Escaping Hell
Mike vents about a relentless stream of hardships and trauma that have followed him since leaving Portland, Oregon, during a period of hell that includes being a victim of rape and theft by an ex-partner, an illegal eviction spurred by friends of the ex, and precipitously losing his job after a mental health crisis sparked by the wildfires that besieged the state of Oregon in summer 2020.
Good evening, this is Mike George coming at you live from Michigan, and honestly, it’s been a really weird day. Usually, I have some sort of script or at least some weed to help spur on talking points, but tonight I’m devoid of both—just me and my leftover coffee from 16:20 this afternoon, venting because I keep thinking I’ve reached the end of my little saga in Portland. I left under a big cloud of drama, and even though I’m thousands of miles away now, that madness somehow continues to follow me.
It’s been a nightmare trying to escape the complications of my ex and the people back home. I’ve been working on consulting and my Crimson Rouge projects, but it’s difficult when you’re still processing being raped, having your shit stolen, and being illegally evicted by roommates while you were trying to evacuate during a wildfire. I spent months wondering if I deserved a boyfriend who would walk away while the world was literally on fire outside, and while I do a lot of reflection, I’ve realized that reflection doesn't always lead to growth—sometimes it’s just six months of hell following you from the West Coast to the Midwest.
I’m starting to see these problems manifest all over again here, and I’m tired of running. I spent ten years trying to move to Portland, but being back in the orbit of Ohio and Michigan has reminded me of the difference between people who are actually supportive and those who are just fake. I see people like Julie on here—we were marching band buds at Big Red back in Steubenville. Say what you will about the politics of the Midwest, but it contains some of the nicest people in America.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of paradise. To me, a place like Steubenville is a heaven disguised as a hell; it might look rundown or "ghetto" from the outside, but once you step inside, you find the most amazing, real people. Portland is the antithesis—a place that looks like a fabulous heaven on the outside with its cheap weed and queer community, but once you live in it, you see the cracks in the pavement and realize it’s an illusion full of fake people.
I’m done being "nice" and playing by the rules. I used to write electrical standards for utilities, so I understand why rules exist, but there’s a point where you stop being polite and start being real. This past half-year has been a complete dumpster fire. You can find a stray Chick-fil-A fry in that fire if you want, but the dumpster is still burning, and it seems like I’m the only one trying to put it out.
I’ve spent 6 months being homeless, and while the "austerity diet" gave me great abs, the pain doesn't necessarily make you stronger. I’m just a human trying to navigate this. I’m going to sign off now because I look like a hot mess, and I need to wipe away these tears. Crimson Rouge Studios is a bit of a moving circus right now, but hopefully, we’ll be back in Portland soon. In the meantime, take care of yourselves and take care of each other.
