Homeless In San Francisco ( Part One)

San Francisco has always been one of my favorite cities in the United States. My favorite part of the city was North Beach, with red-clothed tables in the ristorante’s and Old World delicatessen’s, is where I frequented while pregnant with my eldest son. I love the hustle and bustle of Market Street on a weekday morning. The pigeons would swirl in the square trying to steal a crumpet off of someone’s scone.

I landed in San Francisco right after Easter in 1984 and my thought was I would live there forever. Little did I know I would end up homeless and escaping once again the next year. In the same fashion I escaped from Chicago.Image

My first apartment in San Francisco was nestled between Lake Merced and the ocean on John Muir Drive. My new home was a beautiful furnished studio apartment in a secure building on the 3rd floor. I had a lovely patio that looked over a pristine wooded golf course. There was a pool and a community center. My Great Aunt lived on Nob Hill and she helped me get settled in nicely. My Aunt had a friend who was an attorney and he hired me to work in his office. When I wasn’t working, my Aunt and I would shop for baby clothes and other necessities I would need for my unborn child.

I was happy and content and looking forward to starting over in the City of Love. My happiness would be short lived because of my stupidity. My eldest son’s sperm donor was able to convince a mutual friend in Chicago to give him my phone number and address. He told my friend that he was a changed man and wanted to have a relationship with his unborn child and take care of us both. He came to San Francisco and called me.

It was about 7am on the fourth of July when he called. Sperm donor said he was at the restaurant in the gun club and on his way to my apartment. The gun club was only a couple miles away. I was frightened because in the past he abused me. I was also nervous because sperm donor would make a scene if I decided to not let him in the apartment. My mind was racing. I did not want a scene where I lived and at the same time did not want to call the police and be evicted from my home for having a domestic dispute.

I told sperm donor to meet me out front by the pool. He pleaded and begged me to let him come in my apartment he needed a shower and something to drink. I was so embarrassed by his appearance and nervously listening to him while glancing around at other tenants watching us. He said, “Just let me talk to you for a couple hours and then I will leave.” I told him reluctantly, “Ok but he would have to leave by the end of the day ”

As soon as we went up to my apartment he flipped out. He said, “How dare I leave and not tell him where I was going.” He grabbed me by the back of my head and pulled my hair and told me, ” I own you Becki , do you understand me? “He said,” I am not going anywhere.” I sat on the side of my bed so angry at myself for letting him in.

Sperm donor ended up getting a job part time at a restaurant in the Richmond district. I worked in the Financial district off First street. I knew sperm donor would not be around for long. For years he had a serious cocaine problem and I knew it would just be a matter of time before he found a dealer and would start using again.

I was right,  sperm donor found a cocaine dealer and all of his wages were spent in the drug house. I really could of cared less if he was using because when he was high he stayed away from me.  Generally he would stay in the drug house for days at a time.

I made sure to protect my earnings from work by telling sperm donor that all my money went into a joint account with my Aunt. If he knew I had money he would steal it or demand I give it to him when he was broke. My Aunt never knew that sperm donor was in town and would not find out until my baby was born.

In early October, a month before my baby was born, sperm donor and I had a terrible fight. He was very high and had been staying at the drug house. He lost his job and was on a long cocaine binge. Sperm donor came to my job and wanted to talk with me. He told me that Al the drug dealer had a girlfriend (one of many) that had been pregnant and she gave the baby up for adoption. Sperm donor wanted me to give up my child. I told him he was crazy and I could tell he was really high. We were standing outside the building I worked at he said,” No, no, you don’t understand these people will give us a bunch of money and then you just tell them you don’t want to give the baby up.” He said, “You just say at the hospital that you changed your mind.”

What I thought is, sperm donor lost his mind. He left and said he would see me at my apartment. I didn’t really give what he said any more thought because he was always hallucinating and coming up with crazy ideas. Later that night at my apartment sperm donor, his friend Al the drug dealer and his girlfriend Gloria showed up at my apartment.

Al and Gloria were scary people. Both were cocaine addicts. Sperm donor told me he would never bring these people to my apartment and now here they were sitting on my couch. I was tired and angry. Sperm donor told me he had talked to this ” guy” and he was a baby broker, sperm donor had given this guy several pictures of me and told this guy I wanted to give my baby up for adoption. I was so angry but he was serious, scary serious. Sperm donor said the “guy” would give him $15,000 up front , the money would come from a couple that wanted a child but were unable to go through the state or agency’s for adoption.

Sperm donor said he and the guy would split the money and all I had to do was tell the people wanting to adopt that I changed my mind after the birth. I was shocked! Sperm donor was serious. I said, “No I am not going to do that.” He threatened my life and said “Oh yes you are” The following day was my last day at work. When I got off work sperm donor was in the lobby of the foyer waiting for me. I should of gone right back into the elevator up to my office and called the police. But I didn’t , I quietly said,” What are you doing here?” and I kept walking. He followed me,  saying  he came to pick me up and told me to get in Al’s car.

Part two will follow Wednesday and it’s not going to end well.

This entry was posted in Domestic Violence, Dysfunctional Family Relationships, Family Secrets, Toxic Relationships and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to Homeless In San Francisco ( Part One)

  1. Wow what an ass! I hope you’re doing okay after blogging that. Thinking of you xo

  2. I was going to write the entire blog tonight but realized it would be 3000 words. I sure knew how to pick em back then. This post is not going to have a happy ending unfortunately. My darkest few years were yet to come. Thinking of you too have a great night.

  3. Melanie says:

    That had to be hard to write. I’m glad you can get it out. Thank you for sharing your story! Seriously, thank you.

    • Difficult but healing. There is a sense of freedom as well. I am happy to release all this crap and no longer hide. The children I birthed no longer have the power to “destroy me” as they put it.

  4. Wow, what a bastard! As Zoe said, I hope you’re well after writing about this, take care dear… xx

  5. I wasn’t sure if I should hit “like” or not. That is a bad situation, but thanks for sharing.

    • These were some dark years that’s for sure. The years 1980-1992 were horrible, other than my sons birth in 1989. If I could go back in time and re-live those years I would change them all.

  6. Pingback: Everyone Knew I Was His Girl. But Not Every One. | Deliberate Donkey

  7. Pingback: The Rape Story | I Survived a Murder Attack — My Family Didn't

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