I didn't know how to function. I didn't trust anyone. It didn't even matter if they were good people. It didn't matter if they were good intentioned. What mattered were the actions and the result.
It got me to think about people go give advice. Where should they be giving it?
Should they give advice from a stance of "I'm going to give advice and possibly help out on the grounds of this is what I'd do in your situation. And this is what's best for you" (And this is okay, if it's actually what's best.)
Then there's the other stance "I'm going to give advice and possibly help out based on what you think is best for you."
If the person is out of their mind. It's hard to give the latter. But that's what I needed. But I was pretty batshit crazy.
There's this thing called "Recovered Memory" which is a phenominon in psychology. It's when someone recovers a memory that is either distorted to the point to where the memory is in stark contrast to what actually happened, or the event never even happened.
I occasionally have a Recovered Memory. It's disturbing, usually VERY violent... sometimes morbid. And I hope I never did those things, but would understand why I would. And even if I DID... it's hard to blame myself. I mean, even if I was looking at it from someone else's eyes. I'd be seeing a kid who's drugged into a state of psychosis (a psychological term used to describe someone who's unable to destinguish reality from fiction) who was already in a state of mild psychosis from leaving a religion he believed in so much he abstained from having a sexual life in his teenage years. I would see a kid who was forced to participate in everything he'd understood to be "evil" while involuntarily high, confused, and trapped.
... I don't know what I did. I have no advice for someone who might go through the same thing... just... be patient. Be kind. Get out.
I do remember being high on cocain. Some cop thought it was a bright idea to tell me what the drug was after a drug test... I eventually got him to understand I didn't want to be high on anything. But, the recovery symptoms of coke are worse than the drug itself... but being on coke makes you SUCH A FUCKING ASSHOLE already.
There were occasions he'd find me trying to get a situation from "worse" to being just "bad" by hunting down coke... I told him I was treating the symptom of my consequences. I still don't want the drugs. I just couldn't seem to keep myself out of trouble on Coke. But I seem to get in more trouble when I try to quit it. My behavior became more violent every time I'd quit.
He got me into rehab. But rehab didn't work well because of the reasons I already listed but also the rehab workers were all on board with the gay non-diagnosis (if "gay" isn't a mental disorder, I feel they need to stop diagnosing it. If it's not a diagnosis, it can't be diagnosed.)
All trust in the rehab center came crashing down when I realized that.
When I got out, I eventually found a woman who let me live off base with her family. I had some friends. But then I found out her kids liked to smoke pot and had no interest in quitting.
... God... I wish I could have just STOPPED being a fucking boyscout and just smoke with them... I would have stayed with them...
In the end. I sued the Air Force for their inability to follow through with the contract. They reached a settlement. And they announced a half hearted agreement that they weren't following the contract, but then... I didn't want to settle. I retracted from the settlement. I lost the court case from that point forward. But somewhere on the stenography reports, their admition of guilt was recorded.
Out of court, I was able to use blackmale my way into getting an entry level discharge.
There were a few times a superior would argue and threaten a dishonorable discharge, but then I'd ask them if I seemed normal to them and explain that I qualified for a psychological discharge. So they'd threaten to discharge me on that. But I'd remind them of what happened in court and tell them if I don't get the discharge I want, the lawsuit would be heald again in the civil courts (Double Jeapardy wouldn't apply), where the press can see it, and now that I had practice in court, I wouldn't lose a second time.
After that, they let me have whatever discharge I wanted as long as it wasn't "honerable" and as long as I could show that I was TRYING to behave myself.
When I got out... I kicked the shit out of my verbally abusive brother a few times. Moved out of my parent's house and spent most of my time alone. I did construction work... I'm sure it was wierd for the general contractor to watch me screaming about life... But then when he'd talk to me, I was the nicest person ever. Lol.
That went on for several years. I got married to a nutcase. And while she got worse, I was getting better. She dragged me down and right after a divorce BAM! I got into the ATV accident where I broke most bones in my body.
Things are much better now. Things aren't perfect. I still prefer to be either alone or with only one or two other people. But though I do some nutty things here and there involuntarily it's all harmless. Life's good. And I find, for me, doing construction work allows me to look nature and just breath it all in and find a bit of peace.