Michael renisonMichael renisonWhen you asked me to share my story to help people understand how much good the John Howard Society does each and every day I was very happy to help but also scared. Happy because you changed my life. Without your kindness and the help of the John Howard Society I would not be where I am today. When your office asked me to come and have pictures taken I came the next day smiling but shaking on the inside.
I just want to write you to thank you and all your team for the thorough and compassionate care you have shown me over the past few years. It has been one of the bedrock’s of safety upon which I am rebuilding my life.
I just want you to know you are deeply appreciated. Thank you for all your skill, wisdom and kind and generous support. Words fail me when I try to put into words the feelings of thanks I have for your help. I realize you get to hear most people’s bad news so I want you to know how wonderful you have been to me and how your compassion and dedication have helped me overcome the seemingly unendurable. That is how far I have come in 18 short and long months. I look back at a surreal movie of the past few years. It seems like another world and another person.
Then:
My Durham Mental Health Caseworker at the time Marcee Van Noord brought me to the John Howard Society to meet you. I had filled out my housing forms with CHMA and the assisted housing lists but I could not get a single landlord to take me in. At that time I was homeless, had been in jail and diagnosed as being bi‐polar. I could not look into someone’s eyes, I would shake with anxiety attacks and wake up soaked in sweat screaming from terrible nightmares. It was an act of sheer terror just to go outside. The bus terrified me and stores were giant boxes of panic.
Before IT Happened: Just a few years earlier I had been a highly “successful“ internet businessman travelling around the globe to over 39 countries building a telecommunications empire. Then everything started unraveling. I had spent 10 years building the only government approved international phone company between Cuba and the US. I was a multi‐millionaire poised to sign a contract one early fall morning that would transform our small company into a major phone company.
All I had to do was sign a contract and be on my way. I was feeling cocky that morning and decided that because I was so “special” I had spent almost 25 years working 80‐90 hours a week –the definition of a bi‐polar person if there ever was one; everyone I was on my way to meet could wait while I “enjoyed” another cup of coffee. After all I was important. So down went the coffee and off into my cab only to get stopped in a tunnel in chaotic traffic growing more irritated as the minutes ticked by. Finally we were told that there had been an “accident” up there and we would have to walk. So off I went and as I climbed up to street level I joined the devastation of 9-11.
I had been on my way to sign that contract at the World Trade Centre. 47 out 49 people I had worked with were snuffed out, gone, their world destroyed. I was one of the two who had not made it to that meeting.
I stumbled my way out of that city of hell and as God is my witness when I made it to the other side all I could think about was the fact that my associates were dead and I was financially ruined. I cursed God at that moment I am ashamed to admit. It never crossed my mind that I had been saved. Not a glimmer. Just how unfair it was to me. Wow.
Somehow I made my way out of New York with a business associate and drove to Florida as there were no other roads open.
I’ve never been back. I can’t face it. I wake up in nightmares each and every day. The guilt never goes away. If I had just postponed the meeting or asked them to come to my hotel…
The result was that I was bankrupt. But not knowing I was bi‐polar my mind became fixated upon making the business back. I was driven working even more hours each week, ignoring my wife and my son. I paid all my backers off in full and was starting a new small business in 2009‐2010 when I slipped into a deep depression. I didn’t leave my couch for 7 months. My marriage collapsed and my son lost his way.
I used up my savings and finally could not carry on and accepted OW. I ended up evicted, broke sitting on the curb of a road in the pouring raid. My life literally in garbage bags.
My son had left home to escape my depression and was on the streets and into drugs and crime. He found me a place to crash – and crash it was. An unheated sagging frame shack condemned and unfit for human habitation. The floors, wall and ceilings I thought had been badly painted in black…no that was black mould – everywhere. Rats, cockroaches, bedbugs and best, no toilet just a filth encrusted hole in the floor. Two short years prior I had breakfast in the Bahamas sharing a joke with Sean Connery and there I was renting two rooms in cracker hell. How far can you fall and how easily…
Oh way, way farther…
After 2 days I was at Lakeridge Hospital on the 4th floor in intake as suicidal. From there I went into Crisis Care for 5 weeks. I joined wonderful mental health Day Treatment Program that ran for about 5 or 6 weeks. During that time I started rebuilding my life. I installed a toilet, literally washed floors, walls and ceilings in raw bleach 6 times. Then I walked to the Oshawa Recycling Facility and over several days carried enough half empty cans of paint to mix them all in a sort of beige and pained everything inside and out. I have never worked so hard at such a basic level. All I strived for was some basic decency. Something that was in conspicuous absence as my family, friends, church members and business associates just disowned my memory.
I finished that 6 week treatment program feeling proud of what I had dealt with and had overcome. I knew there was so much more to do but I actually dreamt things were changing…
They were…it got worse.
That graduation day I splurged and made myself a tuna sandwich for dinner and went off to a peaceful sleep…..Well maybe not peace filled as it turned out.
In the early hours of the next morning I was stunned awake as flash bang grenades exploded into my consciousness while giant slavering police dogs literally stood on my chest growling at my face while I shook in terror. I looked up to see a masked SWAT officer point a huge gun at me and he was yelling at me but I could not hear a word.
I was hauled out of my little bed and knelt down and handcuffed. Various SWAT officers kept shouting questions at me about guns.
What???
I have never owned a gun, never had one in my home. I wouldn’t even let my son use toy ones as a child. I hate guns and violence.
It was a nightmare. You are ripped into consciousness and even though you don’t know it you life is over. Every rational, civilized part of society has been torn asunder.
It turned out the son of the owner of the shack had been hiding illegal weapons and drugs on the property. I was just living in a room. I had no idea.
I could not comprehend what happened next as I was placed in the back of a cruiser and taken to the Oshawa jail. I saw no one. Had no idea of what to do. I was told I had been charged with almost 24 weapons offenses. It was madness. I became suicidal. Two days later I was transferred to segregated (solitary) confinement) in the Lindsay jail.
By now I had been reduced to wearing a rough suicide dress, barefoot, with my glasses to see and no blankets or heat. In October and November. I ate with my hands.
The worst thing I discovered was that I was claustrophobic and as I went alone in the steel box in the paddy wagon to and from Lindsay each day usually in the dark, hunched over in chains I would shake in terror. After Lindsay jail the worst was when my son Noah went into a police station in Toronto and offered to plead guilty to all of the 24 erroneous charges against me if the Crown dropped all charges against me. I was not in any way guilty of any of the charges. The Crown was asking me to be a witness for them, yet I was still under surety and the fear that I could go to trial. I did not know about this and would have done anything to stop my son from doing what he did. He was not guilty at all of the charges but he knew the guilty party and probably knew I could be living in a dangerous place unwittingly. When he pleaded guilty just so his father could walk free I was shattered inside. There was my son making choices and accepting consequences. I realized I needed to do the same. He is in prison while I walk free. Something I live with every single day.
Two years ago I thought the worst was over until I tried to find a room to rent. Thanks to Google everyone would search my name and see all the charges in the press release. But there was no mention that all charges were withdrawn. Funny in the justice system there are only two outcomes either you are found guilty or not guilty but no one says oh sorry you were innocent. To this day I can’t get a job, volunteer or even find a decent place to live.
So there I was I was homeless with 2 grocery bags to my name.
It was only because of the kindness of you my guardian angel that I left Crisis Care on a Friday morning with my 2 bags and moved into my new home that afternoon. It was an amazing feeling. For the first time in over a year I had my own space. It felt so good just to be able to shut the door of my room and realize I was free. Those miracles took a few brief hours but to a broken wretch like me it was truly heaven sent. I was homeless with no hope of finding a safe place to live in need of security and care. Both of which you gave so generously. So every week I say a prayer of thanks for Sabiha Abo and the John Howard Society in Oshawa.
I just want you to know I am a very different person today than I was a few short years ago. I have been through utter hell. A hell I would not wish upon any human being. Frankly being in solitary confinement, barefoot and dirty without my glasses to see left me with one choice. Get tough and survive or go insane.
I discovered I was far tougher than I ever dreamed. I had the worst shit dumped on me when I did nothing wrong. I came close to breaking but I didn’t. The worst thing I discovered was that I was claustrophobic and as I went in the paddy wagon to and from Lindsay each day usually in the dark, hunched over in chains I would shake in terror.
I am telling you this so you can know I do completely understand how bad life can be and how tough it is. But I can also tell you that you can come out the worst situations a better person. If I can, anyone can.
Even though the past years were utter hell and though I would not wish that hell on any one I am glad that I endured it. It was, in some ways, the best thing that has ever happened to me. I am a lot tougher and I have wisdom and understanding of other people and myself that I never really understood before. I can now tell what happened to people and laugh when I describe wearing a “suicide dress” standing dirty, barefoot and using my hands to scoop food into my mouth because they wouldn’t give me a spoon much less a fork. Yes it was bad, but you know not one person treated me badly throughout the whole ordeal. The weirdest part was standing rank, unwashed and unshaven in a solitary jail cell below the court house each day all alone creating “beats” with my hands on the sides of my filthy, dirt ridden sweat pants. I did that from morning until they came to shuttle me back. Each day there were one or two young men (I’d guess no more than 22) who where on trial for murder. It was so sad to listen to them. They didn’t care at all. They openly discussed their trials and that they had killed people, just yelling back and forth. They couldn’t figure me at all. An old white guy who probably looked crazy as shit to them. Never speaking ‐ just swaying side to side whacking out beats 8‐10 hours at a stretch. When I look back I can’t imagine how bad I looked. I didn’t have a shower in a month. Unshaved, hair uncombed, squinting just to see. My feet were bloody and all scabbed over because I was kept barefoot in solitary and picked up an infection. Yes, just the look to put up on Facebook…LOL. I gave homeless people a bad name. You know I ironed my clothes for the first time in a year, it was an amazing feeling. I treasure the simplest things in my life now. And that is wonderful. Our family motto is “One day at a time”. I am living just that.
A good friend of mine who has his own very successful business made an interesting observation about me the other evening. He said he was envious of me.
What????
I’ve been through hell, I’m broke, my health is not good, my family is shattered by divorce and jail, everything I owned was looted while I was incarcerated, I live in a set of rooms, I have no car and I have no planned future…what sounds good about that? I am a sorry sack of failure for sure. Or am I? Well turn it around in your perception. I emerged from the ordeal emotionally tougher than I ever hoped I could be. I assert myself to most people’s shocked surprise. I redefine my boundaries daily and grow commensurately. Yes I am broke…but I have no debt, no creditors and don’t have any worries about bills unpaid or mortgages at risk. I treasure each day and try to live it as if it was my last. I want to squeeze every last drop of goodness out of each day just so I can wake up to a whole new adventure. Imagine tasting life they way you consume a juicy fresh pear. That sweet tingle as you crunch down and the trickle of the pungent juices overflowing down your chin. This is life. I am once again in need of safe housing but I am going back to school and exercising my mind and broadening my horizons. I will be volunteering and giving back in many meaningful ways. I know the best days of my life are ahead of me. I searched out church by church weekly until I found the right “home” for me and my faith. The amazing feeling of freedom is to feel totally relaxed telling a pastor that I am shopping for the right church. Now I am the Head Trustee for the church; a church that knows my full story. The one word to describe my goal in life is one I have never considered – serene. The adjectives for serene are: calm, peaceful, or tranquil; unruffled: a serene landscape; That is how I feel. Amazing. In my whole life I had believed that what I sought was happiness. What I did not comprehend was that happiness is just the blossoms that grow out of serenity. I spent Thanksgiving sitting on a rock in Georgian Bay with the water a mirrored millpond of spun glass and the skies an azure blue scatted with wondrous white cotton candy clouds. A scant year before I was caged in cold unheated cell. Now I was home. I was in the presence of God’s wonder and totally blessed. I was invited to my first Christmas by new friends. Amazing. This year I spent Christmas inside prison with my son for a week. The best Christmas I have ever spent. My son and his mother are learning to reconcile years of unhappiness and my son is maturing into a marvelous man who will be able to take charge of his life. He finished his Grade 12 with a 90% average and works full time at prison jobs showing maturity and determination. Is my life perfect? No. But it is a work in progress. I still wake soaked in sweat from terror driven nightmares. Some days are very hard both from feeling down and anxious. But they are days and a new day starts fresh. Changes still terrify me but I realize change is inevitable. All my life I did whatever I could to avoid change and hid away from the world. Now that hurt little boy is taking his first steps as a man. Scary but exciting too. So I really consider myself one of the most privileged of human beings and that, as I grow in my new life, amazing adventures are awaiting me around the next corner.
Simply I feel and believe the following truths:
Who you are tomorrow will be because of what you do today.
Each of us is a unique creation. Out of all time and space you are the only model that will ever be. A masterpiece. That is how important and special you are. Everyone you meet is also a unique and wondrous masterpiece. What a waste not to learn from each unique creation you meet.
Compassion should guide my actions.
Because you are wondrously unique if you understand what you are good at and combine that with what you love to do, your chances of having a successful and happy life go off the charts. It is very good to just remind yourself that; “it’s not my problem”
Just let go and let God because “even this shall pass”
So even though I live in ongoing fear of being homeless and still wake up soaked in sweat from terror driven nightmares I have learned a profound and simple truth. “Who you are is what you do. Not what you say”. So I am what I chose to become.
The simple phase … “just take a little step outside your comfort zone”…some days my step is a millimeter but it is a step. In a few years I will be far away from my old comfort zone. That will be very interesting to see.
So here are my thanks. Because of you my life is blessed. So anything I can do to help the John Howard Society I will do. Yes I am scared. Yes I hate the thought of the world looking at me. But if I don’t speak out so people can understand how important the John Howard Society is who will be there to help the others.
Out of this I have learned that compassion and practical assistance changes lives. What better investment can we make if not in helping the helpless to rebuild their lives? So I am writing this letter knowing the world will read it and most will be appalled but I am hoping a few people will be moved to help the John Howard Society make the world a safer and better place.
So please give this to the person who took my pictures and let them know I will speak to anyone they want about the good work you do no matter what I fear.