Shelton also speaks well of two Parisian women, artists Stephanie Venerande and Sabrina Helene, also Facebook pals he never has met in person but says he relies on for emotional support.
His list of supporters includes his "guardian angel," the very private Phoenix woman who, he says, forcefully urged him to quit meth in 2005.
Jamie Peachey
Shelton with Queenie, a black Lab
he considers a dear friend.
Jamie Peachey
The controversial 1896 San Francisco prizefight that involved Wild West legend Wyatt Earp has captivated Chris Shelton.
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Shadow Dwellers: A Series
What's the one image you took away from the Tucson shootings? We thought so. That mugshot of Jared Loughner is haunting. And for the world, it has become the face of mental illness in Arizona. Here, we know that's not true. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but the story of what it's like to be mentally ill in this place cannot be told in a single photograph.
Tens of thousands of seriously mentally ill people live in Arizona. Some of them look just like you.
Other stories in the series:
Tucson's Cafe 54 Is the Real Face of Mental Illness in Arizona, Not Jared Lougher, by Amy Silverman
Phoenix's Most At-Risk Homeless Find Their Way, Thanks to a Team of "Navigators", by Paul Rubin
Meet Raven, a Homeless Man with More Community Than Many of Us Have, by Paul Rubin
Why Did the Arizona Department of Corrections Put a Mentally Ill Man in Cell with a Convicted Killer?, by Paul Rubin
Jan Brewer's Response to Jared Loughner: Slash More Than 35 Million in Services from an Already Beleaguered Mental Health System, by Paul Rubin and Amy Silverman
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"I can tell you she ended our friendship as part of her intervention," Shelton says. "She has never officially become friends again, but three years ago, she began guiding me to hang in there and continues to do this today."
Finally, there is Queenie, a black Labrador retriever whose Central Phoenix owner is a former neighbor of Shelton's.
"I know — the crazy guy who says a dog is part of his support system," he says. "But Queenie loves me unconditionally."
Shelton is less enthusiastic about his actual family.
"I love my mother, but I'd rather not talk about them," he says. "I try to move forward, not backward."
As for in-the-flesh friends, Shelton says he has longtime pals who often come through for him — John Neal (the Rhythm Room guy) and wife Laura and another school friend, Phil Hodesh, immediately come to his mind.
Says Hodesh, "Chris is a very intelligent and funny guy who happens to get very obsessive about things, to put it mildly. He has problems just like the rest of us, but so what? He would never hurt anyone and has a lot to offer this world. It hasn't been an easy ride for him."
Born in California as the youngest of three brothers, Chris Shelton moved with his divorced mom to Phoenix when he was in second grade. He is of Mexican and Irish descent.
His mother, Carroll Roarty, who now lives in Bullhead City, says, "Chris always had idiosyncrasies — he didn't eat baby food or, later, he'd go to school wearing a coat in hot weather — but he was a smart kid. Or was I so non-observant? It makes me so upset that the DNA cocktail that his father and I gave him has left him in such a struggle."
Shelton went to Solano Elementary School, south of Christown Mall near the Yucca Public Library.
"I have known that library since 1973," he says. "I love libraries. Being in a library is where I do some of my best thinking."
Shelton later attended Central High, where he says he was an honor student and occasionally even took tests for other students — for a few bucks.
"I think I was a regular kid in most ways, and I wasn't the worst-looking guy in class," he says. "But I just couldn't get a girl to go out with me. I didn't know what to do. I felt different than pretty much everyone else."
So, surely, did many of his adolescent peers.
But it went way beyond that for Shelton. He says he left home for good a week after graduating from high school — "My stepfather kicked me out," he says — and he moved to Southern California, where he stayed for years with his paternal grandmother.
A Los Angeles-area law firm hired him to do clerical work. He says he did well there for a few years before taking a job as a waiter at UCLA's faculty restaurant, where he served such luminaries as Eddie Murphy, John Lithgow, and basketball's James Worthy.
"They all knew my name," Shelton says.
He quit the restaurant job in the mid-1990s and moved to San Ysidro, at the southern tip of San Diego, where he found work, but only briefly, at a sandwich shop. By then, Shelton says he was suffering uncontrollable tremors and was having racing thoughts that made it difficult for him to sleep or to think clearly.
"I was having a really tough time," he says, which sounds like an understatement.
Shelton says he moved across the border to Tijuana for a few months. He says he loved it, even though his money situation was grim and his mental situation was getting worse.
He returned to Phoenix in the late 1990s.
His mother says she did her best to help him.
"When someone is mentally ill in your family, it's so hard to know what to do," Carroll Roarty says. "Chris is a good person, a gentle person who has a harder time in life than most of the rest of us. It just tugs at your heartstrings. When it came to trying to get a job back in Phoenix, he couldn't get one. He tried, he really did. But this is his life, and I tried to be there for him."
She paid the rent for his apartment for a time (this was before he officially qualified for disability income) and gave him $20 a week in spending money.
But his mental illness was getting the better of him.
"Eventually, I took a psychological test," he says. "They asked me if I had bad thoughts against the government, stuff like that. They told me I was mentally imbalanced and wouldn't be able to work anymore, that I was SMI. I felt like I had leukemia."