I just received the loveliest text:
“So I know you’ve had a hard time this spring and summer and I don’t know anything about the details, but since we’ve been back I’ve noticed that you seem, I don’t even know…uncomfortable in your skin? Fidgety? Off? Putting on a brave face?
I don’t know what path you are on, and I don’t need to, but I see you.
You are kind and lovely and smart and deep and curious and beautiful and
BELOVED…. always”
So tonight is the last night I’ll sleep in this twin bed, beneath my orchid, hearing the active plumbing like ghostly waterfalls throughout the night. I’ve decided to move home a few days early because of situations and emotions outside of my control.
The moon is full. Luminous.
Over the past three and half weeks I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on where I’ve been and where I am. I’ve felt my shrunken personality blossom like the lovely petals of my friend the orchid. I’ve been lonely and content. Many days I’ve just been.
There are so many friends and family members showing me love and support that I’m starting to feel a bit worthy. There’s also been some neglect and detachment that has left me feeling discarded and unloveable. Feelings feelings feelings.
Overall I’ve decided that this place and this time are important to me. I’m not shying away from my reality — I’m embracing it.
Good night.
This is my 17th day not living at home. I reside in a small basement room with a twin size bed and a desk. An orchid named Rosie is my main companion. There are 6 other men who share this house with me.
I moved here after another significant relapse that once again found me passed out at home, with Thom needing to call an ambulance because I was unresponsive. Turns out I was unresponsive because my BAC was .35.
I did not move here by choice. I acquiesced to some strong suggestions from both Thom and my therapist at my IOP. I am counting down the days until I leave and move back home.
In theory this is giving me some time to focus on my recovery and work on myself. Mostly it’s a lot of time to nap.
Tonight I realized I don’t feel empowered in my own life, and I’m not quite sure how to change that.
So it’s time to deal with the real. On June 18th I checked in to medical detox/rehab at Harborview. It was a long time coming. It was hard. It was live-saving. It is now my life.
So here’s the deal: I consume more alcohol than is healthy for my body. It has mostly effected my relationship, but it began to spill out into my professional life. Which involves students, young people who depend upon me. And I fucked it up.
So I took drastic measures and had drastic benefits. I checked into a facility and lost my humanity for 8 days. I am now a sober person with 12 days and counting… I am concentrating on my health and sobriety and sincerely hope it spills into my relationships. Or holds them up. I’m currently unwilling to let go of the things I hold important. Like my marriage. My job. My life.
When I tried to solve my problems by myself I failed. I was overcome. Now I’m open to help and benefits of the better decisions.
To pretend that the disease of addiction doesn’t infiltrate all aspects of your life is equivalent to pretending that Trump may eventually come around and support a liberal perspective. All of my life is in jeopardy. But it’s also attainable if I maintain my focus. I am grateful and hopeful. I am ready.
When I encounter him, mouth open and asleep in a chair, after a hot day and reading a comic book, I am just filled with joy. I love him. Endlessly. I just love him.
This morning was hard. I ate something last night that erupted within my belly and did its best to leave in ALL of the ways possible. I woke up in pain and discomfort. I sat for a long while feeling down. And then things settled and I stood in the shower. (Lately I shower in complete darkness for the calm and the sensations.) As I stood there, I thought about all of the students I wanted to check in with this morning: H whose mom beats her, G who feels suicidal, S who cried to me yesterday that she doesn’t fit in with anyone, and O whose father was put in jail. And as I thought about these young people, literally all my stress and worry disappeared. I have the privilege to serve. I have the disposition that allows me to show up and be present and positive. I have a gift. I want to remember that personal worries can be destroyed by external motivation to help others. I was lucky to wake up, and I am lucky to be available to go and serve the young people who need it most.
I woke up at 3:00 am on a Friday morning before school. I read a bit, played on the Internet, and intimately inspected my body. And lay in bed trying to feel everything. I realized that I’m fine. I may be lonely. Or anxious. Or filled with painful memories and hateful thoughts about myself. But also… I’m fine. My basic needs are met. I have freedom and choices. I’ve yet to discover my full potential. All the darkness will eventually meet light. I’m fine.
He still sleeps on the left side of the bed.
And I still sleep on the right.
One floor apart, but
We still subconsciously make room
For one another.
I understand that you’re wanting connection. Unfortunately, I don’t have space for it right now.
I understand that you’re wanting connection. Unfortunately, I don’t have space for it right now.
I understand that you’re wanting connection. Unfortunately, I don’t have space for it right now.
Me and Mr. Jones 