Planes, Trains, Automobiles........and a Funeral.

I haven’t traveled by plane for quite a long time; I think this may be my first trip somewhere since 2003.  I was fortunate enough to have someone make all the arrangements for my trip to Milwaukee to attend my friend Dave's Funeral.   All I had to do was get on the plane.   Just before I got to San Diego Airport I get a call from my friend Paul advising me of some issues at the airport in Chicago.  Well, I'm not a seasoned traveller, so I checked my bag curbside and asked the man about the issues in Chicago.  He said we were not aware of any issues yet; everything should be "OK” I thought well, ill go to the ticket counter inside and ask them.

Ummmmmmmm yeah, that line was a 1/4 mile long.  So I proceeded to the gate,  Now I hate to generalize or enforce stereotypes, but the GAYEST crewmember was at the gate, so I asked him about the situation.  He said, "oh dear, everything should be fine by the time you arrive in Detroit."

Flaming and dumb are now my least favorite personality traits.

I get on a plane, and I fall asleep for a couple of hours only to wake up to an email from Delta letting me know my flight from Detroit to Chicago had been cancelled..  FUUUUUUUUUCKK

I check online, and there are no flights available from Detroit to Milwaukee.

But, of course, by that time my friend Paul had handled the situation....  Much better than I would have, he had already booked me a ticket on Amtrak. Business class of course.    At one point, I was seriously considering turning around and going right back home.  YES, I had a panic attack.  But this is for a funeral; this isn't about me, or how cute I would have looked in the new outfit I bought or if I was gonna look cute for the men of Milwaulkee when we hit the town.  It's about Dave and his family and Paul and us being together. Yes, of course, I almost lost my shit, but good friends came together and got me grounded.  After calling my friend Steve and also talking to Paul, I realized that leaving would have been a very selfish thing to do.  Paul has put so much work into organizing a beautiful funeral for Dave.  I had spoken with Dave's father yesterday, and we had a nice talk about our feelings about the weekend to come.  

My luggage was...somewhere that they can't get to at the moment.  There were nearly 2000 flights cancelled today in Chicago, lots of luggage to deal with going to places all over the world.  I only had the clothes on my back; the train wouldn't get into Chicago until  after 11PM, and then we had to drive to Milwaukee, and the funeral is at 10AM the next morning.  So, of course, my lovely friend Paul went clothes  shopping for me.  WOW, talk about feeling loved.  Then I had another disastrous thought hit me.  My medication is in my suitcase.  Well, luckily for me I have another great friend.  Franko from Walgreen’s Community Pharmacy that has arranged for me to get a small supply of my medication at a 24-hour Walgreen’s pharmacy in Milwaukee very close to my hotel.

As soon as they do get my luggage they will bring it to my hotel, but they also asked for my home address because who the hell knows how long all this will take.

The cab ride from Detroit Airport to the train station was fairly long, most expensive cab ride I have ever had.  I tried Lyft and Uber, but no luck.  I arrived at the train station a couple of hours early and the man at the counter told me about a nice little hole in the wall bar with a “good kitchen” named Z’s Kitchen. It was tiny, and there were mostly regulars but the food was very good and lord knows I needed a cocktail or two.  After a little chat with some locals, I headed back to the train station.  The business class car in this neck of the woods is completely different than what we have in California.  I had to go up and get my own shit from the café car!!  Can you imagine? 

I was just starting to get my groove on writing this story, so I wanted a glass of wine… NOPE!! No more wine.  OK, by now I’ve about had it.  SO it was on!!  I’ll have a double Jack & Coke, please.

Hindsight is always 20/20, and I realized as we were approaching Kalamazoo that Cheri could have picked me up from the airpor,t and we would have been able to spend some time together before jumping the train in Kalamazoo.

My first time in Detroit

Nice Buildings across from Detroit train station

Oh well, I was almost to Chicago, But then they announced a slight delay due to track signals being down, so we were traveling about 15-20 miles per hour for awhile, so that meant it was going to be closer to midnight or a little after until I reached Chicago. Paul was there waiting for me when I arrived; we went directly to Milwaukee, hit the drug store, then I was all settled in the hotel around 1AM.  It took me a little while to decompress from all of that;  I had been awake almost 24 hours, except for that brief nap on the plane.  Once again Paul saved the day with stocking the mini fridge with wine and some snacks.  Asleep by 2:15, then awake at 7AM to try on the clothes that were laid out so beautifully for me.

Funeral at 10AM set up at 9AM so no mimosa brunch for me..  Coffee and a bagel was plenty.

I had said good-bye to Dave in so many ways so many times, but this was it, our final goodbye until we meet again somewhere after I am gone from this earth.  Dave’s dad wanted the full ceremony and Paul went above and beyond Dan’s expectations.  We had a violinist and a cellist.  The minister was visibly emotional, and to me that told me she really cared about what she was doing, this wasn’t just another appointment in her book of funerals and wedding for the weekend.

We each said a few words about Dave, his father commenting on how both of his sons, his only children had both gone before him, and that wasn’t how it was supposed to be.  The Urn containing Dave’s cremains were placed into the ground, and Dan placed the first amount of dirt into the ground.  I being the dramatic queen that I am sobbed as I scattered rose petals into the ground on top of Dave.  In the back of my mind I heard Dave saying FAG!!   That made me feel better; it made me feel close to him.

We left the cemetery for a beautiful luncheon that Paul had pre arranged at the Milwaukee Museum of Art.  There we beautiful books placed at the table for us.  One was all about the museum, the other a book about Andy Warhol’s art in the last ten years of his life.  Paul thought of everything.  After lunch, a glass of champagne and a glass of wine, I was ready for a nap…. A 5-hour nap.  

Walking up to the Museum

The ceiling above us at the museum 

View walking next to the Museum on Lake Michigan

Paul scooped me up and took me to dinner at a Tapas restaurant that was AMAZING!  He knows the Chef, and she went out of her way to make sure we enjoyed the experience.  If you are ever in Milwaukee make sure you visit Ginger its in the Fifth Ward on 2^nd street.  There were quite a few newer establishments that were filled with laughter and music.   This is also the street that a bar named 219 was.  Now vacant it used to be a very jumping gay bar, it also happened to be where Jeffrey Dahmer used to meet some of the young men he preyed upon.  I have a fascination with serial killers, and seeing this place was just beyond any expectations I had for this trip.  We all have quirky things we like.  I have seen every film and documentary about Dahmer, and when I posted the photo to Facebook I got some very mixed comments, some of which were very strongly against this idea that I thought seeing this place was “cool”.   I get it serial killers are not everyone’s cup of tea.

Club 219

We visited a few gay bars that night; very neighborhood type bars that I liked very much, but at that time they weren’t very busy, so we headed to a drag show at a club names La Cage.   Now I must admit I am a drag snob, I’ve seen shows all over the country I’ve seen the best of the best and the worst of the worst.  This was somewhere right in between.   The first queen came out in a FLAWLESS black foxtail full-length coat.   I could hear the first few notes of one of my all time top 5 favorite songs.  The Glamorous Life By Sheila E.  awwwwwwww fuck, bitch didn’t know the words.  The reveal hidden under the coat of her very tiny costume and rather large titties were lost on me.   Don’t come to me not knowing the words to the song.

Then 2 songs later a girl that looked like she got her gown at a bridal shop did the very same song, just by a different singer???  Ummmmmm OK?   Another queen did a mash up of that Anaconda Nicki Minaj song.  She was wearing green sequin short shorts, and when she turned around she had ZERO BOOTAY.  Pad that ass bitch; you’re putting on a show here!  Then that bridal dress girl came out again in a dress she looked like she picked up at Forever 21 and stoned it with plastic beads from Michael’s Craft Store.  Oh and then there was another girl doing that Anaconda song…  REHEARSAL ANYONE?   Shit..  the place was very nice, great stage, good looking men, great bar.  So not all was lost..  I just saved a few bucks by not feeling impressed by some queen coming out in a big afro performing to Pride, A Deeper Love from 1991….  YAWN!!!!

So after not meeting Mr right now, it was time to head back to the hotel.

A decent nights sleep, woke up had some hotel room coffee, then took a walk to Starbucks and by Lake Michigan, which I could see from my hotel room.    I wish I had more time to spend in Milwaukee and maybe even some time in Chicago, but the fact that it took me about 7.5 hours more traveling time, kind of set our schedule off for the majority of the weekend.  

But I was there for a purpose, and that was to say a final good-bye to David Zabludowski.  Spend time with his family and my new friend Paul, who was friends with Dave since high school.  It was a fast trip, but I felt like a VIP thanks to Paul.  I enjoy Dave’s father Dan and his stepmother Joyce.  I have no grandparents left to call and send cards to, so I’ve kind of adopted them as mine.

So all in all the trip was fast and furious.  But we did it!  Mission Accomplished. 

Good bye my dear friend Dave!   I miss you greatly!

I am A Survivor of Suicide

I tried to end my life one night after having a wonderful fun-filled evening with friends.  It was in November 2012 — I had a plan in place for months. Not one person had any idea what I was planning to do.  

After a series of life-changing events that began in 2009 and included the closing my once- successful business of nine years, and culminated with the death of my mother in August 2012 life just seemed unbearable to me. My finances were a mess. My health wasn’t great. And I couldn’t make a romantic relationship last more than a few months.   

Life just sucked!  So I thought about every option I could end my life and finally decided on a plan that I could carry through with that wasn’t violent, or that wouldn’t bring harm to innocent bystanders.  I remember coming home and getting everything in place to follow through with my plan. I’m sure you’re wondering what my plan was, but I would never want to put any ideas in someone’s head that was considering harming themselves. Once I was finished, I remember taking out the trash, grabbing my cat, and laying on my couch with the cat on my chest, unable to stop crying until I fell asleep.  

Of course with the recent suicide of Robin Williams, countless articles have been written, news stories have flooded television for days, and now the news media are onto the next sensationalistic story. So I wanted to share my experience and acknowledge that I am a survivor of suicide. That sounds…I don’t know…kind of dramatic.  

But there is something about creating a plan, going through with it, and the result not being what’s anticipated that is very dramatic. How are you supposed to feel when you wake up from a medically induced coma to see your friends and family at your bedside waiting for you to wake up?   

My first thought was not “DAMN it didn’t work!” I can’t even remember what my first thoughts were. I know I was pretty delirious for a while because I thought I was at some lady’s home, and she was taking care of me while she decorated a Christmas tree. That lady was a nurse in my private ICU hospital room. The “tree” she was decorating was my IV drip rack. There were so many bags on that thing that they looked like ornaments. It was if strands of tinsel were flowing into my arms. I’ve done a fair share of drugs in my life but I’ve never mainlined Christmas. I had contracted pneumonia; there was a fear of liver and kidney failure. To say I was in bad shape would be an understatement.  

It was a lengthy hospital stay. I was under 24-hour watch, which meant a nurse sat next to my bed every hour, every day. After about a week I was transferred to the “West Wing,” and believe me it was nothing as plush as the West Wing of the White House. The West Wing of UCSD Hillcrest is the psychiatric ward of the hospital. It’s like taking a step back in time. I believe it was a portion of the original space of the hospital when it was first built. It was very stark, sterile with plastic furniture and doors that locked us in. It felt like a prison and I was on permanent lockdown, there was nothing I could do about it. You don’t get to sign yourself out of a psychiatric ward like you can after a typical stay in a regular hospital – you are there until some stranger says you are back to normal…whatever the hell that is.  

I was told by staff members that I would have a particularly difficult time there because I was the only “highly functional” patient in the ward.  

They weren’t kidding. This was no resort-type facility that we often hear about celebrities going to because of “exhaustion,” but this support was an important part of the journey to recovery. I needed to be safe.  

I sat alone. I tried to read. I would sometimes talk with the nurses when they weren’t busy.  

“I don’t belong here. I’m nothing like these people! Don’t you know who I am? Get my friend who is also my City Councilman on the phone. Call my friends who are City Commissioners. Placing me here is obviously a mistake!”  

I was coming unglued. The lunatics had taken over the asylum, and I was going down with them.  

I begged to be let out. At one point a doctor gave me some false hope that I might be released over the weekend. Unfortunately, it was a Thanksgiving holiday weekend and the ward was being run by the “B list” doctors. Their idea of therapy included coloring in coloring books and making flowers out of colored paper. Finally, the following Monday the “A list” doctors came back on duty and saw that my mood was deteriorating because of my surroundings. I have a wonderful group of close friends who were visiting the hospital every day, bringing me some of my favorite food, keeping me focused on what my plans were for when I got out of the hospital. The nurses and the doctors were very impressed by the amount of people that would come visit me. I think I broke the record for the amount of visitors in one day. Hell, I even had a drag queen in full gown & crown visit me on Thanksgiving Day. It was like a dadgum parade in there. But it also showed the doctors I had a great support team waiting for me when I was released. The ongoing visits reminded me that I had a team of support, that I was not alone in the world.  

Luckily that support system was willing to do anything they could to help me get reacquainted with life and back on my feet.  

So let me fast forward a bit to my recovery. Follow-up appointments with all the doctors, weekly “talk” therapy, and new medications helped me with my recovery. Staying close to home but getting out of the house for a bit was important to me, but being seen wasn’t. I guess in a way I was embarrassed and ashamed of what I had done. Good thing I didn’t leave a “fuck you and fuck you too” letter for anyone to find, because then I would have to face those people again. 

Looking back, I realize that shame and embarrassment was something that was a way of feeling that was imbedded in my mind. A learned behavior.  YES, trying to end your life is an awful thing. I do not recommend it to anyone. But the stigma that was put on me like a scarlet letter made it very difficult to move forward in certain situations. That stigma was one of the many obstacles I have overcome. Friendships were the #1 thing that had changed in my life.  

People’s attitudes about depression and suicide, just mental illness in general, often come with a stigma. Even when people try to have conversations about depression, their competency or understanding about the issue is archaic or maybe they’re just repeating things heard somewhere that they take as fact. 

So, class is now in session.  

Lesson 1:  Depression is real. 

Depression, clinical, diagnosed depression is not the same thing as having a bad day because your car got scratched, or you lost your lucky pair of underwear. The word “depressed” is used in a very loose and at times offensive manner. It trivializes what a truly depressed person is dealing with in their life.  

It’s hard to blame the people that aren’t familiar with depression or other mental health issues. Our culture has taught us to dismiss these people as being victims and weak. I tend to be a little passive-aggressive when I see someone post on social media “I’m so depressed.” My response is always the same.  “Oh, I’m sorry, how long have you been suffering from depression?” No one has ever answered that question when I ask.  

Lesson 2:  Suicide is a lot of things, but selfish isn’t one of them.  

Suicide is a decision made out of desperation, hopelessness, isolation and loneliness. The black hole that is clinical depression is all-consuming.  

People who say that suicide is selfish always reference the survivors. They say it’s selfish to leave friends and family and loved ones behind. What they don’t know is that those loved ones are the reason many people hang on for just one more day. They do think about the survivors, probably up until the very last moment in many cases. But the dark cloud of depression that follows you everywhere leaves you feeling like there is no alternative, that the only way to get out of the crappy situation you think you are in is to end it all. That is a devastating thought to endure.  

Until you’ve stared down that level of depression, until you’ve lost your body, heart, mind and soul to a sea of emptiness and darkness…you don’t get to make those judgments. You might not understand it, and you are certainly entitled to your opinion, but making those judgments and spreading that kind of negativity won’t help the next person. In fact, it will only hurt them – and others – deeper.  

Lesson 3:  Once a nutcase, always a nutcase is a myth.  

You have to look at depression for exactly what it is, an illness. Let’s compare it to diabetes. There is no cure for diabetes, but it is a manageable illness.  There are many ways people with mental illness can live regular lives just like everyone else. Of course, there are different levels of the illness and it might take a lot of work for one person versus very little for another.  

For me, the best plan has been medication and “talk” therapy. Medication isn’t a magic pill that works the first time you take it. You may have to try different pills or different combinations, and it takes a short time for those meds to kick in. You would be surprised at how many people you know or are familiar with that live with mental illness. Remember approximately 1 in 4 people suffers from a diagnosable mental disorder. Take a look around, it could be you, your best friend, your partner, your parent. Don’t be so quick to judge, but do ask questions. Approach them in a caring, concerned and loving manner.  

Lesson 4:  No blame, no shame, just be kind.  

The worst things to say to someone with a mental illness:  

•  Snap out of it
• There are a lot of people worse off than you
• You have so many things to be thankful for, how can you be depressed?
• You’d feel better if you got off all those pills
• What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger
• Go out and have some fun
• I know how you feel
• So you’re depressed. Aren’t you always?
• This too shall pass
• You make the choice to have a bad day, just decide to have a good day.

Think about it. If you changed the words up a little bit, you would never even think to say things like: 

• Hey, diabetic, snap out of it.
• Hey, epileptic, I know how you feel.
• Hey, paraplegic, so you can’t use your legs, isn’t that always the case?  

You get the idea. No one would think those things are okay to say, and just because you can’t “see” my illness doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. 

By saying these things, the mentally ill person in front of you is already probably feeling very bad about themselves, and you have chosen to go and make it worse.  

Instead of those ugly things listed above, try saying things like this:  

• I love you
• What can I do to help?
• This must be very hard for you
• I am there for you, and I will always be there for you
• You are amazing and strong, and you can get through this
• Have you seen your doctor/therapist?
• You never have to apologize for feeling this way
• I’m not scared of you 

It has taken me a lot of work to get to where I am now.  I have also discovered a new found passion for working in the mental health field. On July 24 of this year, I completed a course and am now certified in Mental Health First Aid. No, I am not a doctor, but I now have the tools and resources to help someone through a crisis to the next step and help stabilize a dangerous situation. I am learning more about the field through volunteering, organizing suicide prevention classes, and attending any and every class or lecture I possibly can.  

I recently applied for a job in the mental health field and I’m waiting to hear back from the organization. If I don’t get hired for this job, I won’t let it get me down. I’ll keep pushing on. There are too many people out there in life-challenging situations that are being ignored by society. I can no longer stand by and let them suffer.  

To go from a place of wanting to end my life to now being considered for a job helping others is a testament to every single person suffering from mental illness. Suicide is not the answer. There is hope! You can overcome your situation, you are important and what you have to offer can help someone at a time when they really need someone who understands.  

*********** UPDATE as of January 16th 2015 I have been working in the mental health field as the LGBTQ Outreach Coordinator for Mental Health America of San Diego..  Its been a dream come true being in a position to now help people in crisis and to teach others to do the same.  I am on the Mayor of San Diego's LGBT Advisory Committee and life is amazing!   I still live with depression, I have good days and bad days, but I manage my illness, it doesn't manage me. Great things are happening, and I continue to grow each day***************

Love yourself enough to ignore what others may think of you seeking professional help. You will be amazed at how much just talking to someone about your problems can help. Don’t keep your emotions bottled up inside until the bottle bursts. As the late, great Whitney Houston said in the movie Sparkle, “was my life not enough of a cautionary tale for you?”  

If you think you need help, please contact a medical or mental health professional as soon as possible. If professional help is not readily available, there are crisis lines and countless other resources that can assist.  

National Suicide Prevention Hotline
(800) 237-TALK
The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline provides free and confidential emotional support to people in suicidal crisis or emotional distress 24 hours a day, seven days a week.  

San Diego County Access and Crisis Line
(800) 479-3339 or (888) 724-7240
The County of San Diego’s 24-hour prevention/intervention hotline
Web: www.sdcounty.ca.gov/hhsa/programs/bhs/ 

Trevor Project Lifeline 
(866) 488-7386
The Trevor Project provides a 24-hour hotline that provides crisis intervention and suicide prevention services to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and questioning young people (LGBTQ) ages 13-24.
Trevor Text: Text the word “Trevor” to (202) 304-1200. Standard text messaging rates apply.
Web: www.thetrevorproject.org 

San Diego LGBT Community Center
3909 Centre Street (Hillcrest)
San Diego, CA 92103
Behavioral Health Services: (619) 692-2077 x208 (on-duty counselor, business hours)
Heidorn Lifeline: (858) 212-LIFE (after-hours or emergency crisis intervention & suicide prevention)
Web: www.thecentersd.org  

Papa Nick RIP

"Papa" Nick Hareson

Once again I find myself writing about the loss of a loved one.  Today my niece let me know of  her grandfathers passing yesterday.

Nick is the wife of Mary Jane and the father of Cindi, Linda and Pam.  They called him Papa, I think I remember my niece and nephew calling him Papa Nick as well. Linda was my brothers girlfriend since I was about 2 years old.  Needless to say our families spent a lot of time together when I was growing up.  Family dinners, holidays, everything.  Often times I would stay over at Nick and Mary Jane's house for them to "babysit" me.  Nick had a very strong and commanding presence.  I'll even admit to being a little scared of Nick at times.. But I was also 4-6 years old.

Nick was born in Greece on the island of Crete, the largest of the Greek islands.  I don't remember a whole lot about when, why or how he moved here.  But after moving to the US he was a very successful business man in the banking industry, then after he "retired" he became a successful farmer growing pistachios and other fruits and nuts.

His wife Mary Jane would make the best Greek dishes for our family dinners and gatherings.

A couple of things I remember about Nick; when I was young he was always encouraging me to stand up straight, and put my shoulders back.  He would pin me against the refrigerator and push my shoulders back.

When I was 17 I went to Greece and visited Nick's homeland of Crete.  I was so excited to tell him.

Many years had passed since I had seen Mary Jane and Nick.  Im glad that my mom and I both had the chance to see them at my niece's wedding.

Nick celebrated his 95th Birthday earlier this month.  What a long glorious life he had!

Recently a friend asked me why so many of the people we are close to are dying.  I guess its just the natural progression of life.  As we age, so does everyone else.  It's hard to say goodbye to friends and family, even people we didn't know but admired.  I considered Nick a part of my family.

Αναπαύσου εν ειρήνη. 

May He Rest in Peace

The Douglas P. Lathrop Scholarship for the Disabled

The Douglas P. Lathrop Scholarship for the Disabled

This will be an annual scholarship awarded to an LGBT student with a mobility disability.

There will be an application process that includes a short essay.  We have a selection committee in place including Doug's Brother Daniel, Doug's close friend Dr. Kathleen, a LGBT disabled, disability advocate.
Myself and Blue Montana the founders of the scholarship fund will also serve on the selection comittee.

This is our first year for this scholarship fund so we would LOVE to raise as much money as possible.  This is a yearly scholarship that will live on for decades to  to leave a lasting legacy for Doug in the LGBT Disabled community.

http://www.gofundme.com/e2g5jgDONATE HERE

Weather Report Says...Dark & Gloomy

Wow it's only 7:30 AM and I already have this huge cloud of sadness hanging over my head.  Im trying to think of something to comfort me but I just cant help but to think the day is going to get a little more bleak, the rest of the week isn't looking very sunny for me either.

My friend Nicole's cat died last week, my dear friend Doug died the following day.  Today is Doug's Celebration of Life at his church.   Tuesday will be the 2 year anniversary of my mothers death, then on Thursday another day of remembrance for Doug at one of his favorite eating/drinking establishments.  "A Toast to Doug" at Urban Mo's here in San Diego.

It's difficult to explain how I feel,  it' almost like butterflies, but not the good kind.  My stomach is kind of twisted in knots.  I'm stuck somewhere between not having a desire to eat at all, or going to Home Town Buffet to GRAZE.

Nicole MIGHT go to Doug's memorial with us... He really liked Doug and made it a point to always strike up a conversation with him.  and Nicole LOVES Hometown Buffet so we'll see what happens later.

Im just grateful I recognize these feelings, and that I feel comfortable enough to share them instead of keeping them bottled up inside.

I just want to get through this week with more happy feelings than sad.  That's my one goal for the week.

As always, thanks for letting me vent and share.