Mary’s mood and disposition improving as she responded to the care and nutrition suddenly became animated as if a switch had been thrown. Sitting up in bed, a torrent of emotion rushing from her soul, a titanic wave enveloped us.The levee restraining the tide of grief had broken within her soul. Mary’s face twisting, contorting, lips trembling in recollection, began crying, explaining in horrific detail, the repugnant and loathsome truths of performing in pornographic film (descriptions and admissions one wont read or hear in any industry interviews or trade magazine). Her shame, guilt, utter self- loathing, feelings of worthlessness, the fear and brutality of the self degrading acts, as well as the methods of control used by producers of pornography gnawing her conscience and inflicting damage to her psych like a time delay fuse, exploding in unwanted recollections. “The producers would give us booze, plates of coke or meth everyday. It was the only way I could do the scene, to get numb. I feel like an animal. I put Vicks Vaper Rub swabs in my nose to block the smell of sex and body odor when working. Early on in my career, that creep JP, made me say I enjoy the business or I would get beat and my contract revoked. He got me in the business before I turned 18. They got me hooked on pills, coke and booze. They have doctors that write us scripts to keep us high,” Mary explained sobbing. The only way I could console her was to brush her hair and stroke her forehead. Mary would barricade herself in -doors, consuming massive quantities of alcohol and Valium. The room is entirely blacked out except for candles for light as she recounts the past, her hand shakes as she downs glass after glass of wine. I notice her hand steadies after several minutes as the booze takes effect. Yet the the look of sheer terror does not vacate, her eyes bulge and her mouth twists in a mask of excruciating pain. Alternately whispering, screaming or speaking in a passive tone, weaving a forlorn recollection of brutal beatings, several kidnappings and the death of her friend, a contemporary Savanah.
Feeling important for the first time in a very long while Mary and I sifted through our pasts, drifting, dreaming, wrapped in our unlike yet like worlds of hurt, shame and guilt. Somebody needed me and not just anybody, Mary Smith the woman I had so pined to meet! Looking through my US Army awards and commendations, Mary exclaims, “You, are a hero!” Dumbstruck I stare at her blankly, the winter afternoon sunlight causes me to blink and squint. Kissing me lightly on the lips, saying “Thank you!” Inhaling her sweet sticky perfume,the psychoactive pheromones crackle about excitedly in my brain. Nobody, not my mother, brother ,and/or friends has said this to me, ever. Defiantly saying, “Actually I threw those medals over the fence at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.” I scowled. ”Where? Why ?” Mary answers rapid fire with a curious look. ” You know, The White House, I did it in disgust and protest at the governments policies and in particular the lack of treatment and respect for Veterans.” Humbled, grateful and appreciative, weeping in her presence yet not really knowing why, I wipe my tears and write her a makeshift awards letter and pin an old US. Army brass label insignia on her coat in my own award ceremony. “You are a hero too!” I quietly whisper in her ear.
I felt powerful, strong and whole. I am a rescuer, I am saving her! Yet I had no idea, yes me the lifeguard,the soldier, that I was being pulled under in my own mood disorder diagnosis and psychological damage. Read on, read on,friend you will arrive in due time, due time. Just as I have.
Quite suddenly and unexpectedly her mood and tone of voice change. Calmly whispering, “Ssshhh. Be quite. Did you take all the batteries out of the phones? You know they can hear us! I was hired by the NSA and had sex with President Bush! You know that shit in Korea that is going down? I had to perform a sex show with an American soldier for Kim Ill Jung to prevent a war. You don’t have any idea what I’ve done for this country! My web site is really a portal for CIA and FBI agents, you know for spooks and Mr. Brown.” Palpable is her fear, so great she shudders and has the sweats in a full blown PTSD episode. I too am in terror, her infamy and political connections are well established as anything is plausible and desperately believing everything she says, I give her a loaded 38 cal pistol when I leave the apartment thinking mob thugs or FBI agents will locate her. Moreover I am fearful she would OD and keep a vigilant watch, monitoring her vitals constantly as she would rapidly fluctuating from a withdrawn/ passive mood to animated and aggressive behavior.The behavior is classic bi-polar disorder as well as display of psychosis and other mental pathology yet at this time I had no professional training in identifying these disorders.I am operating on basic First Responder training, and God’s grace, flying by the seat of my pants at 40,000 feet with no parachute if you will.
to be continued…
