olds!) And acquaintances we remained while Jason attended Palo Alto High School and I attended Hyde High School all the way across the country in Woodstock Connecticut. And then, years later we met, and fell deeply in love.

I have been sick with a cold for the past five days and Jason has just been an angel. I often take for granted the little things Jason does that make my life happy and complete. So I think it is appropriate to dedicate this blog to Jason and the love we share.

It was a little over a month after receiving my second DUI and I was slowly picking up the pieces of my messy life. I was drinking less and was focusing all energy on working double shifts and long hours. The last thing on my mind men – I was dealing with so much I figured no guy would want to date a girl with the baggage I brought with me. And then on a cold Friday night after a long night of waitressing our lives collided.

Fridays were my favorite night of the week. This was not because it meant a weekend of relaxation; as a waitress the weekends were mandatory. Fridays were my favorite because after work I would go over to my friends house where we would play poker until Saturday's sun began to peak out. So on this particular Friday, after getting off of work a little later than usual, I hurried to the bar across the street to change out of my work clothes and get a quick drink before heading over to Dave's. As I walked into the bar I was greeted by a handsome man who bellowed, "Michelle Hodges!" A little embarrassed by my memory lapse I smiled and he introduced himself: Jason Moore. I was in a hurry to get to poker, so we didn't talk much; however, the words were spoke I will always remember. Like me, he was recovering from a second DUI and immediately I felt closer and less embarrassed by the curtain state of chaos I felt had gulped up my normal life. We talked quickly, as I was still trying to get to poker before midnight, but I left the bar with Jason's number and a warm fuzzy feeling (which was not a reaction of the Irish Car Bomb a pounded while we were talking.

A couple days later I called Jason and before long we were spending almost all our free time together. I was immediately drawn to Jason's sensitivity and felt immediately comfortable sharing with him items of my past that often sent other guys packing. Most specifically, on our second date I told him about the electroshock treatment I endured due to depression and the long-term memory damage I will live the rest of my life with. I noticed how well he listened and how well he understood chronic depression. While it took him a little longer to dump his baggage on me, we immediately connected and it felt like no matter how much time we spent together it was just not enough.

I now feel certain that Jason is the man I was meant to spend the rest of my life. I have never loved a man as I do Jason and I feel completely comfortable with him; I don't have to hide things from Jason because I know he loves me regardless of my flaws. While the entire past two years have not all been a picnic, he has been there for me when things were bad, as I was also there for him. Jason cares for me when my pain gets bad, running errands and taking hours of his time on the light rail just to pick up my medications from Kaiser. He has a giving heart and is always there for me when things get rough.

After being together over two years, I am more in love with Jason than ever. When he hurts I feel his pain, and when he laughs it brings me joy. Because we each suffer from emotional disorders and painful circumstances we are, together, able to stand strong.

 

When I hold Jason's hand I close my eyes and believe anything is possible.

I drew this with pens and colored pencils. It says "Jason Forever Michelle." See if you can find it!

My Mother's Hands

Aloha and Welcome to Apartment 206!

I want to commemorate my mother on this day of national celebration.

As a woman blessed with creativity, empathy, and inner strength, my mother has stuck by my side through some of the hardest experiences that life tossed my way. Having spent time consumed by the grips of depression herself, my mother is always there to help me crawl out various holes that depression has caused in my life. Even when I felt like giving up, never would my mother let me. My mother has been a rock that has remained solid and in place throughout my life. I only hope that I can someday return the love and commitment that my mother has showered me with throughout my life. I can only hope that I may be half the mother my mom is to me. The following poem is dedicated to my mother, Marta Thoma, and wirtten with all the love she raised me with!

My Mother's Hands

My Mother is an artist and My Mother is a sculptor.
Her hands are skilled with the gift of creation.

My Mother is a fighter and My Mother is a winner.
Her hands are scarred from bitter fights she refused to lose.

My mother is a giver and My Mother is a believer.
Her hands drip with unconditional love and integrity.

My Mother is a beauty icon and My Mother is a competitor.
Her hands shimmer with pink sparkles of ageless beauty.

My Mother is an inspiration and My Mother is a hero.
Her hands reach near and her hands reach far
supporting the dreams that others chase.

"Nicole" - Art by Michelle

A Short History of an Alcoholic

Aloha and Welcome to Apartment 206!

At the age of 28 I can finally say with confidence that I have rid my life of the alcohol that had handicapped so much of it.

For years I believed that without alcohol I had no reason or ability to live. My failed attempts of sobriety led to my own assumptions that I could never give up my freedom to drink and believed (and accepted) that eventually that freedom would kill me. But over a year ago I quit drinking and was able to, in my mind, bend the laws of physics that predicted a chaotic and sickly life run by alcohol. I can now see things with more optimism. If I could give up drinking anything is possible!

I believe I was born an alcoholic, a disease I inherited from my grandfathers on both sides of the family. I began indulging when I was twelve; the rest of my life would be forever changed. At the age of 15 I was taken out of my house and began three years of treatment for not only alcoholism and drug abuse, but for the sexual abuse I that has forced on my as a child. For three years (and the third being my first year at UC Berkeley) I remained sober through nail biting determination. But following a bad breakup I relapsed and things starting falling apart.

I tried to maintain school while I drank, but I soon discovered that it was one or the other. And I chose to drink. The years following were filled with depression, ECT, short-periods of sobriety, but were driven by my dedication to drinking. While others hated the person that alcohol made me into, it was the only way I felt comfortable in my own skin. Feeling like an ultimate failure when I was twenty-four, I finally gave up on any ambitions of an alcohol-free life, and accepted myself as the alcoholic I am.

I plunged into a dark depression and excused drinking as the only thing that was keeping me from killing myself. I dreamed each day of suicide and alcohol was what I used to get through each dismal day. I was tired of bombarding my family with my depression, so I kept me thoughts a secret, self-medicating myself with vodka. Only Evelyn, a neighborhood friend, knew how low I had actually sunk.

My first DUI came and went, by my second DUI would alter my life forever. The last thing I remember of that night was having a glass of wine at a local bar; the next thing I would remember was waking up in police custody with my hands handcuffed to my ankles. I would later learn that while driving two of my tires had rolled off and I had driven at least a mile on the rims of my car. I then crashed into a tree in while driving on the opposite side of the road. My car was totaled, but amazingly no one had been injured. I spent ten days in jail for this incident and am forever grateful that no one was injured in the accident.

I finally started to try and claw my way out of a dreadful pit and I led myself into. I focused on work and tried to drink less. It was then that I ran into Jason at a bar I frequented. Jason and I had gone to junior-high together and grew up around the block from each other, but it wasn't until we were reintroduced that I fell hard for this handsome and thoughtful man. I would get so nervous around him and his family that I would drink lots (while also taking anti-anxiety medication.) I was regularly blacking out and Jason started to worry about me. Jason's mom had been killed by alcoholism, and when he told me that when I drank I reminded him of his mom, the news shook my world. I loved Jason so much and did not want to cause anymore suffering than already existed. I now understood myself as the awful drunk I was, but years of failure left me with little hope for change.

I was diagnosed with endometriosis and my world was completely altered. While the condition causes daily chronic pain that I might have to live out my life with, endometriosis also freed me from the chains that alcoholism had around my ankles. When I drank, the pelvic pain I would then endure was beyond manageable, and so my only option was to finally ban the evil poison from my life. I quit then and there. Giving up alcohol has left me with great strength and a renewed optimism. I truly believe that if I was able to give up drinking, anything is possible! I have taken back the confidence that alcohol falsified and, for the first time in my life, I truly believe that the sky's the limit!