The Black Hole

This not a diary.  I can't promise to write each night.  Whatever I said last night was bull shit brought on by too much wine.  This is my pipe, my hashish, my opium den.  This is my outlet.  If I have nothing to outlet, why would my post be anywhere near intriguing or insightful?  To write, I must be inspired. Writer's block is caused by lack of insight and inspiration.  Generally, I am inspired after a six pack of beer, and before a six pack and a bottle of wine.  Tonight, well, today, I have had more than that.  And I feel great and inspired.  Lucky YOU!  You are in for a good read. 
 
I have had questions about the psychic I saw before I moved to Napa.  I can't answer those questions.  Not today.  You see, the questions I posed to the man on the other end of the phone were more "long term" questions.  It hasn't been that long.  I can't say he was right or wrong, or make any kind of judgement call.  What I can say, however, is that I did not spend a lot of money, and that what he said has been to the point so far.  As I stated, that call to the psychic is another story, another day.  When I share it, it will make complete sense.  I want to make complete sense.  I did, however, say that I would open up during the middle to end of my twenties.  I did, and I will open up to you, and it will happen now.
 
I was in the Navy, for those of you who didn't know.  I was in the Navy, and was stationed in Meridian, Mississippi.  I went to boot camp in Great Lakes, Illinois.  At one point I recieved orders to Guantanamo Bay, and traded those orders with another Yeoman for orders to board the USS Nimitz.  Upon leaving Mississippi, I went to San Diego.  I was discharged for "drug abuse prior to enlistment."  It was an honorable discharge; however, I got an RE4, which meant I was not qualified for duty anymore.  That's the technical shit.  You want the real shit?  Keep reading.  Sometimes, technicality is merely scratching at the surface of truth. 
 
I want to keep this short and sweet.  To the point, if you will.  What is most important is that my truth is out there.  The fluidity and eloquence will be lost here, not because I don't know how to write, though.  It will be lost because when I speak this truth, my words and sanity tend to leave me rather quickly.  The Navy changed my life dramatically and quickly.  However, it took me three years to notice. 
 
Okay, so you have a seventeen year old girl in a whole new world.  A girl with a drug addicted mother, who then moved in with her father and step-mother during her adolescent years.  Sheltered in the later, and exposed to everthing evil and dangerous in the former.  You have a girl who is impressionable, naieve, and insecure; a girl who knows too much and in turn knows nothing at all.  And this girl is off to the military.
 
I was learning about myself, and I was highly impressionable.  At one moment, in Meridian, Mississippi (after bootcamp), I was asked to a party at the officer's barracks, and I went.  I had one drink, though I don't remember finishing it.  That night dissappeard into a black hole, and has remained there ever since.  The thing about dark holes, though, is that you know they exist, even if you don't know what lies within them.
 
I woke up the the morning after the party at ten am.  I was supposed to report for duty at six am.  When I awoke I looked around.  There were men there, and I know I asked questions about the previous night.  I was told I passed out and threw up on myself, and that they had given me a shower.  I made a comment about my hair.  You see, I have hair that, when I lay down and it's wet, is a fucking mess the next morning.  I remember saying they couldn't have given me a shower because my hair was not crazy.  I was in a fog.  I don't remember who was there, but I do remember walking back to the training area of base.  Knowing I was in a bad place, that I had broken orders, made me edgy, cloudy and afraid.  I was drinking underage.  I had never blacked out like that before.  I needed an excuse.  My mother.  Yes, my mother had taken me to Jackson and abandoned me there.  I had to take the bus back to base.  That was a great excuse.  I would use it.  It would save me from restriction and hard labor.  My mother was known for being a flake, she was addicted to drugs.  This was a logical excuse.  A great lie.
 
I went with that excuse for a month.  I was told to see a shrink to deal with my childhood problems.  Sure, no problem.  I went to the shrink, told him I had smoked pot a couple times before enlistment (duh!  Who the fuck hasn't?).  I had not clearly stated that on my enrollment papers, though.  This man, the shirink, he told me I would be a drug addict just like my mother, that it ran in my blood.  I told him to go fuck himself, and walked out.  Two days later, my discharge papers began to be processed.  I was being discharged for drug abuse prior to enlistment.
 
My world was in shambles, and I did not know what to do.  I didn't know how to tell my family the truth, or how to fight my own battle.  My fear caused me to take what I was given and make the best of it.  I moved back to Fresno, with my mother, out of pure fear and a feeling of unworthiness.
 
I got married very soon after that.  I thought he was the love of my life, that we would be together forever.  In reality I was just a sad and impressionable little girl who wanted to feel loved.  I married a man, and he left me, right away.  Fairy tale?  Fuck no.  In the mean time, I was pregnant.  I was pregnant and thinking about life, I was realizing and rationalizing the choices I had made.
 
My memory fails me.  It is a fault of mine.  MY MEMORY FAILS ME GREATLY.  The black hole, however, exists.  I started thinking about this black hole, and what it contained.  What happened that night?  (The black hole is still very real in my world, to this day, and is something I seek to diminish, just so you know.)
 
That night, when I blacked out, the man I married took me to a party.  It was a status thing, for both of us. We were excited to go.  I was so in love and happy.... We were going to hang out with the officers... and I blacked out.  I was raped.  I was date-raped.  For knowing so much about drugs and people, I was greatly taken advantage of.  I was naieve and stupid and afraid. It took me nearly two years to figure it out, two years to gain knowledge and put the pieces together.  Date rape was something that happened to other women.  It wouldn't happen to me.
 
It took me ten years to speak out.  Here I am, ten years later.  I am smarter now.  I was raped.  I can't even tell you by how many men.  I was raped, and it was set up by the man I married; the father of my oldest son.  This is why I was discharged from the Navy.  The mystery in your mind may have been solved, but the black hole does exist for me.  It exists, and it is very real.
 

 

---

The New Busy is not the old busy. Search, chat and e-mail from your inbox. Get started.