| Needles, Needles and dreams... |
| This topic just popped up in my head, because it's a way i lived my life for so many years..i would have so many dreams in my addiction, and i'm referring to dreams like goals, now real dreams when your sleeping i also had alot of sick twisted awsome dreams but i want to write about a junkie who had hope, who knew there was a better life out there for him..I would day dream alot when i was using, picturing myself clean, living life, having a beautiful caring wife, and family, driving around in a nice car, etc..then i would come out of my nod to my sick reality i called my life, my addiction was rough, not so much as homeless eating off the streets rough but just a internal tourment..thinking back my life really sucked when i was getting high, everyday i would just create so much chaos, make some huge argument with my boss because i thought i knew a better way to do the job, or sneaking off to some room for my nap time, mind you i was at work, but Dominic needed his rest if you wanted the best work out of him, or i needed that 2hour lunch so i could wait for my drug dealer, cause you didn't want me there when i was sick, and wow i was a mess when i was high too, shitt..i thought i had it going on, i thought no one could tell me shit, i had a 1 track mind, i got this i said...i'm not that bad, but then would be crieng n begging my mother for money..a sad life i must say, huh...but i remember way back when i was growing up, way before the drugs or the parent divorce..that i would be something great, wanted to be in the army at one point, i was so into it..put on my lil camo clothes running around in the back yard with some tools i taped toghter to look like a gun (yea pops yelled at me for that one), but i always dreamed big..i guess you could say fantisy is a drug for me, living in my own little world, it's like now i look back and my life was like a movie in the drama section, some of the shit i did, i just think back and laugh at, like what a dumbass i was, but it's just the insanity drugs brought me...i think it was when i first got locked up and those doors closed on me, the movie ended and reality hit me, alll my dreams were out the window..well actually it wasent until 4days later that i actually realized where i was, withdrawling from a 2bundle a day habit can be rough, i woke up in the shower at one point, on someone elses bed when he went to the bathroom..ahhh shit thas right i remember he came back and i was in his bed instead of mine, i was soo out of it, pidifull can only come to mind....but i guess after that last needle finally broke on me and i found recovery i became alive, they say when u enter recovery lost dreams awakin..and they did, I want to do so much, i'm so outgoing, and love to have fun..that little kid returned that had been lost in a needle for so long..and now have more dreams than ever, not unrealistic dreams, like you could be the president..haaa yeaa right, i wouldent want nasty bumper stickers talking shit on me on everyones car, so scratch that..but like i have found a passion for cooking and i will be a executive chef at a 3star resaurent..something to work towards..ive learned over the years that lifes pointless without dreams, it's like your just exsisting and not living, your better off with a needle in your arm...but not me, not today..i survived a severe drug addiction where any day could of been my last, not knowing if i'd wake up, and didn't really care cause everyday in a addicts life is hell..the never ending thoughts, from the time your eyes open your thinking how to get money, how to get around work to go cop, what lies you have to lie more about to cover yours tracks,do i have enough dope left over to get me by, trieng to remember who you got what from the day before so you don't overlap your sceems...just so much bullshit i went through, but again a life i chose, sad isint it?..i think so..but today dominic has some dreams, and is clean so i can achieve them... |
You know, ive been to alot of meetings and talked to alot of drug addicts and alot of the had horriable stories..what was i doing?..just comparing my addiction, justifyying that it wasent that bad..that b/s..I was shooting herion and smoking crack, ruining my life and all those around me, so yes it was that bad..and what i got out of that is we all have a story, yes they may be similar..but this ones mine..My names Dominic, i was born on Dec 23, 1986..i for the most part had a good child hood, caring and loving mother all my needs were met and was pretty spoiled, my dad was a workaholic..so we didn't do much bonding..but i did learn the value of hard work..My parents had their differences so after a 11year marriage they got divorced, where me my mother and sister moved to Delaware..Where we lived at my grandparents..i went from a nice neighborhood and catholic school, to a public school in the city with bars on the window and they found crack on our park...it was a rough transition for me..my mother tried her hardest, but she always went out so i found friends, "the cool crowd" always looked to be accepted i would do whatever..i thought the older kids were soooo cool with the cell phones, cars, girls, partys..i wanted to be like that so bad, i was so nieve..unaware of the hell i was entering, as all addicts i started with weed, alchol..then pills..started really using at 13..i thought nothing of it, i found my get away..i found freedom from my life with drugs, i loved it from my first hit, i knew then this is what i wanted to do..i was so stupid..as the years went by i started getting into trouble..frequent underage consumption arrests, i spend many hours in holding cells..having my mother cry her eyes out, i laughed at the situation, i laughed at the situation like my life was a movie, as in the mafia i got my cherry popped..i ended up dropping out of school, and my life revolved around getting high..i worked, i stole, lied cheated, and manipulate to get money..getting into oxycotton daily, tried to get help after i experienced what withdrawling was..that didn't last long..through my so called "friends" endind up picking up herion at 18..i remember when my friend shot me up for the first time, i found true love i thought, now in all actuallity i had just entered hell..a life of misery, there was just so much pain in me that i didn't want to feel..everyday i awoke to cause more chaos, more tears..i messed up a couple real good jobs, and of course added on to my police record..now longer misdomenors but felonies..today i have 2 menila envelopes full of police paper work, my backround isint pretty and its there for ever to haunt me at every job interview..i wound up messing up on probation running to detox, did i want help??..had i hit bottom??..naaa i just didn't want to go to jail..shit i was only like 120lbs..so i wound up in a 6 month inpatient treatment center, where i struggled for the first 3 months but then bought into recovery, i finally felt freedom, love , feelings that i ran from for so long, i completed my stay..ended up with 10 months clean..i was really into my recovery..then one day it came out of nowhere, i had a needle in my arm once again..violate dprobation and got locked up for a lil while, withdrawling off 90mg of methadone and a 2bundle a day habbit..cold turkey, that was horriable..only to come out and go right back to it, when i had the choice, i had recovery in me i had the knoledge..but the fuunny thing about the disease of addiction is its progressive, and it doesent care about you at all..it wants to ruin your life, and it did..i lasted about 2 more months i was yet again at bottom (where i thought you could only reach once) theres a trap door at every bottom that goes deeper, this time lost my car which i loved and had so much money into, my dog who was like a son to me i had for 6 years had to give up, lost my job, i put my mom in sooo much debt that she had to literally get rid of the house and she moved to SC, with my sister..so here i was all alone in delaware..i found my way back to that treatment center where i did another 6months, so to sum this up, i ended up relapsing again around that 9months, i put work ahead of my recovery and lost everything again, almost lost my life this time..my life was filled with misery all over again and it started with that first drink, took me right back to what i disd best..Now this could only be through god, that my father came by and asked me to move to ohio with him, after we hadent talked for 7years..he saved my life..coming up on 2 months clean now, found NA out here, doing step work..and my sister asked me this one good question, what makes this time different?..and all that came out was im putting in the work this time, i want no longer to take from people but to give back, repay all i stole..help those in need..i still dwell a little of my past espically what i did to my mother, but am trieng to move on and do the work today so i can have a good past, so if i can help anyone maybe just one person not go through all the hell i did, then my past would be worthwhile, i wasent put here to die with a needle in my arm, i do have a purpose and am a good person with so much to give..So to end this, my names Dominic and im a grateful recovering addict.
THE PROBLEM: In any given year-besides the other killers, Cigarettes, Diet and Obesity, we find that 75 % of all premature deaths are caused by heart disease, auto accident, homicide or suicide, and that alcohol abuse is the primary cause of all four. For instance, alcohol related car crashes kill somebody every 20 minutes in America, but many of these sudden fatalities are not listed as alcohol being the cause of death. People are dying of alcoholism without ever having taken a drink themselves. While circumstances of teenagers who use alcohol differ from adult situations, the underlying causes are the same for all humans; they are of course, deciding the important values of which you are - your education, a satisfactory vocation, conforming to social expectations while seeking a rewarding relationship and a spiritual meaning to your life. It is important for everyone to know that alcoholism is a progressive illness that becomes more aggressive with each new generation. Young or old, despite race, color or creed, even the most educated have suffered. Until 1939 no one could not stop alcohols wild tsunami surge across the reckless sea of mankind in the United States. As a protoplasmic poison, when ingested in any amount, however small the quantity, it becomes a killer to all life forms. The health factors to human beings who risk drinking alcohol are enormous, altering, perhaps forever, the mind, body, inhibitions, mood, expectations and metabolism - even our moral characteristics to unpredictable, controversial levels in gender, sex and lifestyle. While racing through our veins, it can also prevent people from losing weight no matter how hard they try, while others get so skinny from it they wither away. We have all seen bloated beer bellies suddenly occur or a person in their 30’s looking 60 because of the biological deterioration alcohol causes to the human body. It makes no difference, the Siren’s who seduced Ulysses’ or the psychoactive drug-alcohol calling to us now-they are both one and the same. Medical science has not fully understood the emotional impact it causes. Many different types of human disorders such as self-pity and an inferiority complex are a direct cause to alcohol consumption. Alcohol also speeds up the aging process; it contributes to diabetes, hypoglycemia, hemophilia, vital organ failure, and other negative biological/capillary effects. The declining list includes attacks against tiny blood vessels that hemorrhage throughout the body, such as blood-shot eyes and varicose veins in the legs and feet. Other symptoms include internal bleeding, involuntary tremors, high cholesterol, low blood sugar, salt retention, and dehydration. It can also lead to cardiac arrest and death. All alcoholics’ lose touch with reality and enter the world of make believe. They become full of self-pity. The blues, means, they feel sorry for themselves and they begin to avoid their responsibilities at home (family) and in the work place for fear of failure. You can pretty well take it on faith and medical science that if you drink alcohol for any period of time you undoubtedly have brain damage. There is more, but it all happens because of a correctable, nutritional imbalance that throws the entire mind and body out of balance! Alcohol causes a deadly cycle to our health that can be broken. If we fix this problem, we fix most of what ails our country. An alcohol related dead or wet brain cell is irretrievable. Don’t drink it! George E Buttner - Heartwood Creations - www.heartwoodcreations.org
I got back from Washington, DC, where I'd been invited to a party celebrating the Parity Bill being passed. I met Patrick Kennedy; son of Ted Kennedy, Congressman Jim Ramstad; who was instrumental in getting the bill passed, Pat Taylor; the director of Faces & Voices of Recovery, David Wellstone; whose father started the Parity Bill & for who it is named after, and former First Lady Rosalyn Carter; who took a picture with me, arm in arm, while holding up a copy of JOURNEY magazine! I left DC thinking it had been one of the best week-ends of my life, and that the picture of Mrs. Carter & I was going to look great in my next Letter from the Editor.
When I got home, my girlfriend told me she needed to go back into treatment.
I was … shocked, hurt,
Then angry.
Then angry that I was angry.
I knew she had been … stuck for a while;
She had suffered from depression before, and that came back after she lost her job a few months ago.
She just...slid into a funk, that she couldn't seem to climb out of;
Spending her days watching the Sopranos, Jordan and Law & Order. Making only token efforts at going to a meeting or looking for a job.
In fact, we had agreed that she should move into Joy's House; hoping that helping the other girls, would help her.
The reason I got mad is because I had left her in charge of Joy's House; a new sober house I just opened, even though her managing of it up to that date had been otiose, at best;
I was doing a lot that she should have been handling.
I agreed to leave her in charge because she said she knew that she could do it,
And she knew what it meant to me – I opened Joy's House in memory of my daughter, Joy.
It is a of way of keeping a promise I made to her at her graveside when I finally got clean & sober:
To live a life that she could be proud of, instead of the life I'd been living.
It is also an amends to her,
And to God.
Her...not caring what her actions could have done to the house's reputation,
Or to the girls living there who were still new in recovery,
Got to me.
It still does.
Which is making me look at myself & wonder if I am self centered or supercilious, for feeling this way;
Because the reason I got angry,
About being angry,
Is that I also understood that this is a hard time for her,
On top of the the other problems she has had lately.
This is the time of year when she lost her son (yes, we've both lost a child),
And a few years later, her Mom.
So when I got back from DC and she told me that she needed help,
That she didn't want to go back to what she had been like when she was in active addiction;
Snorting heroin & taking 400 mgs. of methadone a day,
I made some calls.
The response humbled me.
Again.
My brother, my nephew and my cousin's husband have needed treatment in the past year or so.
When my brother called me after being kicked out of the house, asking for help,
I called a friend looking for advice.
She was friends with the owner of Recovery First & said she would call him. I knew Jim; he'd advertised in JOURNEY before.
'Jim' called me back that night and said he didn't think the insurance my brother had would cover it, but he would take him in,
On a Friday,
And they'd check on his policy on Monday.
Monday, Jim called me back & informed me that the policy, as he thought, would not cover treatment.
“But, he's here.” Jim said, “And I have a bed, so we're going to let him stay on a scholarship.”
Recovery First is also where my girlfriend went two years ago, and she was such a beautiful woman afterwards. I want that girl back.
When my sister called me a few months later to tell me her son, was so far gone on crack that they refused to let him stay in the house because he was stealing everything – he had to camp out in their backyard - and they needed help, I called a friend who is the Asst. Director of The Village; another treatment center here in Miami.
'Sharon' told me to get him on a bus and they would have a bed for him the minute he got here.
And they did.
Two weeks ago my cousin, who is like my sister, called me.
She told me that Edwin, her husband, was in jail and had been for the last month,
For violating probation – his urine test came back dirty. They were going to court in the morning and the judge was willing to send him to treatment,
But the only place they found had a two month waiting list. Could I help?
I called 'Sharon' again because I knew The Village worked with the drug court here. I couldn't reach her, so I called her boss 'Frank' who is the Sr. Vice President of West Care – the company that bought The Village. I'd met him at the FADAA conference, even had breakfast with him & Sharon while there.
He's a nice guy.
I had no idea how nice.
He asked me Edwin's last name, who his judge was, and what courtroom he would be in.
I told him all I knew was his last name.
Frank told me not to worry, that he'd make a few phone calls.
The next day my cousin called me & told me that a representative from The Village had been there & the judge had agreed to release Edwin from jail into The Village's custody.
He is still in there today & doing great.
So when Lynda told me she needed help, I called Jim, Sharon & Frank.
Jim said, “We love Lynda. We'll find her a bed.”
Sharon & Frank said, “Just tell us when you need it, Charlie.”
In another conversation, I also told another friend of mine, who's the CEO of The Watershed; a large corporation with 3 treatment centers in Fla. & Tex.
“Our facility in Boca is for older people, in their 30's, 40's & 50's. It's very relaxed and calm. I should have bed available there on Monday if you want it, just call me.”
What do you say to people like this?
Who will give you a bed in their program that runs from $16,000 a month,
To over $25,000 a month,
And they do not want anything in return:
Except to help someone.
It is still such a new experience for me;
My addiction still whispering, “It's a trick” inside my head.
What do you say to God, who has put people like this in my life?
When you know you don't deserve it?
I met all of these people through JOURNEY magazine;
Either selling them an ad or meeting them at conferences,
But, even in an economy like this, not once have any of them asked for anything in return for helping my family.
For helping me.
To know that there are people like this in the world;
Truly caring,
Truly good,
People,
And to know these people personally,
Is a guerdon - a reward, of sobriety.
I spoke with my girlfriend today; she's doing good.
I can hear that beautiful woman I met a year ago trying to get out.
She's at the same detox center we met at.
I'd gone through it 6 times in 8 years before 'getting' it - and was working there as a night tech when she came in (and she ended up getting my job as a night tech after she finished treatment!)
They told her she's going to be there for 7 days.
They didn't charge us, either.
peace
A lady called my office yesterday & asked my secretary if she could get issues 1 & 2 of It’s all in the JOURNEY. I called her back the next day to explain that I’d be glad to send her issue #2, but I did not want to give out anymore of issue 1 because there are only about 75 left out of the original 10,000 and they were very special to me; a realization of a dream.
She asked who she was speaking to.
When I told her who I was, she got very excited and said, “Charlie G! It is such an honor to talk to you!”
It took me aback.
People tell me they love the magazine, the art work, the columns, even my writing,
And I like that.
Because then I know God is still with me;
(I could not even pretend that I do this stuff by myself).
But when she told me it was an honor to talk to me,
It made me…uncomfortable.
Did she not know who I was? Really?
I told her, “Lady, I am just an alcoholic & addict. I am nobody.”
She told me she worked for ******, (a company that has multiple treatment centers in multiple states), and that she was in recovery too. “I’ve gone back to school & gotten a bunch of letters to add after my name, but I know it’s one day at a time.”
She continues telling me how much she loved It’s all in the JOURNEY.
“The covers, Detox Diary, Prose Posse, they are just great!” She gushed.
“Detox Diary is my column.” I said, “It’s about me deciding to get clean, and fighting to stay clean, after losing my daughter.”
“Joy” She said simply, “Yes, I know. She was beautiful.”
I was taken aback, again.
I mention Joy a lot in the magazine; the magazine is dedicated to her & came to be to keep a promise I made to her to live a life she could be proud of, instead of the life I’d been living, And also?
So Joy would not be forgotten.
She sits in the O of JOURNEY on each cover, she is in the masthead & you will usually find her in my column or the Table of Contents.
But that this lady knew her name, & spoke it with such a casual intimacy – it touched me.
“I want to tell you something, Charlie. How funny God is. My husband & I have been trying to have a baby for years and we just found out a few months ago that it isn’t going to happen.
I didn’t know if I was going to be able to stay sober when I heard that, We’ve wanted a child so badly, for so long. But then I came across your magazine. I read all your stories about you & your daughter Joy, and something happened.” She said.
“Reading about you and Joy, and what happened to her, I realized that if you could go on the way you have, not just never having a child, but having one and then losing her, then I knew I could make it, too.”
I didn’t know what to say, except thank her, and then she told me something that completely humbled me, to the point of wanting to cry with either happiness or sadness – I didn’t know which.
I’m going to tell you something else, but I don’t want it to sound hokey.
I, and I’m sure it must be true for a lot of people who can’t have children or have lost a child, who read your magazine;
I feel like I have a child when I read the stories you write about you & Joy. I am right there with you, I feel your love, pain, happiness, pride and hurt for her in each story, and I wanted you to know that it helps me.
That’s why I wanted to get the first two issues, I haven’t read them yet.”
What do you say to that?
What can you say to that?
To know that someone else knows Joy,
Sees her; is right there with her in my stories,
That Joy is still alive in someone else’s head besides mine,
And that she is helping someone even now…
How do you put that feeling into words?
She humbled me.
That’s what I told her.
And that I’d send her the 1st and 2nd issues.
My words helped this lady.
This lady’s words help me.
So easy, to make it easier.
peace
Today I was asked to become a member of the Miami Beach Chamber of Commerence. Last week I was asked to be on the board of a South Florida Coalition for Drug Free Communities.
On the board.
I am already a member of the Miami Beach Coalition for a Drug Free Community,
And PAPDA (Parents Against Prescription Drug Abuse).
Though I was not sure if I qualified as a parent.
My daughter Joy died 23 years ago.
I actually paused when it was asked at my church last Father’s Day, ’How many fathers are there here today?’
Am I? I thought.
A father?
I know I was, but when you lose a child are you still a parent?
I didn’t know, until I visited Joy’s grave again.
There,
At that moment,
I knew I was with my little girl.
And I would always be her daddy.
I am a father.
I go off on tangents a lot, which is probably why my stories are so long.
I started writing this because at my ‘Sober at 6’ home group, a friend of mine named Jimmy G spoke;
About Thomas Edison, the Wright brothers and the space shuttle
Thomas Edison had tried over 7,500 times to make a light source with a newly discovered thing called electricity..
A reporter asked him one day, “Why don’t you give up? You’ve failed over 7,500 times to make it work. It doesn’t.”
Edison replied, “That’s how little you know about science, and obviously even less about life. I didn’t fail 7,500 times;
I documented 7,500 ways it doesn’t work. That just brings me closer to finding the way it will.”
Jimmy G. spoke about Gen. Langley, who failed hugely,
And publicly,
Trying to make a machine that could fly.
But two brothers in NC didn’t hear about that, or didn’t listen;
They invented a machine that flew.
Think about that.
Think bout trying to explain something to someone who has no reference to relate to what you are saying.
It’d be like trying to explain the color red to a person who was born blind.
I told you that I was asked to be a member of the Miami Beach Chamber of Commerce & on the board of a South Florida Coalition for a Drug Free Community and the other groups I am a member of, because some of you reading this;
CEO’s, counselors, CAP’s, PhD’s, etc..
Will think being a member of these groups is not a big deal,
Rather a pre requisite.
But for me,
For us;
Alcoholic or addicts still ‘In the pink cloud’
Still in wonder of the 4th dimension of recovery,
Of our growing conscious contact with a ‘Higher Power’;
With God.
Or those who are still on the outside,
Looking through the glass at people in recovery.
Wanting in, but not believing it is possible.
It is a big deal.
Incomprehensible.
If you told me two years ago that I would be asked to be on the board of a drug free community coalition,
And the editor of a recovery magazine,
If you told me I would interview the Deputy Director of the White House’s National Drug Control Policy 2 months ago for issue 4,
And a Congressman today for issue 6,
I would not have comprehended what you were talking about.
Would not believe something like that was possible.
Could not even imagine it as a fantasy.
After 10 ½ years in prison,
Then 10 ½ years running a strip club in active addiction.
Overactive addiction;
Hospitalized 3 times for complications from alcohol;
Starting my ‘career’ with Tequila, ending it with light beer;
(Easier on the stomach, but takes more to get the job done),
Being Baker Acted & locked up for observation in a mental ward for 72 hours;
After being arrested for standing in the rain with a knife,
Screaming at a God I didn’t believe in.
Running around the ghettos of Miami in the middle of the night trying to score,
Staring at myself in the mirror with lips blistered from not letting the crack pipe cool off.
Blood trickling down my arm where I didn’t bother wiping it after shooting up,
And vomit sprinkling the toilet from my last meal:
A six pack or two (depending on how many I could hold down)
Losing my wife, job, and eventually my house,
Selling it to go into treatment.
To tell me where I would be today -
Is why I tell you where I am today:
So that the new comer (Yeah, that’s you bro, & me too.) reading this who cannot comprehend the idea, may believe a bit.
I can’t understand how you get 100’s of channels on a TV by pushing a button,
I just see that it works if you do it.
Dude, it is so possible,
If you just do it.
I have a quote on my magazine’s website,
And I also put it in every magazine;
Until one is committed there is always hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative and creation there is one elementary Truth, the ignorance of which, kills countless ideas and splendid plans. That the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves, too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would otherwise not have occurred. A whole stream of events issue from the decision raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.
Johann Wolfgang Goethe
Jimmy G also talked about the Space Shuttle, and how it takes 90% of it’s fuel to get 10% on it’s way.
Until it breaks the chains of gravity.
Then it takes just little spurts of fuel to rocket it along to the farthest reaches of space,
Because there is nothing holding it back.
Do the steps;
Thoroughly and honestly.
And you will break the chains of addiction and be rocketed into a whole new dimension;
Of belief.
In life.
In the future.
In yourself.
There will be nothing to hold you back.
Believe it.
It happened to me.
peace
| Life is a rollercoaster ride; Full of daily ups and downs. But all I wanted was the highs; Never wanted to touch the ground. Life, I thought, was a carnival of fun; So I hit the ground and began to run. Faster and faster toward an unknown goal; Looking for answers, but I fell in a hole. Darker and darker my horizons became; Irritable, discontent, and always full of shame. A man in the sideshow approached me one day; A magic potion in hand; he said he could show me the way. Do you want to soar higher and higher, never to fall? Buy my potion to feel no pain, COME ONE, COME ALL! How much I wondered, could this potion cost? To never again feel lonely, never again feel lost. "How much?" I asked, I had to know; So the good feelings would always flow. He handed me the bottle and said with a smile; "The cost we will discuss in just a little while." "Try it, go ahead, you'll never be the same." You'll feel its power, you'll be the winner of every game." I gazed upon the potion, filled with such desire; To never again to feel bad, to never again tire. What a priceless liquid; I drank it down; Not one more day would I have to frown. But what I didn't know, what I couldn't see; He'd sold me a lie; nothing is free. Higher and higher I flew, this much was true; But the cost was everything in my life that I'd ever knew. When the ride was over, and the fun was gone; I couldn't face the truth, the wrongs I had done. So back to the sideshow I would return; Looking for more so I wouldn't crash & burn. There he stood, a grin on his face; "Not tired yet, still running the race?" I had to have more, an aching hunger I must feed; "Don't worry" he said, "I have ALL you need." But this time, a price you must pay; Whatever it was I would find a way. "The price for this bottle is your heart and your soul; You must give it all away to reach your goal" Without a thought, not a moment of hesitation; I agreed to it all, I had to find salvation. With potion in hand, I began to leave; When suddenly I felt a tug on my sleeve. I turned to see an usual sight; A woman standing in an aura of light. "My child I want to help you, you are in so much pain; The bottle you hold is only filled with more of the same." "WHO IS SHE" I yelled, to think she had a clue! "I was once on the same journey, I was once like you." "The ride you are on will never stop You won't find peace, you'll never reach the top" "If you want what we have, I'll show you the path; the steps comparitively few;" Compared to the wasted steps you have taken your whole life through What she spoke of I couldn't grasp, but I was willing if it would stop the pain; Because peace in my soul is what I desired, what I needed the most to gain. For not one more day did I feel I could go on The potion in the bottle, the race IT had won You will only run in circles the rest of your life In vain will be all your pain and your strife For salvation can't be found here on earth To Him you must turn to find rebirth "I'll tell you my journey, I'll gladly do this for free For long age, this great gift, was freely given to me The only thing I ask in return Pass it on freely, so one more won't crash and burn" So I asked for help, I needed to know How to stop the running, I had nowhere left to go "The only way to win , she said; You must surrender, then bow your head. "You will see the answer is so simple, not complicated at all; You will then find peace, you'll no longer to fall. Reach to HIM for salvation, he won' turn you away; He's been there all along, only waiting to hear you say... I need help, dear God, I can't do this alone; Can you show me how to find my way home? Can I really be forgiven for all I have done? For the pain I have caused while only looking for fun? "These things you look for are within your reach; You must only listen to the lesson that I am here to teach. To gain the answers to all you need; You only have to ask Him to plant the seed. For faith in Him will grow in the sod; All you must to do is Let go and Let God. The path is yours, the way I have shown; But the rest of the way, must I go it alone? "The choice is yours alone, she said, that much is true; But alone you'll never be, for He is ALWAYS with you |
(The Paradox of Recovery— by Rebecca B.)
I can remember when I was little and one day realized that all my pennies were “real money” & could buy “real candy”! (Yes, it’s been that long!) I found myself far less willing to share my pennies because “they were MINE!” I horded them in jars all over my room & just LOVED knowing “I” had them.
When I became older I remember realizing that there tends to be 1/2 of a delivered pizza that is ALWAYS “cheesier” than the other. I would almost break my neck trying to claim “my half” of the pizza ahead of my sister! (And did I think about sharing it? NO!) I’m SURE I need not even begin to share what I was like in regards to my mind altering substances in addiction right?!
So then I came into recovery & began to learn about all of these wonderful tools that could help me to live & be happy, like a good counselor, sponsor, home group, etc.. I found myself however, wanting him to be “my” counselor, wanting her to be “my” sponsor & my home group to be “mine”! I didn’t want to “share” them. I didn’t want to share “my” recovery either. I actually had a fear that if I didn’t keep it all to myself, then I would somehow loose it! The whole concept that I had to “give away” what I wanted to “keep” made NO sense to me AT ALL. After all, wasn’t I supposed to look out for me?
Of course what I didn’t really understand at that time was that God is infinite & that recovery is limitless & big enough for everyone. Recovery is a paradox in that it is not logical AT ALL. We gain power through the admission of our powerlessness; To be saved I have to “let go”; To win recovery, I have to “surrender”; and To keep what I have, I have to “give it away!” I always encourage every one I meet, regardless of whatever fellowship they may or may not belong to, to make a conscious effort everyday to “give away” the very things that make their life better!
In my sobriety I have found that taking this principle to great extremes has not only kept me clean/sober, but has done far more towards giving me a consistent sense of happiness, joy and contentment in my life!
You could always find me in a poker tourney;
Before I started ‘It’s all in the JOURNEY.
So I’m using poker here as a metaphor;
Cause I still love the game, just not as before.
********************************
Easy does it; keep it simple:
I’d agree and show a dimple.
“Just don’t pick up” this I get;
While I think of one more hit.
I‘ve learned my lesson - no more pain;
While glancing at the old fast lane.
I thought time was slipping, like glassed in sand;
So I enter the casino for one last hand.
It’s just for fun, I mouthed my lips;
As the dealer gave me a stack of chips.
Spotting – JUST ONE MORE - I sit at the table;
Because addict & alky is still my label.
Your lot in life is God playing poker;
We’re all dealt a hand; some get a joker.
I looked at my chips, then at the others;
Staring at husbands & wives, brothers and mothers.
A pusher is dealing; don’t they mean the same?
Crack, smack or liquor; he’ll deal any game.
With the pot full of temptation, I go all in with a bluff;
Thinking, ‘This is just too easy, and I am just too tough.’
Then somebody calls, as my head rises in fear;
I look up at myself, when I only drank beer.
Another one calls, it’s me taking that first toke;
Then another pushes all in; it’s when I first started coke.
Someone sits down and says, “Hey boys, I’m back!”
It’s me once again, when I first started crack.
One more bets, I see it’s me starting meth;
And I notice everyone here has a resemblance to death.
All the faces of family, that I thought I had seen;
Were really just me, before I became a dope fiend.
The pusher deals the flop, and turns up the first 3;
There’s nothing there close to what he’s dealt me.
Meth me’s lighter ain’t working, so he throws a fit;
While coke me is laughing, and takes one more hit.
Next comes the turn, card number four;
Still nothing for me, as I eye the door.
Me with a beer is leering, as me toking looks sound asleep;
Sitting so close to my old me’s - I see - what you sow, you shall reap.
Finally the last card is turned up, this one is what’s called the river;
I’ve lost my bet with temptation, and inside my soul starts to quiver.
Now all my old me’s are smiling, and staring directly at me;
I stand up and shout.” Stay away! I’m not who I used to be!”
The me’s of my past are laughing, “Come on, it’s going to be fun.”
“You played with temptation and lost; it’s time to start a new run.”
I look for a way to escape me, my eyes again towards the door;
But you can’t run away from yourself; I know – I’ve tried it before.
So I’d have to deal with my me’s - and me not wanting to leave;
When suddenly I remember – I’ve got an ace up my sleeve!.
With temptation piled high on the table, my recovery had started to cower;
But then I stopped being afraid - when I remembered my Higher Power!
Now here’s a little secret, when temptation pops out of the blue;
And no matter what comes out of your mouth, inside you know that it’s true -
Either you believe in a Higher Power, or it means that you’re here all alone;
You can always call your friends, whenever they answer the phone.
But when your present meets the past; when you run into the gang;
And temptation starts to tickle, but before it hits with a BANG!
To stop the itch a scratch won’t touch & save the future grief;
I’m here to tell you a secret; you have to have a belief.
That there is something Higher, a Power greater than you;
God, the steps & the fellowship; this is now your crew!
And with that knowledge I told me bye, I’d really had enough;
I’d never try to bluff again; I wasn’t tough enough!
peace
| Scarring the blacktop By charlieg All of us have scars. Both physical & emotional. They leave marks on us. Physically; they can be visually stunning. Emotionally; you can't see them, But they are usually the most stunning of all. Both are like road maps to our selves. In AA/NA you follow that map. Backwards. From where you are now, Back to what brought you that pivotal point. The point where 'THAT' happened. 'THAT' could be something you did, Or was something that was done to you. Something that was your fault; Or happened through no fault of yours. You can have one 'THAT', Or a series of 'THAT'S.’ 'THAT', though, changes us. Sends us onto a different lane for our ride through life. And to get back on the road you are suppose to be You have to revisit 'THAT'. There are many roadblocks, Self imposed detours around specific points of interest. You cannot go around these, you must travel through them. Because otherwise you will get lost and never find the starting point. And only from the original starting point can you fix your 'compass', And then, start anew on your journey. In the direction you were meant to travel in the first place. In treatment I learned how to follow my map, backwards to the beginning, To fix my compass. And now I've started from the beginning, Again. 1 year ago. That's when I went back out on this road trip, This time with new directions. And since! Stopping to rest here a moment, I gaze at my life, In Awe. And really? Disbelief. Only 1 year. The original road trip started 22 years ago. Maybe a little more, but those weren't really road trips, Just driving in circles, With my life. BUT, the real trip started in October 1984, When my 2 year old daughter, Joy, was strangled in the footrest of her grandfather's recliner, 9 months in a vegetative state, until I decided it would be more merciful if she were dead, Than to exist like that for 30-40 years. The following series of 'THAT''s sent me zigzagging from lane to lane like a drunken driver. Come to think of it, I usually was a drunken driver on my road trip. Joy's accident sent me onto a new road. Her death, and my part in it, onto another. Prison? Turned onto an exit ramp to purgatory there. Upon release, I drove down alcohol & pain killers Blvd. Never got so lost as to not be able to find that road again, And again. Eased into traffic with cocaine, Zigged and zagged between lanes, Between snorting it and shooting it. Swerved into oncoming traffic when I smoked crack for the first time. An accident waiting to happen. It happened. Finally broke down. When did my ride came to an end? And I finally started home? It was the perfect storm. >A flat tire The ride was no longer rolling smoothly along. The pain had grown bigger than the pleasure. Let’s face it; the pleasure had long since faded away, Now wrapped in the pain, That it used to cover. Though we chase it for eternity. >The engine quit. At the end, when I finally said, 'I give.' I was taking 30-40 pain pills a day, snorting, smoking, & shooting coke, Drinking till I puked, or passed out, and finishing with a few xanax to 'relax', 3 hospitalizations for drinking complications. 9 attempts at detoxing. 1 rehab. They say we don't drink to feel good, but to not feel. That’s what I wanted to feel.....nothing. >The weather Clear skies were a memory. It was a constant thunderstorm. An eternal/internal tug-of-war. My soul kept nudging me with the memory of God telling me I would see Joy again one day. I knew that there was a God. I knew that He forgave me. But forgiving myself. That was on a whole different level. These three came together. Just waiting for the final catalyst. A lot of people don't consider alcohol to be a drug. Or, at least not a dangerous one. That I found out, isn’t true. And it was that, 'THAT', that sent me home. From driving lost for so many years, through such a miserable landscape. The final ingredient that set off the perfect storm; My brother dying. Sean lived in Las Vegas. He had been at a party, drinking with friends. He got drunk. He passed out. He vomited. He suffocated. 'THAT' was it for me. I gave up. Gratefully. There is a saying in the rooms, If you want to get clean, you have to "Do the twelve steps". If you want to stay clean, you have to, "Get God, clean house, & help another alcoholic or addict". This is how I live my life now. >Get God I pray to God every morning; 'God, let me know, and do, Thy will, not my will.' 'Guide my thoughts and words'. 'Help me to help someone today'. 'Let them see Thee, in me, and let me see Thee, in them'. >Clean house Clean house is to get rid of, continuously, any resentment, Fear, Anger, Greed, Lust, Jealousy, Or, anything, that bothers us. We go to a meeting and talk about what is bothering us. We do not retain it. And when we were wrong in any situation. We promptly admit it. We keep our house, (ourselves), clean of any dirt. It is living a life on spiritual principles, and of rigorous honesty. >Help another alcoholic or addict We can't keep what we have unless we give it away. We can't. By helping a person who is sick, or suffering, We help ourselves. Reaching out to someone else, Looking to give whatever you can, Instead of taking whatever you can, Is a high itself. It really is. 1 year ago I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Lips blistered from not letting the crack pipe cool down. Blood trickling down my arm, where I didn't wipe it after shooting up. Eyes nodding, because even the cocaine couldn't stop the effects of 30-40 pain killers a day. My stomach still upset from throwing up all the alcohol. I looked at myself in the mirror, And I saw myself. I saw myself for the first time, In a long, long time. Behind the mask. Behind the self denial. And it scared the shit out of me. So much, that I sold my home & went into treatment. It took driving miles & miles, for over a decade, lost in hell, To get to 'THAT' point. It took twelve steps to find my way home. The twelfth step begins with; Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps.. You do. And it is Amazing. When you have that, 'THAT', When you realize that God is. And you give Him the wheel. You let Him drive. On the journey you were meant to be on. What a road trip 'THAT' is! A vacation trip. To God's amusement park. And those rides? Amazing. Since giving up the wheel & just sitting back and enjoying the ride; >I hired a realtor while looking for a place to live after leaving rehab, Who had 5yrs.clean and owned a recovery house for women. I told Judy I wanted to open one & call it, Joy's House. Turns out her recovery house was my first house! When I ran a strip club & had dancers living with me. So, out of more than 1/2 million homes in Miami, This house went from a place where women drank & got high, Just to go to work. To a house where women worked, Just to not drink or get high. >The day before I was to visit Joy's grave, For the first time in 21 years clean & sober, The same realtor wanted me to look at a duplex. I didn't want to. I was so scared of going to see my daughter's grave, To make amends, Without a drink or drug. But I had to find a place to live. My time was up in treatment, my dogs had been boarded for 45 days. I had to go. While waiting out front for the realtor, Ready to say, "Fuck this" And go get a six pack and 20-30 pain killers (Had that number on speed dial!), The lady who lived in the other side of the duplex came out, With her daughter. Two or three years old. The same age as Joy before the accident. And absolutely beautiful. I asked her name. "Her name is Faith." The mother said. "Really? My daughter's name was Joy." I told her. "Really? My name is Joy!" She said. I felt God. I met Faith & Joy the day before visiting Joy, At the moment I needed them most. The next day I made peace with my daughter. I told Joy I was going to live a life to make her proud. I buried my 'white chip' with her, The chip you are given when you decide to stop drinking. I've since buried my 30 day, my 90 day, my 6 month, my 9 month, and my 1 year chip with her. I was asked to start bringing an AA meeting into a treatment center, every other Monday. The same one I had walked out of. The next day I was asked if I wanted to start working at a detox center, The same one I went through 6 times. That Monday I went from being a patient at, To working for, Both. Two different places, Full circle, Same day. I work the night shift at the detox center. For the most part, Except for vitals every 4 hours, And a head count every 2 hours, After 12 am, the patients are asleep. A co worker happened to have 2 computers for sale. I bought one, figuring I could play poker during the night. Somehow, I came across a blog site. I decided to try to do one on my fight to reclaim a normal life. Turned out, I wasn't too bad as a writer. Or, it was the story I was telling. But, one lady liked my writing. She called me to tell me she was starting a recovery magazine. Not a newsletter, like most, But a real, glossy page, you have to look twice to be sure it's not a People magazine, Magazine. I told her I thought it was a great idea. She was glad I liked it, because, She has been reading my blog, and wanted me to be the editor. Of the magazine. Editor. Of a magazine with an initial issue of 10,000 copies. Aimed directly at people in, and trying to get in, recovery. Me. 1 year… But the greatest ride of all? The one that when it was finished, I said, "Wait, I can't get up yet, my legs are still shaking", "My heart is beating funny." "Oh my God!" "Oh God." And cried? The greatest "E" ticket ride I will ever go on in my life? It was about 6 months into sobriety. I was asked to speak at a treatment center. I told my story, When I was finished, I told them how recliners were changed after Joy's accident. How a padded booster came up to fill, Or a cloth stretched across to cover, The space between the footrest and the body of recliner chairs. Because of Joy. I told them there was no telling how many hundreds of children were saved, Because of Joy. When I finished a young, black girl, No more than 20, 22 years old, spoke. She told me she had a little sister named Joy. Joy Rochelle. She said that she used to take care of her when they were children because their parents were never home. She told me that Joy had gotten caught in the footrest of the family's recliner chair. And that her little sister had been "jammed in there good", She had trouble getting her out. I waited. Frozen in headlights. Unable to move. As the car click clacked slowly up the tracks, to the pinnacle of the biggest hill, On the rollercoaster, in God's amusement park. Unable to see what's below. What's coming. Then, as the car crests the apex of the hill, And you go from seeing only the sky as you rose, To looking down, Seeing everything. She said, "Finally, I got her out...and she was ok." "Because this 'thing' came up and stopped the footrest from closing on her completely" "So I want you to know, that I know, that your Joy saved my Joy." How cool is that? Find God, Clean house, Help another human being. If only the world lived by these principles. 1 year.. Trying to live a life to make Joy proud.. I hope she is. peace |
| |
I bet 12 steps
By Charlie G
I was sitting at home playing in a poker tournament on line.
I'm pretty good.
I supported myself playing tournaments at the Hard Rock when I was near the end of my final run.
I had a good poker face; You could never tell when I had something.
You could never tell if I was awake, to be honest with you.
I still play once a week or so for extra money.
Now though, I usually play single table tournaments, instead of multi table. Iess money, but a lot quicker.
The last multi table tournament I was in had 19 tables. It started at 6:30 pm. At 3:45 am there were still 3 of us left.
10 hours. We were close in chips, so we put 1st, 2nd, & 3rd place money together and split it.
In my last 6 single table tournaments I've finished in the money 4 times.
As I said, I'm pretty good.
The reason for writing about this is because of what happened to me.
A lesson in priorities, it was.
I was playing the free tournament on line, getting in a little practice till 11:00 am, when I was going to drive to the Hard Rock and get into a multi table starting at noon.
About 10 am I get a call from a friend in AA.
"Charlie, do you want to do some twelve stepping?" He asked.
Twelve stepping is helping a fellow alcoholic or addict in trouble.
I had never done one before.
A guy was kicking heroin and at Jackson Hospital's Crisis Center, trying to get into their detox.
The problem was he didn't have ID showing a Miami residence
"Can you take him to the driver's license bureau to get a state ID"? My friend asked.
I paused, then agreed. 'I can still make the 6 pm tournament.' I thought to myself
When I got there 'John' is not feeling good,
And not making friends.
"He can not come in without an ID showing miami residence." I was told.
I had talked with him outside before going in to try for myself to get him in.
"Go to Camillus House. The homeless center will give him a ID." A doctor told us.
Camillus House gives them out 2x a week.
Today was not one of those days.
He had ID from Boyton Beach, a city in West Palm Beach. He used to own a house there.
A Florida ID.
"Not good enough. It has to have a Miami address." the doctor smiled.
Nope, 'John' had not made any friends here.
The line starts before dawn at a driver license office in Miami.
I went outside and explained to 'John'.
And he didn't have any money.
I told him I didn't know if we'd get in this late, and I thought he had to have some form of proof he lived in Miami,
To get proof he lived in Miami.
Yeah, I scratched my head at that one, too.
He would need a cable or electric bill.
He didn't have one on him, being homeless and all.
"My brother is a doctor. He'll pay for me to get a place to sleep tonight. He just won't send it to me." He said.
"Have him Western Union it to me and we'll get you a place." I told him
"Well, he's in surgery, you'll have to front the money. But he'll send it right after he finishes."
"That ain't going to happen," I said, looking at him. "Nothing personal, I don't know you.
But I do KNOW you. I was you. Sorry."
I'd been with this guy over two hours now.
"I have to get into detox! If I tell them I'm going to kill myself, will they have to let me in then?" He asked.
I told him we could get a cop to bring him in.
In Miami, a cop can get you into a homeless shelter if it's after curfew, and into detox, if he feels like it.
They will Baker Act you or Myers (?) Act you.
One is your crazy, a threat to yourself or others, and need to be hospitalized.
The other is your intoxicated, and need to be hospitalized.
"O.K." He said. "Lets find a cop."
I was agreeable to this. It would get him inside the doors.
Wasn't even in my mind that this way we wouldn't have to stand in the DMV line for hours,
On the chance they would give him an ID without proof of residency.
And I would miss my 6:00 pm tournament.
Never entered my mind.
So we get in my car in search of a police officer.
One block away is a Wendys. As we are driving by, we both see 4-5 police cars in the lot.
Passing the window, we see them all sitting together, two tables pulled together.
"Forget it" 'John' says. "They won't do anything when they're together like that."
I look at my watch. A little pass 3:00 pm.
If you want to buy a ticket to a tournament, you have to be there by 5:00 pm. They sell out early.
The thought never entered my mind.
"I got this bro," I said as I pulled into the lot.
We parked and went inside.
I sat 'John' down in a seat within sight of the police officers, glanced at my watch, and went over to them.
I approached the groups of cops and said;
"Officers! I need to tell you something, and then ask you something."
In AA/NA we talk a lot about "Masks."
How we need to shed ours.
How everybody wears one.
The group of cops turned , in perfect harmony, and stared at me.
They looked like they had all gotten the same mask at a post Halloween sale.
Hard eyes. Stern lips. With tufts of aggression poking out like bad hair under a baseball cap.
"Ooookay." I thought to myself, then quickly formulated a plan.
I told them a blonde joke.
"Listen guys," I said. "This blonde lady was speeding in her car by the hospital and was pulled over by a blonde female cop."
Their hard eyes are looking a little... confused.
I keep smiling.
The blonde cop asks the blonde driver for her driver's license.
The blonde driver rummages through her purse, finally looking up at the blonde cop and crying, "I don't know what it looks like!"
"It's got your picture on it." The blonde cop replies sternly.
The blonde driver goes searching through her purse some more, finally finding her compact.
She opens it up, looks at herself in the mirror's reflection, the hands it to the blonde female cop. "Is this it?" She asks.
The blonde cops takes it, looks at it, and says,
"Now if you had just told me you were a police officer in the first place, I'd have let you go a lot sooner!"
I stand there and count, 1..2..3.., wondering if I run, how far could I get?
The cops start laughing.
Then one of the sgts., there were two there, asked what I needed.
I brought 'John' over , and explained the problem.
"He's done everything they asked. Jumped through every hoop." I told them.
"They won't let him in because he doesn't have ID, and he can't get ID because he has no address."
"Can one of you take him in under a Baker Act or Myers Act?" I asked.
:Sure." The Sgt. said, "Why not? Wait outside for a couple of minutes till I finish."
I thanked him.
'John' thanked him.
Then we went outside.
I wished 'John' luck and said good bye.
I drove away and was soon on I-95, heading north towards the casino.
I felt pretty good. I had helped my fellow addict, and look at that! I had time to go to the tournament.
Hadn't even thought about that.
Yep, I was feeling pretty good about myself.
Then the radio went off.
The airbag light came on.
The battery light came on.
The 'check engine' light came on.
I had changed the battery two months before and immediately thought I'd gotten a bad one.
But if it was that, the car just wouldn't start the next time I tried. Not this light show.
The car started bucking, just a little.
I pulled the owner's manual out of the glove box and call the place where I'd bought the car.
It was on the way, and I was near.
I got the service department and told the guy on the other end what was happening.
"Oh Boy!" He laughed, "That's your alternator." "Better get in here."
I got off I-95, and onto SR441. A lesser traveled road that runs parallel to I-95.
The Hyundai dealership was on 441 and 204th street, about 30 blocks away.
My car that never gave me trouble, was hiccupping and slowing.
"You can make it." I told her, "You can do it!"
She didn't.
As I approached a red light, I let her coast, hoping the light would change. Scared to stop.
Just as I rolled up, the cars in front of me drove off.
I smiled as I stepped lightly on the accelerator, never having had to stop.
Nothing happened.
My car slowed to a crawl and stopped at 183rd street and 441.
21 blocks from the Hyundai dealership.
I turned the key.
Nothing. No clicking, nothing. Absolutely nothing.
I got out, lifted the hood, and called the dealer.
I was told I had to call the 800 Hyundai number and they would send a tow truck.
I called the number, spoke with a nice lady, giving her all the pertinent information.
Including the fact that I was only 21 blocks away from the dealership.
She told me a tow truck would be there for me in one hour.
I called the dealer. No tow trucks. "Just wait."
I got back in my car, lit a cigarette, leaned back in my seat and thought, 'So much for the 6:00 tournament.
When I finished my cigarette, I got out of the car and leaned on the roof, looking at the traffic, looking at me.
I was parked in a turn lane at a main intersection.
As I casually looked around, my gaze came upon the building in the strip mall directly across from me.
It was the Department of Motor Vehicles.
The driver's license building.
I am not making this up.
I looked around again. Now seeing familiar buildings. I knew this place.
This is where I had gotten my license, and had planned to bring 'John.'
I could not believe it.
My car broke down directly, not on the same block, not just down the street, but directly across from the driver's license building.
I got back into my car and lit another cigarette.
For the next 45 minutes, until the tow truck came, I thought about priorities.
Looking at, then away from, that driver's license building.
Like a line judge in a tennis tournament.
Tournament.
Had I short changed this guy who needed my help because I didn't want to miss a tournament?
I spoke in length to God about that during those 45 minutes.
And about priorities.
The tow truck finally came. It was a flat bed.
The driver came over as I got out of my car.
He asked me for my keys as he lowered the bed of the truck.
"It won't start." I told him. "Your going to have to winch it up."
"Sometimes the battery has enough juice in it and will slowly charge the alternater," he said, as he got into my car.
It started.
He drove it up the bed of the tow truck and chained it down.
I got in the cab and didn't say anything the 21 blocks to the dealer.
When we got there he lowered the bed, drove my car off, shook my hand, and left.
I walked over to the service manager, signed the papers, and was told I could pick it up in the morning.
I stood there. How was I going to get home?
I called Judi, a friend of mine in AA.
I what happened and could she please come and give me a ride home?
She had an appointment, but of course she would help me. "We had to look out for each other, didn't we?"
SHE was twelve stepping ME!
I can now say that I was twelve stepped, while twelve stepping!
Unbelievable.
She wouldn't be able to bring me back in the morning, so I called another friend in AA.
Chris said he would have to get up a little earlier, but he would take me in the morning, before going to work.
Priorities.
I'm sure the car would have broke down anyway.
I'm sure the line would have been too long for us to get into the license department before closing.
And I'm sure they wouldn't give 'John' an ID without proof of residence.
I'm as sure as I am of pocket aces in a poker tournament.
But I wouldn't bet on it.
peace
Wrote this in early sobriety to a person who was really helping me..... So, there I was - bumbling along, trying to get through my life. Feeling sad, empty, inauthentic, alone, misunderstood and f***ed up for feeling that way. I have so much in my life, so much more than others and from my own past - why do I feel alone when surrounded by people and sad and empty and inauthentic? I do not understand. Other people either don't know, don't understand, can't help or don't care --- MOVE ON --- TRY HARDER --- maybe it's a chemical imbalance --- MOVE ON --- TRY HARDER --- maybe I experience pain and life differently than others --- MOVE ON ---TRY HARDER--- maybe its --- MOVE ON--- or maybe---TRY HARDER---smile---be happy---TRY HARDER---love others---MOVE ON---experiment with drugs---TRY HARDER---accept others---OR JUST ACCEPT DEATH. Can't do that -tried-MOVE ON---don't experience anything you see, feel, smell, hear, touch or do---and you thought you could not die. Easier not to die when you are already dead!!! EXPERIENCE NOTHING. BUILD WALLS---FEEL NO PAIN---KEEP MARCHING---KEEP YOUR CHIN UP---STAND TALL---FEIGN PRIDE---BE UNTOUCHABLE---BE STRONG---SHOW NO WEAKNESS---FIGHT THE GOOD FIGHT!!!!! and then............enter you................ NOW I FEEL Placed in a blender---hurling through space -questions-quetions-questions no answers questions-questions-questions-questions spinning - abyss - light whirling - dark - God buzzing - hell No Answers Seeking answers - lost amid a sea of questions thoughts - reality - constructs - actions - concepts can't see the forrest - too many trees can't find God - too much reality Winning - losing - thought - truth more words less words drowning sinking help thanks. D
My boss tells me that I am doing something worthwhile now that I am at "It's all in the Journey"
He's an optimist.
Not that I am not, but I've been around the world a few times, and have seen some really awful stuff.
I was in Beirut during the civil war in '82 and nothing I could add, would add anything to that disaster.
But I survived in spades.
Everything still connected and in one piece.
Came home, helped to raise a great kid who is a really fine young woman now, and she is a great artist and soul to boot.
And during those childhood years of her's (and having the privilege of being able to revisit my own in the process), had quite a few laughs to forget the tears and nightmares of a lost and still lost Lebanon.
So now that I have logged a lot of flight time, one cool, blue sky day about eight months ago, while buzzing about, I nosed my bird down over Hollywood Boulevard, wheels down and pulled her up to the Journey hanger.
Met the flight leader and he looked like a cool hand, he's been around a few strips (as in clubs) as well, knows his stuff especially around making words and feelings stick to each other.
Seems to know what he's doing.
Even if he doesn't he pulls it off with Passion, with a capital P.
The right stuff of being alive.
So far so good.
The bird that we've been building together has had seven flights so far and now we are adding this extra engine called the "Journey Recovery Community".
Now while I'm not in recovery per se, except from my former stupidities and foolshness, it is a good feeling that overcomes me when I am bone tired and brain dead at the end of putting an issue of "It's all in the Journey" to bed, and that feeling tells me that old Cap CG is right enough and all this is indeed worthwhile.
Even if we help one soul from free falling through the endless space of despair and intoxicated madness, at least one mission will have been accomplished.
One soul at a time.
Semper Fi and Always Blue Skys!
Panther Jet
There is one thing that I believe we all become aware of somewhat early on in recovery; That by some “unseen force” we are still here and clean/sober. I know that pretty much on a daily basis, at the end of the day, I would say, “Thank you God for getting me through this day sober!” Now, what I meant was generally based on the obvious, “I hadn’t relapsed!” As time went on in sobriety I saw myself come through MANY situations that I KNEW there was NO WAY that “I” could have done it on my own. I KNEW that the “unseen” hand of my Higher Power had not only been helping me in the ways that I asked Him to, but also had been doing for me not only what I couldn’t do for myself, but even what I didn’t know needed doing! For example; I went through a divorce & had a sense of direction that was completely contrary to what was logical. (i.e.—give him everything and trust that God would take care of me.) Sure enough I got through it and God replaced all that I lost and more. It wasn’t until later I found out that I was the only “ex-wife” of his that got out without getting hurt! I didn’t even know about that. I had prayed and it happened just like the AA Big Book said, “I intuitively knew what to do”, and it all ended well. It is easy to see the small picture in our lives; That the “Unseen” has kept us clean & safe another day, but there is ALWAYS a bigger picture that we’re not always aware of, but God is and GOD DOES!!