Witness to Withness

Stephen

Saving in appearance, could this be hope?
Timely in being there when I felt lost and alone
Everywhere looking for me and employing me
Posing confusion when I thought I knew who God was
Enigmatic in the way our relationship seemed to end
Never ending influence, I am sure that his influence left a mark

There are times when all one can say is that there is a time for everything under the sun. That does not mean that the sun does not get a bit hot and uncomfortable at times. There is a fable about comparing the sun to the wind in a contest of power. The wind could not blow the coat off. All the sun had to do was radiate heat and things changed.


          As the influence of Jesus was waning, the ability for "normal" people snuck in. I began to see I was a moral agent and not a victim of my impulses. It was the decision that meant I was not satisfied with the violent and confusing world that I had been cast into by my parents. It is obvious that they had no idea what they were sending me into.

          I still wrestle with what choices I am totally responsible for in this adventure. There were times I just let go and wondered. Even that is a choice. It was in letting go that I learned freedom that I had never known before. It was a dangerous act. I could have lost my life. I had been suicidal for a time before my hospitalization at Taunton State. The benefits of exercising choice outweighed the curse. Sure there were times that I was overcome and nearly mauled. One patient whose name was Kenny was volatile and physical. There were some persons at the hospital that I am convinced had little or no conscience. He was one of those cats. I got into it with him and it was all I could do to hang on until help came. He was a lot stronger than me. I was just as guilty as he was. I wondered what it would be like to tangle with him. It was the wrong question. I ended up getting shot up with thorzine. It was a lesson I would not soon forget. No matter how hard I tried I could not win, the goons would come and stop the fight once and for all. So as this violence took place I set my attention and focus toward another man on staff, not a patient.

          I mentioned a bit already about a man named Steve, who was from Jamaica. He had the limp that was very evident. He was a charismatic figure. I was caught up in his world, because I was without friends. I had been starting to go to group. I watched most of all the flirting and tried to see what eventual outcomes would be. Stephen was my guardian angel, even if I had no idea what that meant at the time. He would confront me with the fact that I was committed for life. He would then talk about his perception of how we could make everything equal. It would all make sense. I had never had an African American that I could call friend. I was fascinated by the fact he would give me any attention. He came across as so athletic and graceful. He could not be anything but normal, maybe a bridge to the outside.


          The days seemed to get longer as I saw things begin to shift in my relationship with Jesus Christ on campus. When I looked beyond Jesus and smelled the air which had a burnt cherry feel. I was either in heaven or hell and I needed to pay attention to clues as to how I would get out. My dad would come and I would pretend I was Paul. I felt angry. I had been away from my family for a lengthy time. In the background Patrick shared “oh my mummy, batman superman. He was definitely elsewhere. I was starting to think that there was potential to get out of the hell hole as I understood it to be. There were certainly obstacles to embracing a more sane world. My grandfather was convinced I was demon possessed. This gave me no comfort. I came in as a minister and now I was lost. I had an incident with a woman who said she was the Virgin Mary, before she saw the light. There was also the man I nearly choked to death. I was getting connected to the human race as painful as it was.

          Stephen was with me wherever I went. He invited me into his coffee room and loved to talk about love. He would take me out, when I was given restriction on getting out of the hospital. He encouraged me to get back in touch with my sexuality, which I had all but given up on. There were times he made me feel uncomfortable. It is never good to hear that there is possibility of never getting out. Other times he would talk in language that saw me as the president and him as the vice. He loved to watch me dance with an attractive female by his side looking on. I should have known thing were getting on the strange side when he was wanting me to suck his toes and lick the heals of his feet. I guess I had been desperate for a relationship and had come too far to see the connection go away. Besides if I told anyone what was happening they would say I was crazy.
          I got real sick one day. I was throwing up and feeling week. The staff could have cared less. If I could not show them anything in the toilet then I was to be treated as well. I had a real down day. I was ready to give up. This seemed to be the last straw. I went into a stall and spread my feces all over the stall I was in. Stephen came to where I was and was livid. "what the hell are you doing now". "You clean up your mess". I was scared and did what he said. It was like a mom or dad trying to get me in line. He then roughly threw me into the shower to clean up. That felt like shock therapy. I was going to live whether I wanted to or not. Then he did the unthinkable. He put his mouth on my penis. I felt violated. I had no sexual experiences up until this day with another person. I was horrified. He saw my reservation and backed off. "you are more screwed up than I thought". You should have seen what I did to your friend Jerry (he was a patient I connected with early on). "I sure fixed him up". I dissociated floating around, not knowing whether I was alive or dead. Not too long after this incident my "friend" Jerry jumped off the roof of Taunton State hospital and was paralyzed. I was even more in terror, because that could have been me. And here I was knowing that no one would listen to me, because they thought I was crazy. And Stephen dropped me like a porcupine to the ground. He had little or nothing to do with me, except to show me his new friends and look at me with disdain. After all he would say: "the one eyed man is king" Love, love, love." I felt anything but loved by Stephen and yet in another sense if he had not shocked me into out of my stupor I am not sure to what extent I would want to live. I continue to be haunted by his influence. Some therapist said it was all my fault, after all I was the a consenting adult and he had needs. Others emphasized and tried to get me to move on.
          For whatever reason I became more empathetic toward homosexuality as a need for some people, even to the extent that people in my own denomination look down on me. It hurts to hear how people can be so hateful. I am learning overtime to forgive what in this case was abuse. I realized that God could use someone like Stephen and whatever happened to shape not only me, but others I would related to as I continue to heal.