I am having a really hard last hour. It is currently 10PM and I've been complaining to Sarah all the woes of stuff that have been happening. Since I haven't written in a while, let me 'briefly explain' what was going on in my mind to be crying my head off for the last several minutes:
I no longer really have friends here in Mesa. Let me explain.
I wigged out at Carlos and Elizabeth's house a couple weeks ago that sent me to Jail and Prison. It wasn't a fun experience, to say the least. I have one person (Cocco my nurse) who really fully understands the agony I had to go through. I was pepper sprayed and worst off, tazed in the back 3 times that I can remember, all for being under a hard metal bed. I remember the water running into my eyes that the firemen at least provided me in that small instance. I went crazy in jail. I was having running, really racing thoughts about how I am adopted or that my parents couldn't have sex with each other so they conspired (well, really, my mom) conspired to have sex with Uncle Dana and Uncle Steve, her brothers, and had me and Briana and Sarah and that Jacob is the only real kid that was a Gonzales. Those thoughts still haunt me and it is hard to get them out because of how tainted I am thinking and thinking about them in jail.
I thought I was on my own. They kept the lights on so I had no idea how long I was really in the cell they put me in "I3." I remember being seen by a lawyer but what came out of it was not the outcome I wanted. I could've been in there for a multiplicity of days and if my wife hadn't been on the outside trying to get me out during this time, I may not even have a true recollection of time.
I was handcuffed and carted off to Florence. I thought, will Sarah even know where the heck I am. So, I memorized the last three bits of information that I could remember that would at least give me a headway into giving my wife details. However, those details were never divulged out of me in a letter form because then I went crazy again.
I was with several other men. A black man, a Jesus looking man with long hair, and an indian man to say the least. They all waited with me for like an hour until we were finally given time to eat. But then I read the rules on the walls, and thought that my woman side of myself is taking over my stay there at the Prison in florence. So, I really wigged out this time, but this time, since I was in Prison, I was among people that acted more feminine than ever, on the homosexual side, who would belittle me and ultimately, after calling me all the girly names in the book, would not say my name right and make me have sex with whomever they pleased.
And believe me, it felt like that was what might happen in Prison, for they clothed me in a green robe barely big enough to fit my body, which looked liked a dress and locked me in a dalmation spotted Jail cell, that was filthy and left no room for comfort. The only comfort I had was my robe, and by the way, I was naked, stark naked. I couldn't tell what part of the floor was cleaned and what part wasn't, and worst, throughout this whole time I was freaking out about the corona virus. And worse off yet, my toilet barely had clean water. It was full of diarrhea from someone else, or multiple people, and the water was almost non existent.
They sat outside my cell the whole time, freaking me out. They gave me food that tasted rotten and they treated me with so much disrespect, but I hardly called for respect myself, so I can see why. I just tried to sleep, but the whole time I was paranoid, dying of sleep deprivation, while trying to make sure they didn't barge into my room and taze me some more.
I literally trapped myself in my room, saying no one person would be able to get me out of this hell unless they said my name or could say the right name of my spouse. Nobody could, until after I covered the floor in poop filth and set imaginary lines that only people that could say the name or kill me would get in. They finally came in with their shields, crushing my lungs in a corner, dragging me out of the cell kicking and screaming.
My name was very important, and they said Gonzales, which made me trust at least one of them, or at least pacified me until they cleaned me up, and carted me off to what I thought was Mexico. Me among some friendly mexicans themselves, saying that they would help me. It was a glimmer of hope. It was morning. Sunday morning. I was out of the hell hole and going somewhere safer than that prison. But it still wasn't home. It wasn't even mexico. It was somewhere in Mesa. Connections. With a policeman who didn't know really where he was going.
They assessed me and put me in a chair to wait. Better than CBI, at least, but not by much. I was in such high stress that I really thought that they were going to circumcise me and slipped me a mickey to do so. When I woke up from "the mickey," I still had my penis in tact. And several hours ? later, I was in the part of the hospital where I could finally see my wife.
Since then, I have left the hospital and found out that I have no friends, no branch (congregation) to go back to, and hardly a soul to trust.
I know those things aren't entirely true, but it still hurts to know that Carlos may never come back to me in friendship in this life. I will miss him. But what's worse is I can't get the shaky feeling of the permanence of death, even though I know that resurrection does happen. It is still a debilitating thought to wonder on those things.
I never want Sarah to leave my side, and yet, to grow I know movings may happen.
I hope to Heavenly Father that nothing to moving happens because of my disability. I wish I had more courage.
I pray that God may be ever-present in my life.
Amen,
John
