In 2002 I moved twice. I first had to get through my breakdown that literally ruined my Christmas and New Year as I tried to process what would be the absolute end of my connection to anyone in my family. I was feeling well enough in February to begin volunteer work, which I undertook with great gusto as I helped out in a church shelter program for the homeless.
In March I received word that a unit had opened up for me in a social housing building in the Downtown Eastside. It was an improvement over my tiny rooftop room in the shared house but I lived on Crack Corner and the noise was virtually intolerable. Fortunately my name came up within a few weeks for another building still under construction. Thirteen years later I am still living here.
Burnt out and exhausted from the moral duplicity of the Anglican Church I had been attending for several months the Baptist Church that hosted the shelter program. When the homophobia and the blatant religious bigotry of the people there became impossible to turn a blind eye to I left, but still didn't feel ready yet to reconcile with the Anglicans. Still, my current apartment building, was and still is run by an evangelical Christian organization not widely known for tolerance. Management eventually failed at turning this place into a theocratic fiefdom but let's say that the first several years were not easy.
I began seeing a psychiatrist in the summer who helped guide me towards recovery from PTSD, without medications, without hospitalization.
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