a Sober Groundhog

In rural New Hampshire, as in rural, North Carolina, the days can collect themselves at your weaknesses.  There is no sightly or unsightly difference between one day to next.  I suppose I took other states hostage…during my addictive haze!  Ohio, Maine, Tennessee, Georgia, Florida, pretty much the southeast coastline…and a few places in between.

However, for aesthics purposes, I will attend to the states of my mind, New Hampshire and North Carolina.

The days in mid winter are long though short.  Almost as if, what little light you see, you want to capture in a Bell Jar and hang on to for dear life.

To a deeply satisfied with self, addict.  Days, night, hours and seconds, are all relative.  A sort despondence occurs.  Like the final break to a bough that seemed strong enough to hold back the stormy weather.

My days were never different.  Dusky, dirty, impoverished, self seeking and evermore…uncertain.

An existentialist would say that, to truly know oneself you must hit rock bottom.  Without rock bottom there is no growth.  No knowledge of your inner most virtues.

 

I have hit, hopefully, my only needed twice…rock bottoms, in two states.  The days not much unlike each other.  Bright and sunny and full of hope, to someone else.  My more recent rock bottom found me entombed by my will run riot.  Incarcerated by four walls, two big bay windows and a bed.  The whole in my soul had ridden it’s high horse for a full year of anti social behavior.  Indeed, I had known sobriety.  I grasped it in my sweaty hands…five years prior.  I also let it go…as if it no longer wished to be caged.  I let it go driving down the highway with a tall boy between my legs, motorcycle weekend on the horizon, in a Scooby Do mini van…looking to get laid at a bar in Haverhill, Mass.

Had I a death-wish?  Honestly?  Every alcoholic, addict, abuser, I know…has a death-wish.  We believe ourselves to be like a cat.  Fighting it out until our last life, the 9th, is used up.  After relapse, when I begun my descent into madness and mayhem; I averaged a gallon of cheap Vodka and a case of beer per day.  Course, the bouts with blotter had to be put aside.  The pills?  Too obvious to those who watched my behavior like hawks.  Booze had strictly been my downfall.  Though, when offered, I did not turn down the occassional chance to do illegal drugs.

It’s all relative!

This different day set in rural New Hampshire.  Started out with neither a bang, toke or pop.  The night before I had been dragged kickin’ and screamin’ to a local AA meeting.  Course my captors had us leaving for our destination way too early.  Therefore, I had the misfortune of stopping by Home Depot after eating a, this is a bad idea, large greasy fry from Burger King.

Today, I cannot stand overhead lights.  Matter of fact, if it doesn’t fit in a lamp…it doesn’t come into my house.

I walked that 1,000 mile journey to the 24 hour chip.  Claps, not judgement, all around.  I who had been so tough as bitten nails, found myself weak in the knees.  Scared of having to deal with the shit storm I had brought about.

That meeting could have happened last night.  With vivid detail, I can list who was there, what hung on the wall, the speaker and the kind of donuts being handed out.

After all the well wishes from past friends with sobriety…I laid myself down for a long winter’s nap.

I don’t cry.  Given my family history…tears were for those of lesser value.  The kinds of people who get picked on.  And, that was not for me.

I cried that night.  Thoughts rambling around, mixed with Dead tunes and burning incense.

One thought:

“Once you say out loud you are an addict.  That is it!  You are banned for life from enjoying a drug or a drink…ever again.”

I hold no one responsible for my illness.  And, yes, there had been lovers than neccessary.  As well as, a wife and children.

Awake and awakening…that morning, I saw part and parcel, the same shit different day.  I had dragged my partner from North Carolina to New Hampshire…promising…change.

Neither one of us found change.  You cannot always rebuild a love that has been hit with a shit stick.  Lesson learned!

“Once I used to believe
I was such a great romancer
Then I came home to a woman
That I could not recognize
When I pressed her for a reason
She refused to even answer
It was then I felt the stranger
Kick me right between the eyes”

Thing is, the woman I did not recognize had not been my wife.  It had been me!  Some serious decisions needed to be made.  A complete life change and the slightest misgiving that…I would have to take care of myself…for once.

The first week in February is tough, up north.  People are generous with their disdain for continued windchill factors.  The ice on the windowpane never melts.  And, the air seems stiff with indifference.

I believe my sobriety date is in and around Groundhog day!  I cannot be absolutely sure.  I could ask my ex wife.  However, after that fateful day…we did not do much intellectual chatter.

And, though, the room spun, the shakes made my insides feel like roadkill, I opened my eyes to ‘same kind of day, but slightly different’.

I stayed locked up in that room for a week.  The detox that time around had been much more physical and far more, mentally grueling.  My legs bare and barely movable, made it to the bathroom, the kitchen and back to the bed.  The sheets were laden with sweat and tears.

Different?  Just a tiny, fragment of an inch!

Oscar Wilde once said,

‘No good deed goes unpunished!’

Certainly he was right.  Yet, the morning seemed lighter.  Easier to take.  The bedroom mirror was not my enemy.  It had been an example of what good could come…if I work for it.

I suppose, with deep philosophical thought, it simply could have been that…I changed the prescription to my spiritual glasses.  Fortunate was I to know there had been a way out.  I know for a fact that those different days.  Days that do not come very often.  Those times when something is left of center…are a precept.  A saturating desire to believe in something greater than I.

15 years later, I still struggle.  But I struggle with life on life’s terms.  As do…most adults.

Help come with Faith

Somebody’s Angel, Somebody’s Fool

 

somebody's angel 2

     Recently, I had discovered that an acquaintance of 
mine, took online quizzes, to understand herself better.  
Whoops, if I were completely honest, I knew she had the 
strange habit of cyberspace reaffirmation...I guess I had just chosen to ignore it.
     Course, there is nothing wrong with wanting to know,
was I, Napoleon Dynamite or Napoleon Bonaparte...in a 
former life?
somebody's angel 4
     However, my character 
defects are as blatant as the 
scowl on my cat's face at 
feeding time.  And, it is as of 
late, 
that I have truly embraced my 
gross behavior.  
     I suppose that it is out 
of fear, due to a recent 
surgery.  Or, more to the point, it is out of sheer 
boredom and a 'no choice but to think myself into mental jail' induced by pain medication, that I have these...
hourly reflections.
     I am gross!  I know it.  I spit into the wind.  I 
tend to laugh without an inside voice...too much in a 
quiet theater.  I share my ice cream with the dogs.  I cry 
when watching democratic debates.  And, I breakdown into 
hysterics...when watching republican debates.  
     And, it is a fact that...
     I have told my partner on 
numerous occasions if Susan Sarandon or Helen Mirren 
offered themselves to me...in a biblical sense; that I    
would be late for dinner.
     Here's the thing...We are all vulnerable.  First and 
foremost, we guard our psyche with true valor and honor.  But love, the forever kind, does something to us.  It 
opens the door for me and/or us to face our faults and say,

'I don't care if she knows what my secrets are!'
    
 A lifelong love knows the answer to:

"When did Brenda and Eddy start going steady?"

Silly!

"1975!"

     Therefore, it is also a fact that...
     My partner and her can of Lysol will always accept my 
burning incense of Patchouli!  
     Just the other day, Megan, had let it slip...the 
ultimate, you are the only one for me, statement...

"Did I tell you?  The whole month of September...I was 
pissed at you?  Can't even remember why!  'Kept ignoring 
your foolish shit.  Your bad singing!  You know...I had 
been pretending 
that I wasn't mad, but I was, but I wasn't!  No matter!  
You never figured it out.  So I just gave up...being mad, that is!"

     Every morning, since I have found that crutches and I do not mix, I look over at the 
Best Friend with Benefits...smile and think...somebody's angel 3

"Thank Christ I am somebody's angel!"

hqdefault

Spirituality…a series of unfortunate events

fear + faith = spirituality
fear + faith = spirituality

Back in the day, before trans continental communications. Before, one state told this state and that state told another and long before you knew it…your ‘run in’s’ with Utilitarian Authority Figures were known across state borders- So, back before we knew everyone else’s business I had chance to embrace my alcoholism. It toured from Portland Maine to Key West Florida.
My partner and co-dependent mother figure, at the time, thought it best at one point to leave me in jail for the ‘just the weekend’ as she put it. I had been a young hippie on acid and vodka and chips on shoulders. I had also been the only person I know to get a DUI on foot. My mouth has always given me problems it is akin to a gun in the hands of someone who is not user friendly…it goes off at inappropriate times.
Needless to say, I discovered what the word delousing meant, that there is a time and a place for orange jumpsuits and strange women with facial hair often refer to themselves as, prison matrons!

seems to be the hardest word
seems to be the hardest word

Shortly after my arrival to which there had been no fanfaire…it was found that it would be in the best of public safety to put my white girl with an attitude ass in solitary. Not for the safety of others mind you. But it had been very apparent amongst the other ‘gals’ that fresh white meat meant cattle calls and expletives on how my stay would go.
All in all an enriching experience.
And, in the long run, a spiritual experience had come of my time with Big Wanda and her gang of even bigger thugs. They were even nice enough to call me, little Sista!
I believe my spirituality, after many years of avoiding it, lay right before me on that not so much of a holiday weekend in Asheville North Carolina. It lay before me many times before yet my eyes held a different prescription and I did not see the tunnel for I had been looking for the light.
If a non spiritual person say, climbs mountains or treks over broken and unchartered territory, they could claim, I do it for the exercise. It makes me feel good. It helps me to clear my head.
If an elderly man who is known to many as Archie Bunker on anger steroids professes to the ultimate art…photography: The pictures serene in meaning and wrought with thought and contemplation…yet, he too claims to have not ‘caught the spirit’. Is he a lost soul as well as the climber? Or, have we simply found new ways to avoid the truth about ourselves?
Fear drives so many of us to avoid what stands before us. It stops us from going after things we want though we know we can’t have. It invades our relationships that are so taut and un-chaotic. It delves deep into a part of our soul that if we brought it out into the light…the fearsome word ‘vulnerability’ would arise.
I have vertigo. Always have and always will. I also make a point to climb a mountain, cross a free standing bridge, break into old abandoned factories and climb each rotted step one anxiety attack at a time until I reach the top, at least two or three times a year.
I have found the greatest moment of serenity in the midst of fearful vulnerability far greater a soul search than any book or prayer can give. I just offer it a different name…it makes me less exposed that way.

Though we share so many secrets  There are some we never tell
Though we share so many secrets
There are some we never tell

Well we all have a face
That we hide away forever
And we take them out and show ourselves
When everyone has gone
Some are satin some are steel
Some are silk and some are leather
They’re the faces of the stranger

But we love to try them on
Well, we all fall in love
But we disregard the danger
Though we share so many secrets
There are some we never tell
Why were you so surprised
That you never saw the stranger

Did you ever let your lover see
The stranger in yourself?
Don’t be afraid to try again
Everyone goes south
Every now and then
You’ve done it, why can’t someone else?
You should know by now
You’ve been there yourself

Once I used to believe
I was such a great romancer
Then I came home to a woman
That I could not recognize
When I pressed her for a reason
She refused to even answer
It was then I felt the stranger
Kick me right between the eyes

Well, we all fall in love
But we disregard the danger
Though we share so many secrets
There are some we never tell
Why were you so surprised
That you never saw the stranger
Did you ever let your lover see
The stranger in yourself?

Don’t be afraid to try again
Everyone goes south
Every now and then
You’ve done it why can’t someone else?
You should know by now
You’ve been there yourself

You may never understand
How the stranger is inspired
But he isn’t always evil
And he isn’t always wrong
Though you drown in good intentions
You will never quench the fire
You’ll give in to your desire
When the stranger comes along.

Take This Song & Shove it!

Dear,

You know who you are…What the fuck is wrong with you?  I’ve left you, you’ve left me.  Now the shit you pulled is all I see.

So here Kate this one’s for you; always brought you to mind when I heard it.

She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes.
And she can ruin your faith with her casual lies.
And she only reveals what she wants you to see.
She hides like a child, but she’s always a woman to me.
She can lead you to love, she can take you or leave you.
She can ask for the truth but she’ll never believe.
And she’ll take what you’ll give her as long as it’s free.
Yeah, she steals like a thief, but she’s always a woman to me.
Oooh, she takes care of herself.
She can wait if she wants, she’s ahead of her time.
Oooooh, and she never gives out, and she never gives in,
She just changes her mind.
And she’ll promise you more than the Garden of Eden.
And she’ll carelesly cut you and laugh while you’re bleeding.
But she’ll bring out the best and the worst you can be.
Blame it all on yourself, cause she’s always a woman to me.

Oooh, she takes care of herself.
She can wait if she wants, she’s ahead of her time.
Oooooh, and she never gives out, and she never gives in,
She just changes her mind.
She is frequently kind and she’s suddenly cruel.
But she can do as she pleases, she’s nobody’s fool.
And she can’t be convicted, she’s earned her degree.
And the most she will do is throw shadows at you,
But she’s always a woman to me.

Screw You

Ambien Grace

P.S.

It’s not meant to be a compliment and I’m not gay!

P.S.S.

You’ll get yours in hell.  You and your wife you said you weren’t screwing!