Balance: A Journey of Salvation

Chapter 1

I woke up in a sweat and began to breathe heavily as if trying to catch my breath. Then I realized that I had a nightmare. I sat up in bed and thought for a moment, then I remembered the dream.

I felt as if I was tied down in my bed and three people were throwing things and shouting at me. Then a hand larger than the size of my bed covered me. I could not hear the people anymore nor could their flying objects reach me.

I stayed in bed longer than I should have trying to figure out what the dream meant and what kind of a person had a hand so large that it could protect me. I wanted to analyze the situation further but I looked at the clock and realized that I had to rush in order to get ready for work. As I got dressed several thoughts crossed my mind and I began to feel as if I had lost my balance and gotten off course in reaching the goals that I had set for myself in life.

I remember the struggles I had before getting here today. I remember deciding that I wanted to pursue this area of advancing myself professionally because the benefits far outweighed the deficits. I thought seriously about the matter and went ahead and called the Registrar’s office, only to find out that I had one week to prepare before the class started. Hurriedly, I did a mental assessment of my schedule and realized that the hours of the class would not alter any aspect of my current work schedule.

The day of the class, I left work anxiously and took the #7 train to Flushing and walked down the block to LaGuardia Community College. There was a heave of excitement in my heart as I entered the classroom and sat down. Ten other people trickled into the room. As they began to find seats, my mind began to wander back to the months and years prior to me coming here.

My life was looking like it was time for a transition. My job was ok, no major concerns, the money was so-so and with additional over-time, it was livable. But I knew I needed something else.

I got up on time, caught the M86 cross-town bus to the subway and got on the C train heading to work. I looked around and saw the usual familiar faces, the guy with a briefcase wearing casual business attire, who always talked about Jesus and the alternatives he offered: both now and in eternity, from our lives of drudgery. He got off at 110th street and went into the next car.

Then young Latino kids came on and entertained our segment of the train with music. Afterwards, they passed their caps around to collect money. Then I saw a couple frantically talking in sign language. I looked at them out of the corner of my eye and wondered what they were saying to each other. At the end of the day, when I got home, while in the bathroom, I looked in the mirror and moved my hands as if mimicking sign language. Something touched me and I knew I had to find out more about that culture, their world of silence and its hidden treasures.

I’d moved back to New York about one year after 9/11. I’d worked in a hospital in Georgia, in a large urban city and was single, newly divorced with no children. My life for the most part was ok, I had friends, and spent time with them occasionally but I was a loner for the most part. The times I spent with friends in the past was clubbing, going to the movies, concerts and the usual other stuff. Some of my friends drank, and used a variety of substances, although we were professionals. They were weekend users and felt safe, thinking that they’d never deal with the cycle of addiction or rehab. I personally never touched the stuff and like the others in the group who refrained from drugs, was often teased about being a square and a softie.

It was not long afterwards that one of the group members, Phillie, started calling me at various hours of the day asking to borrow money because she’d missed paying a bill and did not want her husband to know, so she needed to borrow money in order to cover herself so that they would not have an argument. I knew her husband, Arnold, he was not the threatening, aggressive type and would seldom raise his voice at Phillie. He almost worshipped the ground she walked on and was very protective of her. If he found out about the missed bill payment, he would give her the money to cover it. So I began to think that she was becoming addicted to drugs and her cravings were getting out of control.

I tried broaching the subject regarding my suspicions but she was evasive and said I was overreacting, it was not what I was speculating. She again gave me the old story that she could handle her use of drugs and she only did it to celebrate at times, it was not the case of her needing to do it every day. I listened to her reasoning and said that I did not have any extra money because I was in between paychecks.

I then began to wonder, if I really did have the money, would I lend it to her, knowing what my suspicions were. I dismissed my thoughts and hoped that she would really realize that her drug use was becoming a problem and get help. She was a mother with a two year old son and she may some day place him in danger either by neglecting him while high or by having him around the wrong people during one of her drug parties.

As I became more engrossed in my thoughts, the phone rang and it was Lear, an old boyfriend whom I had not heard from in about one year. I never really forgot about him or the time we spent together. He was in the Police Force when we first met. It was during one of Phillie’s parties, her husband Arnold was a friend of his and he introduced us. I got to the party late because I was studying for an upcoming exam and had promised to go but could only stay an hour. Earlier Phillie had begged me to go because she knew that I stayed home and did not go out as much because of the exam. I was trying to get my license in Risk Management.

When I arrived at the party, my eyes scanned the room until I found the spot where Phillie was. I smiled just to acknowledge that I had arrived as promised. However, I laid my eyes on Lear, who was nearby and my jaw dropped. I caught myself in time to re-focus and to walk toward Phillie for a hug.

I did not want any trouble because I did not know if he was attached or had commitments elsewhere. I had learned early, soon after moving to that town, that the women were possessive and quick to inform you when your eyes were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Phillie came over and hugged me as a greeting and wanted to introduce me to some people. As I began to take my coat off, my favorite song at that time started playing, it was Never Too Much by Luther Vandross, and Lear extended his hand to me to dance.

We started a separate fast dance then he pulled me close and we danced slowly. His touch, oh his touch, even that first time was like electricity through my body. It was a preview of things to come. I pulled back and we started a separate fast dance again. After the dance, Lear stayed close by and talked, just small talk until I left the party. The next day Phillie called and said that Lear told Arnold that he wanted my phone number.

I first asked her some questions to find out a bit more about Lear. I wanted to know if he was currently seeing anyone, what he was basically like as a person. Was he known to be violent with his women. How long Arnold had known him. Was he single or a married man who was single when his wife was not around? She laughed her head off at my questions and said he was safe. So I told her she could have her husband give him the number.

After we hung up the phone, my mind began to drift back to my first crush in high school. It was in New York City. He was a Latino male who sat fairly close to me in my history class at L.D. Brandeis High School. He had dark straight hair, dark eyes and a mocha complexion. He was very popular and was one of the drug dealers at school.

He was bright and charismatic and his Latino girlfriend was just as good-looking as he was. Rallio was his name and he often joked with his friends about his adventures over the weekend. Even in high school I never used drugs or drank alcohol and was straight-laced. Rallio and I talked casually about the class work a couple of times. Other than that I would stare at him periodically because he was so good to look at. Of course it was childish immaturity.

We never had any other classes together and I did not see him again until I was working at an alcoholic treatment center, during one of my summer vacations in college. He came in with about three other men who were just released from the local jail. He was looking as great as ever, and was dressed in a brown suit with a cream shirt. He was there for rehab. We made eye contact and I introduced myself as one of the attendants, but he did not seem to recognize me, so I did not take the conversation any further. He stayed through the course of the treatment and graduated the program and that was the last time I saw him.

Lear called later that day and we talked; he mentioned seeing me and being attracted to me as soon as I walked into the room at the party. He told me how long he’d been in the Police Force, his thoughts of doing other things, his family and about a daughter he had in his hometown of Albany, Georgia with an ex-girlfriend. I listened and shared some basic information about me and my family. He then said he was disappointed that we could not see each other right away but agreed to wait for another week since I had to fly back to New York the following Tuesday to take the test. Time went by speedily and the day of the exam came and went. Lear and I spoke twice again before we actually went out. We decided that our first date would be a movie. When he arrived at my apartment and I opened the door, I must have looked at him in awe, because he gave me a broad smile and kissed me on my forehead.

Lear was about six feet with broad muscular shoulders and black wavy hair. He was midnight black and movie star good looking. We continued to see each other for about a month and we fell in love. At least I did, he said he loved me also but it was only at that point in our relationship that he told me he had a roommate, a female who was an ex-lover but they were no longer involved, at least that was what he said. Looking back I wondered what I was thinking that I never asked the reason why we always spent time at my place and never his.

He then explained that they met while she was working as a cashier at a local bank. He was in between relationships and needed a place to stay so he stayed with her and her daughter, just as a friend at first, then, their relationship changed. They lived together briefly, it was not really what he wanted so they agreed to separate and they decided to have him remain as a boarder and pay her rent. To me it was a strange agreement but he said it was workable and he planned on getting his own apartment, especially since we met. I bought that story for a while but throughout the course of our one and a half year relationship, he never moved, he only made excuses.

We began to grow apart after numerous arguments about him not being able to spend time with me as I needed and his reluctance to find an apartment or move in with me. He had multiple excuses and mentioned that the low rental payment kept his budget as he wanted, so he could make child payment without difficulty. One day he came over and dropped a bomb and said his roommate was pregnant and it was his baby. He wanted to continue our relationship but I refused. There was no word from him for quite some time until one day he called. He said the roommate had lost the baby and he moved out soon after and was living in a trailer park. He was now going to church and had given his life to Jesus Christ and it had really transformed his life. He said I should do the same because it makes things easier, more bearable and I would really find a purpose for my life. I listened but said I was not interested in religion. He said it was not a religion but a relationship and it would make a difference in my life. He said he wanted to come by and give me a tape from his church. I suggested that he leave it in my mailbox and I thanked him for calling.

Chapter 2

I never did hear from Lear anymore but my life began to change in many ways and I also lost touch with Phillie, although we lived in the same town. I had a few other relationships but none had impacted my life as Lear had. Maybe I just stopped trusting or was not willing to give as much of myself as I had previously.

During those years in Georgia, I’d worked as a social worker in a crisis intervention center. We provided prevention counseling, birth control information, pre-marital information and pre-adoption support but no abortion referrals. Young women who needed that were sent to the local pregnancy clinic affiliated with the local community hospital.

One day a young Hispanic woman about the age of 19 came in and was ushered into my office. Her name was Gladys. When I heard her story my heart ached with sadness. She said she came for her babies. She’d been buying and storing clothes and had set up a place for them at home, but she heard that we were keeping them and she came to get them. I asked her some other basic questions and found out the following: she lived with her mother and had two other siblings. Since age twelve, she’d been in relationships and had three abortions, the first was at age thirteen. One year ago she had a nervous breakdown that started as nightmares, where she would hear her children calling her name while playing a nursery rhyme ring around the roses with her in the middle. She usually woke up screaming and in a sweat. As a result, she would spend most of her days crying and asking others around the house to help her get her babies back. Her mother and others tried to explain to her that the babies were aborted and could not be found because they were not alive. She refused to believe them and would cry continuously. Gladys had been referred to a local mental health center but was never really reconciled to the fact that those babies were no longer alive. She had been hospitalized once and given medication for her psychosis but she recently began to decompensate and was not taking her medications or going to counseling.

I asked her mother who was with her if she had been taken to the local psychiatric emergency room, since they would help her. Her mother, Miss Montez, said she felt she was ok and the family provided love and support and she had a friend who was a "reader’’, did a psychic prayer over her and she would be alright. According to her mother, she was able to cook, clean and care for herself and would only ask about her babies every now and then.

I explained that she needed mental health intervention. However both she and Gladys objected and said that they wanted to go home and the family would help to care for her. I observed that Gladys was delusional but had never tried to hurt herself or others. So I agreed that she could go home but said I would send a counselor with the Crisis Intervention Program to see her at home. They both agreed and the arrangements were made. Two weeks later a counselor visited the house and saw Gladys and her mother. They both appeared to be well and Gladys seemed less delusional and admitted that the medications had helped her. She also said she was three months pregnant from her new boyfriend.

My mind was lingering on thoughts of those days when I was suddenly jerked back to reality as a Hispanic woman who was taking the seat next to me said hello. She looked like Gladys but was about twenty years older. I was so awe struck by the resemblance that I asked her if she had any family in Georgia. She said no but it was uncanny how much they looked like each other. I learned the names of my other classmates before the end of the week.

As we were about to get more acquainted, the teacher walked into the room and became the focus of our attention. She signed her name as Maddie. She was about 5'5" with auburn hair with bouncy waves. I later found out that her hair matched her personality. She was theatrical and used animated techniques which made the class fun. That day she was casually dressed in an Ellen Tracy day outfit. She then went to each of us individually and signed very basic questions to us: asking our names, if we’d ever used sign language and if so, where it was used and for how long. We responded with the spoken word since our new language was not yet fluent.

Apparently it was a process of elimination, to determine who needed to be in a higher level of sign language, because soon afterwards another instructor came in and two people were carted off to another class for advanced instruction. Maddie then signed that it was time for us to get started and wrote some instructions on the board regarding our textbook and other requirements for the class. She also gave us written instructions for homework.

In addition, she gave us some basic information for our viewing/reaction assignment. Then we were asked to introduce ourselves and do the alphabet in sign language. After class, I was rushing to the elevator in order to get home and get some rest for the next day, when one of my male classmates walked into the elevator with me and introduced himself as Joe and casually began to talk about his need to also rush home because he’d promised his wife to get home before their son went to bed. It was the child’s birthday. I smiled and then kept silent. I was amazed at the friendliness of my class members and their willingness to share so freely about their lives away from the classroom.

He continued to talk and said he was a fireman who not only had his regular tour of duty but also went to various schools to talk with kids about fire safety. He mentioned that he did not worry about parking regardless of where he went because he was allowed to park any place where there was a firehouse. He also mentioned his excitement about the ASL class because it gave him an opportunity to reach a new segment of