Twenty-One Years Old - May 8, 2018
At twenty-one years old I had already moved back into my mother’s home. While I was twenty years old I returned back to UC Berkeley for my junior year, but the influence of drugs, the home sickness, and the feeling of not really knowing who I was started to overwhelm me. But I had a few goals when I started my junior year. First, I wanted to excel in all of the programs I was apart of. Secondly, I wanted to stay in shape and join the Air Force Reserves. Third, I wanted to join the UCPD during my last couple years of undergrad. Fourth, I wanted to build a resume so that I could enter law enforcement after graduation. Fifth, I wanted to impose more self control and discipline in my life. Sixth, I didn’t want to have a repeat of my former addictions during my sophomore year. But those six goals did not fall through. Why? Because each goal I had was interdependent upon another goal, so if I failed or could not accomplish one of my goals it would effect my other goals even if it was in a minuscule manner. The first goal I was achieving, but the second goal I could not accomplish because the informations person for the Air Force Reserves stated that the tattoo on my right leg was too big, so I gave up. Looking back on that moment I should’ve just kept my tattoo size to myself and showed up, and let the people at the Air Force Reserves tell me to my face it was too big. The third goal I couldn’t accomplish it at that moment, because the UCPD officer I spoke to notified me that I needed to have a driver’s license, which I didn’t have at the time. The fourth goal wasn’t happening in my perspective at that time, because I could not accomplish getting into the Air Force Reserves or UCPD. The fifth goal I was enacting in my life, because I was going to the gym early in the morning for runs and weightlifting sessions, but not fully. Why? Because by not fully enacting the fifth goal it caused me to fail my sixth goal, which was not to perform a repeat of my past addictions, which I failed miserably at not trying to do. My addictions were going off the charts once again. In addition to that, UC Berkeley was stating that I owed a couple thousand dollars during the beginning of the semester which was money that I did not have. Due to my inability to pay that sum back at the beginning of the semester, UC Berkeley froze my transcripts and my student portal account so I couldn’t add or swap classes. At that moment I realized being at UC Berkeley was not the most beneficial environment for me. My mental health, physical health, my identity, my discipline, my self-respect, self-growth, spirituality, and emotional well-being were all being compromised while at UC Berkeley. So I left and went back down to SoCal. Moving back down to SoCal was the hardest move for me, because I was losing a huge part of my identity which was education. When I returned to SoCal I fell into depression and suicidal thoughts. I didn’t want to do anything. My mother told me she had no problem with me returning home, but she told me that I either had to work or go to school. But I kept trying to tell my mom I wasn’t mentally stable for that, but she didn’t fully understand where I was coming from. For the first couple of days being at home I was a caterpillar stuck inside of its cocoon. I laid on the floor in a fetal position every day, I wouldn’t talk, I wouldn’t move, I don’t even have the urge to use the restroom, I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t drinking water, I was crying for hours at a time, I was forcing myself to not even think about anything, I wasn’t on any social media, I even turned off my cellphone so no one could contact me, I was just sleeping because I didn’t want to be apart of this world...I wanted to detach myself from my situation, my grief and my self-pity. My siblings were scared and worried about me, they had never seen me so mute, so defeated, so weak, so unhappy. I remember both of my siblings asking my mom is, “Kalob going to be alright?”; “Is ever going to be the same?”. Hearing those sincere concerns broke my heart even more. But the final straw that sparked me to do something a little different was when my brother came back home crying, telling me he just wanted his brother back, telling me how he had told one of his close friends Dayron about my current mental state and situation. I was embarrassed that my brother had told a friend of my personal business, but more so I was disappointed in myself that I had failed not only myself but my brother, my sister, and my mother. My mother even tried to motivate me to read the bible, but it was hard for me to make that move because no one in my mother’s home actively seeks out and tries to read the Word of God. So my mother contacted my aunts Karen and Monica, who are hard core bible thumpers, and they talked to me. My aunts told me that I could come spend the night for a couple of days if I wanted to. And I decided that was a solid move for me to make, being around my siblings and mother wasn’t helping me either. I decided to move into my aunts home, instead of just sleeping over. From September 2016 to March 2017 I lived with my aunts and grandmother, and trust me when I say it was a very transformative experience. When I moved in I once again was doing the same things I was doing at my mother’s home. I was stuck in a fetal position on the couch. But my aunts kept trying to talk to me and ask me questions, conversations that I did not want to participate in. So I asked if they had a bike and they said, “Yes”. So I asked if I could use the bike to exercise on. And they said, “Yes”. So I took the bike and escaped. I did something I had not done during my first week back in SoCal. I actually got up and took the initiative to go outside. When I hopped on that bike I started riding around looking for drugs, thinking that a drug was going satisfy me better than anything else. But I could not find any drugs. When I returned back to my aunts home from back riding they were already outside on the porch. And its as if my aunts had read my mind or my intentions to ride the bike. And my aunts asked in unison, “Were you looking for marijuana?”. And I said, “Yes I was”. So my aunt Monica said, “You should’ve just told us. I know a weed shop that I can take you to. Don’t buy weed off the streets, because people sometimes lace the weed with other drugs”. So my aunt Karen drove me to the weed shop. When we made it back to the house, I broke down the weed, split open the Dutch cigarillo, stuff some weed inside, rolled up the weed, and sparked the blunt. The euphoric feeling I thought I was going to have to come, but it didn’t last how long as I thought it would. I immediately started becoming extremely paranoid. I started contemplating all the things I had done in my life. I felt that I was a very selfish person, who had never truly loved anyone; and so I ran away from my aunts crib. Why? Because I even felt like my aunts were toxic for me as well. As I started running towards 94th and Budlong, I contemplated what I would want to do with my new acquired freedom. So I started digging in my pockets and I found: a lighter, a blunt, some weed in a canister, Dutch wraps, over $20, and my cellphone. After that discovery, I decided that I was going to go to the liquor store, buy some alcohol, smoke the rest of my weed, and kill myself. When I reached the liquor store I noticed that a prostitute was standing outside, she approached me and asked if I was interested. I told her yes and asked how much. And she said $20. I said ok. So I went inside the liquor store to break the change and I bought a condom. I remember the cashier looking at me, then her, and shaking his head, because he knew what were about to do. I followed her to her crib, and she led me upstairs to her room. Right before we entered her room, there was a young guy probably in his 20s who acknowledged. At that moment I assumed that was her pimp, and I started feeling anxious. I had watched several movies, where men had solicited sex from prostitutes, only to be killed and robbed by either the prostitute or the pimp. When I entered her room, she turned on her tv and played some pornography and then she sat down on the bed. I unzipped my pants, pulled my penis out, opened the condom wrapper, and began sliding the condom down the shaft of my penis. Once the condom had been put on, the prostitute started performing oral sex on me, but I couldn’t get an erection due to my fear and anxiety. So I told her to stop and that I had changed my mind, but that she could still keep the money for her time, and I quickly speed walked out of that house. I started walking around. I called a couple of my fraternity brothers Morino, Mata, and 50; to tell them that I loved them and appreciated them, but that I was tired of everything and that I was going to end my life. They begged and pleaded me not to, but I didn’t continue to listen and I hung up. Next I called Tommy and Erin, in order to meet up with one of them, and smoke some weed and drink, and then kill myself. But I believe Erin was either busy or I didn’t want to hang with him. And Tommy was way too far, all the way in Redlands,CA. So I kept walking until I found a tree that was secluded in the dark, and I approached it and lay down under the tree. I remember the ground being so comfortable, and soft, and cold, and the darkness having such a calming effect on my mind and body. As I laid on the ground, I planned to get up and jump in front of a car, so I would die. (To be continued)
