Engaged to Parry

26.08.14 (Day 247)

10.42

Despite being engaged with CRI again, my options for moving on are almost as limited as ever. My time at the current safe house runs out on Monday and the most likely option was Colebrook House but they’re full. Other options were Bridge Trust, Gateway, the council and various others: plans B, C, D and so on. But despite being engaged with CRI for Alcohol Dependency treatment, the Alcohol Dependency prevents me from getting in anywhere it would seem. As well as there being no plan B, neither is there a plan C or D.

There might be options outside of the local area but those would require me to have family connections in those other areas: I have none and there’s fuck all in Tonbridge. Fuck all help and no family, apart from my parents who had to ask me to leave because they couldn’t deal with me. I’m ill!

This is what it’s been like for the last eight months. This is partly why I took up lengthy residence at the squat; partly why I fell into that particular positive rut. There were no other options. Apart from going back out on the road. And that’s probably where I’ll end up again.

If I didn’t fall into a certain demographic, it would be easier. If I was younger, I’d be classed as at greater risk; similarly if I was female. If I were with a partner, we’d get greater consideration as a couple. I’m in a relationship but it’s complicated and she’s not ready and can’t be displaced. If I was a drug addict, I’d get in-house treatment. Being Alcohol Dependent though doesn’t qualify, even though alcohol cessation – unlike drugs – can be fatal. If I had dependent kids, I’d be more of a priority but I’m prevented from seeing my kids by an ex-wife who doesn’t understand my condition and who insists that I’m completely dry for at least six months before I’m even allowed access to my children. Meanwhile, she doesn’t allow me contact and any attempts at contact – a letter in the post for example – go mysteriously missing. She wants those kids to forget their father. I’d take the legal route but refuse to put my autistic son through that process. I’m just glad that I have my adopted kids: all of the youngsters who come to me for help from a surrogate father or uncle figure and many of whom I’ve helped and received thanks from their real parents. But those relationships just get me persecution from the outside world. The Thought Police are judge and jury in a kangaroo court.

Yes, I fucked up my old life (and those of others) and I’ve tried to build a new one. I’m serving my sentence. I’m doing unpaid work (by choice, as it helps people sometimes) but remain misunderstood. I fucked up my love of once-upon-a-time, I have a new one and for that I’m grateful: a calming influence for when I’m angry or upset like this.

The church isn’t an option as the alcohol is a preventing factor there too. If I were properly alcoholic or on hard drugs, I’d get more help. If I were to go out and commit crime, I’d be arrested (if I was caught) and have to serve the remainder of my 18 month jail sentence (it has nine months left to run). Thereafter, I’d be reintegrated into “society” and housed. The 18 month sentence was imposed mainly for petty theft (okay, and carrying a knife. And Common Assault. And Assault by Beating): thefts which I committed because I needed alcohol and food and I had no money. So I stole. I’m serving the sentence and remaining on the right side of the law but if I didn’t, I’d get more help. I’m paying the price for being good. So there is a plan B. There’s also a plan C: to promote myself from mere Alcohol Dependency to full alcoholism and receive medical treatment. I’d probably run away from a hospital as I don’t like to be caged, physically or metaphorically. Being under lock and key though would prevent my escape.

I’m simply not bad enough. I’m too good. And look where that got me.

Right now I feel like going out and hurting someone. Or myself; I’m that frustrated. Were it not for the kindness of friends and people who understand, I’d probably be dead by now, like some of my close friends who were also abandoned. But I upset the people who care for me because they pity me and see my frustration. I don’t want to do that, any more than I wish to impose upon anyone. So when this week is up, I shall quietly depart and be gone to allow people to get on with their own lives. I need to move on somewhere. It’s making the head unwell me being here.

The Pink Hearts are still around: hanging and running; a few with me but most not. Even though I helped some of them and did them favours, I must conclude that most probably never needed me. They’re just kids after all – some bigger than others – and although I treated them as adults, some simply didn’t want to grow up, or weren’t ready. I’m proud of the ones I helped; the ones who left me messages of gratitude and the ones whose parents thanked me; the ones who are still around me. I’m proud of the rest too though.

“I have to remind myself that some birds aren’t meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice. Still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they’re gone. I guess I just miss my friend.”: Red, The Shawshank Redemption.

I hope that those who have flown the nest for good will remember me. Some have grown up; others haven’t and some of those never will. I never grew up really in some respects, so they’re kids after my own Pink Heart. Some are planning to get married (to The Mob) and raise families: perhaps a new generation of The Pink Heart Family. Whatever happens, I’ll always maintain a degree of pride in what I did: started a family and brought people together, some of whom may not have met were it not for our little group. I changed people, some for the better, a few for the worse. But it was worth it. It changed me for the better and I gained a new life, with a partner: one who truly and fully understands me. It’s complicated and we face the judging and persecution of others but we’re soul mates and we’ll get pushed around but we’ll fight back together: we’ll parry.

Even the recent divisions in the family can be seen to be for the good. The rumors about me speaking ill of them, some of them being turned against me…They’re out there and I’m inside. They have more of a chance to talk – about me – and arrive at conclusions. If that means that they’re united against a common foe (me), then I’ve healed the divisions, albeit to my own detriment. They don’t need me and I have moved on, so some good has come of the whole episode. It’s brought people closer together. That’s what I do, albeit in a roundabout way. Sometimes it’s the persecuted one who people realise with hindsight was the good guy all along.

The family know where to find me if they need me. Most won’t. I’ll just decide on my level of availability for different people and in different situations.

“So, I think under the circumstances it would be prudent if I were to make myself less available.”: Captain Picard, Star Trek The Next Generation.

I’m not available right now but I’m always fighting something.

I’m busy. I’m engaged; to parry.

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