The Journies of Gypsy Jon

This is an open journal to document and share my experiences while traveling. All are welcome to comment and inquire as to its contents.

Safe travels, Gypsy Jon. May the Force be with you on your travels.

So on Friday 08/01/14 I lost my job at a local nursing home where I have worked for the last three years.

I am still working through what I plan to do, however I am leaning towards going to California and staying in slab city. For the time being though, I am staying in New York until I solidify my plans and take care of my automotive situation (Hand my leased car back in).

This weekend I have been staying with my girlfriend, and discussing things with her. She wants me to apply at some local places, but I am telling her that I don't have long enough to wait for a potential employer to contact me, nor do I currently have a fixed address I can use on applications.

Yesterday, I spent almost the whole day driving around and looking for places to work. Most were either not hiring, or the cost in travel would have made working there prohibitive. After that I went to my girlfriends, and attended one of her nieces birthday party. I got to see some of her family again, and had dinner while talking with some of them.

A bit after that, I headed to the local mall and hung out with some of my friends. It turns out that one of them is in the same situation I am, and is staying with one of my other friends. We basically just walked around the mall, waving tacos around and giving people hugs while looking at stuff we were too poor to buy. One of our friends kept wandering off and somehow finding us later on in the mall.

After we left, we saw a group of disabled folks waiting to board a wheelchair van which had a flat tire, and was waiting for a second van to come and pick them up. My one friend put on a panda suit she had in my other friends car, grabbed a purple parisol, and went to cheer them up. The smiles on their faces were priceless.

After that, we all went back to one of their houses, and hung out for a bit. My one friend showed me a mosin nagnant he had got for his birthday, but never fired. I told him that I hope it works if he ever ends up needing it to lol.

After that, I headed back to my girlfriends house, and we talked some more about my plans. She continued to encourage me to talk to my parents despite my beliefs that they would give me a verbal lashing and degrade me. I stayed there for a bit, and then headed back to my parents house where I slept for the night. I am now sitting here waiting for them to return home, where I plan on telling them that I no longer have the money to pay them rent, or the ability to do so in the forseen future. If I know them as well as I think I do, they will kick me out.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mcJUFExofw8&list=UUsJkLBV8O_IZmuHsC42lkaQ&index=1

Thought this song would be fitting

Just an update on what's been going on.

I talked with my parents, and as expected they gave me a verbal lashing and degraded me a bit. They told me I could stay through the end of the month, with the agreement that I would spend the majority of my time looking for work. So I have spent the past couple weeks here and ended up getting a part-time "off the books" job at a local bar as a fry cook, which even though is something positive, doesn't really pay enough to be considered a means of financial support.

So, while a less than desirable situation, I at least had a place to stay.

Last night, as is the case with many nights, I had a violent nightmare and screamed myself awake. I dreamed that my brother was attempting to kill me, and then woke up, still half asleep and still dreaming. I sat on the couch in terror for a few moments, and then went into the kitchen and grabbed a chef's/butchers knife. I went upstairs to my room, put the knife next to my bed, and then ended up falling asleep again.

Fast forward to later in the day. My mom is trying to find the chef's knife to make dinner with, and is asking everyone where it is. I tell her I used it (I had already told her about the dream), and brought it downstairs. A short bit later, she called me into the kitchen and asked me why I had the knife in my room, and I said "Bad dream".

A short bit later, she called me into the kitchen again, and asked me what I would have done if it had been my brother on the stairs, and I replied "I don't know". She got upset and asked me what I expected her and my father to do about it, and I told her "When we were kids, you told all of us that if we were ever a threat to the family, you would remove us from the house". She asked me if that's what I wanted them to do, and how I would feel about that. I replied "That's your decision".

So when my father got home, the three of us went outside, and discussed what had happened. They are considering removing me from the house, and I think that is what they will probably end up doing.

So, if they do end up kicking me out, my plans are to do what I was planning on prior to being offered a temporary stay in my parents house. I am going to get rid of my car, reduce my possessions, and head to a warmer area of the country (Slab city for starters) and go from there.

I called my girlfriend up shortly after the discussion between myself and my parents, and told her I am concerned for her safety as well (we sleep together and I am concerned as to what would happen if I have a violent nightmare with her in the same room as me.) I also told her that I can only stay in the area for so much longer, as It will start to get very cold soon, and I do not have the experience or equipment necessary to stay in a cold/frozen climate.

It has been an eventful couple of weeks since my last update in this journal.

At my parents suggestion, I went to the local hospital, and requested I be admitted to their psych ward for an evaluation. I had to explain the reasons I was there to at least 10 people, who took notes but never passed them on to the next person so that I didn't have to keep repeating myself (Maybe they threw them in the trash?).

I ended up being admitted to the hospital around 5:00am on Saturday, after having gone in the night before around 10:00pm, and waiting the night in their holding area for psychiatric patients. I arrived at the psych ward around 5:30am on Saturday morning, and decided to try and stay up the rest of the day so that I would be able to sleep through the night and maintain a regular sleep schedule.

During breakfast (around 8:00am on Saturday), I had an elderly female patient steal part of my breakfast, place trash on my plate, and then grab ahold of me. I took what was left of my meal and ate in my room. This woman had regular outbursts throughout the day, such as tossing liquid on other patients, pissing herself in retaliation for not getting her way, screaming and yelling, swearing, stealing patients food, and swearing (This continued throughout my entire stay in the psych ward). I assumed once night arrived that she would quiet down for the evening and go to bed (no fucking chance). She screamed all night long at regular intervals, which, on top of staff coming into my room every 15 minutes and shining a flashlight in my face to make sure I was breathing, made it very difficult to sleep.

During my first few days in the hospital, I was trying to get my medications which I had been taking prior to arriving in the psych ward. On Sunday afternoon (I arrived Friday evening), I was told by the on-call doctor that my medications would not be refilled as she believed "They weren't at a therapeutic dose". I went the remainder of the week without medication and remained relatively stable.

I spent my 25th birthday in the hospital, which was Monday the 18th of August. My family and girlfriend made the day as special for me as it could have possibly been given the circumstances I was in and the limitations placed upon us by hospital staff. They brought me in cake, cards, and presents, and I requested they take the cards and gifts home so as to prevent them from being stolen by other patients or even staff.

The day after (Tuesday), was an important day for me both in the hospital, and as an day in my overall life. I opened up to my parents, and informed them of my molestation at the hands of a black man as a child, while living in Pennsylvania. After doing this, I immediately felt a sense of relief and inner calm as I no longer carried this in the manner which I had for decades.

I also spoke with my assigned psychiatrist for the second time on Tuesday, and informed him that it was irritating when he talked over me and interrupted me when I was trying to say something, which he continued to do even after I mentioned it. I even called my family to express my concern, however they (in my opinion) side stepped it by suggesting I find reading materials on the subjects I was concerned about and had wanted to discuss with my doctor.

On Wednesday, I found out that my psychiatrist had advised my parents that it was in my best interest, and the interest of my parents, that I not be allowed to return to and continue to live at home. I also found out that my parents had agreed with this advisement, and had made the decision to remove me from their house. The thing that bothered me most about this was not that I was being "kicked-out", but instead that I had to find this out from my psychiatrist instead of my parents.

I also spoke with my doctor on Wednesday and said I would be willing to try and go back on medications to see if my condition improved at all, as I had started to become irritated, agitated, and upset as a result of my experiences on the psych ward and worsening of my condition. I expressed some concerns about the medications I was prescribed by my doctor with my parents, and they agreed with those concerns. They additionally suggested I ask for a diagnosis based on my condition at the present time I was in the hospital.

Once it reached the time when medications were distributed on Wednesday night, I decided not to take the ones I was prescribed due to unaddressed concerns which I wanted to discuss with my doctor the following day.

On Thursday, I spoke with the psychiatrist again, and requested I be diagnosed based on my present condition. He re-diagnosed me with the same condition I came into the hospital to address, and informed me he would not release me from the psych ward unless I took the medications he had prescribed me.

I agreed to take the medications in order to get out and remain stable once I was out, and my condition started to improve almost immediately after taking them.

Fast forward to Monday. The psychiatrist spoke with me again and informed me that I might be able to leave that day, or on Tuesday. To be honest, I didn't have much hope that I would be released in the timeline he had estimated. Additionally, after being informed of my upcoming release from the hospital, I started to become uncertain about where exactly I was going to end up after leaving, and what I could expect upon arriving to that unknown place.

On Tuesday, I spoke with the psychiatrist again (I skipped recreation therapy in order to make sure I saw him that afternoon). After meeting with him, he informed me that he would not be comfortable releasing me into a homeless shelter. He also asked if there was any way my parents would allow me to return home, and I informed him that was not an option (Reminder: the psychiatrist advised my parents not to allow me back home).

I called my parents to discuss some things with them on Tuesday night, and they informed me of their advocacy to try and get me into stable housing, and were very upset that I was going to end up in a homeless shelter.

On Wednesday night, the woman who had made my life, and the lives of all the patients and staff on the psych ward a living hell, was moved off the unit and into a full-blown psychiatric center (funny farm), where I expect she will remain for the rest of her natural life.

I felt surprisingly calm and at ease given my circumstances and what I thought I could expect once being released from the hospital. At the time, I was unsure if it was just a strong resolve, or not fully understanding or appreciating the severity of the circumstances with which I would be dealing. The thought also occurred to me that I could either turn this series of events into what many would consider to be a fairytale, or I could choose to allow myself to be consumed by the abyss.

On my last night on the psych ward, one of the patients broke her door in an outrage at having been woken up during checks (The staff would come into your room ever 15 minutes and shine a flashlight in your face to make sure you were still breathing). The staff gave her what we patients referred to as "The shot".

That place deserves itself.

On Thursday, I was released from the hospital, and my Dad helped me get my prescriptions for the medications I needed to take. Unfortunately, the hospital pharmacy did not have one of the medications I needed, so my Dad went to another pharmacy and got a partial prescription (Which was left at the shelter I am currently staying in).

Upon arriving at the shelter I was referred to, I was registered as a "resident", and assigned a bed. I was also given the chance to take a hot shower, and eat a warm meal, which really helped my morale given the situation. In the evening, I attended a service held at the shelters chapel (although I don't believe).

Friday was my first official day of homelessness. I got a ride down to my parents house, and picked up some essential things I would need such as a sleeping bag, clothing, hygiene products, backpack & rain cover, water bladder, and various other essentials. I also stopped by a local shop and picked up a pair of "push daggers" I had ordered shortly before my stay in the hospital, which will help me feel safer by having a means of protecting myself if god forbid, I ever was forced into a situation where I had to.

I also walked a couple blocks and picked up the remainder of the prescription which my father had placed for me, and fortunately it cost nothing additional out of pocket. On my was there, I saw one of the famous painted "public" pianos, with a wedding going directly across the street from it.

After walking back to the shelter and going through my pack, I noticed it had a very large tear in one of the pockets that exposed the main section of the bag. I am hoping that it holds up for me, and if not, that I can manage an emergency repair using a small roll of duck tape I have.

I also remembered I had around $16.00 in my wallet, which is really the last bit of cash I have as my bank account is in the red around $100.00 due to auto-billing overdrawing my account.

One thing I learned I had to make a priority, was to get more water in my system. I would estimate I drank around 1l-1.5l of water my first day out, which isn't nearly enough as the body needs around 3l of water in warm/hot climates with heavy physical activity added to the equation. I also trimmed down the "fat" of my backpack that evening, so that I could reduce the weight and carry only what I absolutely needed.

And now I am at a public library typing all this up. I will keep you updated as things happen.

-Jon