Moment by Moment

Otto Fredrick Rohwedder

Conviction of your beliefs

A brief moment of clarity, and a seed of belief was planted. It had been securely put in place. Of this much I had little question. But, as with most new ideas, the nagging remnants of self doubt still churned in the pit of my stomach, along with feelings of trepidation and turmoil. So, I continued for weeks as CEO of Duane Inc. questioning their validity and value for the company. But in the end with little choice, as the options for saving the business were running out. It was decided, the time had come to change the company’s direction.

Backed secretly by a new director and with his guiding hand, I mustered all the courage inside of myself and asked the majority stock holders for a meeting. It was a lot like one of my favorite Christmas movies. For decades I had worked for Macy’s and I was now going to tell them, we should be shopping at Gimbals. “For Christs sake… what am I thinking? I’m too old for new tricks. This one will cost me my job.” After an incredible amount of debate and soul searching. My fears had finally been laid to rest. “Fella”, the new chief said to the current controlling member of Duane Inc. This “If it feels good, do it”, company slogan just isn’t working for you anymore. If you are to survive and thrive as a Duane, you must adopt a new platform!

I kept the takeover bid under wraps for as long as I could. My sister was the first to receive insider information. My way of gauging the possible outcome of this takeover bid. I did research. I armed myself with readily available centuries old historical data from every part of the globe. Including; testimonials, images and most importantly faith in what I now believe(d) to be the best path forward for Duane Inc.. It was time for action.

So we went public… Our first step, explanations. I flipped open my laptop and began my testimonial. First on Facebook. I poured out the company’s new agenda… transparency and accountability. Then I started this blog. Helping myself through reaching out to others in need. And now I find myself having conversations about our new CEO with perfect strangers. Not conversations of religion, but about Gods love and how to best serve.

I carefully choose my words. I don’t wish to make others uncomfortable or scare them off. However, as the presentation to the board continues, I’ve become aware that many of those listening appear to be overwhelmed, unsure of how to react. Others are ignoring the message entirely. I am not surprised or even mildly bothered by these reactions. Transitions in any company, especially one established so firmly on the principles of greed, lust and self serving as mine had been (since its founding in 1970), were bound to raise questions of doubt, among even the smallest of investors. This was expected. As the majority stock holder I felt this way just months ago myself. I get it. But, everyone should be so lucky. The new CEO’s talents go far beyond the spiritual. Duane Inc. has been lucky to receive this gift.

Fortunately, God has a better sense of humor than most of us.

Undeniably, I have an enthusiasm and a new passion that has not gone unnoticed by others. Reactions from those that I know well… and surprisingly from some strangers, has only solidified this resolve. Still though, I have left my comfort zone. In the past as CEO of Duane Inc. I’ve often been too busy (bound under Satan’s yolk.) to be bothered. Unable to participate in activities. Office parties would last for days, sometimes… even weeks. But, the frivolous decision making and spending habits of our company resources by our previous CFO could no longer be tolerated. Budget cuts and restructuring even those at the highest levels has become necessary. And as a result a major stock repurchase has also been implemented. Some of the former stock holders in Duane Inc. will be missed. Others will not.

We at Duane Inc. are not apologizing, but we do acknowledge that some former stock holders won’t be interested in our privatization with all the new policies and procedures in place. In addition, we are aware that without dividends now being shared there appears to be a significant loss in attraction in our stock value. Being reminded daily by the new CEO that many others have had these same ideas and long before Duane Inc., has been of comfort. They too replaced their CEO’s. They not only survived the downsizing and shift in leadership, but their companies are thriving under the new guidance. I have faith this will be true for Duane Inc. as well.

Our new company motto… “Let go and let God.”, it isn’t a new concept it’s an old one that still works! Time tested it has saved billions of poor souls. I’ve just put a new cover on it. Passed it out to the board. Told them to get out of Yahweh and let him resurrect this broken down company. Our new employee handbook is a painstakingly organized guide, an old manual with a plan for life fulfillment and happiness. People often complicate its message, but the title simply reads… “Holy Bible” (He Only loves You… Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth).

In a previous thought I wrote, “For Christs sake.” It is. I wake in the mornings now and I pray. I lie still in my bed, but aloud speaking with God and a couple of our angels (Uriel and Jophiel). The conversations are mostly one sided and while this is probably for the best. I find that afterwards… I have a genuine idea of the direction my day should take. I also have a sense of purpose and belonging.

My world is far from perfect. In fact I sat sobbing this morning while writing this piece. I had just posted on Facebook. And received some return responses. One being from my aunt Susan. She has been battling cancer. Many of you have loved ones or yourselves are in the same position. Since finding my right path and unblocking Gods number (so I could answer his calling), I have asked and questioned (why?) many times. Why and how come, seem to be regular thoughts running through my head? My aunt is just the loveliest person. It seems I had all but forgotten about my family. My pursuit of personal pleasures and being in Satan’s employ was time consuming. Think of those you know and love under contract. What wouldn’t you do or give of yourself to nullify those arrangements?

Anyway, as I sat sobbing not because I was angry with God. But, finally being out from under Satan’s yolk, my heart is now open. I want all the time with this beautiful person I can have. I want it for everyone who may come into contact with her, but especially for our family. Most everyone is touched in some way by the ravages of cancer. I want her pain and suffering and that of others to cease. So I do what I can now… pray and pray often. And no he has not provided me with healing powers or answers to all of the mystery’s of life. In fact, I know that all of my prayers and yours won’t be answered. We simply have too many. And often God has a different purpose for us than we would wish. Otherwise, we would all be lottery winners, all our loved ones alive, healthy and well.

As I said, after my morning prayer I have a sense of purpose, belonging and a direction for my day. Those are only some of the benefits prayer provides us with. There are many others; solace, quiet reflection, peace and an opportunity for communion with the Holy Spirit to name a few. Often complex, troublesome and infuriating questions like, why a loved one suffers, seem to go unanswered. No one could argue that the loss of a child or a seemingly senseless war, among other things isn’t enough to rattle your faith. Even make you question your belief. But faith is believing when all other evidence points to the contraire. And certainly we are exercising our God given right to free will when we do, but no amount of anger, self pity or wasted time wishing for different outcomes will alter events. In my case choosing not to ignore Gods chosen path may have exacerbated the gap between my estranged daughter and I. But fighting our creators plan for us as individuals or as a whole appears futile. Even the angels aren’t allowed to alter Gods plan. My newly discovered faith and belief made exercising the choice of free will and giving up this gift, an impossible option for this addict!

What we can do is pray. Ask God for his guidance and then seek out available information, medicines, work on mending relationships, offer a helping hand, and take the next best step toward solving our problem or at least coping with it. The one sure thing in life is not everything will go according to our plan, at least not ours.

In a perfect world there would be no need for my purge. No heartache, no pain. I wouldn’t be a recovering crack addict. I would never have been an addict at all. But instead, we were given free will. Blessed above even the angels in this regard. We have all heard the saying ignorance is bliss. With the absence of free will that is what we are the blissful ignorant. We would be without knowledge (the apple). But, all this knowledge comes with power and the complications of power… sin. Is there really joy without heartache? Is there really any pleasure without knowing pain? Can you truly experience the beauty of God if you don’t understand the dangers of the devil?

I thought by fifty I would be running the world. But, instead I am just beginning to understand mine and my place in it. This is okay today. Lao Tzu is credited with saying, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with the one step.” Well when I took my first step I tripped and fell. Fortunately, I’m durable and resilient. Because I just kept tripping over and over.

Needle Nose Ned Ryerson.

Recovery and life (don’t you believe in second chances?) aren’t things we get right necessarily the first time (lets hope so, but…). There isn’t a gold medal given out for either. We’ll be judged, no matter… for both. Remember addicts the only judgment that counts is ours and Gods. With prayer at the beginning, throughout and the end of your day, you too like Otto Frederick Rohwedder, the man who said, “What if we slice the bread?” can ease the struggle not only for yourselves, but those around you.

The struggle is real, may God bless you all.

Thanks for popping in,

Duane

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bible

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Otto_Frederick_Rohwedder

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laozi

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0039628/

The real ones have it!

Relationships, Recovery and Religion

Real Relationships

My dear friend Janet and I recently had a bit of an altercation through emails and over text. Yuk! I don’t recommend this form of communication. It resulted in some hurt feelings on both sides.

A considerable amount of misunderstanding and miscommunication took place. And in the end I was called an asshole. While the advances we have made through technology are significant and not without merit. Few forms of communication if any, can truly capture the necessary body language, eye contact and emotion needed to have a tête-a-tête of any real significance without such occurrences. If you have ever had to defend your actions to a judge on a video screen than you get my point. Good luck with that. Since Janet and I had reached a impasse, I opted to abstain from further engagement.

“We were on a break!” This was by no means was our first or what will be our last disagreement or argument. The best thing about having great friends is being able to be the worst version of yourself. It is the maintaining of that friendship with all our imperfections and accepting them, that make it so special. And worth working for. Janet is the person that taught me this, but for her persistence and patience we would not even be friends. We don’t always disagree on politics, religion, policy, or procedure. But, like any good relationship we navigate those muddy waters with waders on when we do. Trying our best to be respectful of each others opinions and beliefs.

Real Recovery

With all the recent changes I have been going through and her personal struggle with a newly discovered nicotine addiction, from an old habit. We found ourselves in new territory. Each of us trying to understand the others emotions and feelings attached to our perspective addictions. I have recently written about my belief that just like forgiveness, addiction is addiction. The recovery process is the same for any form of addiction. I couldn’t have expected that Janet would suddenly come to believe as I did. But, for her as with anyone, I wished nothing less. Having faith in God has now made this journey much easier for me.

Shouldering the gravity of an addiction alone is overwhelming. And without a support system in place, nearly impossible. I am only beginning to understand my relationship with God. How to pray. What to say. Who to trust. What to look for and how to avoid traps. Most importantly though, how to listen for his message and ignore the whisperer. Oh, yes that imp still comes around. And just as God has many in his employ. The whisperer has his minions too. They love me. Why wouldn’t they? I was a template for bad behavior. Since Gods presence in my life though, I get fewer and fewer visits from my demons and his minions.

Both Janet and I have recently suffered great losses. She unexpectedly lost her beautiful friend and comfort Bart.

Mine was that of a relationship I took for granted. Previously in other pieces I have mentioned this. Having a child so angry with you they don’t want a relationship, is not only worth mentioning again. But a beautiful reminder to other suffering addicts that with help, you can do this without using. In my past this would have been impossible for me. I am grieving my loss too, but I am not using. I am, with the help of God able to understand and see the sides of this situation that otherwise would have escaped this addict.
A short time ago, I would have been angry, inappropriately overreacted in a rash and brazen manners causing even more damage. With God as my co-pilot now, I have gone from, I don’t know why, but…, you do know why and you understand it. What can I say…, say nothing. Give her time. how do I explain…, don’t. Show her. This doesn’t make sense… It makes perfect sense. To her. I have been given some of the answers now. God is doing for me, what I could not do for myself. Providing me much needed guidance and counsel.

Real Religion

This is what I wished for my dear friend. For someone to help her shoulder her burden. With our mini break now over and us speaking again. I asked her about her relationship with God? “I’ve asked God for help. yes. Prayed a bit. Still don’t believe in organized, religion. I find my group to be a sort of higher power?”

This new chapter in my life is showing me that although our experiences may be individual to us. We all share undeniable commonalities. David and his son Nic Sheff’s, “Beautiful Boy: A Father’s Journey Through His Son’s Addiction”, James Frey’s controversial, “A Million Little Pieces.” both of whom are fellow addicts sharing their life stories have had profound effects on me and my recovery. Relating to addiction through other addicts is a fundamental part of the process of healing addiction. Janet and I have begun to heal the wounds inflected upon each other through our undeniable commonalities. Addiction and loss.

Addiction, loss, communication issues and anger, things we all suffer through the human experience seem all to often to push us apart. When what they should do is bring us together. Making us appreciate and understand each other more. Offering a helping hand, a kind word or a shoulder to cry on once you understand one persons suffering is just the same yours should be second nature. After all it is Gods nature and we are made in his image. It isn’t for most of us though and certainly wasn’t always for me. This is what has changed inwardly for me. And thus, now has changed my outwardly look on world.

The R’s Relationships, Recovery, and yes… Religion. Today you found it here. All three come in different shapes and sizes. There isn’t a perfect one size fits all for everyone. Try as many on as you like. I sure did. See which ones fit. And then return the rest for a refund if you don’t like it. I did. At the moment my organized religion is this blog. Today at this moment, I am clean and sober. I also have a relationship with a great friend at this momentarily, until that next disagreement or argument. We will work through that one too. The commonality… they all have it, value!

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bible

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Million_Little_Pieces

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beautiful_Boy%3A_A_Father%27s_Journey_Through_His_Son%27s_Addiction

https://www.aa.org/pages/en_US/alcoholics-anonymous

Too many holes to fill.

I am struggling for the correct word to describe the experience I found myself having while sharing with an old friend today on messenger. Is there word or phrasing for such a profound turn around in ones outlook. Maybe metamorphosis, stunning, funny, strange, odd or astonishing. I am just not sure. I have described the actual incident itself as nothing short a miraculous. I believe that. That is what is was. You shouldn’t if it makes you uncomfortable. At first it did me, too, the actual event. I have accepted it at face value though. I was there. It happened to me. It is happening to me now. I have admitted it. I have said it out loud, acknowledged it, hell, I am even shouting it from the roof tops. I Love God and God loves me! (Damn it… I love my dead gay son!)

So now what? There is no going back for me. I have been expressly instructed to share what I have in order to keep it. What I am wrestling with now is the other blessings that have arrived as result of this purge. Exactly what they mean? The direction God wants to move in? What my next steps forward are as a new soldier and temp under the employment of God. Ultimately it will be his choosing. I have accepted this much. I hope to be up to task.

The friend I spoke with this morning has recently started a new relationship. He and his “lover” (adore that word, even in print it looks disturbing.) met on a dating app. I will call my friend William. He is supportive of me. His first reaction to my recent events were a stern rebuke because as he said, “I thought you were done with all that partying shit years ago.” He also with a said, ” There is someone out there for you. I found my guy on a dating app. I think this one is a keeper.” A little pity had sneaked into our reunion as we continued to share and update each other on our lives. It was then that I was overcome by a sense of being complete, just as I am. Horrible flawed and with a mountain of problems, but none the less complete.

I am an addict… but, not every day of being an addict was a scene out of, “Trainspotting” or “Leaving Las Vegas”. I’ve smoked a joint on a beach in Maui with someone I loved very much. And enjoyed it at the time. Done lines of cocaine from a penthouse view. At the time thinking, does it get better than this? Captained a boat down the North Channel drunk and naked on a beautiful summer day in Lake St. Clair. Honestly until the U.S. Coast Guard pulled along side it was great fun. Thank the heavens for international waters.

I am not using. I haven’t been for some time. Many peoples initial reaction is pity when they hear of or read a story about an addict or addiction. Especially with crack, heroin, and meth users. There is a stigma. These somehow are dirtier for people or maybe just carry more of the stigma associated with addiction. But addiction is addiction. I am still smoking cigarettes. An addiction. I haven’t even thought of quitting yet myself, but I can hear Gods calling for that too.

The friend that is quitting smoking, your sister with the food addiction or that girl you know is drinking at home alone everyday are all suffering just the same. And maybe, just maybe what they are lacking is that same ingredient that so many other addicts are missing. I have a different philosophy with the known principles about time in recovery programs. It isn’t that I don’t believe time is a factor. Or for that matter without some merit. But it isn’t what keeps us sober or makes us whole.

Happy productive people have a purpose a sense of well being and comfort in their lives. Certainly time can build knowledge in any area. But, I know an awful lot of sick people who are in recovery. Many of whom are just as miserable as they were with 20 years of sobriety. An old AA joke goes something like, “What’s the difference between a practicing drunk alcoholic and a sober alcoholic?” The answer… “Nothing.” I know for me, I have this moment and this moment only. In the next I could use. But for the grace of God there go I. Shouldn’t the time we spend be being clean and sober be full of joy? I know it can be now.

The difference between my last go rounds with recovery and this experience is plain and simple. The presence of God. In the past I have also amassed time in, “The Program” . Without a higher power though, all I am is Duane. Duane not drinking and using drugs. While that is great and has allotted me a few years here and there. I have never been successful not using. One or many of other forms of addictions available to this addict would always resurface. For example; like driving from park to park, cruising mall bathrooms or visiting adult bookstores looking for another way to punish myself, get off and fill the emptiness. Both figuratively and in this instance… literally. Which has a completely different set of results. The least of which is having an arrest record for inappropriate public behavior.

I am grateful to William. He’s a good friend. As a result of his caring, kind and supportive words… I had an epiphany. Folks this is the word I was searching for. The stories, feelings and information I am sharing comes from a good place. A place of healing. Yes, they are themselves, some, awful stories. But my struggle is over. My compulsion has been removed, by Gods hand, not mine. Things I have done and the acts I have committed, many of them I regret, many I don’t. Some are ridiculous, but have also been great fun. Great times with good friends and family. I begrudge no one who can partake of enjoying all of life’s available pleasures, in doing so. I will continue to myself. Those I can. As at matter of fact, when and if I am able again, without it turning into something degrading or unhealthy. I would like to be touched by someone other than myself.

Jennifer won an Oscar after “changing” in DreamGirls. What is in store for you?

What has happened? What is different? I am whole. “The promises”, in the, “Big Book” have been fulfilled. Those feelings of shame, unworthiness, quilt, hopelessness, anger and the fear of being uncomfortable in my own skin have subsided. I no longer think to myself, “If they knew the real me. They wouldn’t like me”. They all think I am fat, stupid, ugly, etc. My adoption or rather being given up for adoption at age four left me scarred and broken. I have understood that most of this my life. While people were involved in those decisions. It isn’t necessarily anyone’s fault. I hadn’t understood that until recently in my life. Someone or something needed to be blamed for what I was or better yet wasn’t feeling. So, I chose myself. That choice ended up hurting so many other too though. There is another choice.

Knowing something doesn’t always mean you can fix it. I tried. Tried over and over again… my way. That didn’t work. Neither did filling myself up on outside solutions and numbing myself. Always looking that next distraction meant taking me fifty years to find what I have know. A brand new, but growing relationship with God. Nothing outside of me was ever going to fill that void. So God gave me a gentle touch and pointed me in the right direction.

This next P.S.A is for all of us addicts. All the drugs, booze, women, men, food, and men, won’t stop the hurting. We can shove all of it as far down into the void as we like. But until we quit (a)voiding dealing with our problems and begin dealing with finding a higher power I believe it isn’t going to work. It may buy us some time. It may even make us a slightly more palatable version of ourselves, but it won’t heal us. Did I mention men twice?

God has replaced the abyss. He has filled it with his presence in my life. Suddenly that dark empty endless craving is gone. I feel complete. For the first time maybe. As if I were a child at night listening to a bed time story his warmth has provided a comfort like I have ever known. That feeling of being tickled and tucked in with a hug and a kiss, the security of that favorite blanket of yours wrapped around you. All the while wearing your most comfortable pajamas. You know the ones with the feet at the bottom. I can feel him soothing my broken soul. Offering shelter and safety from the storm. Gently consoling me while providing his support and love.

Fathers all shapes and sizes.

It is 4:45 a.m. not even daybreak yet. Like a first-time hunter on cool fall morning with dawn soon approaching, I am anxious and ready to begin my quest. Eagerly and nervously I wait under the brush from across a distant fog laden field. I am preparing myself to take aim at my mark. Next to me is a man. He has given me life. He has provided me knowledge and the necessary skills to carry this out act. He is my father. Only today my prey is something of a different nature and the skill set has been addiction and recovery.

For those of you who have read “Call me Kooky”, or some of my other pieces this one might be easier to follow. I always try my best to make each entry independent of another. For that mater I always try my best. But like the hunter I do not always hit my mark. I am hoping to do so with this particular subject matter. It so happens while I have some knowledge in the area, I have been not so gently reminded that I have done a poor job of it. “Fathering”. I will try my best here as well, regardless of the outcome. That is what we do as fathers. Try our best. Unfortunately, my best hasn’t been good enough.

Recently, I have had a life altering experience. I have no explanations for it. I have tried to put it into words and put pen to paper without much success. My “recovery” one could argue is new. Who am I to be writing a blog on recovery after another on again, off again this time almost 2 year bender. I understand that arguement. Another way to look at it however is… I have amassed a 40 year travel log of do and don’ts for addicts who desperately need recovery.

I too had an absentee father. Not my dad he is a rock star. Shout out to Dave. He is amazing. The silent super glue that holds our family together. He has had to be extra strength super glue in fact. You know the kind that has the warnings on the label and scientific molecular bonding principles. He deals with my dynamo mother and her busy life schedule. Her ups and downs. Her frustrations at a world we all have made a mess of. My dad is there for her each and every day with support, guidance and love. He is an educated man, a man with knowledge. He is kind and gentle. He is respected, admired and often provides sought after counsel for his peers.

He also juggles the three of us. His children. One relatively grounded and arguably sane son. My beautiful and delightful, yet often handful of a sister. And this hot mess! I told him once when I was sixteen to, “fuck off and die” over a trip to Cedar Point and my perception of unfairness. Teenagers, ugh, am I right? This resulted in his father never speaking to me again. Yes, my grandfather. I have since done far worse. Yet despite my considerable shortcomings as a son and a father myself to his grandchildren. His love for me is still there. As children often we don’t see the bigger picture. We can be selfish, spoiled, angry and hurt causing us to lash out.

Which brings me to my other father. Where has he been? I have been troubled, tormented, and tortured with no sign that he even exists. Or so I thought. In my last entry I shared with you, I truly believe that I have been touched by the hand of God. I meant that. Not just figuratively, but literally. I believe it was God that gently pulled my ear lobe and restored the power. Turned the lights on and is making it possible for this wretched addict to see his way around his house. Mine and his. He is asking for my help in helping others. I intend to heed his call.

I know how it sounds. I have not lost my mind. In fact I have found it. Who better to use an example of lost faith or lack there of. I have committed a laundry list of abominable acts for decades, but the worst being stealing from those I love. Not their possessions (although that too), but their time and their love. Is there anything worse than investing yourself, your time, your energy, but especially your emotions into something or someone only to have it not work out or even worse just be denied.

Well that is how I have felt about God. Where has he been? Why aren’t you paying attention? I am a hot mess. I went to church like a good boy. I even attended a Catholic school. I have been baptized, taken first communion, and I have read the bible cover to cover, albeit from a jail cell. Truth is I’m not sure there is any one answer to these questions. I think there are several. One is God is busy. I mentioned this in my last post. He does help. But I believe he helps those who help themselves first. They are quite simply put… easier to care for, right? In and out. Oil change vs. oh lets say your first solo brake job.

The squeaky wheel gets the oil. Those in need. We see this everyday. We just ignore it. I know I have. It is the everyday people who suit up and head out to make the world a better place. Our teachers, elder caregivers, child care providers, and volunteers at every level in homeless shelters, soup kitchens and hospitals both locally and globally. Anyone who is taking the time to give of themselves to help another person. Why? Because those are the ones that get it. I just did. Giving of yourself to help others is helping yourself. But, also helping God. Every organization needs a staff. Running the universe is a huge responsibility. God has employed millions of temps to fill some of these positions. Even he can’t do it alone.

There are miracles through science which is why the whole argument of evolution vs. creationism is silly. It is both. Doctors, nurses and scientists and the lot are placed here to preform everyday miracles on Gods behalf. End of story. They are here to answer our prayers for the ill, sickened and diseased. Besides, if God himself preformed those miracles no one would ever die. After all he is omnipotent. The cycle of life would be broken and then what? We already face food and housing shortages, hunger and famine. A climate change crisis. We can’t live forever. There simply isn’t enough room or provisions and that isn’t the design of life. Both science and faith based belief support this theory.

Then there are the folks like me “the desperate and downtrodden”. Many of whom (myself included) were/are unaware or unwilling to accept the assistance. You can complain about not getting or receiving help for what ails you, but if you won’t see the doctor than how can he help? I was chosen to receive help because upon further reflection of my own story I screamed out for it! HELP!!!!! Subconsciously, I even wrote about it using that exact wording. I had no idea this is where it would lead me at the time. Down a path soldiering for God. But here I am.

One of my daughters has disowned me. I understand it. She is angry. I understand it. We all have lessons to learn. Even Jesus didn’t understand his fathers message. “Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani?” Translated… “My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?” I am not suggesting that the hurt my daughter has endured through my addiction is “Christ-like”. Or even comparable to the sacrifice of his son for our sins. But rather a necessary hurt for an exceptional child to be pushed into the field of medicine and healing for the greater good and perhaps part of Gods plan. I personally might have chosen something a little less complicated and messy for myself and Lydia to be honest. But who am I to question the lord. He does indeed work in mysterious ways. Otherwise how do you explain my finding God through “crack”.

Which brings me to… Is it ever too late to be a father? This was the case with my grandfather. He is now deceased. The only time I believe it is. I wrote a letter to him during his final days hospitalized in the care of Gods army. Honestly, I remember few details of the letter. Except one… regrets. Regretting we never got to know each other. Regrets that we never hung a sign on a doorknob that read, “Gone fishing”.

Aren’t all of us who have children still fathers… even if we aren’t always there? Sometimes the best decisions we make as parents is the decisions of whom we entrust the care of our children. I know for me it was. I didn’t fight my ex-wife for custody of our children. Not because I don’t care or I didn’t want them, but because it was the best decision at the time to make as a father. I was a mess. She was the better parent. Not that I wasn’t one, a parent. At times even a good one. More often than not perhaps a bad one or at least not present. None the less still a parent. Still a father.

I was/am lucky that my girls had/have Nick. Abby and Lydia’s stepdad. Another father who would and does pick up the baton when I am out of steam or my mind. He ran with it. Nick is a soldier too. Whether he realizes it or not. One of the millions of temps in the service of God. Doing his works and answering the prayers of those unable to do for themselves. Or those like myself incapable of it until “Our Father” could reach them and we choose let him in. After nearly fifty years of punishing myself the stones I’ve used to erect walls are now being used to build bridges. Not because I was seeking God. But because I was ready and needed my fathers help. It turns out he was there waiting all this time. For just that moment. Imagine all the time we could have spent fishing. But, I will be waiting too. That is what fathers do.

Call Me Kooky

Well here I am again. This time though with some things to admit. I had a conversation this morning that is likely to alter my life path. I have been holding back if you can believe that. Initially I thought this journaling and blogging was about something else. It turns out you have very little control once you have finally reached bottom and surrendered. My efforts to maintain any have proven, not only to be futile. But, have resulted in being tested over and over again. In these last few months tested to see what resolve I really have. And tested to see if in fact this was my true bottom? I have lost much, suffered some, but… are you sitting down? Found a higher power!

My sister called this morning. She was not in good space. I sat silently for maybe the first time in my life. And I just listened. After I took the ice pack off my now bruised tongue, it was finally my turn to speak. For the next two hours she and I spoke. Sharing a vast array of experiences and information with each other. I found myself compelled to share with her the explanation of what I really believe and what did in fact happen on Broadway. Here goes… I was touched by the hand of God! There is simply no other explanation for what I am experiencing. I am in tears right now writing this. And I was when I shared it with her this morning.

I know how people think and feel about such things. I haven’t written about it for fear of being labeled a kook. But, what frightens me more is loosing this blessing and using again. For some inexplicable reason even at the cost of my little girl I can not stop sharing. Which, if you have read other entries I have explained. As it turns out my card catalog of bad behavior, poor decisions and irresponsibility is to be used as examples and references for what this blog is really about… forgiveness, healing and love. The message I am meant to share isn’t one detailing my life work of debauchery and degradation. Gods purpose for this blog is for me to heal through helping others with my history and experience of addiction and abuse. Mysterious ways they say.

So how many of you have I lost already? LOL. I don’t think I am going to turn into some zealot or nut, but I wasn’t planning for this either. So no promises. Except that I am experiencing every single one of the promises mentioned in the Big Book of AA. But, no other promises.

I do have one story I need to share now though. It pains me to do so. I have chosen this one because my little girl is aching and my heart is breaking. I need to have this available for when and if she ever wants me back in her life. This is the last of what I believe will be enough to understand the depths of depravity I have gone to for my addiction.

This next part is difficult to admit. To some it won’t seem like the most embarrassing and disturbing act I share. For me though and in my opinion it is singularly the most revolting thing I have ever done. Addiction almost always needs to be fed at the most inappropriate times. My intention with my girls was good. It always is. They always are. But, just one hit? Again… just one hit. Just one more. Sorry I can’t make in today. I’m not feeling well. I won’t be making it to Thanksgiving this year. I’ll pay that later. I’m running late, I’ll be there soon. There was an accident and the list goes on and on. Much harder to come up with inane excuses and reasons to keep getting high, being clean. But then again the excuse doesn’t really matter as long as your getting high. The best of intentions doesn’t build trusting, meaningful, relationships with your children or others for that matter.

Despite our impending divorce. My soon to be ex-wife and I still had a decent relationship at this point. We had loose arrangements for visitation and sharing time with our children. She and the girls were now residing in an area where I happened to be training with a new company. I would often visit or take the girls to lunch, dinner, a movie, and other activities. Things a father should and needs to do in order to maintain a relationship with their children. Things I wanted to do. But often throughout my life things I haven’t, didn’t or couldn’t follow through on. One of these visits was an over night with the girls. Most of the details are at best sketchy and vague.

The girls had winded down. I too began to wind down… on supplies. You may be asking yourself how could this be happening? Why would he even be using? You had your kids for crying out loud. I mentioned in a previous entry that my addiction doesn’t care about any of that. Nobody’s does. Our addictions need to be fed, even at the cost of the ones we hold most dear. I know it is monstrous. But it is truth. Ask the son or daughter of any alcoholic/addict.

The girls in their pajamas all tucked into bed. Entertained I’m guessing by a Disney flick. I continued to do my thing. In the bathroom, out of the bathroom. In the bathroom, out of the bathroom. In the bathroom, out of the bathroom. No reason to change the days routine. I had after all been smoking crack all day. Finally now I could relax and enjoy it. Yes, in the safety of my hotel suite with my children in my care. Except… I hadn’t planned on smoking all day. Time has a way of escaping when you’re using. What often seems like minutes evaporates into hours. The hours turn to days, weeks, months and eventually years.

My dealer at the time of this occurrence was perfect. Never missed a call or didn’t show. Johnny on the spot. I was running out of “rocks” and getting desperate for a re-up. He wasn’t going to come there. To be honest I didn’t want him to. I had the girls after all. What a good father I was being. WOOOOF, Sizzle, pop, pop, crack , ffff, ffff. Aaaahhhh. Another billow of white smoke leaves my lungs filling the tiny bathroom. Whoa… Bell ringer. Better sit down. Holy shit I’m going to run out. Slow down. Slow down. Fuck it, fuck it! WOOOOOF, sizzle, pop, pop, crack, fffff, ffff. Damn it. Down to pushes. Seven digits later. “What up D?” “Hey I know its late, but can ya meet me?” “Yeah. I got you.” What ya looking for?” “Three.” “Cool, give me twenty.” “Sweet. see ya soon.”

Even in the depths of this depravity I had my limits. So I did what any good father in this situation would have done. I left my five and three year old daughters asleep, crossed my fingers and rushed out the door of my hotel room, ran down the hallwway, jumped in my car and disappeared for almost an hour while I ran over to 7 mile and Mound to cop just under a half oz. of crack cocaine.

There is no defense. Yet, mine is that I truly was at this point feeling like a good father. I hadn’t after all woken them, packed them up and taken them on a drug run. All I did was place them in danger of being taken. Maybe waking up and not knowing where I was, losing there minds at 3 and 5 screaming and being scarred for life. Or even worse my getting in an accident or arrested and all that ensues. Again them being scarred for life. None of that happened.

What took place was my returning about 30-40 minutes later. The reality of what I had just done. The severity of it all came crashing down as I climbed the staircase to our floor. The possibilities I already mentioned above and these. I was in fact worried about the kids. Mostly, if I am honest. Worried they had woken up and had been crying for over half an hour. That someone else had heard and reported it. Even worse checked on them. With each step I took towards the door my paranoia was growing.

Scenarios of what I would find inside running wild in my head. I thought Jesus what the fuck Duane. One damn night. You couldn’t chill for one damn night. I was sure at this point as I got to the door it would be opened to officers with drawn guns. Me being thrown to the ground. Strangers holding and consoling my children in the background. Telling them everything will be alright. Your mommy is on her way. Shhh its okay now. The sound of a hotel deadbolt is so heavy, so intense. Intentionally sending a sound of warning to those inside of danger from outside. Here I was high as fuck on crack. Worried about danger from inside. I was the danger! And I should have been inside.

Card inserted. Zzzzvvit. I exhaled and entered. Loveliest vision of my life. My two beautiful daughters still unmoved and un-phased by their degenerate fathers reckless and selfish addictive behaviors. Many times over the years while getting high I knew it was time to stop. This wasn’t one of them. In the bathroom, out of the bathroom. In the bathroom out, of the bathroom. My girls were safe and I was Thankful. A lesson learned. But, I was also thankful because I wasn’t going to jail. Mostly though… because I could still get high.

Honestly a father who has fallen short more appropriately.

I know that story isn’t going to win me any father of the year awards. And prior to my relating it I had one daughter already not speaking to me. I’m hoping after its published and read, not two. I have been an absentee father at best. I have no excuses. I should have been there more. I should have done a lot of things better. I should have loved their mother better. There are endless should haves for this addict. I let my addiction let me check out on my children. And for that I will pay possibly the ultimate price. Not having one or maybe both of them in my life.

All the people in my life have a right to be angry. Considerable anger if your one of my family members. I am an addict. I have been disruptive and I have caused heartache and pain to the people I care for most in the world. Both of my girls have the right to feel disappointed, hurt and angry. A parent is supposed to someone you admire, look to for guidance and rely on. I had/have that, why shouldn’t they? Having an unreliable addict making promises and letting you down time and time again, whether it be a; parent, child, partner or friend is confusing, frustrating, disappointing and angering. But especially, if you are a child. You carry that into adulthood. I did. What a mess.

I don’t have the right to ask my now adult children to accept or take at face value my sudden change. When you have let your children, friends and family down as often as we do as addicts, it is we who need to exercise our new found way of life. Wait patiently for them to find their way back to us through our actions. Our words and promises no longer have value. The time we spent allowing our demon to rule our lives, fueling and feeding our addictions has to become time we spend healing ourselves. We must find a way back to a life worth living. One that others want to share. We can not force a broken relationship to mend just because we have, nor should we. Lucky for us time does heal most wounds, I am that living proof. But not all, so we should prepare for that too.

Back to God. Yes there is a new presence in my life. I am being asked to assist myself and others in recovery. I am up for this challenge. I am not sure where it is going to take me. But, I can not deny the presence of the divine in my life, God. However, I would be remiss to not include and mention “the whisperer” again. Seductive and alluring the whisperer isn’t our conscience. It is the voice telling you aren’t good enough. Maybe this drink will be okay. Your not smart enough for that. You’ll make a fool of yourself. Go ahead take that candy bar, no one will know. You worked hard you deserved that raise, just steal their money. She’s drunk no one will ever know, she won’t even remember.

“The Addicts Prayer”

Folks God is busy. And we have made a mess of the world. Our problems didn’t happen overnight. Repairing them won’t either. Mine took almost fifty years. And I’ve still got 99, but addiction ain’t one. I have often wondered where God was. She was always there (that is the pronoun I was told to use, just kidding). He-she has been waiting to assist, waiting for me to be ready to accept the assistance. Up until just recently I was not. I’ve mentioned asking for help is not my strong suit. It took what it took. Macy Gray has a great line in the song, “A moment to Myself, God is watching and the devil finally let me be.” This is “Broadway” folks. I hope this helps someone. It certainly has helped me. I can’t tell you how excited I am to be taking this next journey with anyone who is interested in taking it with me.

Thanks for popping in. Duane

God is watching and the devil finally set me free

Afraid of the Dark

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.

Chasing My Tail

HR had to be removed from my world entirely. We had become toxic. The decision was one of the most difficult in my life. Not only did I love him, but I still do. Our codependency is outrageous. By myself, alone in the house we shared together one night I packed up all his belongings lock, stock and barrel. One of us had to be strong enough to end the nightmare. When he arrived the following day I physically moved them and him to a new location. Which… yes, was awful! This is all I can share on HR. Except how the next six to eight months were among the worst times in my life. Drunken dance parties for one turning into nights of uncontrollable sobbing and ending in blackouts. Any one of my numerous county jail stints would have been preferable. I was living in the worst kind of prison. The tears and pain comparable only to the still senseless loss of love I have for my ex-wife.

This belongs to one,

this to the other.

HR and I knew we had both checked out. My cocaine use was daily. On many occasions he encouraged me to be strong and “Just say NO”. Thank-you Mrs. Reagan for that pearl. But like so many others I chose to ignore that (now in retrospect) quite solid advice. So, yet again I became a man circling a chair.

By the time you are circling the chair, it is too late. You will either need rehab or you too will need a miracle. Recently I shared details about this downward spiral with my sister. I was frightened. Crack cocaine as with other opiates takes control of your thoughts, motivations and becomes your obsession. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t any longer. I was consumed by what had now become my routine. Up all night. Get as much sleep as possible. If any. If not just rest my eyes. Shower. Suit up and pretend to be myself. Pretending for co-workers, regular guest and other strangers throughout the day that everything is just FINE. It was well… I was Fucked-up, I was Insecure, I was Neurotic, and I was Emotional.

Hurry folks.. buy an eight ball in the next 2 min and get all this at no additional charge. But only while supplies last. Available in all fifty states and globally too. I was in full active addiction and all its glory. Officially a “crack head”. Mirroring the abyss of addiction I was now in, my once twinkling eyes full of life and energy were sullen sunken pits of desperation and despair. And yes… my new makeover did in fact come with some free accessories; loss of family and friends, but a great diet plan with an excessive and extreme weight loss program that was frightening my doctors. It also included bags under my eyes so dark and black that it looked as though I had just been in a street fight. I often had awkward speech patterns, was constantly paranoid, unfocused, had memory lapses. Oh and I was experiencing some questionable perhaps borderline psychotic episodes, (you know the usual) hearing voices, odd physical manifestations, seeing “tree people”. In general I was hanging on by a thread.

Addiction manifests in many forms, but in the end it’s addiction.

Most of us don’t know what to say or how to approach a tweaked out junkie version of a person we used to know. We purse our lips and internally, say, “Aw that is too bad. What a shame. I hope he/she gets it together.” But we are frightened and paralyzed too. Ironically, by their addiction. Because in that moment it is ours too. We are just as unsure as the addict themselves of how to help or what to say.

I love me some Whitney Houston. She unfortunately made that call within 2 minutes and got all the extras, too.

What makes the story I shared with my sister so frightening was hearing myself tell the end of the story. One I had been told before. It isn’t a fairy tale with a happy ending. It isn’t going to be my ending! But, the reality of where I will be headed if there is ever a next time. The very same next time so many other unfortunate addicts have had to suffer. In the Big Book of AA http://www.aa.org/pages/en_US/alcoholics-anonymous Dr. Bob and Bill speak of jails, institutions and death. Except in my opinion one is left out. Homelessness. She and I sat at my rather comfortable dining table while I rambled on. I spoke of; again racking up tens of thousands of dollars in credit card debt, cash advances, destroying an almost perfect credit rating, draining my checking, savings, investment, and IRA accounts. When the money runs out the addiction doesn’t stop. That again is a story for another time. It will take us to places I never thought I would be and to participate in unspeakable acts. Addicts forget so easily what it was really like, we have built in temporary amnesia apps. We need open honest dialogue. Sharing is paramount. If I stop sharing. Please start worrying!

Music moves me. I still have dance parties of one they just end better!

The Forgiveness Flood

Am I supposed to write something everyday. I say yes. Everyday is bringing new thoughts and feelings to the surface. Today was no exception. So, yes as they surface. I will write. My second daughter contacted me. Lots of feelings there. She hasn’t really shared hers and I am not sure what mine are yet, either. I am just glad she is alright. We will be too. Maybe not immediately, but soon or one day. I know that after hearing from her (my feelings) brought the whisperer from out of the shadows for the first time in days. More on that fucker soon enough. To be honest though I am not exactly sure what or who he is?

I’ve been having amazing conversations with my sister, Lisa lately. I have learned more about forgiveness in the last three months than I have in the last three decades. She and I had a powerful conversation the other night. There were tears from both of us. Tonight she told me she had never see me cry before. Mostly because up until three months ago I can name the times. Abigail’s birth. Deb and I splitting not once, but twice. Once was with this smoking hot guy from Saginaw. But, that is a whole different kind of story. Also something for a later date. There are some others, but for now its looks like the only monopoly property I will be renting is the Water Works.

Forgiveness brought me here. The flood gates are open and the dam is spilling over now.

“We intuitively knew how to handle situations which used to baffle us.” https://step12.com/promises.html

My first instinctual insight, HR. I needed to forgive HR. It’s a love story, but also a story of; lust, debauchery, drugs and ultimately the destruction of something that could have been… Like the rest of my story, I will share what I have learned (if anything) and what I have taken from this part of my life that is helping me become a whole person. I will keep some of it private. Without others permissions there are some parts of my story I would never share. Not because I am ashamed or embarrassed, but because my recovery is just that… mine. Here though is the exact post that forgiving HR lead me to put on my Facebook feed Valentine’s Day following “My Broadway miracle”.

“A few thoughts on Valentine’s. This morning I shared a message with a friend and texted with a former partner and in doing do so realized it was Valentine’s Day’. Oh, I know we all talk about what an annoying and hokey holiday Valentines Day is, but is it really and does it have to be? Afterall… I wrote my dear old friend and shared a link because I was moved by her love and her passion to follow a dream. I spoke with my Ex because sometime ago I made the decision that forgivness was the best way to show me how much I loved myself. This act of forgiveness not only proved to be the best decision I’ve made for myself in a very long time, but it opened my heart again. I am still single and while a reconilliation isn’t in the works someone I love is back in my life. I encourage all of my friends to take a moment, share a memory and send a message of love today, not just to your wife/husband/partner or child, but to someone else you love. The one you weren’t thinking of on Valentine’s. Maybe; the one got away, the buddy who plowed your driveway, or just that last minute babysitter who saved you from killing your kids! HAPPY VALENTINE”S DAY EVERYONE!”

Thank you HR.

If I was still smoking crack. I could not have written that. If I was in active addiction I could not have written that. Not long after HR and I had split I stopped by my folks for dinner. My mother an insightful and well educated individual chose this moment, not knowing I was still struggling with on again off again “freebasing” had a question for me. She peered pensively at me from over the top of the frames on her glasses and asked if I remembered the scene from, “Sex and the City-The Movie” (second movie attempt so disappointing in comparison) where Miranda (spoiler) has found out Steve has been cheating. “Yes.” I said. Mom, “Well you know how Carrie says to Miranda, “I’m not sure what etiquette is here, but am I aloud to ask how Steve is?” Again “Yea, I remember. Why?” Mom, “Well…how is HR?” Lord knows we all have those moments when we hate our parents… this was definitely one of mine!

It’s Forgiveness.

At the time I wasn’t thinking of the forgiveness as part the equation she was presenting. Or for that matter recalling Carrie and Miranda’s conversation in the cab. I had limited emotions at this point. Self pity and anger mostly. I was angry at HR. And now angry with my mother. Angry at everybody and everything whether they knew it or not. Of course without really knowing it at the time the person and thing I was most of my anger with was me. But forgiving HR has transformed me. It has however presented other problems. I have begun to feel again or maybe for the first time. Everything! The truth about forgiveness is it frees you. It frees you to feel. And boy am I. Its taken almost fifty years for me to discover, but most of time forgiveness isn’t for the people we forgive. It is for us.

Bridge to somewhere

Back to Mr. Sheff. The very week prior to watching, “Beautiful Boy” https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1226837/ I was driving down Broadway Street in my hometown. Frustrated, angry and demoralized I was still after months and months of trying to stop smoking crack cocaine… smoking crack cocaine! Grasping the level of desperation one feels in this situation I think you must be an active addict or hopefully in active recovery from addiction. I had stopped cold turkey on and off for the last year… a half dozen or more times, Ugh! In my desperation I even called a counseling office. I met with a drug and alcohol therapist named Josh. I knew I wanted to be free from addiction. What I didn’t know at the time was that finally after decades of drug use and masochism I was tired of being sick and tired. We only met twice. I canceled one appointment and was a no show for another. I should probably explain here how much I have grown to enjoy therapy over the decades, but that hasn’t always been the case. Much of the experience depends on finding the right therapist. Otherwise, I’d rather just smoke crack!

Suffering from abandonment and detachment I struggle greatly forming lasting and meaningful relationships with anyone, let alone strangers who are asking me to share my deepest thoughts and issues. Along with this also comes an empty abyss that I simply can not thoroughly sate. I assure you I have tried filling this void. I have tried with people literally and figuratively through sex and as a means of socialization, entertainment, and emotional support. Drugs, alcohol, food, work, hobbies, rehab, AA, NA, SA, psychologists, psychiatrists, thrills, theft and the list goes on and on… I am not a mystic or a doctor with degrees, but what I am about to relate is true and I believe divine on some level. Having read many interviews on and article by Nic https://www.thefix.com/bio/nic-sheff and having watched his painful history and suffering, I believe he too after hearing his testimony had a similar awakening. Because I read the same words and because I heard the same revelations that I had experienced. I now know it takes what it takes. My story includes four or five rehabs, three times that many jail stints, an armed robbery, prostitution, extortion, an ex-wife, several lovers, broken hearts, innocent children (mine), and countless beginnings and endings. Plus much, much more. Stay tuned for previews of tomorrows crack filled nightmare.

I’m sure there are people whom have started over many more times than me, whom have had it tougher and have suffered more. But boy I sure don’t envy them. If none of what I write or what you read pertains to you than please count your blessings. Because you are lucky as hell my friend, Roughly the population of Texas suffers from some form of addiction in this country alone. So, I hope you take away the real pain and the very real anguish that others have. The addicted, the lost, the empty, lonely and depressed. I can’t speak for them all, but I sure can speak for myself when I say I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t and honestly still don’t understand it. I don’t know why me? But I’ve quit asking. I don’t have to anymore because something, someone turned the lights on for me.

As I drove down Broadway approaching the Chippewa river, as I said feeling frustrated, angry and demoralized fighting an invisible foe who has real minions working against me and every other addict too. I mean part of my, “I’m quitting plan” included not calling dealers anymore of course it did. That is a must. But… that doesn’t stop them from calling you! They are sick and desperate too. Just the previous evening after receiving a call from, “my guy”. One that I owed money still. Of course I did. You can’t settle up when your an addict and every time your dealer comes to collect, he brings more to front you. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, “front” its a loaner to keep you in the vicious cycle. This particular one kept me cycling for months.

This isn’t going to get preachy or go in a God driven direction necessarily. However, what I experienced on Broadway Street is nothing short of a miracle. And I will not lesson it by pretending it wasn’t divine or spiritually devised. The mind works so fast and is such an incredible multitasked machine that explaining the next series of events is difficult. I drove down the street contemplating silently with almost no sleep from last nights round of freebasing, but audibly speaking to myself. Thinking Duane something has to give. We don’t want to live like this anymore. We aren’t living. This isn’t much of a life, is it? Rinse and repeat, day after day. What are we going to do? Nothing is working. Nothing is fixing us. Nothing is filling this hole. HELP!!!!!!! My miserable situation, frustration, anger and demoralization was eating at my very soul as I neared the bridge connecting the beautiful park system down the street from my home.

It was at this very moment that I not only sensed a presence, but felt a presence. Something, someone tugged at my ear lobe and suddenly it was as if the lights in the attic of my mind were turned on. I knew at that very moment that nothing outside of me was going to provide any sort of filler for the empty void. No amount of sex, no amount of cocaine, no amount of booze, food, would ever free me. What I needed to free myself from addiction and heal must come from inside myself. I was freed from addiction at that very moment! I can not explain nor will I try to convince others of this event. You can take it for what you want. I will be the living proof. My words would only fall on deaf ears as those I would share them with have heard such things before from my lips.

For myself this was a profound realization. I can only assume it is an extremely basic component of knowledge non addicts possess naturally from birth. It was an important piece of information lacking for me however from at lest four until now. A concept I have never grasped or understood until that very moment. This hasn’t been the most significant revelation. The hits have just kept coming. But instead of smoking them, with the lights now shining on the path, I am able to see for the first time in decades my way out of the abyss. A place of peace and happiness. Important or not I feel I should let you know I am not a religious individual. I have attempted that road in the past. Without much success. This is not to say I am not experiencing something even as I write these words. So, who knows? I am unsure of where this journey is taking me, but I will cross that bridge when I arrive.

Catch 22

Just a fascinating day. I started this blog. I barely knew what a blog was before today. I did a fair amount of research on the subject. It turns out neither does anybody else. Oh, there are lots of sites on the subject. Some say it is for editorial like material and subject matter. Others say it is journal like… personal. Many appear to be filled with pictures and song, I like that. I think it is exactly what I needed. Any damn thing I want it to be. As my brother pointed out recently I am a bit in love with Facebook. The only problem there for me is filling my social platform with my personal agenda. I have done what I needed there. I have held myself accountable publicly to a new standard of living. I will continue to promote and produce words of encouragement for others and myself on that venue. I will also continue to pontificate on all subjects that perturb or piss me off. After all 2020 is just around the corner, lord knows there will be plenty of fodder. I mean Jesus there is a guy running with the last name Hickenlooper.

I was at work this evening sharing with Carol my boss. An amazing woman! She was the first person who wouldn’t give up on me after this last relapse. Most people just scattered. I get it. I even understand it. Especially those who haven’t dealt with or don’t have addiction issues. The reasons for her compassion I do not know. But, I owe much of my new found patience, empathy and ability to see the bright side of a situation to this woman. Others broke my heart. I hadn’t seen Carol all week. I asked about hers. Immediately she said Duane you’re the one with all the great stories. You tell me about your week. We all laughed standing at the register and then I spoke of this newly formed blog.

While telling her about it I mentioned how nervous I was about this new adventure. How necessary it is for me though. I related in almost the same words that Facebook wasn’t the proper forum that I’ve just shared with you. As I continued I eventually got to my need to be held accountable and how for me publicly it was a bit embarrassing. I mentioned that my daughters were a huge factor in this decision as well. I have contacted them both. I have heard from one. A good man, dear friend, former business partner, husband, father and eventually a boss of mine out of desperation for work once asked me, “What the fuck Duane? What about your girls? Do it for them.” I understand that kind of thinking. I do. My answer was immediate and honest. It was true then and it is true now. ” I can’t get clean for myself Neil. What it the world makes you think I can do it for them?” Then and now. I am an addict. Despite my love for my children. My addiction doesn’t care. It demands that my life and others lives revolve around its needs.

This breaks my heart, but anyone dealing with and/or living with an addict or alcoholic knows this to be true. Just like I can’t help that I want your brother… I just do! I didn’t choose homosexuality. No one chooses addiction either. Addiction chooses us.

I continued to share with Carol as Jordan and our new trainee went off to tend to guests needs. After they left the next couple of minutes with Carol got very real. I shared an abridged version of the story with Neil. Then my voice cracked, my eyes welled with tears and they began streaming down my face. In that moment I realized yet again I will not be able to stop for my children. My written words and the honesty I now unabashedly share have led me to a place of peace and happiness. And while I don’t wish to be a source of embarrassment, shame or ridicule for them. What frightens me more than letting them down is using again.