2015 was to be my year. My granddaughter who was living with me at the time, said, Grandma its your year. The Art Project llc was growing, I was busy, I really thought that January day, it was going to be my year. From Jan. 2015 -May 2016 I was physically assaulted by my next door neighbor. A bully much bigger than I am, my crime.....he was a drug user, pot so much, that I could get high just on the second hand smoke. I complained to the cops, told, I had to have proof. Then there was all the activity of cars in the parking lot, which was very small. Always full., coming and going all hours of the night. I called the management co, and I was told the only way they could stop, the extra cars, was for me to get license plates. So I took pictures. I would file police reports whenever the smell of pot overwhelmed the area. One day I did catch him in the act of smoking a joint, I did get a pic, and reported to cops, once again. 3 times he physically put his hands on me. Cops would tell me, its a he said, she said thing.
I spent a lot of time away from my apt, at The Art Project, took my dogs with me, as he had threatened to harm them. Still no help. I went to my LCG minister for help. All he told me was, just let me know what you need. I needed to move, I needed emotional and physical support. It never seemed to happened.
Then in June I believe it was the Bully attacked again, this time coming up to truck window as I was leaving, and grabbed my phone out of my hand, I had seen a suspicious person duck down behind a car, so I started filming. Then said, I have called the cops, thats when he jumped out at me. It took the cops over an hours to show up. At which time, the bully threw a rock at truck made a dent, all this time I am still getting this on video, he then reaches inside my truck, grabs the phone, and takes it. For an hour I locked myself in the truck and honked the horn until finally an hour later cops showed up.
Cops got my phone back and watched the video, and which time they told me, I could have the guy arrested.,but I would be going to jail as well. The cops made it very clear that they did not want to know about all the other times he had assaulted me. That I should have waited to film the guy, for the cops to show up, and my response was, what an hour. I could have been dead by then. Why didn't I leave the premises. he had my phone. The next week I had my tire slashed in the apt parking lot. $200.00 to replace. My friend Skip Bemis came to the rescue. Lending me the money to buy a new tire, and the suggestion to get my things into a storage until and get away from there. I did this, by myself, loading the truck with a load every day. My son Mike came down and moved the majority of big things, when the bully threatened to harm the dogs. He came running. No one else did. I still was telling my pastor about all this. I didn't have money to move, much less the deposits. I had to fight to get out of the lease, still no emotional or physical help. .
All this time, I am still trying to keep The Art Project llc going, to not let what was going on in my personal life affect the artists. Remember, I have a mental illness, PTSD, trauma based fears, just as my artists at The Art Project. Those artists are amazing....I won't mention their names here, if they chose to acknowledge, then they may do so.
I am also working a part time job, in Behavioral Health, to make sure the rent is paid at The Art Project. March 1, we moved into a new building, 4 times the size of the old one. The Art Project was on the move to bigger and better. The Art Project owed nothing in debt. We had a 2 million dollar liability policy on building, it was a LLC. All done to empower the artists.
With all this going on, my mom who was 91 at the time was not doing so well, My son Mike Erhardt, gave me money to get me back to Missouri. Wasn't sure how I would get home, but that was that. My wonderful artists all volunteered to dog sit for me. A huge help. I was pretty fried by then. And all the artists came together to give back to me.
But I still needed a place to live. At this point, I was homeless. I conveyed that to my pastor. So all my stuff got put into storage, and I had no place to stay, except in the storage unit. Thats when I went to visit my mom.
My mom was so surprised to see me at her door. What a wonderful reunion. She paid for my return trip. I tell you these things, because, now comes the part of my friend Skip calling me, to see how I was doing and then he mentioned that he had told Mr.B....... I would not be at church for a while as I was visiting my mom. His response was, how dare I make a trip when I was getting assistance from the Church. Skip told me that he thought he would be calling to have me account for what I was doing on a "trip. I believe Skip was trying to be helpful, I do not believe that he had any idea of what the reaction would be. So for the rest of of my visit with my elderly mom, there was a dark cloud over us. Did I do something wrong? Should I have asked my pastor for permission? Plus it triggered a lot of PTSD nightmares from the Domestic Violence survival.
Mental Illness doesn't go away. It doesn't heal. For the rest of my visit, I was terrified. What would be done to me when I got home. ( I had another trauma with this minister, a few years before that, when he accused me of whoring around, and being a drunk) I knew that once crossed, there was no fair or mercy involved.
I had car trouble traveling home, having to stop ever few hours to let it cool down, and just added to all the stress. But was anxious to get home.
I made it home really early on the Sabbath. Great reunion with my doggies and then I was told by manager of the units that I had 5 days to vacate the premises. Plus to empty out my other storage unit. When asked why, he told me to shut up my crying, and said my ffffing damn dogs were the reason. There was to be no second chances, no mediation , just get out.
To say I was numb, in shock, I cried out to God, I made phone calls. No one picked up. I posted on social media.......
I walked around the building that was The Art Project, I looked at the tables I built with my hands. I looked at the artists spaces and their art work, Each had their own space, I blamed myself that this was going away. Every penny I could muster had gone back into The Art Project. Most of the time, I don't know where it came from, but the rent was always paid on time. I bought used AC units, and heaters, I found chairs at thrift stores so that we had a lounge area. Furnished art books, Everything in that building was paid for. I owed no one nothing. All I could see thru the tears was loss, a failure, no rebuilding, no future. So after the walk, with the doggies following me, I posted on line for someone to take good care of the dogs and I knew what I had to do.
I found my stash of pills, and a soda, me and the dogs went into the lounge area. I swallowed the bottle of bills, kicked back in the recliner and fell asleep.
2 days later I awoke in a hospital. Lest I think it was. I really don't remember much. Then I woke up in a room with a bloodied elbow and knee, under lock down. Angry cause I was alive. Angry because I had lost everything...And thinking...Hell, I can't even die right.
I can't really tell you what was going on while I was hospitalized. I understood the minister tried to get involved, including calling my mom to find out where I was, he and my son getting into it, along with others from the church. From what I understand, my son had no idea where I was. No one knew, and if they did, they were not telling.
It took my son threatening the hospital I was originally taken to with the US Marshalls to find me. When he did find me, it was a act of congress to get him in to see me. After 5 days, my wounds were never treated or dressed, I bled all over the bedding. I told the Shrink what he wanted to hear. I had learned my lesson and would not try again. Right......had I been left alone, I would have finished it this time.Because of the local ministry, my son, would not allow them near me.
Now the Colorado Connection.
Aug. 1, 2015 found me living with my son and family. My injuries so bad, I had to have help to walk, sitting was just as painful. I tried so hard isolate myself, but the family would not allow it. I could not turn my brain off. (many of you with mental illness, know this) thinking, why had I lived. All the platitudes of: God never puts more on you than you can handle.....its going to make you stronger, there is a lesson here for you to learn, You all know these and more.
So, I contacted the minister for the Colorado area. It was forwarded to the AZ pastor. It seems that the Colorado pastor did not want to deal with a suicide attempt . That the AZ pastor after all knew me. Ok, I get that, but then he wanted me to call him, i know from past experiences, that when you cross this man, or not agree with him, you can forgot it. My mental health at that time could not take what he wanted to dish out. So I continued to email. Same thing, Call him and we would talk. I still have all the emails.I asked him why I wasn't getting my financial assistance. I was told I was no longer in his area, and it would have to be reassessed.
My friend Skip, whom I could go to anytime, become short with me, never writing about how I was, then I finally get an email from him telling me that he was not to write me, because pastor did not want me commiserating with him. A personal note here.....Skip was like my big bro, he had seen me have melt downs. he would listen without judgement, and then we would talk it out. Mr. B took that away from me. Then it seems I was being blamed for harming another member during this time. Time after time, I told B. I had no clue what he was talking about.. He explained to me that I needed to show her mercy and love and still had no clue. It seems that my son and her got into it. So, he held a trial and found me guilty.
Thankfully I had a great therapist, it took months of her going over the ministers communications and what I wanted and needed to do as a Christian
.And then of course, there was the anonymous letter, postmarked Phoenix, saying I was suspended. That because of my suicide attempt, I had committed murder in Gods eyes. Therefore that is how the minister viewed it.
In all the communications on Mr. B side, there was never any mercy, softness, kindness, even when I wrote to headquarters, Dr. Wannail, just sent it back to Mr. B. I was thrown to the lion.
Finally, I did call Mr. B. It was not a pleasant exchange. He was very upset at the charges I had made against him, more than what could we do to move forward.
From Jan. 2016, the only communication I have from the minister in Phoenix is thru the Sabbath greetings and the headquarters news.And access to the net cast. No one has ever called nor visited.
Jan, 20, 2017 I do get an update telling me the pastor is being transferred. And a new one coming in. I was so excited, maybe now, I would be worthy of being a part of the membership. I did request financial assistance. This is what he said.....Bonnie, based on counsel, I am not going to be able to help you. I suggest you ask your children for help.
I do not wish to appear bitter, although for the life of me, I don't understand his response. It wasn't that I made to much money. Oh well.
So, I do feel that I have been thrown away. My therapist tells me, these are perfectly normal feelings. And of course this is my side of the story.
And this I conclude with, Ministers are just men, I do not follow a man. It would be a wondrous thing to be able to counsel without fear of causing trouble. Of stating an opinion that is different from someone who is in "authority" I have done my best to remain respectful.
My therapist tells me that I need to have more realistic expectations. Because I have such high ones for myself, that causes me issues.
Now, my mental issues are recovering bit by bit again. And that is no thanks to the ministry. One day, maybe when the fear of speaking out, is diminished, we can have the help that is so desperately needed in the behavioral health field. My kuddos to Glen Gilchrist, my everlasting gratitude for he understood and was very wise in his education on mental health.
Do with this as you will. Or nothing. This is a true story, I have the documents to back it up. May God bless you and remember, we are not in this alone. You can ask for help from me any time
