Never let'em see ya...FEEL.

OK, so, when I was an adolescent, I somehow decided that if I did not let anyone know when I had a good feeling, ie happiness, then they would not be able to know to come and take the source of it away. Is this a common interpretation of events? I don't know. But I know that I became like the girl on the tv commercial , where the family is on vacation and the Mother's voice sounds like a jungle-safari guy, stalking an "elusive" animal...but the thing she's stalking is the girl's smile, and when the girl realizes that she's been spotted smiling, she races away, with Mom saying something like, " and...it's gone", at the end of the clip.
I did not allow myself to get excited or hopeful about things changing, knowing that experience had shown that it would not last. There's a big word for low-grade depression. I was told that I've probably had that for the majority of my life, or since I was about 7. But, today, I like to smile.
I might just have finally reached the place where I trust God enough to accept good things, w/o being so suspect of Him taking it back from me.
I don't know. But I'm going to keep on dreaming.

God of my lack of understanding

Cross Posted from my blog:

I'm working Step 7, and one thing that tripped me up for a minute is my lack of understanding of God. In step 2, I was able to come to believe in a power greater than myself. I believe in the power of the 12 step program. I see it work and I know it works for me. I believe in the power of the people in the program reaching out and supporting each other. I believe in the power of belief, regardless of what the particular belief is. I believe that believing in whatever an individual believes in makes the individual better and stronger. In step 3, I did an exercize that really worked for me. I listed the people in my life over the years and the gifts that each one gave to me. Then I wrote a list of all of those gifts, and and did a meditation on all of these gifts as a kaleidoscope of gifts all coming from my higher power. I've done that exercize twice now over the years when working the steps, and it works for me. I even did a dialogue with the God of my lack of understanding, and while I can't say I understood, I know good things came of it. In step 5, I admitted to the God of my lack of understanding the exact nature of my wrongs. Again, I used the exercize of the workbook I'm using. I said it out loud. Then I looked in the mirror and said it out loud again to myself. Step 6 took a while, but I became entirely ready to have my character defects removed. I can't say I'm understanding God any better, but I trust the process.

I don't believe that everything is preordained. I don't believe that God makes every decision. I don't believe that God chooses evil and that there's some purpose for everything, that terrible things happen in order for some good to come. I DO believe that everything, even the terrible stuff that does happen, can lead to growth and that good things can come. I don't believe that if I pray right, then I'll get right answers. I do believe that whatever comes can be to my highest good. I can and do see gifts when I look for them. I got an amazing spiritual gift of another recovery tool yesterday when I really needed it.

All of that makes that prayer thing confusing for me. But yet again, I'm acting as if. Last night, and again this morning in the shower, I prayed, out loud, for God to remove all of my defects of character. I listed each one I know of, and I asked for help identifying those I haven't figured out yet. I guess, yet again, I'm coming to believe that I don't have to understand.

More than just counting the notches on the bed post . . .

Yes. I'm talking about sex inventory. I've been procrastinating on that final part of my 4th step and I am sure the reason is something more than that I am lazy. God gives us what we need when we need it, right? So it must be time. When I went to bed a couple of nights ago the parade of men that have waltzed, raced, smashed their way through my life suddenly took and held my thoughts for hours. I've been having trouble remembering things recently, things like what time I have to go to work, but that night I remembered the name of the man I lost my virginity to. "Lost" is really the wrong word. Killed and buried in the night without remorse is more accurate.

Then came the one I loved and, I believe, the only one who loved me; the one year summit of my success at relationships. That bitter-sweet memory was quickly followed with my 21 year history of mistakes of varying magnitude; the one who liked to beat me up, the one I used for his money, the woman I married, and the years and years spent one month here, two months there; wrestling with men who never quite fit. Finally, perhaps most importantly, the IFX. I never knew that I could hurt that bad. I never knew that, to me, love feels like loneliness, loss, abuse and a warm body. His disappearance on my birthday was the turning point for me. That pain and that prayer delivered me to the place where God gave me my first step.

I've found my pen. I've got out my Big Book and notebook. And now I'm going to balk over the whole thing for another few hours while I go see a movie. Because I'm a spiritual giant. Not. I haven't picked it up because I'm afraid and ashamed and I lack faith that God will lead me to better things. There. I said it. But I believe with my whole heart that God has a plan, a purpose and a destiny for me to grow, however haltingly, in His own likeness and image and that means doing the work. So I'll do the work. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Get Up, Suit Up, Show Up

One of the things we hear in meetings over and over is “Get up. Suit up. Show up.” When I went into exile from life and made my home in a coffin at the end of the world, get up, suit up, show up was about all I was able to do – and then only out of necessity. The drugs aren’t going to go get themselves. If I had waited too long, if I had not saved something to help me get up and on my way, if there was nothing to be had when mine ran out, I was in for a painful and difficult spell. Get/Suit/Show up, at that point, was not consciousness, willingness or effort. It was a biological function of addiction, like breathing. That is what it feels like to be an addict. In the coffin at the end of the world, drugs and alcohol become your oxygen. The only path I could see before me was heartbreaking and enduring it required anesthesia.

The anesthesia wore off, stopped working, and God showed me a different path if I would have it. Of course I would have it. All I had to contribute, though, was my willingness to make the effort, which, in the beginning, meant getting up, suiting up and showing up. It took me five days to get up. It took another week or so to suit up and arrange to get to treatment. It took another couple of weeks to work out those details and to show up there. Walking in the door, I believed that treatment was going to give me the tools and self-knowledge I needed to overcome the obsession and compulsion. It had not occurred to me that anything more would be required.

Read more . . .

Clean to dirty in the blink of an eye (THE REASON RELAPSES SUCK ASS!)

This is a post that should probably be on my personal blog; I am not sure the reason for posting it here. Well, other than Scout's request for fresh material. So what the hell, maybe it will do some other hurting soul some good.

I almost relapsed to night. No wait, relapse is to pretty of a word, it's too much a recovery word, and not being one in recovery, and what I did or almost did tonight being pretty fucking ugly, let's just call it what it was; I almost slammed some dope tonight. Yup, no I am not talking about smoking some weed, or taking a drink. I am not even talking about doing some lightweight opiate like a few Vicodins. No, I went straight to the connection's house to score some dope in order to "fix" a gram straight to my head.

I was sitting in Costco, eating a polish dog and drinking a coke. I had had a particularly bad day, well as far as bad days go for me, and I have more than my fair share, today was a fucking shitty day, which fell on the heels of a shitty week, and is standing before a pretty bleak and shitty near future. Now I preach about staying in the moment as often as possible, and well, maybe this is the exact reason one should do so as often as possible. See already earlier in the day I had considered using, after all it was just the night before I had be asked if perhaps I was using again. Being a few days shy of 90's sober, meaning without heroin, but with the use of methadone. I took offense, I mean how dare she question my sobriety, I'm fucking 90 days clean, WTF, and to top it off, I am in the exact same spot every time she had ever asked and I had lied. Meaning not once had she ever asked if I was using when I wasn't using, except last night. I was pissed off. I was indigent, but fuck, even if I was using, it's not like it's her fucking business anyway, I am outta here in two fucking weeks, what's it to her anyway. Those were my exact thoughts the night before.

So I sat in Costco, like I said, eating my polish dog, and I think to myself, who has dope? See, I had already made the leap from; well if I am getting blamed, I might as well do it. to; I hurt so fucking bad, and muscle memory of how all of that washes away in the matter of seconds. to: I just got pissed test at the clinic, so I am good for at least 3 weeks. to: I am on methadone, meaning I can use just tonight, be back on my dose tomorrow, no worries of an extended "relapse" (was I used that word, at that time). to: I am on methadone, so I better get a full gram, because a half gram might not be enough and I want to get good and loaded. to: calling the one person I know who still uses. This happened all in a nano second, all on a subconscious level, but nevertheless, it sent the conscious Ej. into direct action. That is the only way I can explain the process of a relapse for this junkie. The only way I can tell you what happened, was because I never went through with it.

Turns out this person happens to be hold, he has 3 grams, but they are $60 per. Fuck, I don't really want to spend $60. But make no mistake, if I can't get it for less, $60 it is. I say I am on my way over, and head over. But I had already made another leap, one I forgot in the first set of leaps, and that one was: I will stop at the main connects house and see what's going, what kind of deal he'll give me. Side Note: This is the very same connection who for the last 8 months of my last run, I had worked for. I had free dope and an extra $2K a month in my pocket, all for making 3 or 4 deliveries a week. But near the end, someone got busted, and I am a smart man, I knew that by this particular individuals arrest, meant trouble for the organization I was involved in. I cut my losses, and bailed. Gave up the $2k a month and the free dope, went back to paying wholesale prices until I got back on MMT.

As it turns out this was a very wise decision. As I learn at the connections house, they came for him about a month ago, and they subsequently raided everyone who worked for him at the same time. These were all the people I had worked with just months prior. This could have been me. This was me. As he told me the story, all I could think was, thank god I got the fuck out. They didnt get the connection, he was smart, he used people, they were the one's who got busted. While I listed to his story all I could think is thank god I am not in this life anymore. He lost his kids, of course he would get them back, he could afford those high priced attorneys. But fuck, that could have been me that went down with the 6 or 7 others. That was me. I didn't even bother to ask about the dope, I knew he wouldn't have any, and by that time, I had lost all interest.

I was walking to the car, thinking about how blessed I was. How I had almost made a huge mistake, how had I not left the world when I did, I would have had made an even bigger mistake. I thought about how good it felt not to NEED to get loaded like so many times before. I thought about how good it felt not to wake up every morning with that same need. How good it felt that I wasn't lying to my family about using. About how proud I was that I could look at my daughters and not feel shame over being loaded, or worse, waiting for them to go away so I could sneak off to get a hit. I thought about all my beautiful, wonderful friends, that would be crushed if I had done it. I felt such relief of not having to eventually admit it and not have had let anyone down. How those things meant something to me for the first time in my life. I had never cared about how what I had done or was going to do would affect anyone. No addict does, we are selfish and self centered people who are self involved. I was happy. I thought about all these things not in a nano second, but I thought about each one, as if time had stopped. I went over each and every detail, I felt the feelings, I relived the moments, I played them over and over and over again. Then as I got to my car, I got a text message. It was from D, it was a picture of my daughters. I just smiled. It was a message from God, he was smiling upon me. He was basking me in his light. He was showing me the exact reasons I made the decision I did, that I had made the right decision, and that I had answered to a high calling. It was beautiful, it was magical and ultimately divine.

Until the next day, which is all gloriously posted in the comments section and you can all read about my true insanity there.