Hey there:
"Long time listener - first time poster".
Take 3 parts clinical depression, one part PTSD, and one part Asperger's syndrome (very common among “show-biz” types, or so I am told), and you'll get a pretty fair approximation of the convoluted mess that I've become over the last two years.
Once a reasonably successful self-employed person in the entertainment industry, with almost two decades "on the road" with a wide variety of performing artists, for personal reasons (both my folks had passed away, one after the other) I was compelled to return to the Chicago area to sort things out and "peddle my wares", thereby establishing myself as a reliable local vendor of technical support for all kinds of events, from concerts (large and small) to corporate meetings of any size and/or complexity (same gear, nicer clothes, better money).
So far, so good.
Then, through a trifecta of "unfortunate incidents" which were all completely out of my control, things began to go bad.
VERY f#cking BAD.
For all intents and purposes, I have lost EVERYTHING I have worked my whole life for!
(Fast forward to a bit over a year ago.)
On a snowy and frigid February morning in 2011, I was forced from my home of almost 15 years at gunpoint, in which I had over 50% equity (NO, I was NOT one of those foolish people who "bought above my means", or was using my home as an "ATM"!), by a "tough-guy" county sheriff (the Joe Arpaio type) with a foreclosure/eviction document clutched in one hand and a blued Glock in the other, who literally kicked my door in at 6 am and informed me I was "squatting illegally", and had exactly 5 minutes to get dressed and get the f#ck out, or he was damn sure taking me to jail for "criminal trespassing".
Behind him were 6 big scary-looking guys who were already beginning to literally throw all my furniture and other household items out doors and windows, into the almost 2 feet of snow that had accumulated from the night before. Then they did the same thing with the equipment and tools that were stashed in the detached two-car garage that I used to run my lighting business out of.
After more than a few horrific hours of sitting powerless in the driver's seat of my old '95 Chevy conversion van out in front of what used to be my home, watching my belongings pile up in what used to be my yard, a cold and foreboding winter's darkness began to descend.
The none-too-gentle eviction crew started filing out of my ex-front door, and the sheriff approached my van (with his holster unsnapped) and to advise me that there was a dumpster scheduled to arrive the following morning at 7 am, and I had until then I was granted his “official permission” to go through the monstrous snow-covered mounds in the yard and driveway in order to retrieve whatever I chose to keep, but if he returned to discover that I was still on the property at 7:01, I was definitely going to jail.
Pretty much "shell-shocked" by that time, I gathered what important items I could locate and/or identify in the narrow beam of headlights (they had also shut the power off), and stuffed my trusty old van (and a small trailer I had used for the biz) with everything that would fit.
(Fast forward to about a month later)
Winter is a very bad time to be homeless in northern Illinois.
What items I had managed to retrieve were now mostly stored in the leaky old barn of a kind old biker friend, and I was basically living in my van in his driveway, with an extension cord strung from his 110 year old farmhouse for a bit of power to provide a modest amount of light and heat.
One evening, after partaking in a bit of dinner with my friend (a disabled Viet Nam vet) and his “darling wife” (who was actually none-too-happy about my presence, hence I was not invited to sleep indoors), I offered many thanks for the hot meal and said good night, exiting “stage-left” to return to the "Hotel Chevrolet" with the intention of bedding-down for the night.
Upon opening the van's side-door, I was literally knocked backwards on my skinny pink ass into the snow by a sudden, violent blast of orange and yellow flames, terrifyingly akin to the movie "Backdraft".
Apparently the 12 gauge extension cord which had been my "lifeline" had developed a short-circuit which, for some inexplicable reason, was not enough to pop the old cartridge-style fuses of the old farmhouse.
Instead, it had (presumably?) gone cherry-red inside the van, which over the course of a couple of hours, had produced a sufficient level of heat to almost ignite the van's 15 year old carpeted and paneled interior.
Upon opening the door, the sudden addition of fresh oxygen was enough to complete that well-known "triad of combustion" (heat, fuel and air), thus the catastrophically explosive fireball which burst forth in my unsuspecting face.
Needless to say, the inside of the van, and almost all of the precious (to me, anyway?) contents quickly turned to ash as we frantically tossed large cooking pots of water inside and then sprayed the mini-inferno down with a small hand-held fire extinguisher, exhausting it in short order.
As one might gather, I am now homeless, unemployed, and destitute, with literally NO family to turn to, and only an extremely threadbare "safety-net" of fa small handful of true friends to sustain me during these increasingly trying times.
The really tough part is, once the "wheels came off" my so-called life, folks who I thought had been "friends", trusted people who I had been through "thick and thin" with in times past (some of whom I had known for over 30 years!), had essentially "excommunicated" (or you might say "unfriended", but I loathe “Fakebook”) me at an alarmingly rapid pace, almost as if I was hosting some type of deadly contagion that they were afraid to catch.
Like the old song goes - “nobody knows you when you're down and out”.
Sadly, things seem to have only gone downhill like a greased toboggan since then.
I have been shagged out of several Walmart parking lots by totally unsympathetic local cops (obviously graduates of the “Barney Phife” academy of law enforcement), who definitely don't want "my kind" in their jurisdictions. (Apparently it's acceptable to park there overnight in a semi or a $100K RV, but definitely NOT a 15 year-old van with a custom-charred paintjob.)
Gentle reader, is it really any wonder that I am now doing my level best to deal with some incredible depression? I must disclose that I already have two incomplete but nonetheless earnest suicide attempts behind me, and I'm guessing (and even sometimes hoping) that, like the old saying goes, "the third time's probably the charm"?
I mean, jeeze, have I really become incapable of doing ANYTHING right anymore?
WTF??? (with all due apologies to Marc Maron)
Sadly, there is virtually no therapy available for no-income folks in IL, particularly for non-vets and people with no dependents (thanks goodness nobody else is counting on my sorry self!), due to some seriously deep austerity-inspired budget cuts on both the state and federal levels.
Thanks Congress.
Believe me, after doing some extensive online research at public libraries (the same places where I try to maintain some semi-regular degree of personal hygiene) I've tried to obtain some much-needed assistance, in more than one place, and the very best I was able to come up with was a measly 15 minute appointment, once a month, with a presumably well-intentioned but nonetheless just-out-of college social worker, employed by a non-governmental community agency that deals primarily with abused women and substance-abuse problems.
As it was, this nice young gal, clearly 30-something years my junior, was so new to the task before her that, as I began to unburden my shattered soul of the litany of complicated issues that I was trying to cope with, she alternated between consulting her pocket-sized edition of the DSM and staring at me like a dog looks at a card trick.
For better or worse (the jury is still out on that one), the "Happy Hour" podcasts have brought me "back down off the ledge" on more than one occasion (THANKS PAUL!), and I have only just now connected with this website, so I suppose I should probably STFU now, before I alienate anybody here who might have been so foolhardy as to read this admittedly wordy but nonetheless "stranger-than-fiction" cautionary tale of partially self-inflicted all-American woe.
Thanks for listenin'.
In the REAL "dark night of the soul", it's ALWAYS 3am!
In the REAL "dark night of the soul", it's ALWAYS 3am!
He who has a "why" to live can bear almost any "how" --- Friedrich Nietzsche
Re: In the REAL "dark night of the soul", it's ALWAYS 3am!
Life can be too damn hard, what a nightmare you've been through. You're not alone as Paul would say and you're in my thoughts for one. Life can turn shitty so quickly through no fault of your own. Is there any possibility you could make a fresh start somewhere else? I truly hope the sun starts to shine on you because you deserve better, big hugs from me 
Re: In the REAL "dark night of the soul", it's ALWAYS 3am!
Rosie;
Many thanks for having the intellectual fortitude to read my introductory "opus" (or did you just have way too much time on your hands?), and then you were even kind enough to respond (clearly too much idle time - smile) despite the presence of a couple of sleep-deprived typos on my part (sorry).
Yes indeed, things are hopelessly screwed up right now, and sadly there is no relief in sight.
Your suggestion about moving on to a different location (and starting over?) is well taken, but much easier said than done. I had attempted to do exactly that before the van burned, but apparently it wasn't meant to be, as evidenced by the fire, as well as several other complications that have risen their ugly heads in the long cold interim.
The good news is, summer has finally arrived to this area, so day-to-day existence is getting easier.
The bad news is, I have had no luck whatsoever obtaining any full time work, which of course means my financial situation is abysmal. No money for fuel means I keep my travel to the absolute minimum. I do still pick up the occasional "one-off", due to my reputation as a reliable and capable technician with an "old-school" work ethic (as in: "the show MUST go on"), but the paltry few dollars that do result from that horrendously spotty work schedule (I've worked less that 30 days so far this year) is spent keeping body and soul together, and if it wasn't for the princely sum of $200 every 30 days in "food stamps" (that comes out to a whopping $6 a day, and there is talk of further cuts after the next election!) from the state, I would have perished from this miserable planet long ago.
I believe that in the UK people refer to that as "being on the dole", yes? Not pleasurable, but sometimes necessary, especially during this "economic downturn" in our once great nation, where I worked hard and paid my taxes for almost 4 decades.
Oddly enough, I spent quite a bit of time working with a number of interesting bands from the UK (mostly England), but have never been there, and you are probably too young to recognize any of them anyway, so I'll refrain from "name-dropping".
On a related note, I do maintain some correspondence with a lovely gal from Manchester (a barrister) who has invited me to "start fresh" over there with her, presumably with "no strings attached". Unfortunately, even regional travel is a huge accomplishment at this juncture, so while I would definitely LOVE to accept her kind invitation, the reality is that going to England is tantamount to a journey to the moon.
Please know that I accept full responsibility for my situation, as many of the poor choices I made in my mostly misspent youth ultimately led me to the point that I was totally vulnerable to at least part of the misfortunes that have left me besieged and bereft. To that point, it has been said by someone far wiser than myself (that's not too difficult!) that one of the saddest phrases in the English language is "what if", and every time I ask myself that question, I just break down and weep, kinda like what's beginning to happen right now.
It's getting tough to two-finger type with tears stinging my bloodshot eyes (restful sleep has been rare lately), so I'll close for now by saying thanks again, and encourage YOU to get out there and try to face the Welsh day (yes, I actually did read YOUR post, but I had nothing of value to contribute to the thread), as you seem like a kind and wonderful woman, and there's probably some other lonely Welsh person who would be very lucky to make your acquaintance.
Rock on, from a grateful friend you'll never meet.
Many thanks for having the intellectual fortitude to read my introductory "opus" (or did you just have way too much time on your hands?), and then you were even kind enough to respond (clearly too much idle time - smile) despite the presence of a couple of sleep-deprived typos on my part (sorry).
Yes indeed, things are hopelessly screwed up right now, and sadly there is no relief in sight.
Your suggestion about moving on to a different location (and starting over?) is well taken, but much easier said than done. I had attempted to do exactly that before the van burned, but apparently it wasn't meant to be, as evidenced by the fire, as well as several other complications that have risen their ugly heads in the long cold interim.
The good news is, summer has finally arrived to this area, so day-to-day existence is getting easier.
The bad news is, I have had no luck whatsoever obtaining any full time work, which of course means my financial situation is abysmal. No money for fuel means I keep my travel to the absolute minimum. I do still pick up the occasional "one-off", due to my reputation as a reliable and capable technician with an "old-school" work ethic (as in: "the show MUST go on"), but the paltry few dollars that do result from that horrendously spotty work schedule (I've worked less that 30 days so far this year) is spent keeping body and soul together, and if it wasn't for the princely sum of $200 every 30 days in "food stamps" (that comes out to a whopping $6 a day, and there is talk of further cuts after the next election!) from the state, I would have perished from this miserable planet long ago.
I believe that in the UK people refer to that as "being on the dole", yes? Not pleasurable, but sometimes necessary, especially during this "economic downturn" in our once great nation, where I worked hard and paid my taxes for almost 4 decades.
Oddly enough, I spent quite a bit of time working with a number of interesting bands from the UK (mostly England), but have never been there, and you are probably too young to recognize any of them anyway, so I'll refrain from "name-dropping".
On a related note, I do maintain some correspondence with a lovely gal from Manchester (a barrister) who has invited me to "start fresh" over there with her, presumably with "no strings attached". Unfortunately, even regional travel is a huge accomplishment at this juncture, so while I would definitely LOVE to accept her kind invitation, the reality is that going to England is tantamount to a journey to the moon.
Please know that I accept full responsibility for my situation, as many of the poor choices I made in my mostly misspent youth ultimately led me to the point that I was totally vulnerable to at least part of the misfortunes that have left me besieged and bereft. To that point, it has been said by someone far wiser than myself (that's not too difficult!) that one of the saddest phrases in the English language is "what if", and every time I ask myself that question, I just break down and weep, kinda like what's beginning to happen right now.
It's getting tough to two-finger type with tears stinging my bloodshot eyes (restful sleep has been rare lately), so I'll close for now by saying thanks again, and encourage YOU to get out there and try to face the Welsh day (yes, I actually did read YOUR post, but I had nothing of value to contribute to the thread), as you seem like a kind and wonderful woman, and there's probably some other lonely Welsh person who would be very lucky to make your acquaintance.
Rock on, from a grateful friend you'll never meet.
He who has a "why" to live can bear almost any "how" --- Friedrich Nietzsche
Re: In the REAL "dark night of the soul", it's ALWAYS 3am!
Eric, you are so eloquent and I couldn't begin to express myself the way you do. You know if you wrote a book about your life, I think it would sell, I for one would definately buy it and it could very well put your demons to bed and give you an outlet and possible way to change your life. I'm being genuine, your posts seem like excerpts from an autobiography.
Your life sounds so tough right now and your welfare system sounds so inadequate. I went through a stage where I was claiming benefits but I think it's a much better system over here, I smashed my leg up in an accident and didn't walk for 8mths and they paid my rent and I had £50 a week in benefits. It's not perfect over here and of course there are homeless but the vast majority of people who are out of work (bloody recession!) are housed.
You wrote about making bad choices when you were young, don't beat yourself up about that; something I heard on the podcast was 'would the grown up you make the same choices now as the teenage you?' We only had so many tools when we were young to make the right choices. I certainly made some crap choices that robbed me of my self-esteem.
This recession is really having such a detrimental effect on so many of us, without an income, getting back on your feet is so much harder. I'm really not that spitiual but I believe in you and I'll be sending positive thoughts out to the universe to put some good opportunities your way. Thank you for your kind words I feel like I've made a friend, big hugs from across the ocean, Rosie
Your life sounds so tough right now and your welfare system sounds so inadequate. I went through a stage where I was claiming benefits but I think it's a much better system over here, I smashed my leg up in an accident and didn't walk for 8mths and they paid my rent and I had £50 a week in benefits. It's not perfect over here and of course there are homeless but the vast majority of people who are out of work (bloody recession!) are housed.
You wrote about making bad choices when you were young, don't beat yourself up about that; something I heard on the podcast was 'would the grown up you make the same choices now as the teenage you?' We only had so many tools when we were young to make the right choices. I certainly made some crap choices that robbed me of my self-esteem.
This recession is really having such a detrimental effect on so many of us, without an income, getting back on your feet is so much harder. I'm really not that spitiual but I believe in you and I'll be sending positive thoughts out to the universe to put some good opportunities your way. Thank you for your kind words I feel like I've made a friend, big hugs from across the ocean, Rosie
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Paul Gilmartin
- Posts: 363
- Joined: March 22nd, 2011, 9:54 pm
- Gender: male
- Issues: Depression, Alcoholism, Drug Addiction, Incest Survivor
- preferred pronoun: He
- Location: Los Angeles
- Contact:
Re: In the REAL "dark night of the soul", it's ALWAYS 3am!
Rodie,
Wow. You've been through some shit brother. I'm so glad you haven't given up. I know so many people who thought it would never get better, but then, just as inexplicably as all their stuff had disappeared, things started to go in the positive direction. Don't give up at the bottom of the cycle, it most surely will swing back up if you keep reaching out for help, and try to live a clean honest life. In the meantime, go easy on yourself. How the world treats us does not define who we are, how we react is what defines us. So react with dignity, compassion, humor and patience, and I bet you'll find that gets the wheel swinging back up. Hang in there. And welcome to the forum!
Paul
Wow. You've been through some shit brother. I'm so glad you haven't given up. I know so many people who thought it would never get better, but then, just as inexplicably as all their stuff had disappeared, things started to go in the positive direction. Don't give up at the bottom of the cycle, it most surely will swing back up if you keep reaching out for help, and try to live a clean honest life. In the meantime, go easy on yourself. How the world treats us does not define who we are, how we react is what defines us. So react with dignity, compassion, humor and patience, and I bet you'll find that gets the wheel swinging back up. Hang in there. And welcome to the forum!
Paul
http://mentalpod.comNothing degrades the quality of my life like obsessing about the quality of my life.
Re: In the REAL "dark night of the soul", it's ALWAYS 3am!
Rosie;
Once again, many thanks for the kind words. With that said, I must offer one minor correction - the name is Ric (short for Richard), not "Eric", although I suppose the mistake is understandable, based on my screen name, which is in fact Roadie (as in, one who handles gear for rock bands on the road) Ric, all crammed together in lower case.
Regarding your very complimentary opinion of my musings, I typically come off far more eloquently in writing than I do verbally. This is, in no small part, due to the benefit of editing. As mentioned in the beginning of my introduction, there is a bit of Asperger's syndrome which shapes my sorry excuse for a personality, and one of it's main components is the tendency for "Aspies" to have very little (if any?) "self-editor".
While the research is still relatively new and ongoing, it is believed that Aspergers is a very high-functioning form of Autism. Google it.
In other words, most Aspies tend to say whatever is on our minds at any given moment, with no regard whatsoever for the potential consequences.
Thoughts and ideas simply tumble from my lips like so much cold water over Niagara Falls, sometimes with serious repercussions, as there is hardly ever any consideration of appropriateness. I say what I mean, and mean what I say, and to hell with any thought of "political correctness".
Needless to say, some times this works out for me better than others, but perhaps now you understand why I mentioned the fact that many Aspies find themselves in the entertainment industry, often as performing artists, particularly as comedians. I'm sure Paul could possibly do a whole podcast just on this topic alone. (HEY PAUL, ARE YOU READING THIS?)
Paul;
Thanks for the comment, and thanks even more for the podcasts, which as I have mentioned before, have LITERALLY "saved my life".
On more than one occasion, I have been on the brink of my third suicide attempt, and listening to certain episodes of the "Happy Hour" has "brought me down off the ledge", so to speak. As you may well imagine, some episodes resonate with me far more than others, but there HAVE been a couple that I have archived, just in case.
Elsewhere in the news, I was surprised to learn that you were doing a lot of work here in the Windy City at right about the same time that I had just returned from the road and was prominently featured as the "go-to guy" for a number of our fine city's venues. I spent almost six years as the lighting director for the Vic Theater (a place where Sam Kinison used to enjoy hanging out whenever he was in town - more on that by request only, if you catch my drift), and I was production manager/LD at the now defunct Oak Theater as well Both of those venues featured the occasional comedy shows (Sam, Lewis Black, Emo Phillips, and Sandra Bernhardt, just to name a few) although music was the main attraction. I'm sorry our paths didn't cross back then (or did they?), but back then I used to "be somebody", not like now. Please know that I truly appreciate what you're doing on the podcasts, and will continue to listen faithfully, via I-Tunes, whenever possible.
Once again, many thanks for the kind words. With that said, I must offer one minor correction - the name is Ric (short for Richard), not "Eric", although I suppose the mistake is understandable, based on my screen name, which is in fact Roadie (as in, one who handles gear for rock bands on the road) Ric, all crammed together in lower case.
Regarding your very complimentary opinion of my musings, I typically come off far more eloquently in writing than I do verbally. This is, in no small part, due to the benefit of editing. As mentioned in the beginning of my introduction, there is a bit of Asperger's syndrome which shapes my sorry excuse for a personality, and one of it's main components is the tendency for "Aspies" to have very little (if any?) "self-editor".
While the research is still relatively new and ongoing, it is believed that Aspergers is a very high-functioning form of Autism. Google it.
In other words, most Aspies tend to say whatever is on our minds at any given moment, with no regard whatsoever for the potential consequences.
Thoughts and ideas simply tumble from my lips like so much cold water over Niagara Falls, sometimes with serious repercussions, as there is hardly ever any consideration of appropriateness. I say what I mean, and mean what I say, and to hell with any thought of "political correctness".
Needless to say, some times this works out for me better than others, but perhaps now you understand why I mentioned the fact that many Aspies find themselves in the entertainment industry, often as performing artists, particularly as comedians. I'm sure Paul could possibly do a whole podcast just on this topic alone. (HEY PAUL, ARE YOU READING THIS?)
Paul;
Thanks for the comment, and thanks even more for the podcasts, which as I have mentioned before, have LITERALLY "saved my life".
On more than one occasion, I have been on the brink of my third suicide attempt, and listening to certain episodes of the "Happy Hour" has "brought me down off the ledge", so to speak. As you may well imagine, some episodes resonate with me far more than others, but there HAVE been a couple that I have archived, just in case.
Elsewhere in the news, I was surprised to learn that you were doing a lot of work here in the Windy City at right about the same time that I had just returned from the road and was prominently featured as the "go-to guy" for a number of our fine city's venues. I spent almost six years as the lighting director for the Vic Theater (a place where Sam Kinison used to enjoy hanging out whenever he was in town - more on that by request only, if you catch my drift), and I was production manager/LD at the now defunct Oak Theater as well Both of those venues featured the occasional comedy shows (Sam, Lewis Black, Emo Phillips, and Sandra Bernhardt, just to name a few) although music was the main attraction. I'm sorry our paths didn't cross back then (or did they?), but back then I used to "be somebody", not like now. Please know that I truly appreciate what you're doing on the podcasts, and will continue to listen faithfully, via I-Tunes, whenever possible.
He who has a "why" to live can bear almost any "how" --- Friedrich Nietzsche
Re: In the REAL "dark night of the soul", it's ALWAYS 3am!
Hi Ric
I hope you're doing a little better. I still think you should consider writing, I think that's a talent you should explore further especially if it comes naturally to you. I know a student (at my college) with Asperger's he's really proactive and is on the student council, he can be direct but people who know him know not to take it personally. People just need to accept it and not take it to heart, as straight-talking can be a good thing, I can see how it could affect you though if people can't accept too much truth! I know it's easy for me to say but I certainly don't think your personality is a sorry excuse, far from it. Bad luck and circumstance can definately take its toll, try to be kind to yourself. I'm hoping some good luck comes your way and there are people out there who can give you a hand back up to where you belong. Big hugs from across the pond, Rosie
I hope you're doing a little better. I still think you should consider writing, I think that's a talent you should explore further especially if it comes naturally to you. I know a student (at my college) with Asperger's he's really proactive and is on the student council, he can be direct but people who know him know not to take it personally. People just need to accept it and not take it to heart, as straight-talking can be a good thing, I can see how it could affect you though if people can't accept too much truth! I know it's easy for me to say but I certainly don't think your personality is a sorry excuse, far from it. Bad luck and circumstance can definately take its toll, try to be kind to yourself. I'm hoping some good luck comes your way and there are people out there who can give you a hand back up to where you belong. Big hugs from across the pond, Rosie