In May of 1997 I had a bad accident; a 9mm gunshot wound to the femoral artery. The months preceding this were as crazy as that moment in time. I had just gotten out of prison in December and within 2 weeks I was using again. Don’t get me wrong, I was not living clean before that, I drank the first day I got out. My plan was to not do any of that stuff, but someone offered me a beer and I took it while ignoring the voice in my head telling me to say no. The moment the alcohol touched my lips, the cycle started again.
The interesting thing about me and chemicals is that once I put something in my body, my tissue wakes up and comes to life in a way that it doesn't when I am clean. It is like a big huge beast lives inside of me and wakes up when drugs or alcohol enter my system. It is like waking the giant troll that lay dormant under the bridge after being asleep for years. The only way to cross the bridge is to give the troll what it wants. My addiction is like that, it is a gigantic demonic troll that lives inside of me and refuses to let me rest once it has woken up. The only rest it gives me is when I feed it poison that does not really allow me a reprieve.
When I was taken to the hospital in 1997 I had no idea what was going on. I dropped to the ground immediately after the bullet entered my leg. I do not remember what happened for sure but I told the paramedics I shot myself. I had a gun in my waistband and was shot in the femoral artery while aggressively following someone out of a room. Whether I shot myself or someone else shot me does not really matter. What does matter is that I lived. At the time, I lost consciousness immediately following the incident. There was a man who tied a piece of carpet around my leg. That most likely saved my life. He and 2 others were present when I was placed into the ambulance. I was taken to Madigan Hospital and went directly into surgery. I remember that my leg burned. From the moment of impact I could feel my flesh burning as if in a frying pan, only it was from the inside out. The bullet was lodged in my leg so it seems the metal was searing my muscle from the inside out.
When I woke up a couple days later in the hospital room to the doctor and a room full of students, my legs were uncovered exposing the footlong scars on both inner thighs, I was angry. I was angry that there was a room full of people looking at my nakedness. I was angry that I had two long bandages covering two hideous scars. I was angry that I had multiple staples down both sides of my legs and big long ugly scars that were exposed in front of the students. I was embarrassed and felt insecure. And more than anything, I was angry that they saved my life. I did not want to be on the earth anymore. I was tired. I did not do this on purpose, but I was not opposed to being taken out of the game. I was 24 years old and I was tired of this life. Tired of running from people. Tired of being raped. Tired of violence. Tired of being unwanted. Tired of being a failure. Tired of looking at a failure in the mirror. Tired of committing crimes to survive and pay for my drug habit. Tired of driving stolen cars. Tired of not having a place to live. Tired of violently forcing my way through the world. I was just plain tired of life. It felt long and pointless, I wanted out.
I had no idea how to choose anything different, so it looked like a long, deep black hole to me. When I was transferred to the next hospital, I thought I would be there for a bit and then be released. I was arrested not long after getting there. I was tired of this too. I did not see that I was the author of my circumstances. I did not know how to out-think my addiction. I did not have the skills necessary to navigate out of this. I felt hopeless. When I went to jail, it was fine. I did not want to be there but I was safe. I could rest. I had somewhere to sleep so that I would not be victimized. But they dropped the charges and let me out.
The rest of this story is less important than the moral to it. I had no idea that one day I would be grateful for this experience. I did not know that my life and its many challenges would be used to create hope and belief that anything is possible. I didn’t know at that time I would be grateful for all the things that led up to it and everything that followed. This experience has helped me get to where I am today and create a process for others caught in the same kind of hell. This experience has helped me to appreciate the hard things I have gone through and share my journey out.
I still look at my inner thighs and am reminded of that day. I will never forget it. I have scars all over my body reminding me of times past and experiences gained. The scars are also reminders of how far I have traveled and the blessings I’ve received.
We never know how our lives will unfold. Even though I felt extremely hopeless and was open and eager to die, my life was saved for so much more than I ever could have imagined. I have learned self acceptance, compassion, and how to just keep moving.
Please keep holding on no matter how hard or hopeless things seem. The darkness does not last forever if you become willing to step into the light. There are so many others willing to take your hand. It does not have to be hard forever. And, you can use your darkness to become someone else’s light.
Until next time.
Jambi! You are great! Much gratitude G.