Navigating one’s life in the dark is a nearly impossible task. Just like you, I was given a map, but mine has been sitting in the glove box collecting dust since I was four. I have been driving in circles for decades. The GPS for my mind is like having a Sprint Service Plan in Northern Michigan. It works, but its spotty as hell. I have a vague and general idea of what’s going on up there in this head of mine. At most times.
When the power goes out at your house you can feel your way around in the dark and get to a bathroom. Maybe you can even find that drawer where you put those candles, but can you find matches? And what a shame when you can find the flashlight, but don’t have any working batteries. That is what being an addict is like. For me its been like trying to find my way around a house in a blackout. I know the floor plan, but I just keep bumping into things over and over again. Often times the same things. Once in a great while I actually remember where something is and I am able to avoid it.
I am with certainty one of the lucky ones’. Something or someone decided to help me and restored the power (maybe it was just me being tired of being sick and tired, but I don’t believe this). I can see everything clearly now. And what a fucking mess I’ve made bumping into things, knocking things over, breaking so many things. One of them being my youngest daughters trust, respect and love. She is understandably hurting and angry. I fear our relationship may be damaged beyond repair. But, my hope is one day we will heal and reconcile. Until then at least at the moment I am not prepared to write about that topic. I will be eventually though. I look forward to sharing my short comings as a father who is also an addict. I believe it will help me further forgive myself but, also help other fathers and daughters as well. Remember roughly the population of Texas (26 million give or take) is suffering some form of addiction. If it takes a village to raise a child. Then maybe we all need to help repair a broken one.
My attic was a mess. It still needs some straightening up. The whole house does. But you can’t clean a house if you can’t find the tools to do the job. Trying to explain my drive down Broadway to a friend and doing a poor job of it, is when the house metaphor materialized. It is the perfect venue for my story. I am a mansion filled with many different rooms. So are you. We all are. Some of my rooms are unused and covered with dust. Others are immaculate, ornately decorated and places of wonder for myself and others to enjoy. Each has a unique and special purpose. Somewhere in this vast home is a safe room. Where a small four year old boy waits. His adult self is going room by room to find him. I am going to unlock that door and tell him everything is safe. It is okay to come out now.
Quite simply put and again I will reference the, “Big Book” https://www.aa.org/pages/en_US/alcoholics-anonymous. Instantaneously I, “intuitively knew how to handle situations which used to baffle me.” Over the next few weeks after the Broadway miracle and I do apologize for the use this term. I fear using a word like miracle may make agnostics or those struggling with addiction, as I did, feel uncomfortable. Turning those suffering off from even the smallest seed planted from what they might read or see in my story would be a tragedy. If months ago I would have been told I’d be using quotes from the Big Book, referencing my many rehab stints, sessions with counselors or paraphrasing any of the amazing stories I have read in others biographies and addiction stories… I would have thought you were insane. Nothing short of “miracle” truly captures the transformations that has taken place in my life.
Outwardly to most I am sure it looks exactly the same. Inwardly however since “Broadway” for example while writing the above paragraph about my four year old self being trapped in a “safe-room”. I openly wept. Those who know me best will attest that emotional displays of affection are uncharacteristically part of my nature. A calm has entered my soul. A peace I have never known. I am finally free from the bondages of addiction. This is where the story truly begins.
Moment by Moment 