ROCK BOTTOM: When Women Abuse a "Protection from Abuse" Order

"Down at the end of Lonely Street, called Heartbreak Hotel..." It's a place many of us have been to; some more times than others. It's located in a state called "Rock Bottom" ... state of mind, that is. I've been there, and I suppose I'm there again, although not as the desperate resident I was before. This time, I'm more or less just an occasional visitor; I've been in and out of Rock Bottom going on two and a half years now.

(God, this isn't easy for me to write.) I don't like remembering those times, but I know that in order to finally let them go, to finally stop letting them haunt me and keep me down during these times when the depressive side of this manic-depressive thing kicks in, it is imperative to think on those times. I'm at a crossroads now; that much I'm convinced of, and in order for me to be sure I'm on the right path this time... the path toward fulfilling my life-long dream to be a serious writer... I need to clear my mind of all the crap that has collected dust in my head so I can make room for the more creative energy that belongs there.

My first stay in Rock Bottom began in June 1997. Prior to that, I had been employed as a professional E.M.T. in Erie, Pennsylvania, and active in a local volunteer fire department. Life was good! I had a nice home, a new truck... good job doing something I enjoyed doing. And, I had a girlfriend... someone whom I thought at the time was "the one." She was several years younger than me, but that wasn't an issue for us, at least not in the beginning. We had lots of fun together... we seemed to have quite a lot in common too; intellectually, emotionally, and physically. Her parents adored me! Her friends liked me, my friends like her. It seemed to be the ideal relationship. But, after awhile, it became apparent that it really wasn't.