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"Heavenly Hell In Purgatory On Earth"
I’m Jason McComb, I have lived a very “vibrant” life up until now, throughout my
life I have changed numerous times for numerous reasons in every area of my
life, even physically my weight fluctuates, I am known to look different to
people, I find that I had in my life at some point at some level after (at
times) even a short period of absence from their presence. Be it, my hair
style, weight, facial hair, and the way I dress and carry myself or, all of the
aforementioned at the same time as well as various other “appearances”, one
thing that is consistent with me is, change of appearance. I have also changed
my “lifestyle” and abundance of times, sometimes as a result of necessity in
various areas including but not limited to, work and/or the lack thereof,
relationships at every level, family, freedom and/or the lack thereof (see the
link “I Am No Angel”), and living arrangements, pending moves for residency for
whatever reason I chose to move at any given time (I have moved more times than
anyone I have ever known and am often described as a “nomad”). After leaving
“home” in December of 1993 during the Christmas season at the age of seventeen
(on far less than desirable terms a few months after my mother moved out as a
result of marital problems with her (then) husband (my step father for the
majority of my life), for whatever her own reasons were, leaving me behind with
the my step father at the time, I lived a very unbalanced life living as a
transient teen without a fixed address sleeping at whatever friend’s house I
could for whatever amount of time I could before my welcome seemed to “wear
thin” as well as where ever I could find shelter on the nights I was unable to
find a place to stay, trying to complete high school all the while. This went
on from late December of 1993 until late October of 1994 when I was released
from jail after serving seven days, to complete one year of probation after
pleading guilty to stealing a car that was given to me for my seventeenth
birthday by my mother and stepfather. You see, not long after my mother left,
she surrendered her car for whatever reason to my step father (it was
registered in his name but her car during the time she still lived with us as
well as for a brief period after she left) and I had just passed the test in
order to receive my driver’s license and couldn’t afford my own car while still
attending high school and it was common knowledge I absolutely loved her
Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme with a 305 engine (I don’t know much about cars
despite living with my mother’s husband from the age of a toddler until I left
at the just over a month after my seventeenth birthday). It was shortly before
my seventeenth birthday when she brought the car back to St. Thomas (Ontario,
the city in which I lived at the time) from where ever she lived in London,
Ontario, and it was agreed that if I continue “baby sitting” my little brother
(my stepfather and mothers son) while my stepfather was away at work prepping
him for the school bus every morning after getting a wakeup call from my
stepfather from work (he worked 11pm-7am at that time) , and being there when
he got home after school, the car would be mine for as a gift for my
seventeenth birthday. I don’t recall exactly when it took place that, shortly
after my birthday I wasn’t able to drive my car for a while as a result of my
step father removing my name from the insurance policy for whatever reason he
had (I have heard a couple of reasons as to why he did a lot of years ago) but
that did take place and I was told I would be able to use his Chevette when he
was not making use of it. As the Christmas season was approaching, my step
father, his brother, sister and law and my little brother were planning their
family Christmas trip to Florida, where they would spend a few days leading up
to Christmas in a hotel, visit Disney world and whatever else people do on a
family vacation to Florida, celebrate Christmas there and then return back to
Canada a couple of days after they “rang in the new year” in Florida. My
stepfather asked what my plans were for the Christmas season as we exchanged a
few Christmas presents before he and my little brother left with the others for
their family vacation, I remember my reply like it was yesterday, I was opening
the gift he gave me that year for Christmas, it was a Gillette razor and
shaving cream, after I opened it he said to me “I noticed you used one of my
razors the other day, so I got you that”, I ignored his comment as to why he
got me what he did for Christmas that year and answered his inquiry into what
my plans were while he and my little brother were away on their family
Christmas vacation. I simply told him I wanted to buy a Cornish hen, stove top
stuffing, and watch the weather network so I had Christmas carols playing (I
didn’t know where my mother lived, only had my auntie Fran’s phone number to
leave a message she would relay to my mother if I ever wanted to get a hold of
her, she in turn would phone back whenever she got the message, the caller id
on the phone showing “private name” “private number”, so I knew my Christmas
wouldn’t include her that year), he nodded almost as if to say “good plan”, I
went and put my shaving kit in the washroom and went over to my friend Brads
house. My little brother and stepfather left the house to spend the night at
his brother and sister in laws house the night before they were to head out to
Florida and all the rules were laid out for (what seemed like) the thousandth
time and they were gone. One of the rules was, “if you are going to take the
Cutlass out make sure one of your friends drive it because you aren’t insured
on it anymore”, I agreed and they were gone. While they were away a letter
came from the insurance company that insured the cars, among various other
mail, not long after, my step father called from the hotel in Florida to “check
up on things” I told him what mail had come he had me open a couple of the
items and read them to him quickly, of the letters I opened and read to him was
the letter from the insurance company, I remember it just as clearly as my
first kiss, first dance, first time I caught a fish, etc… Part of the letter
read… “OEF28A applies to Jason on all vehicles”. How I remember the exact
code or why is beyond me! I asked “does that mean I am insured on both cars,
even the Cutlass?” He replied “I guess so.” So of course I was excited and I
asked if that meant I could start driving my car again, he told me yes, I
could, “Just Be careful!” I agreed to be careful, the phone call was over and
I called my friend Brad, to tell him I was on my way to come get him and that I
was allowed to drive my car again. I went and picked Brad up and we headed
over to meet with our friends Dave and Nicole at Nicole’s new apartment. We
made plans to drive over to the United States but couldn’t decide whether we
would cross at the Buffalo, New York border or the border at Port Huron
Michigan. A couple of days later the four of us were in Buffalo on our way
back to St. Thomas (to make a long story short) while I was driving, I fell
asleep along with the other three, and was awakened by Dave hitting my
shoulder, and yelling “Brake lights!” I saw a car stopped ahead of us on the
highway, hit the brakes, but not fast enough to avoid spinning out of control,
eventually “T-boning” the stopped car in front of us. Eventually we were
picked up from a diner after I received a fine for “careless driving” and
having the damaged car towed away. We all went to Nicole’s mothers’ house and
got drunk before, Dave eventually drove me home to St. Thomas and told me to
get some sleep and that he was going to ask his parents, if it was OK if I
spent Christmas dinner with them, I refused and he just told me would talk
about it later, that was December 19, 1993. I avoided everyone for the next
couple of days, dreading having to divulge that I had been in a car accident.
On Christmas day just after 3pm, Dave called me to tell me to get dressed
because he was on his way to get me to take me to his house for Christmas
dinner, despite my adamant refusing, Dave was at my door not a half hour later
and brought me to have dinner and drinks with his family. Finally, on New
Year’s Eve, my step father called me to wish me a Merry Christmas and happy New
Year. I told him what happened and as expected I was yelled at and told I
better be out of the house before they got home (there are still a
disagreements to the latter portion of that conversation). I made it a point
to take as much of my clothing and my shaving kit and find somewhere to go.
Nicole took me in for a few weeks, while I awaited a decision on my application
for social assistance. I was denied social assistance because I was only
seventeen and in Ontario in order to be in receipt of Welfare (as it was called
at that time), you had to be at least 18, I was told to go back and live at my
step fathers however that was not a possibility, I went back to Nicole’s only
to hear that the police had been there looking for me in order to serve an
arrest warrant for stealing the car that I was given for my birthday. The
following day I called my stepfather and asked “What the fuck is going on?)
His reply was cold and short, “It turns out you weren’t insured so now I could
be sued for the damage to the other drivers’ car if I don’t say you stole it,
and I had to sign ownership over to the towing company to cover the impound
costs, they are higher than the cost of the car”. I told him “you said I was
insured and that was my car” his reply was simply “it’s your problem now”. I
panicked and immediately went to Nicole’s mothers’ house again for the night to
avoid arrest. The following day I called the police that covered the area in
which the accident took place to inform them that I was just informed that I
wasn’t insured, so that would not create further trouble for me in the future
then I proceeded to call the St. Thomas Police Department in order to see what
I had to do, I was referred to Officer Tom Burgess, I told him I didn’t steal
the car and that it was mine, his reply was “turn yourself in and tell it to
the judge in court.” I turned myself in that night and was released a few
hours after being finger printed, having mug shots taken and given a court
date. I was going to fight the charge at trial by pleading not guilty at a
trial however, there were dire “financial burdens” if I do that and he (my
stepfather) would end up losing the lawsuit if I was exonerated at trial, that
and the court case was going on for a very long time by the time I finally told
my lawyer, in September of 1994 I wanted it behind me and if jail can be
avoided I would plead guilty to it and get it over with. I plead guilty spent
a week in jail and served a year probation for stealing my birthday present.
The day I was released from jail, I went to my stepfathers’ house (I don’t
really remember why) and had the door shut in my face (we have had on again off
again relationships since then, not on or off at present just no contact after
I wrote an angry email a few years ago essentially writing them off for in this
persons view, good rational reasons). At this point I had been homeless nearly
ten months, unless of course you consider having opportunity to sleep on a
multitude of different couches in between the times I slept wherever I found
shelter be it a stairwell in an apartment building, a pavilion in a park, the
boiler room at the high school I was attending, and wherever else I stayed. I
left his front porch after having the door closed on me and went to speak to
one of the most wonderful people on all of the earth my music teacher at
Arthur Voaden Secondary School, Mrs. Sharon Nightingale (her married name at
that time). She and I spoke and cried for a little while before I decided I
had to figure out what I was to do for living arrangements, I Stayed at one of
my greatest friends (Jeff Langs) from that time most of the summer despite (at
times) his mothers’ (Brenda Larson, a “Guardian Angel”) dismay, they lived
across the street from the school, I went over there, a lot of time there until
finally I decided to go to the YMCA in October and explained my situation,
their policy was that you had to be at least eighteen years old to live there
however given my situation and that it was only a matter of a couple weeks
until my eighteenth birthday they would allow me to stay there and aid me with
getting social assistance. I did in fact start receiving welfare just days
after moving into the YMCA, and it wasn’t long after that, that I met a guy
that lived there that befriended me and introduced me to “Chat Lines”
(Telephone dating services). Almost instantly it seemed I was addicted to “The
Chat Line”, I was meeting dozens of different women a week, on an ongoing
basis. Jumping ahead… Between my sentences served in jail and relationships
over the years, it came about that I met (literally) thousands of women from
various “chat lines”, in various cities. Then I discovered the internet! I
started finding dating sites, chat rooms, and other “social networking” sites
and put chat lines behind me for a while. Unfortunately in 1997 I was at a pub
in St. Thomas on a night in which I was involved in a fight that resulted in
me being charged the following morning with a very serious violent offense, and
I as a result ended up spending a few days in jail awaiting a bail hearing, my
mother reluctantly showed up in court (again) to bail me out of jail (providing
the Justice of the Peace grant me bail, I was already out on bail for two other
charges). I was granted bail, but with very strict conditions, one of them
being that I do not enter the city limits of St. Thomas for any reason other
than court hearings, lawyer appointments, or medical appointments, and when I
was to enter the city for one of the “acceptable reasons” I was to call the
police station ahead of time to give advance notice that I would be in the
city, telling them exactly where I was going, how long I would likely be there,
and when I would be leaving. During that time I was in a an unhealthy
relationship with a girl that I met from talking to over the chat line a day
after being released from Maple Hurst Correctional Center, upon completing a
four month sentence. My little sister had fallen very ill as a result of
suffering from Cystic Fibrosis and eventually passed away after being comatose
for four days and I decided I had enough, I promised my little sister moments
before she passed that I will try hard to stay out of trouble and stop wasting
my life in jail. Then, about a week after Crystals’ (my little sister)
funeral, my relationship ended and I entered rehab for alcohol abuse for the
first time. Not long after leaving rehab, I relapsed, got incredibly drunk,
as well as depressed. I attempted suicide by over dosing on a lot of different
medication, was hospitalized and after being released from hospital, I moved to
Hamilton Ontario to live with my mother. Not long after getting to Hamilton an
argument took place and my mother kicked me out, leading me to stay at a
homeless shelter in Hamilton called, The Good Sheppard. I was at the Good
Sheppard nearly three weeks before stumbling upon an internet café that I
eventually began to frequent after acquiring housing in Hamilton, leading me to
apply for a job there, I was hired right away, when I wasn’t working I was
still there using the internet to meet new women. Eventually I knew I was
addicted to it until, one night after work I went to a bar and got incredibly
drunk only to return to the internet café to use the computers for a while.
When I arrived at the internet café, there were two uniformed police men having
a coffee, almost instantly it felt like they were staring at me (they were I
was drunk and obnoxious) I asked them “What the fuck are you looking at
piggy’s?”, I was arrested for public intoxication and spent the night in jail.
Upon being awakened by an officer in my cell the following morning, I ran home
to quickly shower and get into my work clothes and hustle back downtown to the
internet café for my shift. When I arrived at work the owner was there to
greet me, he took me aside and told me the only way to keep my job was to sit
down and write a formal letter to the police men that arrested me the night
before and apologize. I took a piece of paper sat down and wrote that if he
expects me to apologize to a cop in order to keep my job he can stick his job
up his ass and go fuck himself along with the cops. (I was still a little
rebellious at that time). Needless to say I was fired. I had to move not long
after that, not long after taking up new residence in a rooming house, I
started drinking worse than I ever had in my life (I have always drank very
heavy as long as I can remember). On October 22, 1998, I left a bar in
Hamilton drunker than I have ever been in all my life, somehow managed to get
on a city bus. After exiting the bus just a couple blocks from home I was
struck by a car suffering massive brain damage as well as injuries to my left
tibia, spine, and other (minor) injuries. Two days after being released from
the Intensive Care Step Down unit at the Hamilton General Hospital, I was
struck by yet another car leaving a different bar (very minor incident),
essentially after all of this I was a shut in, I spent all of my time on the
telephone calling chat lines. I met dozens of women a week yet again, despite
being on crutches and in tremendous pain. I proceeded to continue using chat
rooms etc… on the internet every opportunity I had, between my on again off
again relationship with a lady Julie whom I had met on a night out with my
buddy Trevor in Hamilton. After being “off again” with Julie for some time, I
went back onto telephone chat lines one night and began speaking with a woman
by the name of Tonya, she and I spoke at great length for a couple of weeks but
our schedules were conflicting more often than not so we found it hard to find
time to meet in person. I however was still meeting various other women as
often as I could. For the most part I made it clear that I was OK with being
“Mr. Right Now” to the women that were out looking for just that however a lot
of the time I wanted to be “Mr. Right”, but never did I say that to the ones
looking for the aforementioned, that would deplete the possibility of “Mr.
Right Now” being found to be “Mr. Right”! During the latter times of speaking
with Tonya, I started speaking with a woman named Rachel very often, so often
in fact, I stopped speaking with Tonya to talk with Rachel. Somehow Tonya came
up in conversation and it was discovered that she was a longtime friend of
Rachel’s, leading to discomfort on her behalf to meet in person. I however was
persistent and eventually Rachel and I met in person a couple of times leading
to a relationship. Eventually Rachel (who shared living arrangements with her
soon to retire father, Archie, and two children) would be off to live over two
thousand miles away in Nova Scotia when her father retired. I befriended her
father; he and I spent a few late nights drinking beer talking about country
and western music thus leading to a “kinship”. When Rachel left for Nova
Scotia, I stayed on in Ontario working three jobs, missing her, the children
and her father. Eventually it came about during a long night of drinking I
made the impulsive decision to move to Nova Scotia in the morning to be with
her. I got out to Nova Scotia just twenty eight hours later and it was like
heaven for a very brief time. My drinking got bad and I was homesick leading
to a very long night of drinking, arguing with Rachel and an impulsive decision
to hitch hike back to Ontario when the sun came up. At sun up I was in her
father’s car bound for the highway that would lead me back to Ontario. Two and
a half days later I found myself in Ottawa helping a trucker from Newfoundland
that picked me up just before New Brunswick unload the shipment of shingles he
was delivering. After the truck was unloaded he told me he knew I missed
Rachel for various by the way I talked about her and called her every time we
made a stop. He asked me if I wanted to go back, he could drive me almost
right to the house, quickly I called her and asked if I could come back and in
less than two days I was back in Nova Scotia with her, then quickly I was back
on the highway hitch hiking back to Ontario again! I arrived back in Hamilton
after hitch hiking for just over two days and stayed at my mother’s for a short
time before moving London. When I got to London I looked for one of my older
brothers and found him quickly, he agreed that I could stay with him for a
while until I got a place providing I don’t start any trouble around the
building he lived in. Not long after that I ran into my dad in the elevator of
the building he lived two floors up from my brother. There is a brief
explanation of what my dad and I went into contained in the link on this site
titled “Past Random Writings”. While I stayed at my brothers I was using a
chat program on the internet I used years previous and out of boredom thought I
would “give another go”. Almost immediately after clicking a button to search
for random chat partners a person that went by the name “Seven” came up. I
sent a simple message to “Seven” saying hello and we has a very brief
conversation until she had to go to bed. The following day I had to go to
Cambridge Ontario for a training course for a job I was just hired for. After
I returned home from Cambridge, I immediately went on the computer to look for
“Seven” in hopes that she wanted to talk again however she wasn’t on. The
following day I completed my training in Cambridge and di the same as the day
previous, went on line to try to find “Seven”, this time she was on and we
spoke again but only briefly, she had school in the morning and it was late, we
agreed to meet on line early the following evening so we could talk more. I
was online with bells on early the next evening awaiting “Seven” to sign in;
once she did we started talking about where we were from and what’s going on in
our lives. She told me that she was going to be moving to London, Ontario
quite soon to go to college before telling me where she lived, I excitedly told
her that was where I was from and currently living when she told me the area
of town she was going to be moving to I was more excited, it was less than a
ten minute walk there from where I was. Eventually the conversation turned to
where she lived at the time and she shocked me when she told me Cambridge,
Ontario. I told her I had just been in Cambridge for training the last two
days, when I told her where I had been we laughed because she was there during
the time I was. Eventually we started writing letters and talking on the phone
whenever we could as the time for her move to London approached, leading to
talking on the phone after she finally got to town and then meeting in person a
few days later. Almost instantly it seemed as though we were in a
relationship, the most wonderful relationship I had on any level in all my life
up until that point. (I left out that eventually she and I shared with each
other our real names her name was/is Jassie) Eventually, a while after we
agreed we were together, Jassie and I moved in together, I was working at one
of the hospitals in London and she was a manager at an outlet in one of the
malls and everything seemed to be the way God intended for it to be for
everyone. Jassie and I moved to Cambridge a number of years later, then after
just about a year and a half after that Jassie had to go to England for a year
for family reasons so I moved back to St. Thomas, when she got back from
England we immediately moved to Cambridge, I at that time had been sober over
five years but as a result of a fight in St Thomas was on probation and things
seemed off. It wasn’t long before we went our separate ways, I moved to London
and she stayed in Cambridge. For months I cried about Jassie and Is’ demise, I
stayed sober but eventually started abusing drugs until one of my best friends
Jamie came over packed my bags for me and told me I was going to rehab. She
took my bags to her car and drove me to the detox center (now known as
Withdrawal Management) in London. After being in the detox center for just
over three weeks, I was assessed and it was recommended that I attend Wayside
Treatment Center for Men in Hamilton. Just over four months later I left
Wayside clean from the drugs just over four months and off the bottle just over
six and a half years. When I left Wayside I moved into a “Dry House” (a
rooming house that prohibits drugs and alcohol). *To be continued in a new
link very soon (possibly hours maybe a late this evening into early tomorrow.
It’s May 9, 2012.*
*As I mentioned in my update
on May 13, 2012, I reread the portion that precedes what you are about to read
here, upon rereading it I noticed that in my “state of fatigue” when I was
putting everything together to upload it here I noticed that I pretty much
just made mention that I went from detox to Wayside and jumped ahead to my
discharge from Wayside so at this point I am going to back track just a little
bit and cover a little bit of things in between that were left out (in brief
for the website, obviously more detailed in my book).
A few days after Jamie had dropped me off
at the detox center I was moved from the “spin and dry” room (as often
referred to by some) or the “sick room”, I can’t at the moment recall its
“official” name, essentially what it is, is the room you stay in after being
admitted to the center, I believe the length of time you spend in there is
dependent on how your condition is, the progress of how well you are, and when
you are finally “getting better” (that has been my take on it during the time
I have spent in the centers I have been in). I believe it was five days
before I was moved out of the “sick” room before the shakes had subsided and I
was starting to show a little more “stability” and signs that I was getting
better before I was moved to one of the regular dorms and eventually began
started attending A.A. and N.A. meetings in the community as well as
interacting with the other clients in the center. For the sake and respect of
the other clients’ anonymity, I am going to be very vague on details and what
took place in respects to the other clients. I have almost always in my life,
found it very easy to fit in and make new acquaintances in the type of
environment I was in during my stay at the detox center as well as at the
various meetings I have attended since first attempting a life of sobriety
in the spring of 1997, that is of course when I was open to it and not putting
effort forth in that area and just being “normal”, I often struggle with
making new friends and meeting new people to this day when it is something I
feel I want to do or to have in my life, despite being told that I am a very
outgoing, likeable person (by some). Quickly after leaving the sick room I
befriended a couple of other clients in the center and we spent most of the
time that we were in the center as well as our time at the meetings in the
community. One of the guys I befriended at the center was also classified to
Wayside and discharged from detox at the same time I was he though, went to
Wayside a week before I did but both of us had to spent a significant amount
of time at the Salvation Army Hostel before departing London to go to Wayside
as a result of doing the same thing before going into detox, that being,
vacating our respective residences with no intention of going back. During
the couple weeks he was still at the center before leaving we spent almost
all of our time hanging out and attending meetings, doing whatever we could to
remain sober, I though, during one of the A.A. meetings I was attending met a
young woman that was just returning to the rooms as well (I have known for a
long time that “fraternization” with the new members has always been a “faux
pas” however, I paid little attention to that knowledge I was equipped with
just as she had in regards to me. She and I began spending a lot of the time
that I wasn’t hanging out with my other friend together for the couple weeks
before I left London for Wayside and eventually just before I left agreed that
we would keep in touch despite knowing that neither of us were whole hearted
in the “said” agreement. When I did finally arrive in Hamilton my mom (who at
the time still lived in Hamilton), picked me up at the Greyhound station that
The Salvation Army in London Ontario were gracious enough to provide me with a
ticket to get to, my mother and I went for a quick coffee and she agreed to
keep the belongings that, my dear friend Jamie wasn’t storing for me at her
house, in her basement, and drove me to Wayside. I was greeted at the door of
Wayside by the Director of the program and was quickly taken for a tour of the
house, followed by an introduction to all of the other clients that were
already there and the counselors and other staff. As soon as I got into the
dining area to meet all of the other clients the friend I had met in the
London detox shouted out to me like we were long lost brothers, waving at me
like a child in kindergarten bidding for the teachers attention to get
permission to use the washroom. As soon as all of the introductions were
through and I had spoken to my friend for a few minutes over a cigarette, I
was ready to pack up my still unpacked belongings and go however wanted
sobriety bad enough to fend off the discomfort I was feeling, and almost
instantly was in an argument with one of the other clients and letting him
know my opinion of where he “ranked” on the “scale of life” after nearly fist
fighting with this fellow it was all broken up and resolved with a
“be-grudged” hand shake and less than halfhearted apology on both of our
behalves (he and I ended up becoming friends near the end of my stay at
Wayside, I was informed less than a year after my discharge that he had passed
away). Eventually, I got comfortable in the house and (although my habit of
sleeping in everyday and staying awake are indicative of the contrary) the
“routines”, as well as, the counselors, other staff, and volunteers. The
other guy from London that I became friends with before arriving there was
starting to get a little bit more than annoying and tried my patience well
beyond their capacity most days by, (I assume) thinking that because we both
came from the London detox and that we hung out there during a lot of our free
time while awaiting admittance to Wayside that, we had to be at each other’s
side at every moment from the time of waking until bedtime including, smoke
breaks from group sessions, meals, travelling to and from as well as during
the various meetings we attended daily and nightly in the community, all free
time on the weekends, pretty much every moment. He even went as far as
requesting being put in the same room I was in and had one of the other guys
agree to trade rooms with him to make that possible. Eventually, one of the
other clients asked me during a smoke break, “How long have you guys been
dating?” and we both busted out laughing, I yelling “Fuck you!” at the same
time. We both agreed it was “less than healthy” and that I had to figure out
a way to tell him without him going all “Single White Female” on me. This
fellow and I spoke at great length after the final group of the day was done
about our concurring observations not only around the treatment center but in
all of life, it was refreshing to have a friend with intellect, and to be
able to engage in a logical conversation (even if at time it was filled with
sarcasm, humour, or to poke fun at something or someone). Eventually it was
agreed on by both my new friend and I that I had to somehow shake “Jenifer
Jason Leigh”, we joked and laughed about him stalking me in my sleep at night,
during group sessions, meals, smoke breaks, meetings, free time, and at any
other time he could. This fella and I were wondering around downtown during
our free time on a Saturday afternoon (The entire weekend was “free time” with
the exception of mandatory attendance at one of the various meetings in the
community a couple times), I can’t at the moment, remember what it is he
needed to find but, I know I showed him where whatever it was that he needed
was in the mall downtown. When we were leaving the mall to go back to the
treatment center, we were walking past one of the cellular phone companies
stores and out came the other guy from the treatment center with exciting news
that he had been approved for a cell phone and that he wanted to get me one on
his account so that he could get ahold of me whenever he needed to. I
declined (I hate telephones, especially cellular phones) and after a little
more than insistence the three of us went into the store, and the three of us
left with new cell phones, I though put the account in my own name. My new
friend and I were walking to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting later that evening
and he turned to me and asked if I had the other guys number just in case I
had to get a hold of him and we were both in tears laughing. “What the fuck
reason will he ever have that he needs to get ahold of me and why do I need to
get a fucking cell phone for him to get ahold of me? We live in the same
fucking rehab center” I loudly stated before bursting into laughter that
brought tears to both of our eyes.
*Another Unorganized Area*
Shortly after getting to Wayside I was asked to go into an appointment with
the Director of the program (He was very involved in all that took place at
the center, his title “Director” only sounds intimidating). My meeting with
him was for the purpose of, him asking me to become involved with The C.M.H.A.
or, “Canadian Mental Health Agency”. The reason for this was as a result of,
my acquired brain injury, the medications I was prescribed, lack of having a
G.P. (Doctor), and my mental health “condition(s)”. As much as I dislike
having people to be accountable to, being a client in an organization that I
have to commit to appointments with, and lack of trust in new professionals
(in matters concerning my health in particular) I agreed to have a
consultation with two of the staff from the Hamilton office. The meeting with
the representatives of The C.M.H.A. took place less than a week later in the
director of the treatment center. I was seated in the office with the
director of the treatment center as well as my peer counselor having “random
conversation” about my past and what brought me to the point I was at when,
the directors’ secretary knocked on the door to inform us that they (The
C.M.H.A.) had arrived. I don’t remember now what it was that I was expecting
them to look like when they arrived I do though remember that, for some reason
I was surprised somehow. Two ladies walked in greeted the director and my
peer counselor and turned to me, the taller of the two extended her arm to
shake my hand and said “you must be Jay, he (the director) warned me about
calling you Jason” (I had an adamant stance on not being called Jason for a
long time by anyone other than my mother, who didn’t call me Jason often), I
laughed told her I appreciated that and said (deliberately in a tone deeper
than my normal voice to be silly), she said “This is Margaret, and I’m
Rachelle nice to meet you”, I replied “No it isn’t don’t lie to me”, as I
reluctantly shook her hand (I don’t like shaking hands in the “normal” manor
with women). The whole meeting with Rachelle and Margaret lasted less than
twenty minutes and they were off, leaving behind, an awesome impression and an
appointment card with a time and date for me to go into the office the
following week to meet with Rachelle (who quickly became “Miss Rachelle” as a
result of the respect and appreciation for who she is and what she does). I
had weekly appointments with Rachelle for the duration of my stay at Wayside,
nearing the end of my stay they became a little longer so as to have time to
prepare for discharge and what I would be doing, where I would be going, and
making plans for a successful reintegration into the community. While I was
still a client in the treatment center, Rachelle helped me with so many things
in so many areas including arranging for me to start meeting with a worker
(Donna) to help people with concurrent disorders(addiction and mental health
issues) , such as myself at The C.M.H.A. As my discharge date got closer it
seemed I was getting overwhelmed with things, I couldn’t decide what city I
wanted to live in, I was still considering pursuing the woman in London I met
between detox and Wayside (I had spoken with her a lot of times on the phone
during my stay and fruitlessly put efforts into arranging for her to come to
Hamilton on the weekend many times, long story in that area), I had to be sure
that the government office that I receive my “pension” from in whatever city I
decided to live in was aware of my plans, I needed to be aware of available
N.A. and A.A. locations and times wherever I was going to be as well as other
particulars to ensure as much success as possible after my discharge, and I
as well as the staff at Wayside wanted to be sure I was able to attend
aftercare meetings. As my discharge date was got closer and I still had no
plans in regards to where I would live, I was called into the office of the
“Head Counselor” (I use quotes as, I have forgotten his title), he informed me
that he knew of a man that had a furnished room for rent in Hamilton at a
reasonable cost, it was a “dry house”, according to him and a number of
clients from wayside had moved there in the past. Despite my “track record”
in Hamilton, I was interested and told him that I would look at it if he
didn’t mind arranging it, he handed me a piece of paper with an address and
said, “I already did, his name is, Roy!” That evening I set out to Roy’s
house to view the room in one of the most well-known areas for drug
availability, drug use, prostitution and various other crimes. Roy met me at
the door and quickly explained that no one had lived there in a while as the
reason for the “condition” of the room. I didn’t care I looked at the room
quickly and told Roy that I was interested and that if he would accept me as a
tenant, I would like to take the room. Roy stated that he would check with
the treatment center as a “reference” and let them know. The following day I
was given a message that Roy was Ok with renting to me so I went and paid the
first month rent as a deposit and moved in just over a week later. Soon after
I moved into my room I had an appointment with Rachelle to update her on
everything in my life, and begin “Case Management” to get everything on track
for me. Rachelle made an appointment for me to see my new doctor for a
physical and to make sure all of my medication was on track, asked me if I and
everything was Ok, then told me to stop lying and tell her what was going
on. As I type this, I can’t be sure what it was that gave any indication that
anything was wrong (I am usually very good at hiding anything that is wrong)
however, she busted me on it and this wasn’t the last time that she would do
it! After a little bit of denial that anything was wrong, she and I discussed
it and although I can’t remember all of the contents of that conversation,
someway, somehow, it was revealed that I was lonely and getting depressed. I
will never forget Rachelle’s words for as long as I live after that
“revelation”… “Jason, you are a risk taker, you take so many risks every day,
and you have been hit by how many cars? You take risks the way you run across
the road! You take a risk when you step on stage to do your comedy, you
take a risk when you come in here and talk to me, you take a risk every time
you go to the casino but there is one risk you won’t take, you won’t risk one
thing, why?” Perhaps I was being foolish thinking I could make her believe I
didn’t know what she was talking about; perhaps I wanted to convince her that
she was wrong! Whatever the case may be, I knew bloody well what she was
talking about and that she was right! For a moment we sat in uncomfortable
silence, Rachelle’s eyes were glued to me. It was almost as if I could hear
the silence, it was saying to me “Jason, she is right, look away”, I did just
that I looked into my lap and glanced up at her a moment later and she was
still sitting there, still staring at me, she had a black “paper mate” pen in
her hand, I looked at the floor and the fucking floor said almost the same
thing to me as the silence did… “Don’t look at me; she’s right, look at her!”
I sighed heavily and looked up at her preparing to make lite of it and joke
my way out of the awkward moment just as I had so many other situations. This
time though, when I looked into Rachelle’s eyes, I saw something that didn’t
allow me to joke and laugh it away, I saw someone that said that they actually
do care and that it isn’t “Ok” as I am quick to say that everything always is
and always will be, I saw real feelings. Rachelle actually cared about the
people she was surrounded by and worked with and I still remembering thinking
how much that “sucked”. I felt like tears were about to come to my eyes and I
just shrugged hoping that she would accept that as acknowledgement, currency,
and plan for resolution for the entire situation… It didn’t go that way!
Rachelle gave me a look that essentially asked “well?” Then she reached over
and poked at my left chest and she said, “You’ll risk anything Jay, anything
but you won’t risk that!” I don’t remember a whole lot of the conversation
that followed, I do remember her handing me two bus tickets, and two grocery
store gift cards and saying “The Good Sheppard is just around the corner, they
are serving supper now, go eat, see you Thursday”. I left her office and went
home to my “empty” room and listened to Matchbox Twenty’s album “More Than You
Think You Are” a few times before deciding to call Patti (a longtime friend in
St. Thomas). Patti and I have known each other a long time, we met as a
result of one of the chat lines I used to call, indirectly when her cousin and
I arranged to meet in 1997 while I was hospitalized for making an attempt to
take my life just after my little sister passed away. I’m still not entirely
sure how it came about that her cousin and I were talking while I was in the
hospital as that time in my life has many “blurry” moments including that one.
I do clearly remember the time we first met while I was in hospital though.
A number of years after we first met, Patti and I ran into each other on a
chat line again when I returned to London to live once again, Patti came from
St. Thomas to London to spend the night hanging out with me at a place I had
just moved into, I warned her previous to departing St Thomas that, I had
been drinking since I got off work just over four hours before and that I
would still be drinking when I got there. She (unlike a lot of my true
friends), didn’t mind providing I didn’t do anything stupid while she was
there to have myself arrested and thrown back into jail (she was enlightened
on my past days living in St. Thomas and how many times I had been arrested
for being drunk and drinking in public, and being loud and obnoxious). Patti
got to my place, we hung out for the night and in the morning had to return to
St. Thomas for work, this time we made a “dissolvable” agreement to keep in
touch (it wasn’t to be). I went to St Thomas one time and spent a night
hanging out with Patti as well as, spoke with her a few times here and there
over the “time gap” that divided the time I was about to call her and the last
time I had saw her however, neither of us knew anything of each other’s
current “situations” when I called this time. I called Patti the night I
returned to my “empty” room following the appointment with Miss Rachelle that
pretty much forced me to acknowledge that I never take risks with my heart in
anyway, the appointment that was perhaps a revelation to me that I live that
way. We talked for over three hours that night, a large part of that
conversation was Patti trying to convince me to sign up for an account on
Facebook and my adamant refusal, as well as catching up on as much gossip as I
could from St. Thomas, it seemed like it had been so long since I had been
there and even longer since I had hung out with my old buddies and my old
friends there! *REWIND* The last time I had been to St Thomas was a couple
years before when Jassie left for England. Not long after Jassie left for
England, I received an email from my longtime buddy Rob, we talked about how
things have been, what was going on and just catching up. I informed Rob that
Jassie was gone and that the lease on my apartment was coming to an end in a
few weeks, Rob told me that he was looking for a new place and after talking
for a little bit, I was considering moving back to St Thomas (never in my
wildest dreams did I think that would ever take place after being banned from
entering the city by the courts, even though I was acquitted of the stupid
charge, I still had a reputation with the police as a drunken idiot that
started shit at all costs). Rob and I agreed to share an apartment on the
condition that we keep it hushed that I was living in town again because I was
sober a long time at that point and didn’t want to jeopardize that in any way
as well I had been out of trouble with the law for a long time and definitely
didn’t want to throw that away, so much of my troubled life stemmed from my
drinking, distaste for some of the police force, and bad behavior in St.
Thomas. It was agreed and it wasn’t long before I was trying to maintain a
quiet life in St Thomas, it worked very well, I stayed sober, quiet, and
behaved myself while staying out of the public eye as much as possible and
things seemed to be “ok”. Living a life that way was not really for me, I
don’t like being confined to my apartment as a result of worrying about
getting into troublesome situations like I once did because I fell victim to
peer pressures or just became weak overall and succumbed to the temptations of
my “once active” addiction. I didn’t realize that it wasn’t necessary to
worry about that anyway, you see a lot of people I knew thought that I had
died when I got hit by a bus in Hamilton (as a result of being misinformed due
to others exaggeration on “grapevine” news) you may recall, I spoke earlier
about being hit by a car after getting off a bus in Hamilton. When I heard
that this was going on I laughed it off because I didn’t believe it and in
regards to some people, I was happy that this thought had been imbedded in
them, it meant that I didn’t have to explain where I’ve been, what I’ve been
doing, where I am and/or what I was doing at that time and having to lie and
say “Yeah, let’s get together some time, I’ll call you!” That though was only
until I received (first hand) confirmation that this was happening. I was
walking to the variety store to get cigarettes and on the way I saw a girl I
met off a chat line many years before and encountered many times after over
the years, she and I were friends on various levels since the time we met. In
the beginning, it was all lust and the activities that go with it, we ran into
each other many times between me going to jail and moving to different cities,
each time we would spend a few nights together and I was gone, either to
another town, girl, or jail. When I saw her walking towards me on the
sidewalk I knew immediately that (like so many others) she didn’t recognize me
(the last time she saw me I had very long black hair, this time my hair was
blond and I had a Caesar haircut). I only had less than a minute to decide
how I would handle it when we passed each other and came up with the same
thing I had come up with so many times upon encountering someone from my past
that didn’t recognize me… When she was close enough I said “Hey”, then looked
directly in her eyes and said “McComb said to say hi!” (To a lot of people I
was only known by my last name), immediately she slapped me across the face
and began blubbering something and tears started streaming down her face, she
called me “An Asshole” and started walking away. I shouted out to her,
following quickly behind, I said “Hey, look at this!” I handed her my driver’s
license and told her “it’s me”. After examining my license, she wrapped her
arms around me crying and carrying on about me being dead. I broke free told
her I had to go so I didn’t miss my train to Windsor (I wasn’t going to
Windsor, I just decided to keep it from her I was in town), we said the keep
in touch, hope to see you soon, and all the other halfhearted comments and I
was off to get my much needed cigarettes. Later that night I had to see if I
could “haunt” anyone else! I went to my favourite pub in town (no intentions
on drinking), and immediately across the bar I saw one of the first friends
that I made when moving to St Thomas for the first time years
ago...
The Beginning Of The
End.
In the early weeks of the fall in 2007 I was just preparing to leave a
treatment center in Hamilton Ontario, after voluntarily checking in for help
with opiate abuse, in the days that preceded my discharge I had been attending
an Internet café in order that I may find an apartment in Hamilton in which to
reside after I left so that there was as much structure in my life before
leaving treatment as possible to avoid slipping back into the behaviors that I
engaged in previous to entering treatment as well as recovering from the most
devastating break up in my life at that point. While attending the Internet
café along with another resident in the rehabilitation program on a weekend
just weeks prior to my departure from the center, and beginning of the road
back to the road I was on previous to succumbing to temptation of opiates and
the good life I was making for myself doing all I could do to become the best
person I could be and avoid once again becoming the bad person I projected
that I was while in sight of other people but dying inside knowing whom I
really was and confused by why I was acting the part of a person I detested,
yet showed pride in being when putting my middle finger in the air to salute
anyone whose eye I caught and arrogantly winked at them followed by stating
that they had been “McCombed”. Yes, Jason McComb is a true Canadian asshole I
would state and if you didn't agree I would give as much reason anyone needed
to have them draw the same conclusion. All of this came at a great cost to me
as well as the person whom I really, truly am! It kept me safe, it kept
people away from me for the most part, after all who wants to be close to
someone who shows he has no heart? Who wants to risk being treated the way a
person such as the person that I “fronted” that I was would treat others in
their life? I don't believe anyone with a healthy state of mind would go to
bed at night, and dream the fanatical dreams an individual wakes from with a
smile and thinks, “Wow, what I would do to include someone that ugly in my
life to hold and to love for the rest of my days!” Having said that I don't
think it is difficult to surmise why it is that I acted the way I did, if you
do find it difficult to draw a conclusion as to why I partook in such
behaviour allow me to enlighten you as to why I partook in such self-defeating
behavior! It kept most everyone at a distance and protective of themselves,
and on guard of their feelings for me as well as the reservations they would
keep for their feelings. I would think that all of this is indicative of a
person that has issues with intimacy for various reasons, if it was not
indicative of that, allow me to set the record straight by saying“yes, I had
acquired issues with intimacy for various reasons, reasons that will be
revealed in the coming pages!”
Two Months Today
July
07,2011.
When I woke up on May
07 of this year, I had an awful feeling in my stomach! Yes, as per usual I was
hung over, and trying to recall the events of the night before but, this time
(like a number of other times) it was different it was more than just the
absurd amount of alcohol I consumed the night before that was nagging at my
stomach, and causing me to regret the night before. I lay looking at the
ceiling just over two hours after I was supposed to be at work trying to
relive the night before and all of the events that I could remember. My stomach
was upset from the hangover, my mind was troubled by something I couldn’t
recall, my eyes were pained by the sun streaming through the blinds, and on top
of my upset stomach there was a pain in the pit telling me that, yet again I
had become a person I am not, I person I loathe, the monster that hibernates
within me waiting patiently for me to embark upon my next drinking
“expedition.” Hesitantly I scanned the room to see where my laptop was, hoping
with all I contain that when I found it I wouldn’t find that it was still
powered on with a video call still connected, or disconnected with angry or
hurt words from whomever I may have been on a call with before being rendered
unconscious, I hoped my Facebook account wasn’t open in one sense while in
another sense, I wanted it to be open to avoid having to go through the process
of loading the page and logging in to see that I had messages awaiting my
stupid sober self, as well as having to go through the process of loading the
sent messages page to find that I had become that monster with everyone I
acquaint myself with on that site. I only had to turn on my side to see where
my computer was, lo and behold it was lying beside me, and on the screen was a
video call that had been ended by the person I was talking about whatever we
talked about to. I flinched and vocally (almost yelled) FUCK! I was sure I
knew who I was talking to on the call as I almost never go on video with anyone
but her, cowardly I slowly brought the computer into view so as I could read
the message typed at the end of the call, the message confirmed I unleashed a
world of hurt on the woman with whom I had been talking to. Further it made
clear to me that I am an undesirable person and that enough was enough and that
it would not happen again. I sat and tried hard to remember the ingredients of
the conversation that brought us to this point to no avail, slowly made my way
into the shower and cried for a few moments wondering what to do, and where to
go from that point. I exited the shower brought my computer downstairs where I
exercise an stared at the screen wondering what to do, what not to do, and what
the hell was wrong with me. I nervously signed into the messaging program I
used for the said video call the night before, and got a notification that I
had a new email in my inbox. I was sure I knew who the email was from and
that (accordingly) it wasn’t going to be friendly or welcoming if you will.
With a mass amount of dread, I opened the email that confirmed my prediction,
and was the demise of the woman whom I had loved like no other at one point, I
began to cry again, and started doing push ups as I didn’t know what else to do
to rid my heart and soul of the pain that the drunken monster within me, that
loves getting drunk and delivering many raptures of dire consequence upon me as
a result of drunken antics, misplaced rage, and (what I describe as “extreme
manic”) venting of undesirable emotions. As I was doing the push ups the woman
from the previous night,( my one time girlfriend , lover, in my mind future
wife, best friend) signed into the instant messaging program. As soon as she
signed in I became weak, nervous, almost scared, but at the same time
ignorantly excited. I didn’t message her I couldn’t! I sat and stared at the
computer screen wondering if she would message me, while I waited I made a
decision that I had been tossing around in my mind for a while, I decided I had
to go back to rehab, I had to stop drinking for good! Not long after concluding
that I would check myself into rehab (again), she messaged me simply saying
“hi”, I replied with the same and at that point the typing was over and she
requested a video call. I accepted the request, it seemed like a lifetime
before our cameras loaded, and when they did there she was beautiful as she
always will be despite the lack of sleep showing on her face and the tears
streaming down her face. She told me she can’t and won’t do this anymore, I
replied “you don’t have to my love, I won’t bother you again, I am sorry for
all I have done and who I am and have been, and will leave you alone). We
cried together for a moment and I told her I had to go and that I figured this
was our final good bye, she wiped a tear and with a tough look on her face
nodded at me and with that I told her I would be going away. At that point I
was crying too hard to say any more so, I blew her a kiss waved goodbye and the
call was ended, who ended it I couldn’t say, I can’t bring that back to mind.
After a few moments of looking at her picture I knew what I had to do, I
searched the internet for a detox center in the Edmonton area, once I found one
I quickly packed a bag and was on my way without telling anyone. I arrived at
the detox center and was welcomed at the door by a young lady with blue hair
by the name of Sarah. Sarah opened the door told me to step in and give her
the details of what I was looking for. After explaining an exhaustive
explanation of times present as well as my history with alcohol abuse and
rehabilitation centers she very compassionately told me she would do all she
could to find an immediate placement for me as the George Spady Center (the
detox name) was full. After talking for a short time Sarah lead me to a room
where I was able to lie down and get some rest while she worked on helping me
with a placement. I laid on a mat on the floor of a big room and drifted in and
out of consciousness for a couple hours before Sarah came to wake me with a
plate of food in hand and a mouthful of good news. The good news was that
someone had left the center as I lay sleeping thus, opening a bed for me.
While I was there I met the most incredible people as well as some that could
be deemed the most undesirable people in Alberta. I am going to fast forward
at this point leaving out the many details that will be included in the version
of this that will be added to the book once published to today. Today is
exactly two months after I was admitted to the George Spady Center, and I am
still sober, I walked up to the door today to say thank you to whoever answered
the door and let them know it has been two months and although times are tough
at the moment I am still going strong in my fight to remain sober. I owe a
world of Gratitude to the George Spady Center and the amazing people that work
there in order that individuals with problems such as the ones I have may
overcome them! Thank you Sarah (your perseverance to get me a bed in any place
in this city so I may overcome my troubles and your tough attitude with a kind
smile that kept me in line), Donna (you by far are one of the worlds most
magnificent people, thank you for the extension of a friendly heart covered in
tough words to keep me on track as well as the kind words during thunderstorms
in my world of emotions, allowing me to see the sun and rest at night), Julia
(for being the strong woman you are with the ability to see that under my
illness was a heart n need of help and a hug when I left for encouragement),
Geri-lynn (although that may be spelled wrong I love you for the inspiration
you instilled in me while I was there as well as the help provided) Tammy
(you're tough and take no shit, typically I challenge that, however your heart
was always in your tough words causing my stand offish side to stand aside
ensuring open mindedness and the ability to recover) Yoni, Louise, David,
Vicky, Scott, bloody hell I don’t have all the names in mind at the moment but
when I calm they will come back to mind at that point I will add them but you
all know who you are and I will never forget you, or cease appreciating you!
Two months today feels amazing and for what it is worth to those in my life, I
am doing this for you as well as myself, we all love and when I am in the state
of mind I have been as of late I can love you better than ever and God knows I
do! Thank you to those who never gave up hope on me and those that are still
here. Further please forgive me for hurting those I love as well as hurting
myself with my actions!
Pieces of Jason H.
McComb
I’ve been told it’s a gift; I profess it a fucking curse! The
gift/curse I speak of is often looked at with varying degrees of cynicism.
Whilst conversing with someone (be it a personal, intellectual conversation), I
quickly have nearly full insight into who the person with whom I am conversing
is. Whether the person I am conversing with is projecting a false image or
being the person that they take to bed in their head at night, for one reason
or another see their personality, abilities, esteem, worth, and potential to
the full extent. For one reason or another I seem to encounter and (for a
moment) become intimately on some or every level with some of the most
beautiful people in existence, unfortunately for various reasons these people
are regarded as the ugliest people in the world. More often than not the
descriptor is applied by they themselves as well as by others. There is an
abundance of reasons for this and of course each is individual. There could
be many reasons given as to how this “insight” came about, for the most part
reasons given for this by others have very little mind paid to them by myself,
as I am sure how all of this was acquired, I may or may not get into those
reasons a little further on. It is important to know before reading further
that the terms “beauty, beautiful, and ugly” are not applicable to the physical
features these individuals possess, although many of the people I speak of are
quite beautiful physically and yes being the person I am I possess human
nature and I do admire physical beauty however that beauty pales in comparison
to the beauty possessed inside of those people whom I have been attracted to,
involved with, and further shared my most private, reserved areas of my life,
thoughts and intimate areas I hide from the world. None of this is to say
that one or more of these beautiful people haven’t betrayed me in some sense,
further, it is also not to say that they haven’t betrayed themselves by
becoming ugly time and time again for whatever reason they had for doing so.
Quite often the beautiful people I speak of either don’t realize their full
beauty, potential, as well as all of the other fore mentioned “traits”, be it
as a result of denial, esteem issues stemming from past acquaintances,
emotional abuse, lack of motivation to maintain who they really are, at times
comfort as a result of familiarity, perhaps not believing in themselves for so
long, maybe as a result of believing put downs by others claiming beauty,
whereas this action makes them some of the most hideous creatures polluting
the environment they neither deserve to exist in, nor does our environment
deserve the abuse delivered by these cretins. Subconsciously, quite some time
ago (I don’t recall when) I made a decision to look inside everyone that
enters my life at any level, I decided to look past their outward projections
of whom they wanted to be viewed as and do all I could to see inside them and
who they really are (Granted some of the people were/are sincere in who they
said they are and project, the persona that they project). Quite often I
encounter people that don’t even want to be talked to, looked at, or have any
interest shown in them. For the most part I am very persistent in every area
of my life, but this area, for reasons becoming clear to me in days recent
(that will be disclosed in the latter of our introduction) I am more than
adamant about showing these as well as those similar that I have yet to meet
all of their beauty, worth, potential, belief I have in them (yes I understand
I am only me and “me” if you will, hasn’t any more rank or importance in life
than any other individual past or present) as well as so many more wonderful
characteristics contained within them. I am going to give minor examples of
some of these individuals that I have had involvement with at some point, for
different amounts of time, with relationships varying from periodic
acquaintance to (seemingly) friendship as well as romantic relationships. No
matter the level of relationship reached, time spent together in which ever
form the time was spent or potential of the relationships (or lack of
potential), I remain firm on adamantly, persistently, and lovingly on many
levels remain true to seeking out the “real” in everyone I meet. It is very
well known that I am an ex-con with alcoholism issues that, at one time
thrived on promiscuity (perhaps to that of a sex addict). I hide none of that
or anything when pursuing a relationship with people I meet and a lot of
those from my past that either know me or know of me recall the days behind me
that when in view of nearly everyone I possessed an air of pride in those
faults thus, often leaving an open door for one, more or all to be discussed
with a false sense of pride or faulty arrogance on their behalf. Perhaps
this is because it is assumed that these are the things that are important or
a priority if you will, in my life thus leaving an open door to common ground
if the individual with whom I am acquainted at that time is partaking in such
things, or further being utilized predominantly for these things and or having
past expectations placed on them for this or for various reasons choosing to
use these things as an artificial common ground with the thought in mind that
my interest in them is solely for one, more or all of these purposes and that
it would be a “sure in” I that image is projected. Have I ever partaken in
any of this when the opportunity presented itself? Honestly, admittedly yes I
have however; there was not a sense of pride in these situations while they
were taking place. Yes admittedly all for the most part all of the “great
feelings” that go with the territory were inclusive in the events be it
drinking, sex, or internet sex however; if you were to approach and ask any of
the individuals with whom I partook in these things, their answers will all
coincide when asked about the moments after, that answer being… “yes Jason
placed his hand over his face and like a child peeked through his fingers
blushing, shaking his head and almost giggling while looking embarrassed,
ashamed perhaps after which each time the conversation revolved around how it
should not have happened." Although I admit that yes I partook in such things
and will also admit it was on more than one occasion I would like to stress
that upon initiation of involvement with these it was not my intent to
“achieve” the activities that were engaged in (if one chooses to define such
things to be an achievement). Rather, it was succumbing to being open to
taking a chance and allowing a relationship to develop. Upon regaining
composure and my wits about me I always found a reason to discuss how it
should not have happened and try to get to the “root” of why it did take place
as well as, get to know the other individual as best I could without being to
overbearing and at that point try to come up with a hypothesis as to why it
seemed agreed and destined if you will, to happen. Gently I ease my
acquaintance into enlightening me as to their current situation in life and
how that situation came about be it good, bad, or otherwise thus, leading to
similar times and so on should the other individual be open and/or comfortable
sharing with me. All of this comes with great ease however; there are those
that have (as many would say) “demons” or a “dark” past and aren’t overly
eager to share with me right away. In situations such as this (I have
encountered numerous) I am eventually able to earn trust and give comfort.
Doing this is not a terribly difficult task, I care about and love everyone
and although it is well hidden, I am a very loving, gentle person as well as
numerous other “nice” things that, the very few that know me, call me and coax
me (or try to) to show the world, as opposed to the cold monster I portray
(for many of my own reasons) and assure me time and again that possessing
these qualities is a good thing. I show these things and assure them that it
is ok to be who they really are and won’t be exploited afterwards, eventually
the “roots” are exposed and everything becomes clear. Disgustingly, too many
times when the “roots” are revealed the answer was “I thought that was what
you expected of me” or “all I ever hear is, that’s all I am good for” or “I
didn’t think you would want anything to do with me otherwise” and of course…
“Well I thought that’s all you wanted” and many more explanations as well. I
feel more than an onus placed on me to explain myself as well. Let me tell you
how hard it is to explain anything after hearing any of those, and feeling as
small as I did each and every time after hearing any of those explanations. No
matter what explanation was offered, if this is someone I see so much more in
than they themselves do, I cry inside, nearly cry on the outside and many
times have shed tears as a result. I do my best to show them that they are
worth so much more than the utilization that they think they are here for,
take the conversation to deeper levels and raise the level of intellect as
high as I can without losing them and sincerely assure them that I want to
know them for who they are, who they really are, not who they have been or are
expected to be or may have been expected to be and that on some level,whatever
level (that is between they and I) that they are loved for who they are, who
they want to be, who they see themselves being in their dreams, and for the
wishes they make, further for the beauty they mask for whatever reason it is
masked. It is not an easy task, nor can it be done with words alone but I do
all I can do and show that while at times I falter, that I am not those from
their past nor am I like those in their past, and make the offer, should
acceptance be granted to prove myself in this area, all the while, all but
egging them to be nothing more than themselves, all the while explaining that
I understand that there will be moments of haste, discomfort, relapse into
old ways, frustration, tears, needs pain, a degree of hurt, lack of trust in
the beginning and so much more that will seem foreign and ugly but in the midst
of any and/or all of this that although I am just a little guy, I have big
shoulders and that any burden encountered and/or bared they are welcome to
rest all of it and more upon them. I have always been a recycled “Hand me
down” and know all too well what it is like to be used, kicked around, abused,
unappreciated, utilized for other pleasure, cast aside, and so very many more
ugly things and to this day look around and see that I have close to zero
people in my life that are actually sincere in any area and often find tears
scorching my cheeks as a result. I do all I can to refrain from bestowing any
of this on anyone and try to the best of my ability to protect others from the
same as well as, hope to hold the hand of someone sincere in wanting to be
true to themselves and do all they can to avoid and of those wrong doings.
Many times I have had success in the said efforts and although it was not and
never will be my intent for doing this, I will love and try to be loved. I
have received tremendous praise and periodically get thank you letters for
dong this and being who I am however; for the most part nearly all of these
people have vanished from my life and have moved on with theirs for various
reasons, no matter the reasons, some of the biggest constants that remain is
that these individuals have value, potential, abilities, unending beauty, and
my love, thoughts and prayers always.
Hole In Your Haircut Ltd.
Ontario #220881403
life I have changed numerous times for numerous reasons in every area of my
life, even physically my weight fluctuates, I am known to look different to
people, I find that I had in my life at some point at some level after (at
times) even a short period of absence from their presence. Be it, my hair
style, weight, facial hair, and the way I dress and carry myself or, all of the
aforementioned at the same time as well as various other “appearances”, one
thing that is consistent with me is, change of appearance. I have also changed
my “lifestyle” and abundance of times, sometimes as a result of necessity in
various areas including but not limited to, work and/or the lack thereof,
relationships at every level, family, freedom and/or the lack thereof (see the
link “I Am No Angel”), and living arrangements, pending moves for residency for
whatever reason I chose to move at any given time (I have moved more times than
anyone I have ever known and am often described as a “nomad”). After leaving
“home” in December of 1993 during the Christmas season at the age of seventeen
(on far less than desirable terms a few months after my mother moved out as a
result of marital problems with her (then) husband (my step father for the
majority of my life), for whatever her own reasons were, leaving me behind with
the my step father at the time, I lived a very unbalanced life living as a
transient teen without a fixed address sleeping at whatever friend’s house I
could for whatever amount of time I could before my welcome seemed to “wear
thin” as well as where ever I could find shelter on the nights I was unable to
find a place to stay, trying to complete high school all the while. This went
on from late December of 1993 until late October of 1994 when I was released
from jail after serving seven days, to complete one year of probation after
pleading guilty to stealing a car that was given to me for my seventeenth
birthday by my mother and stepfather. You see, not long after my mother left,
she surrendered her car for whatever reason to my step father (it was
registered in his name but her car during the time she still lived with us as
well as for a brief period after she left) and I had just passed the test in
order to receive my driver’s license and couldn’t afford my own car while still
attending high school and it was common knowledge I absolutely loved her
Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme with a 305 engine (I don’t know much about cars
despite living with my mother’s husband from the age of a toddler until I left
at the just over a month after my seventeenth birthday). It was shortly before
my seventeenth birthday when she brought the car back to St. Thomas (Ontario,
the city in which I lived at the time) from where ever she lived in London,
Ontario, and it was agreed that if I continue “baby sitting” my little brother
(my stepfather and mothers son) while my stepfather was away at work prepping
him for the school bus every morning after getting a wakeup call from my
stepfather from work (he worked 11pm-7am at that time) , and being there when
he got home after school, the car would be mine for as a gift for my
seventeenth birthday. I don’t recall exactly when it took place that, shortly
after my birthday I wasn’t able to drive my car for a while as a result of my
step father removing my name from the insurance policy for whatever reason he
had (I have heard a couple of reasons as to why he did a lot of years ago) but
that did take place and I was told I would be able to use his Chevette when he
was not making use of it. As the Christmas season was approaching, my step
father, his brother, sister and law and my little brother were planning their
family Christmas trip to Florida, where they would spend a few days leading up
to Christmas in a hotel, visit Disney world and whatever else people do on a
family vacation to Florida, celebrate Christmas there and then return back to
Canada a couple of days after they “rang in the new year” in Florida. My
stepfather asked what my plans were for the Christmas season as we exchanged a
few Christmas presents before he and my little brother left with the others for
their family vacation, I remember my reply like it was yesterday, I was opening
the gift he gave me that year for Christmas, it was a Gillette razor and
shaving cream, after I opened it he said to me “I noticed you used one of my
razors the other day, so I got you that”, I ignored his comment as to why he
got me what he did for Christmas that year and answered his inquiry into what
my plans were while he and my little brother were away on their family
Christmas vacation. I simply told him I wanted to buy a Cornish hen, stove top
stuffing, and watch the weather network so I had Christmas carols playing (I
didn’t know where my mother lived, only had my auntie Fran’s phone number to
leave a message she would relay to my mother if I ever wanted to get a hold of
her, she in turn would phone back whenever she got the message, the caller id
on the phone showing “private name” “private number”, so I knew my Christmas
wouldn’t include her that year), he nodded almost as if to say “good plan”, I
went and put my shaving kit in the washroom and went over to my friend Brads
house. My little brother and stepfather left the house to spend the night at
his brother and sister in laws house the night before they were to head out to
Florida and all the rules were laid out for (what seemed like) the thousandth
time and they were gone. One of the rules was, “if you are going to take the
Cutlass out make sure one of your friends drive it because you aren’t insured
on it anymore”, I agreed and they were gone. While they were away a letter
came from the insurance company that insured the cars, among various other
mail, not long after, my step father called from the hotel in Florida to “check
up on things” I told him what mail had come he had me open a couple of the
items and read them to him quickly, of the letters I opened and read to him was
the letter from the insurance company, I remember it just as clearly as my
first kiss, first dance, first time I caught a fish, etc… Part of the letter
read… “OEF28A applies to Jason on all vehicles”. How I remember the exact
code or why is beyond me! I asked “does that mean I am insured on both cars,
even the Cutlass?” He replied “I guess so.” So of course I was excited and I
asked if that meant I could start driving my car again, he told me yes, I
could, “Just Be careful!” I agreed to be careful, the phone call was over and
I called my friend Brad, to tell him I was on my way to come get him and that I
was allowed to drive my car again. I went and picked Brad up and we headed
over to meet with our friends Dave and Nicole at Nicole’s new apartment. We
made plans to drive over to the United States but couldn’t decide whether we
would cross at the Buffalo, New York border or the border at Port Huron
Michigan. A couple of days later the four of us were in Buffalo on our way
back to St. Thomas (to make a long story short) while I was driving, I fell
asleep along with the other three, and was awakened by Dave hitting my
shoulder, and yelling “Brake lights!” I saw a car stopped ahead of us on the
highway, hit the brakes, but not fast enough to avoid spinning out of control,
eventually “T-boning” the stopped car in front of us. Eventually we were
picked up from a diner after I received a fine for “careless driving” and
having the damaged car towed away. We all went to Nicole’s mothers’ house and
got drunk before, Dave eventually drove me home to St. Thomas and told me to
get some sleep and that he was going to ask his parents, if it was OK if I
spent Christmas dinner with them, I refused and he just told me would talk
about it later, that was December 19, 1993. I avoided everyone for the next
couple of days, dreading having to divulge that I had been in a car accident.
On Christmas day just after 3pm, Dave called me to tell me to get dressed
because he was on his way to get me to take me to his house for Christmas
dinner, despite my adamant refusing, Dave was at my door not a half hour later
and brought me to have dinner and drinks with his family. Finally, on New
Year’s Eve, my step father called me to wish me a Merry Christmas and happy New
Year. I told him what happened and as expected I was yelled at and told I
better be out of the house before they got home (there are still a
disagreements to the latter portion of that conversation). I made it a point
to take as much of my clothing and my shaving kit and find somewhere to go.
Nicole took me in for a few weeks, while I awaited a decision on my application
for social assistance. I was denied social assistance because I was only
seventeen and in Ontario in order to be in receipt of Welfare (as it was called
at that time), you had to be at least 18, I was told to go back and live at my
step fathers however that was not a possibility, I went back to Nicole’s only
to hear that the police had been there looking for me in order to serve an
arrest warrant for stealing the car that I was given for my birthday. The
following day I called my stepfather and asked “What the fuck is going on?)
His reply was cold and short, “It turns out you weren’t insured so now I could
be sued for the damage to the other drivers’ car if I don’t say you stole it,
and I had to sign ownership over to the towing company to cover the impound
costs, they are higher than the cost of the car”. I told him “you said I was
insured and that was my car” his reply was simply “it’s your problem now”. I
panicked and immediately went to Nicole’s mothers’ house again for the night to
avoid arrest. The following day I called the police that covered the area in
which the accident took place to inform them that I was just informed that I
wasn’t insured, so that would not create further trouble for me in the future
then I proceeded to call the St. Thomas Police Department in order to see what
I had to do, I was referred to Officer Tom Burgess, I told him I didn’t steal
the car and that it was mine, his reply was “turn yourself in and tell it to
the judge in court.” I turned myself in that night and was released a few
hours after being finger printed, having mug shots taken and given a court
date. I was going to fight the charge at trial by pleading not guilty at a
trial however, there were dire “financial burdens” if I do that and he (my
stepfather) would end up losing the lawsuit if I was exonerated at trial, that
and the court case was going on for a very long time by the time I finally told
my lawyer, in September of 1994 I wanted it behind me and if jail can be
avoided I would plead guilty to it and get it over with. I plead guilty spent
a week in jail and served a year probation for stealing my birthday present.
The day I was released from jail, I went to my stepfathers’ house (I don’t
really remember why) and had the door shut in my face (we have had on again off
again relationships since then, not on or off at present just no contact after
I wrote an angry email a few years ago essentially writing them off for in this
persons view, good rational reasons). At this point I had been homeless nearly
ten months, unless of course you consider having opportunity to sleep on a
multitude of different couches in between the times I slept wherever I found
shelter be it a stairwell in an apartment building, a pavilion in a park, the
boiler room at the high school I was attending, and wherever else I stayed. I
left his front porch after having the door closed on me and went to speak to
one of the most wonderful people on all of the earth my music teacher at
Arthur Voaden Secondary School, Mrs. Sharon Nightingale (her married name at
that time). She and I spoke and cried for a little while before I decided I
had to figure out what I was to do for living arrangements, I Stayed at one of
my greatest friends (Jeff Langs) from that time most of the summer despite (at
times) his mothers’ (Brenda Larson, a “Guardian Angel”) dismay, they lived
across the street from the school, I went over there, a lot of time there until
finally I decided to go to the YMCA in October and explained my situation,
their policy was that you had to be at least eighteen years old to live there
however given my situation and that it was only a matter of a couple weeks
until my eighteenth birthday they would allow me to stay there and aid me with
getting social assistance. I did in fact start receiving welfare just days
after moving into the YMCA, and it wasn’t long after that, that I met a guy
that lived there that befriended me and introduced me to “Chat Lines”
(Telephone dating services). Almost instantly it seemed I was addicted to “The
Chat Line”, I was meeting dozens of different women a week, on an ongoing
basis. Jumping ahead… Between my sentences served in jail and relationships
over the years, it came about that I met (literally) thousands of women from
various “chat lines”, in various cities. Then I discovered the internet! I
started finding dating sites, chat rooms, and other “social networking” sites
and put chat lines behind me for a while. Unfortunately in 1997 I was at a pub
in St. Thomas on a night in which I was involved in a fight that resulted in
me being charged the following morning with a very serious violent offense, and
I as a result ended up spending a few days in jail awaiting a bail hearing, my
mother reluctantly showed up in court (again) to bail me out of jail (providing
the Justice of the Peace grant me bail, I was already out on bail for two other
charges). I was granted bail, but with very strict conditions, one of them
being that I do not enter the city limits of St. Thomas for any reason other
than court hearings, lawyer appointments, or medical appointments, and when I
was to enter the city for one of the “acceptable reasons” I was to call the
police station ahead of time to give advance notice that I would be in the
city, telling them exactly where I was going, how long I would likely be there,
and when I would be leaving. During that time I was in a an unhealthy
relationship with a girl that I met from talking to over the chat line a day
after being released from Maple Hurst Correctional Center, upon completing a
four month sentence. My little sister had fallen very ill as a result of
suffering from Cystic Fibrosis and eventually passed away after being comatose
for four days and I decided I had enough, I promised my little sister moments
before she passed that I will try hard to stay out of trouble and stop wasting
my life in jail. Then, about a week after Crystals’ (my little sister)
funeral, my relationship ended and I entered rehab for alcohol abuse for the
first time. Not long after leaving rehab, I relapsed, got incredibly drunk,
as well as depressed. I attempted suicide by over dosing on a lot of different
medication, was hospitalized and after being released from hospital, I moved to
Hamilton Ontario to live with my mother. Not long after getting to Hamilton an
argument took place and my mother kicked me out, leading me to stay at a
homeless shelter in Hamilton called, The Good Sheppard. I was at the Good
Sheppard nearly three weeks before stumbling upon an internet café that I
eventually began to frequent after acquiring housing in Hamilton, leading me to
apply for a job there, I was hired right away, when I wasn’t working I was
still there using the internet to meet new women. Eventually I knew I was
addicted to it until, one night after work I went to a bar and got incredibly
drunk only to return to the internet café to use the computers for a while.
When I arrived at the internet café, there were two uniformed police men having
a coffee, almost instantly it felt like they were staring at me (they were I
was drunk and obnoxious) I asked them “What the fuck are you looking at
piggy’s?”, I was arrested for public intoxication and spent the night in jail.
Upon being awakened by an officer in my cell the following morning, I ran home
to quickly shower and get into my work clothes and hustle back downtown to the
internet café for my shift. When I arrived at work the owner was there to
greet me, he took me aside and told me the only way to keep my job was to sit
down and write a formal letter to the police men that arrested me the night
before and apologize. I took a piece of paper sat down and wrote that if he
expects me to apologize to a cop in order to keep my job he can stick his job
up his ass and go fuck himself along with the cops. (I was still a little
rebellious at that time). Needless to say I was fired. I had to move not long
after that, not long after taking up new residence in a rooming house, I
started drinking worse than I ever had in my life (I have always drank very
heavy as long as I can remember). On October 22, 1998, I left a bar in
Hamilton drunker than I have ever been in all my life, somehow managed to get
on a city bus. After exiting the bus just a couple blocks from home I was
struck by a car suffering massive brain damage as well as injuries to my left
tibia, spine, and other (minor) injuries. Two days after being released from
the Intensive Care Step Down unit at the Hamilton General Hospital, I was
struck by yet another car leaving a different bar (very minor incident),
essentially after all of this I was a shut in, I spent all of my time on the
telephone calling chat lines. I met dozens of women a week yet again, despite
being on crutches and in tremendous pain. I proceeded to continue using chat
rooms etc… on the internet every opportunity I had, between my on again off
again relationship with a lady Julie whom I had met on a night out with my
buddy Trevor in Hamilton. After being “off again” with Julie for some time, I
went back onto telephone chat lines one night and began speaking with a woman
by the name of Tonya, she and I spoke at great length for a couple of weeks but
our schedules were conflicting more often than not so we found it hard to find
time to meet in person. I however was still meeting various other women as
often as I could. For the most part I made it clear that I was OK with being
“Mr. Right Now” to the women that were out looking for just that however a lot
of the time I wanted to be “Mr. Right”, but never did I say that to the ones
looking for the aforementioned, that would deplete the possibility of “Mr.
Right Now” being found to be “Mr. Right”! During the latter times of speaking
with Tonya, I started speaking with a woman named Rachel very often, so often
in fact, I stopped speaking with Tonya to talk with Rachel. Somehow Tonya came
up in conversation and it was discovered that she was a longtime friend of
Rachel’s, leading to discomfort on her behalf to meet in person. I however was
persistent and eventually Rachel and I met in person a couple of times leading
to a relationship. Eventually Rachel (who shared living arrangements with her
soon to retire father, Archie, and two children) would be off to live over two
thousand miles away in Nova Scotia when her father retired. I befriended her
father; he and I spent a few late nights drinking beer talking about country
and western music thus leading to a “kinship”. When Rachel left for Nova
Scotia, I stayed on in Ontario working three jobs, missing her, the children
and her father. Eventually it came about during a long night of drinking I
made the impulsive decision to move to Nova Scotia in the morning to be with
her. I got out to Nova Scotia just twenty eight hours later and it was like
heaven for a very brief time. My drinking got bad and I was homesick leading
to a very long night of drinking, arguing with Rachel and an impulsive decision
to hitch hike back to Ontario when the sun came up. At sun up I was in her
father’s car bound for the highway that would lead me back to Ontario. Two and
a half days later I found myself in Ottawa helping a trucker from Newfoundland
that picked me up just before New Brunswick unload the shipment of shingles he
was delivering. After the truck was unloaded he told me he knew I missed
Rachel for various by the way I talked about her and called her every time we
made a stop. He asked me if I wanted to go back, he could drive me almost
right to the house, quickly I called her and asked if I could come back and in
less than two days I was back in Nova Scotia with her, then quickly I was back
on the highway hitch hiking back to Ontario again! I arrived back in Hamilton
after hitch hiking for just over two days and stayed at my mother’s for a short
time before moving London. When I got to London I looked for one of my older
brothers and found him quickly, he agreed that I could stay with him for a
while until I got a place providing I don’t start any trouble around the
building he lived in. Not long after that I ran into my dad in the elevator of
the building he lived two floors up from my brother. There is a brief
explanation of what my dad and I went into contained in the link on this site
titled “Past Random Writings”. While I stayed at my brothers I was using a
chat program on the internet I used years previous and out of boredom thought I
would “give another go”. Almost immediately after clicking a button to search
for random chat partners a person that went by the name “Seven” came up. I
sent a simple message to “Seven” saying hello and we has a very brief
conversation until she had to go to bed. The following day I had to go to
Cambridge Ontario for a training course for a job I was just hired for. After
I returned home from Cambridge, I immediately went on the computer to look for
“Seven” in hopes that she wanted to talk again however she wasn’t on. The
following day I completed my training in Cambridge and di the same as the day
previous, went on line to try to find “Seven”, this time she was on and we
spoke again but only briefly, she had school in the morning and it was late, we
agreed to meet on line early the following evening so we could talk more. I
was online with bells on early the next evening awaiting “Seven” to sign in;
once she did we started talking about where we were from and what’s going on in
our lives. She told me that she was going to be moving to London, Ontario
quite soon to go to college before telling me where she lived, I excitedly told
her that was where I was from and currently living when she told me the area
of town she was going to be moving to I was more excited, it was less than a
ten minute walk there from where I was. Eventually the conversation turned to
where she lived at the time and she shocked me when she told me Cambridge,
Ontario. I told her I had just been in Cambridge for training the last two
days, when I told her where I had been we laughed because she was there during
the time I was. Eventually we started writing letters and talking on the phone
whenever we could as the time for her move to London approached, leading to
talking on the phone after she finally got to town and then meeting in person a
few days later. Almost instantly it seemed as though we were in a
relationship, the most wonderful relationship I had on any level in all my life
up until that point. (I left out that eventually she and I shared with each
other our real names her name was/is Jassie) Eventually, a while after we
agreed we were together, Jassie and I moved in together, I was working at one
of the hospitals in London and she was a manager at an outlet in one of the
malls and everything seemed to be the way God intended for it to be for
everyone. Jassie and I moved to Cambridge a number of years later, then after
just about a year and a half after that Jassie had to go to England for a year
for family reasons so I moved back to St. Thomas, when she got back from
England we immediately moved to Cambridge, I at that time had been sober over
five years but as a result of a fight in St Thomas was on probation and things
seemed off. It wasn’t long before we went our separate ways, I moved to London
and she stayed in Cambridge. For months I cried about Jassie and Is’ demise, I
stayed sober but eventually started abusing drugs until one of my best friends
Jamie came over packed my bags for me and told me I was going to rehab. She
took my bags to her car and drove me to the detox center (now known as
Withdrawal Management) in London. After being in the detox center for just
over three weeks, I was assessed and it was recommended that I attend Wayside
Treatment Center for Men in Hamilton. Just over four months later I left
Wayside clean from the drugs just over four months and off the bottle just over
six and a half years. When I left Wayside I moved into a “Dry House” (a
rooming house that prohibits drugs and alcohol). *To be continued in a new
link very soon (possibly hours maybe a late this evening into early tomorrow.
It’s May 9, 2012.*
*As I mentioned in my update
on May 13, 2012, I reread the portion that precedes what you are about to read
here, upon rereading it I noticed that in my “state of fatigue” when I was
putting everything together to upload it here I noticed that I pretty much
just made mention that I went from detox to Wayside and jumped ahead to my
discharge from Wayside so at this point I am going to back track just a little
bit and cover a little bit of things in between that were left out (in brief
for the website, obviously more detailed in my book).
A few days after Jamie had dropped me off
at the detox center I was moved from the “spin and dry” room (as often
referred to by some) or the “sick room”, I can’t at the moment recall its
“official” name, essentially what it is, is the room you stay in after being
admitted to the center, I believe the length of time you spend in there is
dependent on how your condition is, the progress of how well you are, and when
you are finally “getting better” (that has been my take on it during the time
I have spent in the centers I have been in). I believe it was five days
before I was moved out of the “sick” room before the shakes had subsided and I
was starting to show a little more “stability” and signs that I was getting
better before I was moved to one of the regular dorms and eventually began
started attending A.A. and N.A. meetings in the community as well as
interacting with the other clients in the center. For the sake and respect of
the other clients’ anonymity, I am going to be very vague on details and what
took place in respects to the other clients. I have almost always in my life,
found it very easy to fit in and make new acquaintances in the type of
environment I was in during my stay at the detox center as well as at the
various meetings I have attended since first attempting a life of sobriety
in the spring of 1997, that is of course when I was open to it and not putting
effort forth in that area and just being “normal”, I often struggle with
making new friends and meeting new people to this day when it is something I
feel I want to do or to have in my life, despite being told that I am a very
outgoing, likeable person (by some). Quickly after leaving the sick room I
befriended a couple of other clients in the center and we spent most of the
time that we were in the center as well as our time at the meetings in the
community. One of the guys I befriended at the center was also classified to
Wayside and discharged from detox at the same time I was he though, went to
Wayside a week before I did but both of us had to spent a significant amount
of time at the Salvation Army Hostel before departing London to go to Wayside
as a result of doing the same thing before going into detox, that being,
vacating our respective residences with no intention of going back. During
the couple weeks he was still at the center before leaving we spent almost
all of our time hanging out and attending meetings, doing whatever we could to
remain sober, I though, during one of the A.A. meetings I was attending met a
young woman that was just returning to the rooms as well (I have known for a
long time that “fraternization” with the new members has always been a “faux
pas” however, I paid little attention to that knowledge I was equipped with
just as she had in regards to me. She and I began spending a lot of the time
that I wasn’t hanging out with my other friend together for the couple weeks
before I left London for Wayside and eventually just before I left agreed that
we would keep in touch despite knowing that neither of us were whole hearted
in the “said” agreement. When I did finally arrive in Hamilton my mom (who at
the time still lived in Hamilton), picked me up at the Greyhound station that
The Salvation Army in London Ontario were gracious enough to provide me with a
ticket to get to, my mother and I went for a quick coffee and she agreed to
keep the belongings that, my dear friend Jamie wasn’t storing for me at her
house, in her basement, and drove me to Wayside. I was greeted at the door of
Wayside by the Director of the program and was quickly taken for a tour of the
house, followed by an introduction to all of the other clients that were
already there and the counselors and other staff. As soon as I got into the
dining area to meet all of the other clients the friend I had met in the
London detox shouted out to me like we were long lost brothers, waving at me
like a child in kindergarten bidding for the teachers attention to get
permission to use the washroom. As soon as all of the introductions were
through and I had spoken to my friend for a few minutes over a cigarette, I
was ready to pack up my still unpacked belongings and go however wanted
sobriety bad enough to fend off the discomfort I was feeling, and almost
instantly was in an argument with one of the other clients and letting him
know my opinion of where he “ranked” on the “scale of life” after nearly fist
fighting with this fellow it was all broken up and resolved with a
“be-grudged” hand shake and less than halfhearted apology on both of our
behalves (he and I ended up becoming friends near the end of my stay at
Wayside, I was informed less than a year after my discharge that he had passed
away). Eventually, I got comfortable in the house and (although my habit of
sleeping in everyday and staying awake are indicative of the contrary) the
“routines”, as well as, the counselors, other staff, and volunteers. The
other guy from London that I became friends with before arriving there was
starting to get a little bit more than annoying and tried my patience well
beyond their capacity most days by, (I assume) thinking that because we both
came from the London detox and that we hung out there during a lot of our free
time while awaiting admittance to Wayside that, we had to be at each other’s
side at every moment from the time of waking until bedtime including, smoke
breaks from group sessions, meals, travelling to and from as well as during
the various meetings we attended daily and nightly in the community, all free
time on the weekends, pretty much every moment. He even went as far as
requesting being put in the same room I was in and had one of the other guys
agree to trade rooms with him to make that possible. Eventually, one of the
other clients asked me during a smoke break, “How long have you guys been
dating?” and we both busted out laughing, I yelling “Fuck you!” at the same
time. We both agreed it was “less than healthy” and that I had to figure out
a way to tell him without him going all “Single White Female” on me. This
fellow and I spoke at great length after the final group of the day was done
about our concurring observations not only around the treatment center but in
all of life, it was refreshing to have a friend with intellect, and to be
able to engage in a logical conversation (even if at time it was filled with
sarcasm, humour, or to poke fun at something or someone). Eventually it was
agreed on by both my new friend and I that I had to somehow shake “Jenifer
Jason Leigh”, we joked and laughed about him stalking me in my sleep at night,
during group sessions, meals, smoke breaks, meetings, free time, and at any
other time he could. This fella and I were wondering around downtown during
our free time on a Saturday afternoon (The entire weekend was “free time” with
the exception of mandatory attendance at one of the various meetings in the
community a couple times), I can’t at the moment, remember what it is he
needed to find but, I know I showed him where whatever it was that he needed
was in the mall downtown. When we were leaving the mall to go back to the
treatment center, we were walking past one of the cellular phone companies
stores and out came the other guy from the treatment center with exciting news
that he had been approved for a cell phone and that he wanted to get me one on
his account so that he could get ahold of me whenever he needed to. I
declined (I hate telephones, especially cellular phones) and after a little
more than insistence the three of us went into the store, and the three of us
left with new cell phones, I though put the account in my own name. My new
friend and I were walking to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting later that evening
and he turned to me and asked if I had the other guys number just in case I
had to get a hold of him and we were both in tears laughing. “What the fuck
reason will he ever have that he needs to get ahold of me and why do I need to
get a fucking cell phone for him to get ahold of me? We live in the same
fucking rehab center” I loudly stated before bursting into laughter that
brought tears to both of our eyes.
*Another Unorganized Area*
Shortly after getting to Wayside I was asked to go into an appointment with
the Director of the program (He was very involved in all that took place at
the center, his title “Director” only sounds intimidating). My meeting with
him was for the purpose of, him asking me to become involved with The C.M.H.A.
or, “Canadian Mental Health Agency”. The reason for this was as a result of,
my acquired brain injury, the medications I was prescribed, lack of having a
G.P. (Doctor), and my mental health “condition(s)”. As much as I dislike
having people to be accountable to, being a client in an organization that I
have to commit to appointments with, and lack of trust in new professionals
(in matters concerning my health in particular) I agreed to have a
consultation with two of the staff from the Hamilton office. The meeting with
the representatives of The C.M.H.A. took place less than a week later in the
director of the treatment center. I was seated in the office with the
director of the treatment center as well as my peer counselor having “random
conversation” about my past and what brought me to the point I was at when,
the directors’ secretary knocked on the door to inform us that they (The
C.M.H.A.) had arrived. I don’t remember now what it was that I was expecting
them to look like when they arrived I do though remember that, for some reason
I was surprised somehow. Two ladies walked in greeted the director and my
peer counselor and turned to me, the taller of the two extended her arm to
shake my hand and said “you must be Jay, he (the director) warned me about
calling you Jason” (I had an adamant stance on not being called Jason for a
long time by anyone other than my mother, who didn’t call me Jason often), I
laughed told her I appreciated that and said (deliberately in a tone deeper
than my normal voice to be silly), she said “This is Margaret, and I’m
Rachelle nice to meet you”, I replied “No it isn’t don’t lie to me”, as I
reluctantly shook her hand (I don’t like shaking hands in the “normal” manor
with women). The whole meeting with Rachelle and Margaret lasted less than
twenty minutes and they were off, leaving behind, an awesome impression and an
appointment card with a time and date for me to go into the office the
following week to meet with Rachelle (who quickly became “Miss Rachelle” as a
result of the respect and appreciation for who she is and what she does). I
had weekly appointments with Rachelle for the duration of my stay at Wayside,
nearing the end of my stay they became a little longer so as to have time to
prepare for discharge and what I would be doing, where I would be going, and
making plans for a successful reintegration into the community. While I was
still a client in the treatment center, Rachelle helped me with so many things
in so many areas including arranging for me to start meeting with a worker
(Donna) to help people with concurrent disorders(addiction and mental health
issues) , such as myself at The C.M.H.A. As my discharge date got closer it
seemed I was getting overwhelmed with things, I couldn’t decide what city I
wanted to live in, I was still considering pursuing the woman in London I met
between detox and Wayside (I had spoken with her a lot of times on the phone
during my stay and fruitlessly put efforts into arranging for her to come to
Hamilton on the weekend many times, long story in that area), I had to be sure
that the government office that I receive my “pension” from in whatever city I
decided to live in was aware of my plans, I needed to be aware of available
N.A. and A.A. locations and times wherever I was going to be as well as other
particulars to ensure as much success as possible after my discharge, and I
as well as the staff at Wayside wanted to be sure I was able to attend
aftercare meetings. As my discharge date was got closer and I still had no
plans in regards to where I would live, I was called into the office of the
“Head Counselor” (I use quotes as, I have forgotten his title), he informed me
that he knew of a man that had a furnished room for rent in Hamilton at a
reasonable cost, it was a “dry house”, according to him and a number of
clients from wayside had moved there in the past. Despite my “track record”
in Hamilton, I was interested and told him that I would look at it if he
didn’t mind arranging it, he handed me a piece of paper with an address and
said, “I already did, his name is, Roy!” That evening I set out to Roy’s
house to view the room in one of the most well-known areas for drug
availability, drug use, prostitution and various other crimes. Roy met me at
the door and quickly explained that no one had lived there in a while as the
reason for the “condition” of the room. I didn’t care I looked at the room
quickly and told Roy that I was interested and that if he would accept me as a
tenant, I would like to take the room. Roy stated that he would check with
the treatment center as a “reference” and let them know. The following day I
was given a message that Roy was Ok with renting to me so I went and paid the
first month rent as a deposit and moved in just over a week later. Soon after
I moved into my room I had an appointment with Rachelle to update her on
everything in my life, and begin “Case Management” to get everything on track
for me. Rachelle made an appointment for me to see my new doctor for a
physical and to make sure all of my medication was on track, asked me if I and
everything was Ok, then told me to stop lying and tell her what was going
on. As I type this, I can’t be sure what it was that gave any indication that
anything was wrong (I am usually very good at hiding anything that is wrong)
however, she busted me on it and this wasn’t the last time that she would do
it! After a little bit of denial that anything was wrong, she and I discussed
it and although I can’t remember all of the contents of that conversation,
someway, somehow, it was revealed that I was lonely and getting depressed. I
will never forget Rachelle’s words for as long as I live after that
“revelation”… “Jason, you are a risk taker, you take so many risks every day,
and you have been hit by how many cars? You take risks the way you run across
the road! You take a risk when you step on stage to do your comedy, you
take a risk when you come in here and talk to me, you take a risk every time
you go to the casino but there is one risk you won’t take, you won’t risk one
thing, why?” Perhaps I was being foolish thinking I could make her believe I
didn’t know what she was talking about; perhaps I wanted to convince her that
she was wrong! Whatever the case may be, I knew bloody well what she was
talking about and that she was right! For a moment we sat in uncomfortable
silence, Rachelle’s eyes were glued to me. It was almost as if I could hear
the silence, it was saying to me “Jason, she is right, look away”, I did just
that I looked into my lap and glanced up at her a moment later and she was
still sitting there, still staring at me, she had a black “paper mate” pen in
her hand, I looked at the floor and the fucking floor said almost the same
thing to me as the silence did… “Don’t look at me; she’s right, look at her!”
I sighed heavily and looked up at her preparing to make lite of it and joke
my way out of the awkward moment just as I had so many other situations. This
time though, when I looked into Rachelle’s eyes, I saw something that didn’t
allow me to joke and laugh it away, I saw someone that said that they actually
do care and that it isn’t “Ok” as I am quick to say that everything always is
and always will be, I saw real feelings. Rachelle actually cared about the
people she was surrounded by and worked with and I still remembering thinking
how much that “sucked”. I felt like tears were about to come to my eyes and I
just shrugged hoping that she would accept that as acknowledgement, currency,
and plan for resolution for the entire situation… It didn’t go that way!
Rachelle gave me a look that essentially asked “well?” Then she reached over
and poked at my left chest and she said, “You’ll risk anything Jay, anything
but you won’t risk that!” I don’t remember a whole lot of the conversation
that followed, I do remember her handing me two bus tickets, and two grocery
store gift cards and saying “The Good Sheppard is just around the corner, they
are serving supper now, go eat, see you Thursday”. I left her office and went
home to my “empty” room and listened to Matchbox Twenty’s album “More Than You
Think You Are” a few times before deciding to call Patti (a longtime friend in
St. Thomas). Patti and I have known each other a long time, we met as a
result of one of the chat lines I used to call, indirectly when her cousin and
I arranged to meet in 1997 while I was hospitalized for making an attempt to
take my life just after my little sister passed away. I’m still not entirely
sure how it came about that her cousin and I were talking while I was in the
hospital as that time in my life has many “blurry” moments including that one.
I do clearly remember the time we first met while I was in hospital though.
A number of years after we first met, Patti and I ran into each other on a
chat line again when I returned to London to live once again, Patti came from
St. Thomas to London to spend the night hanging out with me at a place I had
just moved into, I warned her previous to departing St Thomas that, I had
been drinking since I got off work just over four hours before and that I
would still be drinking when I got there. She (unlike a lot of my true
friends), didn’t mind providing I didn’t do anything stupid while she was
there to have myself arrested and thrown back into jail (she was enlightened
on my past days living in St. Thomas and how many times I had been arrested
for being drunk and drinking in public, and being loud and obnoxious). Patti
got to my place, we hung out for the night and in the morning had to return to
St. Thomas for work, this time we made a “dissolvable” agreement to keep in
touch (it wasn’t to be). I went to St Thomas one time and spent a night
hanging out with Patti as well as, spoke with her a few times here and there
over the “time gap” that divided the time I was about to call her and the last
time I had saw her however, neither of us knew anything of each other’s
current “situations” when I called this time. I called Patti the night I
returned to my “empty” room following the appointment with Miss Rachelle that
pretty much forced me to acknowledge that I never take risks with my heart in
anyway, the appointment that was perhaps a revelation to me that I live that
way. We talked for over three hours that night, a large part of that
conversation was Patti trying to convince me to sign up for an account on
Facebook and my adamant refusal, as well as catching up on as much gossip as I
could from St. Thomas, it seemed like it had been so long since I had been
there and even longer since I had hung out with my old buddies and my old
friends there! *REWIND* The last time I had been to St Thomas was a couple
years before when Jassie left for England. Not long after Jassie left for
England, I received an email from my longtime buddy Rob, we talked about how
things have been, what was going on and just catching up. I informed Rob that
Jassie was gone and that the lease on my apartment was coming to an end in a
few weeks, Rob told me that he was looking for a new place and after talking
for a little bit, I was considering moving back to St Thomas (never in my
wildest dreams did I think that would ever take place after being banned from
entering the city by the courts, even though I was acquitted of the stupid
charge, I still had a reputation with the police as a drunken idiot that
started shit at all costs). Rob and I agreed to share an apartment on the
condition that we keep it hushed that I was living in town again because I was
sober a long time at that point and didn’t want to jeopardize that in any way
as well I had been out of trouble with the law for a long time and definitely
didn’t want to throw that away, so much of my troubled life stemmed from my
drinking, distaste for some of the police force, and bad behavior in St.
Thomas. It was agreed and it wasn’t long before I was trying to maintain a
quiet life in St Thomas, it worked very well, I stayed sober, quiet, and
behaved myself while staying out of the public eye as much as possible and
things seemed to be “ok”. Living a life that way was not really for me, I
don’t like being confined to my apartment as a result of worrying about
getting into troublesome situations like I once did because I fell victim to
peer pressures or just became weak overall and succumbed to the temptations of
my “once active” addiction. I didn’t realize that it wasn’t necessary to
worry about that anyway, you see a lot of people I knew thought that I had
died when I got hit by a bus in Hamilton (as a result of being misinformed due
to others exaggeration on “grapevine” news) you may recall, I spoke earlier
about being hit by a car after getting off a bus in Hamilton. When I heard
that this was going on I laughed it off because I didn’t believe it and in
regards to some people, I was happy that this thought had been imbedded in
them, it meant that I didn’t have to explain where I’ve been, what I’ve been
doing, where I am and/or what I was doing at that time and having to lie and
say “Yeah, let’s get together some time, I’ll call you!” That though was only
until I received (first hand) confirmation that this was happening. I was
walking to the variety store to get cigarettes and on the way I saw a girl I
met off a chat line many years before and encountered many times after over
the years, she and I were friends on various levels since the time we met. In
the beginning, it was all lust and the activities that go with it, we ran into
each other many times between me going to jail and moving to different cities,
each time we would spend a few nights together and I was gone, either to
another town, girl, or jail. When I saw her walking towards me on the
sidewalk I knew immediately that (like so many others) she didn’t recognize me
(the last time she saw me I had very long black hair, this time my hair was
blond and I had a Caesar haircut). I only had less than a minute to decide
how I would handle it when we passed each other and came up with the same
thing I had come up with so many times upon encountering someone from my past
that didn’t recognize me… When she was close enough I said “Hey”, then looked
directly in her eyes and said “McComb said to say hi!” (To a lot of people I
was only known by my last name), immediately she slapped me across the face
and began blubbering something and tears started streaming down her face, she
called me “An Asshole” and started walking away. I shouted out to her,
following quickly behind, I said “Hey, look at this!” I handed her my driver’s
license and told her “it’s me”. After examining my license, she wrapped her
arms around me crying and carrying on about me being dead. I broke free told
her I had to go so I didn’t miss my train to Windsor (I wasn’t going to
Windsor, I just decided to keep it from her I was in town), we said the keep
in touch, hope to see you soon, and all the other halfhearted comments and I
was off to get my much needed cigarettes. Later that night I had to see if I
could “haunt” anyone else! I went to my favourite pub in town (no intentions
on drinking), and immediately across the bar I saw one of the first friends
that I made when moving to St Thomas for the first time years
ago...
The Beginning Of The
End.
In the early weeks of the fall in 2007 I was just preparing to leave a
treatment center in Hamilton Ontario, after voluntarily checking in for help
with opiate abuse, in the days that preceded my discharge I had been attending
an Internet café in order that I may find an apartment in Hamilton in which to
reside after I left so that there was as much structure in my life before
leaving treatment as possible to avoid slipping back into the behaviors that I
engaged in previous to entering treatment as well as recovering from the most
devastating break up in my life at that point. While attending the Internet
café along with another resident in the rehabilitation program on a weekend
just weeks prior to my departure from the center, and beginning of the road
back to the road I was on previous to succumbing to temptation of opiates and
the good life I was making for myself doing all I could do to become the best
person I could be and avoid once again becoming the bad person I projected
that I was while in sight of other people but dying inside knowing whom I
really was and confused by why I was acting the part of a person I detested,
yet showed pride in being when putting my middle finger in the air to salute
anyone whose eye I caught and arrogantly winked at them followed by stating
that they had been “McCombed”. Yes, Jason McComb is a true Canadian asshole I
would state and if you didn't agree I would give as much reason anyone needed
to have them draw the same conclusion. All of this came at a great cost to me
as well as the person whom I really, truly am! It kept me safe, it kept
people away from me for the most part, after all who wants to be close to
someone who shows he has no heart? Who wants to risk being treated the way a
person such as the person that I “fronted” that I was would treat others in
their life? I don't believe anyone with a healthy state of mind would go to
bed at night, and dream the fanatical dreams an individual wakes from with a
smile and thinks, “Wow, what I would do to include someone that ugly in my
life to hold and to love for the rest of my days!” Having said that I don't
think it is difficult to surmise why it is that I acted the way I did, if you
do find it difficult to draw a conclusion as to why I partook in such
behaviour allow me to enlighten you as to why I partook in such self-defeating
behavior! It kept most everyone at a distance and protective of themselves,
and on guard of their feelings for me as well as the reservations they would
keep for their feelings. I would think that all of this is indicative of a
person that has issues with intimacy for various reasons, if it was not
indicative of that, allow me to set the record straight by saying“yes, I had
acquired issues with intimacy for various reasons, reasons that will be
revealed in the coming pages!”
Two Months Today
July
07,2011.
When I woke up on May
07 of this year, I had an awful feeling in my stomach! Yes, as per usual I was
hung over, and trying to recall the events of the night before but, this time
(like a number of other times) it was different it was more than just the
absurd amount of alcohol I consumed the night before that was nagging at my
stomach, and causing me to regret the night before. I lay looking at the
ceiling just over two hours after I was supposed to be at work trying to
relive the night before and all of the events that I could remember. My stomach
was upset from the hangover, my mind was troubled by something I couldn’t
recall, my eyes were pained by the sun streaming through the blinds, and on top
of my upset stomach there was a pain in the pit telling me that, yet again I
had become a person I am not, I person I loathe, the monster that hibernates
within me waiting patiently for me to embark upon my next drinking
“expedition.” Hesitantly I scanned the room to see where my laptop was, hoping
with all I contain that when I found it I wouldn’t find that it was still
powered on with a video call still connected, or disconnected with angry or
hurt words from whomever I may have been on a call with before being rendered
unconscious, I hoped my Facebook account wasn’t open in one sense while in
another sense, I wanted it to be open to avoid having to go through the process
of loading the page and logging in to see that I had messages awaiting my
stupid sober self, as well as having to go through the process of loading the
sent messages page to find that I had become that monster with everyone I
acquaint myself with on that site. I only had to turn on my side to see where
my computer was, lo and behold it was lying beside me, and on the screen was a
video call that had been ended by the person I was talking about whatever we
talked about to. I flinched and vocally (almost yelled) FUCK! I was sure I
knew who I was talking to on the call as I almost never go on video with anyone
but her, cowardly I slowly brought the computer into view so as I could read
the message typed at the end of the call, the message confirmed I unleashed a
world of hurt on the woman with whom I had been talking to. Further it made
clear to me that I am an undesirable person and that enough was enough and that
it would not happen again. I sat and tried hard to remember the ingredients of
the conversation that brought us to this point to no avail, slowly made my way
into the shower and cried for a few moments wondering what to do, and where to
go from that point. I exited the shower brought my computer downstairs where I
exercise an stared at the screen wondering what to do, what not to do, and what
the hell was wrong with me. I nervously signed into the messaging program I
used for the said video call the night before, and got a notification that I
had a new email in my inbox. I was sure I knew who the email was from and
that (accordingly) it wasn’t going to be friendly or welcoming if you will.
With a mass amount of dread, I opened the email that confirmed my prediction,
and was the demise of the woman whom I had loved like no other at one point, I
began to cry again, and started doing push ups as I didn’t know what else to do
to rid my heart and soul of the pain that the drunken monster within me, that
loves getting drunk and delivering many raptures of dire consequence upon me as
a result of drunken antics, misplaced rage, and (what I describe as “extreme
manic”) venting of undesirable emotions. As I was doing the push ups the woman
from the previous night,( my one time girlfriend , lover, in my mind future
wife, best friend) signed into the instant messaging program. As soon as she
signed in I became weak, nervous, almost scared, but at the same time
ignorantly excited. I didn’t message her I couldn’t! I sat and stared at the
computer screen wondering if she would message me, while I waited I made a
decision that I had been tossing around in my mind for a while, I decided I had
to go back to rehab, I had to stop drinking for good! Not long after concluding
that I would check myself into rehab (again), she messaged me simply saying
“hi”, I replied with the same and at that point the typing was over and she
requested a video call. I accepted the request, it seemed like a lifetime
before our cameras loaded, and when they did there she was beautiful as she
always will be despite the lack of sleep showing on her face and the tears
streaming down her face. She told me she can’t and won’t do this anymore, I
replied “you don’t have to my love, I won’t bother you again, I am sorry for
all I have done and who I am and have been, and will leave you alone). We
cried together for a moment and I told her I had to go and that I figured this
was our final good bye, she wiped a tear and with a tough look on her face
nodded at me and with that I told her I would be going away. At that point I
was crying too hard to say any more so, I blew her a kiss waved goodbye and the
call was ended, who ended it I couldn’t say, I can’t bring that back to mind.
After a few moments of looking at her picture I knew what I had to do, I
searched the internet for a detox center in the Edmonton area, once I found one
I quickly packed a bag and was on my way without telling anyone. I arrived at
the detox center and was welcomed at the door by a young lady with blue hair
by the name of Sarah. Sarah opened the door told me to step in and give her
the details of what I was looking for. After explaining an exhaustive
explanation of times present as well as my history with alcohol abuse and
rehabilitation centers she very compassionately told me she would do all she
could to find an immediate placement for me as the George Spady Center (the
detox name) was full. After talking for a short time Sarah lead me to a room
where I was able to lie down and get some rest while she worked on helping me
with a placement. I laid on a mat on the floor of a big room and drifted in and
out of consciousness for a couple hours before Sarah came to wake me with a
plate of food in hand and a mouthful of good news. The good news was that
someone had left the center as I lay sleeping thus, opening a bed for me.
While I was there I met the most incredible people as well as some that could
be deemed the most undesirable people in Alberta. I am going to fast forward
at this point leaving out the many details that will be included in the version
of this that will be added to the book once published to today. Today is
exactly two months after I was admitted to the George Spady Center, and I am
still sober, I walked up to the door today to say thank you to whoever answered
the door and let them know it has been two months and although times are tough
at the moment I am still going strong in my fight to remain sober. I owe a
world of Gratitude to the George Spady Center and the amazing people that work
there in order that individuals with problems such as the ones I have may
overcome them! Thank you Sarah (your perseverance to get me a bed in any place
in this city so I may overcome my troubles and your tough attitude with a kind
smile that kept me in line), Donna (you by far are one of the worlds most
magnificent people, thank you for the extension of a friendly heart covered in
tough words to keep me on track as well as the kind words during thunderstorms
in my world of emotions, allowing me to see the sun and rest at night), Julia
(for being the strong woman you are with the ability to see that under my
illness was a heart n need of help and a hug when I left for encouragement),
Geri-lynn (although that may be spelled wrong I love you for the inspiration
you instilled in me while I was there as well as the help provided) Tammy
(you're tough and take no shit, typically I challenge that, however your heart
was always in your tough words causing my stand offish side to stand aside
ensuring open mindedness and the ability to recover) Yoni, Louise, David,
Vicky, Scott, bloody hell I don’t have all the names in mind at the moment but
when I calm they will come back to mind at that point I will add them but you
all know who you are and I will never forget you, or cease appreciating you!
Two months today feels amazing and for what it is worth to those in my life, I
am doing this for you as well as myself, we all love and when I am in the state
of mind I have been as of late I can love you better than ever and God knows I
do! Thank you to those who never gave up hope on me and those that are still
here. Further please forgive me for hurting those I love as well as hurting
myself with my actions!
Pieces of Jason H.
McComb
I’ve been told it’s a gift; I profess it a fucking curse! The
gift/curse I speak of is often looked at with varying degrees of cynicism.
Whilst conversing with someone (be it a personal, intellectual conversation), I
quickly have nearly full insight into who the person with whom I am conversing
is. Whether the person I am conversing with is projecting a false image or
being the person that they take to bed in their head at night, for one reason
or another see their personality, abilities, esteem, worth, and potential to
the full extent. For one reason or another I seem to encounter and (for a
moment) become intimately on some or every level with some of the most
beautiful people in existence, unfortunately for various reasons these people
are regarded as the ugliest people in the world. More often than not the
descriptor is applied by they themselves as well as by others. There is an
abundance of reasons for this and of course each is individual. There could
be many reasons given as to how this “insight” came about, for the most part
reasons given for this by others have very little mind paid to them by myself,
as I am sure how all of this was acquired, I may or may not get into those
reasons a little further on. It is important to know before reading further
that the terms “beauty, beautiful, and ugly” are not applicable to the physical
features these individuals possess, although many of the people I speak of are
quite beautiful physically and yes being the person I am I possess human
nature and I do admire physical beauty however that beauty pales in comparison
to the beauty possessed inside of those people whom I have been attracted to,
involved with, and further shared my most private, reserved areas of my life,
thoughts and intimate areas I hide from the world. None of this is to say
that one or more of these beautiful people haven’t betrayed me in some sense,
further, it is also not to say that they haven’t betrayed themselves by
becoming ugly time and time again for whatever reason they had for doing so.
Quite often the beautiful people I speak of either don’t realize their full
beauty, potential, as well as all of the other fore mentioned “traits”, be it
as a result of denial, esteem issues stemming from past acquaintances,
emotional abuse, lack of motivation to maintain who they really are, at times
comfort as a result of familiarity, perhaps not believing in themselves for so
long, maybe as a result of believing put downs by others claiming beauty,
whereas this action makes them some of the most hideous creatures polluting
the environment they neither deserve to exist in, nor does our environment
deserve the abuse delivered by these cretins. Subconsciously, quite some time
ago (I don’t recall when) I made a decision to look inside everyone that
enters my life at any level, I decided to look past their outward projections
of whom they wanted to be viewed as and do all I could to see inside them and
who they really are (Granted some of the people were/are sincere in who they
said they are and project, the persona that they project). Quite often I
encounter people that don’t even want to be talked to, looked at, or have any
interest shown in them. For the most part I am very persistent in every area
of my life, but this area, for reasons becoming clear to me in days recent
(that will be disclosed in the latter of our introduction) I am more than
adamant about showing these as well as those similar that I have yet to meet
all of their beauty, worth, potential, belief I have in them (yes I understand
I am only me and “me” if you will, hasn’t any more rank or importance in life
than any other individual past or present) as well as so many more wonderful
characteristics contained within them. I am going to give minor examples of
some of these individuals that I have had involvement with at some point, for
different amounts of time, with relationships varying from periodic
acquaintance to (seemingly) friendship as well as romantic relationships. No
matter the level of relationship reached, time spent together in which ever
form the time was spent or potential of the relationships (or lack of
potential), I remain firm on adamantly, persistently, and lovingly on many
levels remain true to seeking out the “real” in everyone I meet. It is very
well known that I am an ex-con with alcoholism issues that, at one time
thrived on promiscuity (perhaps to that of a sex addict). I hide none of that
or anything when pursuing a relationship with people I meet and a lot of
those from my past that either know me or know of me recall the days behind me
that when in view of nearly everyone I possessed an air of pride in those
faults thus, often leaving an open door for one, more or all to be discussed
with a false sense of pride or faulty arrogance on their behalf. Perhaps
this is because it is assumed that these are the things that are important or
a priority if you will, in my life thus leaving an open door to common ground
if the individual with whom I am acquainted at that time is partaking in such
things, or further being utilized predominantly for these things and or having
past expectations placed on them for this or for various reasons choosing to
use these things as an artificial common ground with the thought in mind that
my interest in them is solely for one, more or all of these purposes and that
it would be a “sure in” I that image is projected. Have I ever partaken in
any of this when the opportunity presented itself? Honestly, admittedly yes I
have however; there was not a sense of pride in these situations while they
were taking place. Yes admittedly all for the most part all of the “great
feelings” that go with the territory were inclusive in the events be it
drinking, sex, or internet sex however; if you were to approach and ask any of
the individuals with whom I partook in these things, their answers will all
coincide when asked about the moments after, that answer being… “yes Jason
placed his hand over his face and like a child peeked through his fingers
blushing, shaking his head and almost giggling while looking embarrassed,
ashamed perhaps after which each time the conversation revolved around how it
should not have happened." Although I admit that yes I partook in such things
and will also admit it was on more than one occasion I would like to stress
that upon initiation of involvement with these it was not my intent to
“achieve” the activities that were engaged in (if one chooses to define such
things to be an achievement). Rather, it was succumbing to being open to
taking a chance and allowing a relationship to develop. Upon regaining
composure and my wits about me I always found a reason to discuss how it
should not have happened and try to get to the “root” of why it did take place
as well as, get to know the other individual as best I could without being to
overbearing and at that point try to come up with a hypothesis as to why it
seemed agreed and destined if you will, to happen. Gently I ease my
acquaintance into enlightening me as to their current situation in life and
how that situation came about be it good, bad, or otherwise thus, leading to
similar times and so on should the other individual be open and/or comfortable
sharing with me. All of this comes with great ease however; there are those
that have (as many would say) “demons” or a “dark” past and aren’t overly
eager to share with me right away. In situations such as this (I have
encountered numerous) I am eventually able to earn trust and give comfort.
Doing this is not a terribly difficult task, I care about and love everyone
and although it is well hidden, I am a very loving, gentle person as well as
numerous other “nice” things that, the very few that know me, call me and coax
me (or try to) to show the world, as opposed to the cold monster I portray
(for many of my own reasons) and assure me time and again that possessing
these qualities is a good thing. I show these things and assure them that it
is ok to be who they really are and won’t be exploited afterwards, eventually
the “roots” are exposed and everything becomes clear. Disgustingly, too many
times when the “roots” are revealed the answer was “I thought that was what
you expected of me” or “all I ever hear is, that’s all I am good for” or “I
didn’t think you would want anything to do with me otherwise” and of course…
“Well I thought that’s all you wanted” and many more explanations as well. I
feel more than an onus placed on me to explain myself as well. Let me tell you
how hard it is to explain anything after hearing any of those, and feeling as
small as I did each and every time after hearing any of those explanations. No
matter what explanation was offered, if this is someone I see so much more in
than they themselves do, I cry inside, nearly cry on the outside and many
times have shed tears as a result. I do my best to show them that they are
worth so much more than the utilization that they think they are here for,
take the conversation to deeper levels and raise the level of intellect as
high as I can without losing them and sincerely assure them that I want to
know them for who they are, who they really are, not who they have been or are
expected to be or may have been expected to be and that on some level,whatever
level (that is between they and I) that they are loved for who they are, who
they want to be, who they see themselves being in their dreams, and for the
wishes they make, further for the beauty they mask for whatever reason it is
masked. It is not an easy task, nor can it be done with words alone but I do
all I can do and show that while at times I falter, that I am not those from
their past nor am I like those in their past, and make the offer, should
acceptance be granted to prove myself in this area, all the while, all but
egging them to be nothing more than themselves, all the while explaining that
I understand that there will be moments of haste, discomfort, relapse into
old ways, frustration, tears, needs pain, a degree of hurt, lack of trust in
the beginning and so much more that will seem foreign and ugly but in the midst
of any and/or all of this that although I am just a little guy, I have big
shoulders and that any burden encountered and/or bared they are welcome to
rest all of it and more upon them. I have always been a recycled “Hand me
down” and know all too well what it is like to be used, kicked around, abused,
unappreciated, utilized for other pleasure, cast aside, and so very many more
ugly things and to this day look around and see that I have close to zero
people in my life that are actually sincere in any area and often find tears
scorching my cheeks as a result. I do all I can to refrain from bestowing any
of this on anyone and try to the best of my ability to protect others from the
same as well as, hope to hold the hand of someone sincere in wanting to be
true to themselves and do all they can to avoid and of those wrong doings.
Many times I have had success in the said efforts and although it was not and
never will be my intent for doing this, I will love and try to be loved. I
have received tremendous praise and periodically get thank you letters for
dong this and being who I am however; for the most part nearly all of these
people have vanished from my life and have moved on with theirs for various
reasons, no matter the reasons, some of the biggest constants that remain is
that these individuals have value, potential, abilities, unending beauty, and
my love, thoughts and prayers always.
Hole In Your Haircut Ltd.
Ontario #220881403