Close Call

I came close today. Too close. Scared me, but I am glad that it happened because it helps me to remember I must stay vigilant. It also is a reminder of how much progress has been made this past year. Not too long ago I would I have been sitting here wondering how this happened and feeling guilty for failing to stay clean once again.

Today’s main event? Nick’s funeral. What a waste of such a wonderful and gorgeous man. His sister asked me to sing at the funeral. Now those who may be reading this who have known me a long time may remember that I used to sing quite well. Some readers may know why I can’t anymore. I have been told that my voice is not bad now, but since I can’t do what I used to be able to do, I hate my voice. As a result, I haven’t sung in a long time, leaving my vocal chops weak and out of shape. But I agreed to do it. It’s not about sounding professional or even good as much as honoring the wishes of the family and the memory of my friend, right? Whatever.

Two funerals in two days. It’s too much. I hate the way drugs and alcohol have taken so many people from my life, and I’m not even thinking about all the people I pushed away while active in my own addiction. Too many faces too many times. The stress has been so high. I had forgotten how much this hurts, partly because I did everything I could do to add to my body’s chemicals to avoid said pain in the past. So, I was already a wreck by the time I stood up mere feet from my friend’s coffin.

Even when you have a good voice and it’s in good shape it’s hard to cry and sing at the same time. I fought it as much as I could, but even that effort effects the voice. I butchered it. Both songs. And as I did, regrets flooded my soul. I destroyed my voice. I did it, and did it on purpose. Sure, I was messed up when I did, but that doesn’t change the result of my actions. I hurt my throat not far into the second song, which made the whole thing that much worse. It took everything I had to stand there and attempt to finish the song as anger and, yes, self-pity overwhelmed me. What a stupid way to act and think. This was not about me. It was about Nick and the people he left behind. I feel so ashamed that I sunk so far into myself.

Within a half-hour of the disaster I just described I had some magic feel-no-more powder in my pocket. I know what I was feeling, but what was I thinking? I couldn’t say. I need to reflect on that some to help make sure it doesn’t happen again any time soon. I carried that crap around in my pocket for about two and a half hours before I brought myself to flush it. So close to blowing it less than three weeks before I hit my one-year mark. But I am not beating myself up over the close call. The fact is that I did stay clean. I didn’t use it. And that is a miracle. There was a time when even hesitation would have been impossible. Alcohol and drugs were my Borg….Resistance is futile, you will be assimilated. But today I am free. Not well, not immune, but free. And as long as I keep working toward improvement, making positive steps and changes in my life, and most importantly, maintain my relationship with God I can remain free. As long as that happens, I will only grow more able to handle the curves life throws at me without having the temptation to try to escape.