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3 min readJul 20, 2025

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The day I thought about my last dinner, suicide

I am a chef that has worked in some of the most prestigious restaurants. I have worked directly with farmers and wine makers. Prepared some of the most beautiful dishes from the local ingredients and have created the most beautiful bonds with communities. Because of this field it can promote and give a blind eye to alcoholism. I became a victim to that within the social atmosphere. I have done work over the years on myself to recoup from that environment and now do private chef work and I am an employee at Whole Foods as a production chef as I have separated from alcohol. I rebuilt my life after losing everything. I built everything back up, credit, balances, credibility.

A man started courting me and won me over. After 18 months of sobriety and firm connections into my new way of life. I thought it would be nice for a relationship. We took walks around the neighborhood. He was charming, handsome, and funny. We talked about family, life, hopes, and struggles.

The last night I saw him for our evening walk it began to rain. It started to pour, we ran laughing holding hands. It was the first time I invited him into my home. That’s when the nightmare started.

After the start of the movie and the beginnings of the throws of intimacy my IBS kicked up. I had not been intimate in two years. Stepping away respectively to the restroom he became impatient. This is the nightmare to be indisposed and have someone kick a door in to say they are taking too long. I had no way to defend myself. He attacked and dragged me out. Not only am I uncomfortable with IBS to begin with, now I am dragged out mid session.

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His eyes changed, they went sharp like cats eyes. That’s when the blows began. To the head, chest, and the dragging. I am autistic on the low level of the spectrum with OCD and lock my door in a specific way that trapped me. I was trapped in my own studio. This continued for two hours as the cat and mouse game began.

He was very meticulous with the way he assaulted. Army holds, no fists, arm choking, and mouth covering. I screamed for help but with the rain it was not heard. I live in Baltimore and everyone’s biggest fear is a row home fire. I yelled fire. That’s when he closed my mouth and I passed out. I came to pretty quickly and instead of fight or flight I started to appease.

I convinced him to get comfortable and naked. Me in a tank and shorts that he hadn’t ripped off yet like original two sets of closes I tried to flee in. I reached down in an appeasing way, sensually held on to his cock and balls next to the door. Twisting the whole set so hard that made him fall to his knees. It gave me enough time to finally undo my OCD lock concoction. Up the stairs I ran into a deep Mt. Vernon, Baltimore complex from the 1920’s. The halls are deep and there are many different stair patterns. I ran to the top and it was too confusing for him. I sat very still.

He didn’t know which way I went. But he decided to take my wallet and house keys on his way out. The detective said when they saw me they thought I had gone to war. My current doctor is a doctor for war vets with severe PTSD. They and I cant’t believe I made it out alive. Always go for the cock and balls! I have then relapsed and have never been on medication. But now with the antidepressants, PTSD nightmare medication, and PLvax for the ruptured artery from strangulation. It all feels like too much.

I sat outside on my stoop today thinking about my daughter and my family. In that moment felt so exhausted. The event made me relapse and I became upset with myself. I cooked seared SPAM with two over easy eggs. It was so good. Looking back I could only think that “heck yeah this SPAM is amazing right now”. See Chefs we only really like the simple stuff because we prepare all day. I have amazing people around me and I am very fortunate that they let me take my time. But I realized today that I don’t want my last meal to be SPAM. I am going to keep moving forward and not let this incident take over. I looked down at my fork and told it that you will not be the last one.

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Pamjohn
Pamjohn

Written by Pamjohn

Funny, Deep, Casual Writing, Mental Health Awareness, Alcoholism, Clearing My Mind