The first time was when I got kicked out of the Army for drugs. They sent me home on a greyhound bus. My dad didn’t even smile at me when I came home. I think he thought I was gonna be laced out on drugs. The bus ride was definitely interesting. I was wallowing in self pity. A homeless man got on the bus for one stop. He literally told me a hundred different ways to make ramen. It’s funny looking back. When I was feeling real down a truck driver came along beside the bus. He was missing a top and bottom tooth exactly aligned. He made a funny face that cheered me up a bit.
My second time hitting rock bottom was when I had my first break. I was homeless, psychotic and didn’t know what to do. That caused me to keep going to hospitals. I was probably in 8 different hospitals over the course of a week or two. They would either release me or I’d escape. The temp outside was probably 100. I only had socks on most of the time. It was also very difficult being away from my kids the first time in their life.
I already shared my “rock bottom” on another thread about “what was your worst psychosis” or something like that. I don’t have the motivation to type that long of a story out again.
Ok. here is my story copy/pasted from the “what was your worst delusion” thread:
I guess my worst delusion I ever had was that I was being forced out of town by “the forces that be”, I think I may have thought it was the Illuminati at the time, I don’t remember. Anyway, I thought people could be controlled by others and I couldn’t trust my family. I thought that I saw signs that I needed to travel to Mecca. By this point I had lost my vehicles due to psychosis and my bike currently had a flat, so I took off on foot for the east coast where I thought that I would be able to find transport off the continent. I think that I was thinking by boat. It was the dead of winter and I had zero money at the time so I just had to hope that “God will provide me a way”. I just was going to head east towards Mecca and the east coast. I set off from Iowa and made my way all the way to Ohio over the course off about a week and a half?(not sure of how long). I either walked or got rides from strangers. I had multiple people give me money along the way that kept me fed and whatnot. Anyway, the police picked me up in Ohio for traveling on a interstate highway on foot or something and ended up putting me in the hospital. I stayed in the hospital for over a month before a judge decided to have me injected with Invega, which eventually brought me out of my delusions.
I hit rock bottom in 2011 really, really bad got schizophrenia from pot and left/dropped out. Then in 2015 at the mental hospital, hit rock bottom again, this time with paranoia about my safety and life and seeing UFOs and having delusions and fear and stuff and feeling like it was the end of the world or I was going to die. Started getting thoughts people were reading my mind and plotting to kill me back then. Thought maybe about aliens and stuff.
I never figured out what may or may not have happened to me in college. Perhaps, I was abducted by aliens or put through MK-Ultra Monarch Program because I did something wrong or pissed people off or was just randomly targeted by unknown people. I think I was in the SSP (Secret Space Program too). Maybe Montauk project too as a montauk boy in a past life. I remember a lot of things that aren’t really real to others or me in this life, but span the multiverse…
Maybe I’m a super soldier, I guess. Nothing to be proud about or anything. The name sucks and is a misnomer. I was experimented on in my past lives and had real, severe, unthinkinable trauma and torture and came back alive sort of like we live in a computer simulation that self-corrects itself using AI/Machine Learning algorithms or aliens…
I have a general idea of what my rock bottom would look like, but I’ve never been there. I’ve had times where I can say it was the worst part of my life, but I also realize it could have been a lot worse. I guess if I’m a homeless quadriplegic with stage 4 cancer and nobody to love me, that would be pretty close to rock bottom.
My first rock bottom was right before sza hit. I was 23 years old and very bulimic and I had a 2 year old. I came to the realization that I couldn’t take good care of my baby and indulge my bulimia habit at the same time so, I quit bulimia just like that. What had always eluded me, my baby made possible.
My second rock bottom was when my son died of suicide at age 30. He died a grisley, violent death of his own doing and of course, as a mother, I did then, and still do blame myself.
First episode fully psychotic thinking my aunt was stealing my energy and one of my cousins was trying to poison me… going from place to place with my suitcases … not knowing who I could trust… unable to go by my sister because I had an issue with her husband … and then going to a friends house 11 at night… being paranoid out of my mind … wanting to leave and her telling me I’m not leaving… she took care of me and allowed me to stay there with her and her family until I left the country…
