Saturday, November 8, 2014

I'll Do Anything

Despite a strong program of recovery, there will always be moments in time that have the potential to turn unprotected thoughts into shitty decisions.  They can jeopardize the happiness and peace of mind I've come to recognize as my beautiful life.  It doesn't matter how much sober time I have.  I need to always be mindful of these moments because they are very real.  And quite dangerous.

Compared to the complications of addiction, recovery is a piece of cake.  I am present and focused, contributing to the world in positive ways.  My mind is open. I remember things.  My heart is available to experience the most extraordinary feelings.  I'm able to see with great clarity the improvements I am making in my life and identify progress as it develops and unfolds.

But until the day I die, there's always gonna be that something inside of me. Something destructive and reckless.  Something that wants to pick up a chair and throw it through a fucking window.  Maybe head outside and lay down in the grass for a while.  Take it all in.  That's the part I can't explain.

Of course, you'd never think it to look at me.  But really, how would you know?

Everyone's triggers are different  They may not resemble anything harmful or familiar.  They're dressed just like regular details in the day.

Let's say I'm driving along.  The kids could be with me when it happens.  A super sunny afternoon or a cloudy one.  Weather is everywhere.  Some music on the radio.  A tune that reminds me of a person, place or thing.  Maybe I slept poorly or had too much coffee.  These are merely moments.  They're brought about by microseismic shifts in my brain that occur when I least expect them.  Moments that can dump my world on its ass and drag me right back to where I started.

"Listen carefully.  I'm locking this door, and I want you boys to stay in the car.  I'll be right out."

"Where are you going?"

"Just up those stairs real quick."


"Mommy's friend has a present for her."

"Can we play our i-pads?"

"Yes.  But keep these doors locked.  Do you understand?"

When I return, they are both engrossed in their little games.  It's almost as if I never left.  I check my mirrors, pull away from the curb and head toward the house.

"What did they get you?" one of them might ask.

"Whaddya mean?"

"The present.  Where is it?"


Sometimes, I practice trying to break my own heart.  Not because it feels good to be sad.  I don't enjoy the torture.

It's just that I'll do anything to stay clean.


  1. Sometimes it does feel good to be sad. One is the mysteries we accept with another day.

    1. You are so right, Chris. I am much better dealing with my feelings these days, now that I'm not always under attack in a battle of one.