I love signs. Any and all kinds of signs. Signs, they come at us from everywhere. Social media, television, on billboards, in planes, through music, movies and these are just a few of the ones that are tangible and perceptible through sight and sound.
What about all the signs we give and receive everyday that are unseen, unheard or not felt by others? You know… those gut feelings. The ones that resulted in your finding the courage to ask that girl or guy out. The one you ended up marrying. But only because you got a sign that he or she was digging you. You go boy!
My apologies for the dark turn I have taken lately. But, I have been ignoring the signs myself. Lost in a downward spiral of self doubt and pity I found myself reverting to old habits. Self medicating through food and the woe is me file of tragedies in my life. Thankfully this morning I woke to a new sense of balance and some signs. I operate on the system of knowing the right thing to do and all to often ignoring it. This is not a good combination for me. I become riddled with guilt and began to question everything I am doing. Which then becomes a form of paralysis and inertia.
I now also then begin to feel disconnected with my God. He isn’t going anywhere though. That isn’t how my god works. My god has my best interest and is always waiting around for me to hear Him.
This must be on the Highway to Heaven.
It’s me. I am the one who checks out from time to time. Choosing to ignore what I believe are the correct and best choices for me puts me off kilter. Questioning the path chosen for me and not accepting my current placement in life is a mistake. I don’t have to stay there. I just have to accept that this is where I am right now, at this moment. And that in this moment right now… I am okay.
Which at this moment I am. I have food, shelter and relatively decent health. The latter being something I was reminded of by my mother with a simple message telling me my aunt was able to keep food down for the first time in ten days. It put my aches and pains in perspective, not to mention other things too.
The message also reminded me of a story. Shocking I am sure to all of you.
I had the best job interview of my life based off a sign. A sign I had made myself. Years ago when I moved back to town for college I filled out an application for employment at “The Sweet Onion”. Art the gentleman who would become my GM only interviewed me because I had written in the space that said, “Why should we hire you?”… “My mother says, “I have a sparkling personality!” He took this as a sign. And a thriving restaurant career was born.
Good signs and Bad signs?
My point. The signs are everywhere. They point us in both good and bad directions. Some are easier than others to read or follow. And sometimes despite our best attempts, we read them incorrectly.
But ignoring the signs altogether I think may be worse than misinterpreting them. Sure this poor fella may have gotten a no, but he isn’t going to spend the rest of his life wondering, what if?
For me not trying, not suiting up and getting in the game is a sure sign that something is wrong. And that is a sign I have been ignoring. Even if only for a few weeks. It’s a slippery slope. It takes me closer to the “fuck its”. Again I came damn close to lying in bed all day in my self imposed exile, pity and misery. Instead though today I chose to listen and follow my signs. A clean house. A new perspective. A few thoughtful words and suddenly Duane has stepped back into the arena (Brene’ Brown). More on Ms. Brown at a later date. She is the bomb.
As always thanks for popping by. God Bless, Duane.
A beautiful April morning, snow falling from the sky like a December scene from a Christmas movie. Yeah, none of that should be in the same sentence. But here we are in Michigan and amid a global warming crisis that is being ignored, one should hardly be surprised by the weather. And besides in defense of the ignorant and righteous, I remember plenty of Easters with snow on the ground as a child. And I’m no spring chicken.
Speaking of delicious meats… in the middle of opening a can of corned beef hash while writing this morning, I was suddenly struck with the thought of just how unhealthy the choice I was making for breakfast was for my body. Peering into that can of grease laden, fat covered, deliciousness all I saw was a poor decision. I began thinking of all of the poor decisions we make every day. Knowing full well how detrimental they are for us; however, no matter, still, ill advised… choosing them.
Just yesterday on a friends Facebook wall, I saw a post that read something along the lines of, “loving yourself is recognizing when others are treating you badly.” I liked it and I thought about commenting on it, even sharing it. Somehow it seemed incomplete, something was missing. So I did not. While opening that can I realized what it was… the missing line, Now what are you willing to do about that? Whether it is the things we do to ourselves or the things we allow other to do to us, they all have an impact. Each decision we make or don’t make exacts its toll, takes us in a new and different direction. Sometimes down uncharted and dangerous paths, like addiction.
I believe we all have an inner voice that tells us right from wrong. Choosing to listen to it or not is our God given free will. I also believe we are not immediately or necessarily punished and rewarded based on either of these choices. And not all things in life are determined by our choices or free will. Some things are just happenstance. Take the young man Cody Fry fighting for his life. His only misstep was being born in Iowa (link below). This is why unfortunately, good things happen to bad people. And too… why bad things happen to good people. But isn’t it often really a combination of all three, good choices, bad choices and happenstance? I think maybe this is where the sayings, “Life’s a “beach” then you die” and “it is what is” come from.
I mean admittedly happenstance made me the product of an abusive childhood prior to my adoption. But, I also have had great opportunities presented to me in life since then, choices. Sometimes making the good choice, but often taking the bad choices. But all my choices, me exercise that damnable free will of ours. So nature or nurture what makes an addict? I’m not speaking of any of my parents, biological or the two that matter. Is it in my nature to be an addict or have I nurtured it myself? When presented with choices like this…
Delicious BTW!
And choosing them instead of an equally delicious, much healthier choice. Who’s left to blame now when my arteries are clogged? God, because he gave me free will or myself because I didn’t use it wisely? It would seem to me although being angry with God is an appropriate emotion, one he is willing to bear. Many of us, outside happenstance make pretty awful decisions for ourselves everyday.
If you were looking for answers here today, there are none. In fact I have more questions now. Global warming, addiction, or hash? Maybe I should start my days with Dannon Black Cherry Greek yogurt? I know for sure all the yogurt in the world won’t stop happenstance though. Besides the best way to start your day is with prayer. And I sure do love me some corned beef hash. I suppose as long as I don’t put it in a pipe and smoke it… I’ve exercised pretty good judgement today.
As always thanks for popping by. God Bless, Duane.
Sometimes the next best decision is nothing at all. A complete lock down. I had a day last week where that was the case. The weather was so nice, I couldn’t leave my house. Sounds strange doesn’t it? Mother Nature had provided us a glorious day. Only for me, if I were to leave my house I might not have made it back. This isn’t always the case, but it was on this particular day. Oh I would have returned eventually, maybe in one piece, but not as a whole. Not as myself, a part of me would have been missing. Fortunately, I have created a wonderful space and home for myself. A necessity for all recovering addicts in my non-degree’d opinion. I think unless you’re an addict or suffer agoraphobia the probability of comprehension will be lost here. At that moment, my state of mind prevented my being in the outside world. The simple choices I would need to make, made leaving my home a non-starter.
But, when the thoughts that run through your head are such as, “it’s so beautiful today, you know what would make this even better…”, knowing it won’t. And yet, still wanting to do it. It becomes your reality. It’s a rather intense feeling, knowing that first step outside your own front door is going to be the next misstep in your life. One that I’ve made too many times, already. I thought about attending my first meeting since getting clean and sober, but was quickly reminded I don’t enjoy our club. Putting myself out there for something I don’t enjoy and that has never worked for me, seemed a little too risky. Plus, all the traps on the trip, most importantly though, making the journey back without succumbing to temptation.
Thank God this is only a temporary affliction for me, (this to shall pass). It would be hysterical, if it wasn’t so painful. It is exactly what I was referring to in “That Cool Refreshing Drink”. God removes the obsession, but not the desires and feelings associated with addiction. It’s a true conflict of interest. I don’t want to use the alcohol and drugs anymore, but the reasons why are still relevant. Hmm?
Let me explain. I don’t want to use again. But, I would also love not to feel how I do at times, which makes me want to use. It’s what I know. It’s dangerous to feel too good and dangerous to feel too bad. Imagine for a moment feeling somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. A misstep in either direction ends badly. This is where I become paralyzed. I’m not looking to live as a shut-in. I am though learning to read the signs, pay attention to my thoughts and my body. With trusting already such a chore it shouldn’t be so strange to second guess myself, be unsure of whom to trust, know where it is safe to be and who it is safe to be around. But it is, therefore… complete lock down.
Already this time around in sobriety, I have deflected the advances of would be helpers in the name of God and recovery. Those interested in aiding me further in the apparently, treacherous words of the Bible and just saying “no”. Yes, no a joke and not even a little funny either. So, after years of trying to rely on those who, have “worked the steps” and having been “worked over” I have opted to rely on myself. Chosen to navigate the recovery world, mostly alone. Dangerous… indeed! But nothing else has worked. The world is full of slime bags and posers. I have been hurt enough and have had my fill of these people. These hypocrites are worse than the dealers and users themselves.
Thankfully there is one whom I do seem to be able to rely on, God. Yup, surprising the shit out of me too. If I am being honest, which it appears I can’t control. God is the only thing between me and a full on relapse. I am not a complete narcissist, although was once diagnosed with delusions of grandeur. An interesting conflict to my diagnoses of inferiority and self-loathing over the years. And If I had a dollar for every time I was told I was too hard on myself, I could pay all my back child support. None of this makes me feel God has chosen me as a prophet. They say everybody is good at one thing. I am damn near an expert at failing in recovery. Again, in my non-degree’d opinion, I think something others may benefit from. But, WTF do I know?
Today while using the restroom at work I heard an oldie but a goody.
Darlin’ if you want me to be, closer to you… get closer to me.
Not that I have Gods ear personally or his favor for that matter. I am falling in and out of that, all the time, multiple times, each and every day. When I do though, I ask for his forgiveness. Despite all my flaws, He is merciful and I am able to move on. Still knowing his presence and love for me is there. It’s since having asked for his grace that I recognize, hear, see and even say things differently. Take the above song. It is about two lover’s (ugh, that word again). But, that wasn’t what I heard while standing at the urinal.
Recovery is a way of life for me now. It is a part of who I am, who I’m going to be. I begin and end my days with prayer. This is how and who I must be in order to survive and thrive. I was struggling all day today with recovery (life) issues. For many those are health, financial, and emotional upheavals. Today for me it was a world wrought with selfishness, disrespect, rudeness, anger and hostility from others, not to mention from myself in its many forms. It is often difficult to find reasons for anyone, but especially those of us struggling in recovery not to self medicate to avoid the stresses of life. It takes hearing, seeing and speaking in a new way for me to understand Gods message for me fully. Or maybe I am just a loon. But if his message was something simple like, Duane take a minute… restart, refocus, and re-visualize. Then the song playing was just for me. Duane if you want me to be closer to you, get closer to me… Pray!
So, I did. Right at the urinal… And gradually my day has gotten better.
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 believe.
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.
Moment by Moment 