The Butterfly Garden

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    And now, this is the second event that happened to me that lead me to seek recovery.   

      I spent a week in Boca Raton helping my friend. We eventually successfully sold everything he owned more or less. Minus the things he was loading in his car he decided to keep. 

    After that week, I found myself back in Wilton Manors. 

    Most of the time when I was in Wilton Manors, I was either with Midas XXL, hanging around The Pride Center, walking around with no destination in sight, or hidden away somewhere in my hammock try to sleep the time away in secret.

    When I wasn't in Wilton Manors, I was at Fort Lauderdale Beach. I always loved to go to the beach and set up my hammock in the sand, under two palm trees, just trying to fit in with looking like a tourist of some type. The time I had in my hammock was wonderful. It meant that I wasn't walking. I spent my time in my hammock either looking for someone who can host me on Grindr on one of the other app/websites. Somewhere I could hopefully get high at. Somewhere I could hopefully take a shower at. Somewhere I could hopefully get something to eat. The rest of my time in my hammock was spent sleeping. I would either pass out from exhaustion on the beach, or I had a few places in Wilton Manors where I could be hidden away from everyone, out of plain sight, out of mind. 

    One of these places in Wilton that I considered one of these safe spaces for me was this butterfly garden near Wilton Drive. I really don't know how it was a butterfly garden if I'm being honest. As often as I found myself hanging out in my hammock there, I don't remember ever actually seeing many butterflies. But I digress.

    One early morning, I found myself sleeping in the back of the butterfly garden, hidden behind tree coverage. Then out of nowhere, I just begins to pour rain. It got so hard that it woke me up. It was almost, as if, there was no trees even there to cover me from the rain. I got startled and flew out of my hammock and landed face down on the wet and muddy ground. 

    I tried to hide from the rain by using my hammock as a umbrella of some sort. That was when I first discovered that my hammock was useless against protecting me from the elements. It wasn't waterproof. The water just came right through the hammock. I was already soaked, so there wasn't even any point of hiding from the rain. It found me me. Hard. 

    I sat there in the mud, with my hammock, twisted, hanging on the trees still over me. I began to cry. 

    I now have found my bottom. Everything began to overwhelm me. Everything that has happened to me, from being physically assaulted by a close friend, to getting raped by a hookup, and everything in-between. I started to lose it. I started crying. I started screaming. I wanted to die right then and right there.

    I packed up all of my now drenched belongs... and started walking. Again.

    This time though, I had a destination.

    Broward House.


    

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