THE TREASURE OF THE PAST

“Showing others who suffer how we were given help is the very thing which makes life seem so worth while to us now. Cling to the thought that, in God's hands, the dark past is the greatest possession you have -- the key to life and happiness for others. With it you can avert death and misery for them.”

I read this today, and I want to believe it so badly. Need to believe it. And to some extent I do. I do believe that my past experiences can help me help others, to show them that I’ve been where they have (maybe even worse places), to show that I truly understand how they feel and what they’re going through, to prove that God loves them and can help them.

How, one might ask, is that last part true? How can anyone prove God can do anything. Simply put, anyone who takes a halfway objective look at my past can see God’s hands all over it. I should be dead so many times over. There’s no way I should have been set free from the traps I so willingly walked into. I never could have stopped living my life a slave to my addictions had God not intervened on my behalf in just the same miraculous power as He displayed when he parted the Red Sea to free the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. Moving some water around may have even been easier than changing my heart and mind and giving me my much-needed escape route. And if God loves and saved me, there's no one too far gone to be forever outside the love and help He wants to give.

And lately, as I have been struggling, helping others has been the main thing that has given me purpose, helped me to focus on something other than my own problems and fears, quite frankly kept me sober and clean. It does work. For a while. But it is not the long-term solution. My long-term solution is my faith, connection to, and relationship with my God. There is no other path for me that leads to success and a life worth living. I know, because for more than a quarter of a century I tried every other path I could think of. I served the God of self as fanatically as any cultist follows their leader to the punch bowl. And with just about the same results.

My problem at the moment is, just to be totally honest, a lack of faith. Has God freed me from the chains of addiction? Yes. And I fully believe He will continue to do so for as long as I seek relationship with Him and refuse to willingly put them back on. Has he changed my life in positive ways that others can see? Absolutely, and I am grateful, so very grateful, for that. I feel blessed to have been able to help a few others because of the miracles that have happened in my own life. Am I happy, joyous and free? Occasionally, although the stretches in between those times have been increasing lately. The problem is I am starting to feel about the miracles in my life and the positive aspects of my recovery much like I used to feel about the grace of God.

I used to believe grace was God giving me just enough relief to want to get up after being knocked down and just enough strength to get me on my feet so that I could be knocked down again. Not a very flattering portrait of my loving Creator and not a true one, I know. But it’s how I felt for years. It reached the point where discussions about grace with my pastor/father immediately triggered tears and a plea…don’t talk to me about grace. Thankfully I no longer feel that way on the subject, at least not often.

But now I question and feel a little like I have been given, and will be given, just enough of the promises that come with recovery, of the strength, joy, peace, etc. to keep me going, to stay sober, and to help others. No matter what, I believe God can and will give me enough of the strength, wisdom, courage, and whatever else is needed to be a servant and be used by Him to reach and help someone who may not find that help anywhere else. But the personal freedom and fulfillment I seek, that may never come.

Once again I repeat that I know not everything I think or feel is true. And at my core, I know that it isn’t true that God will leave me lonely and hurting and broken forever. But right now, all I can see is loss. I feel the weight of wreckage in my past, wreckage that I caused, that can never be cleaned up. I see obstacle after obstacle serving as road blocks on the highway of dreams I have for myself. And I can’t help but ask myself how to give up, how to walk away from what few dreams I have remaining and still have a life worth living. When I begin to back away from one possible path where the future is clearly not going where I feel I want and need, I time and time again find I have exited onto another road with just as impossible a destination. Then what? Do I make a U-turn and return to the road I left? Do I try to force things? Do I risk trying yet another road? How fast do I give up? If I quit too easily and early I may miss out on the miracle that clears the roadblocks and makes it possible to reach my destination. If I stay too long before giving up how much more wreckage in my life and the lives of those I care about will I cause? And if I simply give up on the dream destination and go a completely different route, will I find my destination obscured by the fog of regret. I don’t know. And unfortunately, the wheels keep spinning even as I seek the answers. There’s truly no such thing as standing still in life.

The key, I believe, is to find the path that God wants me to take. If I do that, then whatever roadblocks I come across will eventually be cleared away or a detour will be provided. But right now I am so confused, afraid, and filled with regret that I can not see which way God wants me to go. I can not find the faith to believe that the wreckage of my past that is obstructing my progress in the present and destroying my hopes for the future can ever be cleared away. I feel like the man who told Jesus, "I believe. Lord, help me with my unbelief."

Today I pray that I may not be weary, disillusioned, or disappointed. I pray that I may not put my trust in the ways of the world or myself, but in the way of the spirit.

Slippery Slope

I have no idea how to express how I am feeling right now. I’m not sure I even want to…not to myself, and certainly not to whoever just might happen to surf by and read this. But when I start running from my feelings it’s a dangerous place for me. When I start hiding how I feel because I am afraid of hurting someone or losing someone or something, the situation is even more dangerous. It doesn’t help that I am in pain and probably not thinking too clearly.

My two 12-step meetings that are the most important for me to make are tonight, and I don’t want to go. I have a good excuse not to. I can’t walk more than a few feet without a drum solo of throbbing pain starting on the stage of my ankle. I folded my ankle completely sideways yesterday morning. Nothing serious. The injury is only a bad sprain, I can’t walk and hurt, but I’ll be fine in a day or two I’m sure. In the meantime, the pain is distracting and an easy excuse to do nothing.

But a few minutes after telling a friend I might not be at the second meeting tonight, I knew I wasn’t being honest. It would be best if I can admit that to others, but I must admit it to myself. I simply don’t want to go tonight. Thanks to my ankle blowing up on me yesterday morning I missed doing some things I really wanted to do. Now I feel like I’m playing catch up.

But I need to be careful. I’ve been too close to the edge lately. I have a hundred excuses to use within easy reach. I am afraid of letting things slide to the point where I am tempted to look for one of those excuses, where I begin to listen to the siren call of my addiction, where my spiritual condition becomes to poor to continue to keep me safe. But I am tired. I am confused. I am afraid. And I feel I need to address the situations, yes plural, that are causing those feelings and not just run and hide from them. Unfortunately, I can’t figure out how to do both. At least not at the same time.

Walking through the Valley God made a way

I delayed writing this because I wanted to tell the person who heard God and blessed me so much what happened first before I told the world. After Nick overdosed last month and his sister convinced me to sing at his funeral, Andrew told me that he wanted me to sing at his funeral. I wonder if he was already thinking about going home, because about a month later, I found myself facing that exact scenario. The song he wanted sung is one I love but haven’t heard enough to really know and feel comfortable singing without Johnny Cash accompanying me. For the curious, the song is a cover of Trent Resnor of Nine Inch Nails called Hurt.

I freaked. How am I going to perform this song without any practice or even getting to listen to the song a few times. I prayed that if I really needed to do this for Andrew, or even just for myself, that God would give me a clear sign and then help me get through it. I didn’t tell anyone because I secretly wanted an excuse not to sing at the funeral. Then Tuesday night my sponsor said she had something for me. She gave me a package that I later discovered contained the Johnny Cash CD with that very song. I cried, put the CD in the listened to it a few dozen times. Wednesday morning I sang it at Andrew’s funeral. I got through. It sounded decent I guess, especially considering that I was crying long before the song ended, but at least I didn’t screw it up.

I made it through the song and through the funeral. I said goodbye to the man I believed just a few weeks ago would be in my life for the rest of it. My third funeral in a week came to a close, and I felt so much loss and pain I can’t describe it. But I discovered strength I didn’t know I had access to. Strength came from the support and love of friends new and old that refused to let me drown in the stormy waves of self-pity and grief. Strength flowed into me straight from the throne room of God and carried me safely back home. I prayed. I cried. I went to meetings. I talked to people about what was going through my head and the pain the filled my heart. And I stayed sober and clean. A miracle I am truly grateful for. God came through for me in a big way. Every time I find myself swamped by soap opera quality drama in my life I tend to doubt that God loves me. I can so relate to Christ’s cry of “My God my God why hast Thou forsaken me?” But the truth is that He never has. He never will. He loves regardless. And as long as I turn to Him when the fit hits shan instead of running away from Him and the pain then my recovery has a chance.

Still safe...so far

Well I made it into town tonight for Andrew's funeral tomorrow. What a drive. Ok, most of the drive really wasn't that bad, but parts...

My mind kept returning to the oversensitive reaction I had earlier today to something my father said. He didn't mean anything negative or disparaging but I took it wrong, got my little feelings hurt, got angry and cried and cursed at the sky for about 30 minutes after. On the three hour drive tonight I thought about it a lot. I need to find a way to get over this and let it go, or I will get drunk over it eventually. People die. I can handle that. But rejection from lovede ones? Never been much good at dealing with that, especially if said loved ones were Mom or Dad.

Got to Montrose and found out that C is so messed up that he may not even make the funeral. I don't know if I felt more angry or scared about that. I hope he shows tomorrow. If he doesn't I may look for him. I know I can't save anyone, but I can't help trying.

Finally found a hotel room and let a few friends know I am safe and well. I greatly appreciate all the friends that have one above and beyond to help me mmake it through the insanity of both fate's pranks and my own self-imposed crisis this, well this last month really.

I am not looking forward to this funeral. In some ways it's not yet real to me that Andrew is truly gone. The pain that will come with that truly sinking in is not something I am eager to experience. But some things just have to be done. One of the side effects of God bringing me to life is that now I can actually feel the pain that life throws at me. But I can also access the grace of the God who set me free from the bondage of self, drugs, and alcohol. I am grateful enough for the latter to put up with the former.

Another miracle

I haven’t drank or drugged in one year 24 days, and that is a friggin miracle. No it isn’t. It isn’t a miracle. It’s the result of a series of miracles. More than I can name, count, or probably even realize. Last night God used two wonderful friends of mine to save me in a moment of certifiable insanity. I’m really not sure which is the bigger miracle…that they care so much or that I actually stopped in the midst of Hurricane Pain and listened to them.

Andrew overdosed last night. Planned it. Checked himself out of rehab, searched out enough junk to throw a party with and shot it into his body. He didn’t even say goodbye. But as angry as I am with him right now, and I am, I understand. When you’re hurting the way he was, you can’t think of anyone else but yourself. Hell, I can remember in my letter to my wife I wrote as the pills I took trying to kill myself in 99 took effect that I said she’d be better off with me dead. I felt everyone would be. I strongly suspect that Andrew felt the same.

But when C. told me the news, I lost it. Instant insanity. And of course, in case there was any doubt that I am still sick, my first thought was…Baccardi. Thankfully, the bartender, who knows me well, refused to serve me. JD quickly said we could leave and refused to give me any of her drink. I agreed to leave for three reasons. One, I didn’t really feel much like shooting pool any more. Two, I didn’t really feel like breaking down in a sobbing mess in the middle of a pool/dance hall full of people. Finally, I knew if I left before closing I could make it to a store before time to purchase alcohol expired.

Yeah, that last one isn’t a very good reason I know, but it was what I was thinking. Didn’t happen though. JD and I talked in the parking lot a few minutes until I could pull myself together enough to drive. She may not have realized I was doing it, but I prayed like it was the last thing I was ever going to do. Guess it could have been, but God heard my prayer. Helped me to listen. To remember that I have people that care about me. To think about the fact that if I followed Andrew back into the Enchanted Forrest and died there I’d be doing to everyone I claim to care about the very same thing Andrew did to me. What I have tried to do to loved ones before. What I hurt over so much because of the many who have done it to me.

I don’t want that today. I don’t need to search for the unholy grail of oblivion. She’s as easy to find as a spider web in the dark and as hard to escape from. I lived the life of the fly struggling against that web too many years. Only the grace of God saved me from the spider and set me free. I can’t willingly and or purposefully fly back into it. But I almost did.

Last night served as a reminder that I must remain vigilant. Must be on guard. Because when I hurt, my first instinct is make it stop, NOW, no matter what. Even death fails to frighten me enough to deter me from the possibility of escape. But if I can pause, take a mental step back and ask for help, God always has another way of escape. A better, even if slower way. Some things are supposed to hurt. To feel nothing at the loss of someone I love is not a blessing. It’s inhuman. We were made to feel. In order to feel and experience the good in the fullest way, we must also be able to feel the bad. You can’t experience love without risking pain, but it’s worth it. I can’t appreciate the good times if I refuse to experience the not so good or even the horrible. I remember that today, but last night….

It seems that while under normal circumstances I can work at being able to do what I need to do to do the next right thing and stay clean and sober. But even after a year clean and sober there are plenty of times that I still need God to do for me what I can not do for myself. And He will…if I will let Him.

Trouble

Time to be rigorously honest. I’ve been wanting to write an update for a few days now, but have been unsure how to express what I’m feeling and thinking. It’s difficult for me to say how I’m feeling without sounding like I’m whining. I hate whiners and so don’t want to contribute to the whine quotient in the universe. But the fact is simply this…I’m in trouble. Big time.

I don’t want to drink or drug. But for the first time in a long while, I simply don’t care most of the time if I live or die. And the rest of the time? I lust for death as though he were as attractive as Brad Pitt. That life worth living that I have found such comfort in? Not really seeing that right now. Damn sure not feeling it.

Now don’t get me wrong, I know that not everything I think nor everything I feel is necessarily true. But it’s still how I feel. And I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve done everything I can think of. I have struggled to continued to do my best to do the next right thing. I have prayed and prayed and prayed some more. I have thrown myself into helping others, which by the way has provided the only relief I have found and helped greatly. But minutes after I am done…it all comes back. The second I get still, get quiet, I break down. I fall apart. I am broken inside.

For the first time in about nine months I uttered the phrase that’s what I get for hoping today. I felt such gratitude not long ago for having hope. When I did my personal inventory originally, hope was one of my top three fears. That fear was removed. God gave me hope. Getting clean and sober gave me hope. And I still have some of that today, right now as I write this. But there is one thing I have become utterly hopeless concerning. And the weight of that one thing is about to drown me. I don’t remember ever hurting this bad because in the past if I ever even began to feel a hint of this range of inner pain I did everything I could to kill it, numb it, distract myself from it. Ah…the sweet bliss of oblivion calls. No, I don’t have a desire to drink or use. But to not feel this way? Damn skippy. Something has to change and soon. I can’t take much more of this. I am ready to die. I would rather die than to continue to live and feel this way. And if I’m ready to die…I feel my resolve to die sober fading.

So what is it keeping me sober today? Helping other alcoholics and addicts. Since that has become my drug of choice, the only way I know to change the way I feel without killing myself I have to stay clean. Why? Because I can’t help anyone else if I surrender to the beast again. Today it is enough. Tomorrow? Probably. A week from now? If nothing else changes I seriously doubt it. God help me. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t go on like this. The misery I had before was about to kill me, but I came to believe that if I got sober and clean I would find relief. I would be freed from my misery. But this misery has nothing to do with anything like that. There’s nothing I can do to change anything. There is nothing I can quit or do. There’s no change or relief in sight no matter how much I do the right thing or what I try.

I have been told that if I focus on the problem the problem will get bigger and if I focus on the solution the solution will get better. Sounds true. The problem is you can’t focus on the solution if you have no idea what the solution is. I have asked people, sought advice, done all the research I can think of. I simply have no idea what the solution is or what to do. No one else seems to either. If it’s in the 164, I can’t find it. I’ll keep looking…for a while. But I can only hurt for so long before I have to do something different.

Average day - good, bad, and choices delayed

A strange start to the day. R. showed up again for the second time in the middle of the night. My clock let me know it was 1:22 AM to be precise. And like the last time he showed up, a few months ago, he stood on my porch staggering drunk. He wanted me to drive to Houston with him. Not hardly. I wasn’t even going to let him inside, but to be honest, the ride to H-town held more temptation. That’s where A. is

But I didn’t go. He accused me of throwing walls up towards him every time, but that may be because he only shows up once in a blue moon, drunk, wanting something. I never see him any other time. That’s not my idea of a good situation for me. He asked if I still go to the 12-step group I attend. I answered yes. He then said he should probably go, but he didn’t want to because they don’t understand him there. I’m not sure what that was all about, but in all truth, I didn’t really try to figure it out or talk to him about it. I don’t try to talk to someone about recovery while they’re still drunk or high. It’s typically a waste of time and energy in my experience and opinion. I saw him in town this afternoon, so either he didn’t go or he made it back safely. I feel relieved at that. I did not feel good about sending him back out in the rain to drive home or to Houston intoxicated. But then again, wasn’t going to let him inside my place in the shape he was in. Truth? I don’t let many people in my house period.

The afternoon, went a little better, other than losing my phone and having to spend about 45 minutes looking for it before my father finally found it. Spent some time with a friend of mine who is also in recovery and then made a meeting. That went well. After I spent some time with J. watching the national championship game between Texas and Alabama. But on the way home, things turned back to the negative. Something happened to my poor tired old car. I may have thrown or broken a belt. Not sure. I couldn’t find a flashlight, so I’m not positive. But my charge light came on and the lights went dim, which tells me my alternator wasn’t working correctly. Then for the first time in the 14 months I’ve owned it, my car ran hot. I was able to see that a small hose had come off the radiator. I lost some fluid for sure. I put it back on, but in the cold and dark, there wasn’t much else I could do. I made it home late, and the lights at my parents’ house were already off. I didn’t feel comfortable waking my father up. I am 99% positive the car won’t start tomorrow morning, at least not before the battery sits on a charger for a while. Then there’s the question of what kind of damage there might be from the liquid spewing onto the engine and then freezing and/or the lower fluid level inside the radiator. I may have screwed up but just leaving it, but when it comes to things like this, I am so out of my element.

But while I don’t know much about engines, or if leaving was the next right thing for me to do, I do know that I made it through another day clean and sober. For that I am so grateful. I also know that if I am going to protect that recovery and maintain it, I have some decisions to make. Not having much luck knowing exactly which way I should go, just what I should do, but I have an idea. I’ve sought advice from several people who have had to make similar choices. I have prayed. I have done everything I can think of to do what I need to find guidance and direction. Soon, I will have to stop stalling and do what I know I need to. I’m just not looking forward to it. I guess deep down inside I know what I need to do, but I am afraid. This may not turn out the way I want it to. But the outcome is out of my hands. This is one of the many things I can’t control. The only part of the outcome I can control is whether or not I drink or use, and that last part is only for as long as I do what I know is the right thing, keep working my program, and most importantly try to get closer contact each day with my God.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. I am working on the acceptance part, but I need a little extra help on the courage to do my part.

Guarding my recovery

“Just for today: I will be vigilant, doing everything necessary to guard my recovery.”

I received this quote as a text message from a friend of mine the morning of New Year’s Day. What a wonderful message. What glorious timing. As the man who means more to me than he will ever know lay sleeping, or to be more accurate lay passed out after throwing away three and a half years of sobriety the night before in New Orleans, I contemplated those words.

Doing everything necessary to guard my recovery…but what exactly is that? Well, other than don’t drink, don’t drug, no matter what, I don’t always know. What is necessary changes as situations, emotions, spiritual fitness, and more changes. As they do, so does what I need to do to guard, to protect, to maintain my recovery. I don’t always know what the answer is. This situation, where the man I felt fully prepared to have in my life for…well, for the rest of it, fell back into the grip of chemicals that have nearly killed us both is one of those times I did not, and still don’t, know exactly what to do.

I love him. I have no desire to abandon him to hell. I think of my parents, my ex-wife, and a few others who loved me enough to stay in my life and pray for my recovery as I drank and used my way to the brink of the grave. How can I, who I understand, who have been there, who maintain my sobriety through service and helping the alcoholic and addict who still suffers do any less?

On the other hand, I know no one can help and addict until he or she wants that help. It doesn’t matter what or how you say something to someone if they aren’t ready to hear it. I think this may be why one of the phrases most often spoken by Jesus was “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” You can’t hear the solution, the truth, until you can, until you’re ready. I don’t believe I can handle watching A. kill himself while I wait and hope he will become ready and willing again before it is too late.

And then the toughest part of the question, can I keep this relationship AND my sobriety? Seeing A. totally messed up did not make me tempted at all to join him and return to my own personal hell. It made me sick. It hurt. It scared the hell out of me. But how long will that revulsion protect me? I don’t know.

And I don’t know what I am going to do. I don’t know what the next right thing is yet…but I do know that God knows. I have no wisdom here, but I have access to the source of all wisdom. I must be patient, seek said wisdom, and not make any moves until I am sure which way my God wants me to go.