When Praying's Not Enough to Save a Friend...

Addiction and depression are tough enough to deal with separately on their own. Together they make for a one-two punch that can floor you or leave you down for the count. In sobriety I have had to deal with both of them individually but equally because they both work like a tag team on my mental condition and emotional state. I have to be continuously aware of both conditions because they want to gain control of me and try to trigger the other.

As I grow in my sobriety and learn more about living a chemical free life, my addiction is with me learning too. It is the model student always paying attention and gathering information on what I am doing to contain it. It is patient and content waiting for me with predatory anticipation hoping that it can find a vulnerable crack in my new way of thinking. It will wait a lifetime. It will be with me forever. I will never be cured of my disease. It is merely in remission and itching for a comeback.

It loves my depression. It knows that overwhelming emotion is what causes an addict to use and react the quickest. It smacks its lips and gnaws at my ears when I feel a little down hoping I go over the line of darkness to the point where chemical escape becomes an option. If I whip myself into a frenzy of laughter and start to climb the scale towards mania it wants to give me a boost with a wink and a nudge suggesting that a swig or a hit would just make the natural high just a bit better. As Nigel Tufnel would say, it would take me to "11."

Each of my conditions are medical, one a disease, one a condition. I treat my alcoholism and addiction by going to support groups and surrounding myself with people who suffer from the same illness I do. Earthlings can't relate. My depression is treated with medication and my therapist whom I share my struggles and growth with. Both are support groups, life lines to my sanity and continued growth and contented reality.

Ultimately my life and the quality of it, being good or bad, depends on my spiritual health. When I am right with my creator everything else seems to work out. Even if that means the sky is falling on my Chicken Little head I know I have HIM to lean on instead of a chemical or emotional outburst. I have new mechanisms in place for old systems of operation.

A friend of mine who suffers from a severe mental disorder, along with addiction issues, has decided to go off his medication. His doctor did not tell him to do so. His family, girlfriend, friends and recovery mentor (me) have told him not to. He has made his decision. I disagree. His addiction has helped him make the decision for him. The old excuses don't work anymore. He has been to far too many recovery meetings and knows what to do and what not to do.

His addiction has been a crafty pupil too and has found its way in by telling him that he doesn't need to be on medication for his mental illness. It is only a matter of time before he finds himself in an institution of some sort. He will be wearing either white or orange. Either color will look terrible on him. He has worn both colors before. There is no reasoning with him for he has made his decision. The medication will slowly leave his system and the discomfort and rage will rise. He will use or act out. That is a fact.

I truly love this man. I picked him up for recovery meetings early in his sobriety. I brought him to my home and paid him to do odd jobs around the house when he couldn't find work. My family embraced him. He was willing to listen and learn. He was open minded and would do anything to maintain his sobriety. He has since closed his mind, will not listen to the doctors, friends or family. That is a sure sign that bad things are on the horizon. All I can do is pray and leave the outcomes to God. It may not be enough but it is all I can do.

ALTERED...to Make Different Without Changing into Something Else...

This week I was blessed to play a part in the movie "ALTERED". It is being shot around Chicago and Atlanta and is a Kely McClung film. He wrote, is directing and is one of the lead actors in the horror/suspense film. "Vampire Diaries" star, and McClung favorite, Robert Pralgo also stars in the film. McClung and Pralgo have that chemistry like Scorsese/ Deniro, and Soderbergh/ Damon. It is evident on the set and easy to see in their onscreen flow in "Blood Ties" and "Kerberos." Add to the mix Jessica Imoto Harney, the line producer and assistant director on the film and the trifecta bounce ideas like super balls, catch them in mid-air, slip them in their pockets then lay them on film flawlessly.

It was cool to be in those moments as both a spectator and player. The synergy between the triad is palpable. McClung sees everything. The air becomes a part of the shot and the world is in the scene. Nothing is taken for granted and overlooked. Yet nothing is contrived and set design-ish. I worked with Steven Soderbergh several days on "Contagion" and he is a gentle genius with a keen attention to detail. Kely is the same but he takes it to another level. He sees the world like a canvas and uses all of it. His senses for a scene, sound and light include taste and touch. Each moment captured is an experience, not a picture.

ALTERED is going to be a success. Period! It deals with balance, the hardest thing we have as humans to deal with. I know it's my Achilles heal. There's work and family, yes and no, this project or that, what's right and what's wrong, good or evil, get up or sleep the day away, use or stay clean. This film gets down to the true meat of the issues that trouble man and gets to the core of "what's it all about?"

As a recovering alcoholic/addict and depression sufferer who lived both functionally and in the streets homeless, hopeless and rudderless for 28 years the lines can be blurred. I did things then for survival that I now consider terribly wrong. My addiction was a loyal servant then a sadistic master. I thought God wanted me dead. I now see He had my back the whole time. I have done more for my fellow man in my few years of sobriety than my entire life as an addict. That's the way He wanted it.

A man who steals milk for kicks is a thief. A man who steals milk for his infant child is still a thief but the line becomes blurred. The balance shifts on the morality scale. A thief is a thief. I would never wish to kill a man but would do anything to protect my family. Anything. The part of balance I get now is that if I fall I get back up again. I don't have to stay down. I don't always have to fight. I can choose to stay in the center of the seesaw. Sometimes the best balance is not trying to figure it out and just being content with riding the beam.

Look for more on ALTERED at thealteredmovie.com and on Facebook search "The Altered Movie". This movie will scare you, keep you on the edge of your seat, freak you out, leave you guessing and most of all it will leave you thinking and questioning. I love flicks like that. I dig films that open up dialogue and make people engage the tough universal puzzles we try to put together down here. ALTERED pushes all the buttons. I am proud to be a part of it. Thanks Kely, Imoto, Robert, ALL the crew. You guys rock. I will never forget being a part of the ALTERED family. PEACE!

When I Lose My Balance...Everyone falls....Today I get Back Up!

When you have a condition you learn to live with it or in denial of it. For years I lived in denial that I was an alcoholic or, more specifically, that I had some underlying depression issues that were impacting my life. Part of the reason I used was to slow my racing mind down to a level so that I could sit comfortably in my own skin. Most addicts and alcoholics don't realize they are self-medicating to relieve the underlying condition. I know I didn't.

Being a funny guy, I knew I sometimes had the "blues" and other times got a little too wound up. I really didn't think that I had an actual neurological condition or malfunctioning mind. The round pegs were trying to slam themselves into square holes in my melon and I did what I had to do to relieve myself of the discomfort. That was to seek distraction through a variety of addictions some chemical, others human, pornographic, culinary, animated. The list goes on ad infinitum. All of them were to relieve the chaos of my thinking mind with different chaos.

Being a well read, fairly intelligent guy the proposal that there was somehow something "not right" with my "thinker" was horrifying. I was diagnosed as having some manic characteristics and depression in 1999. I was prescribed Lithium which made me angry. I wasn't drinking, but smoking pot and the depression was soon replaced with irritation and short temperateness. The fact that I wasn't drinking allowed me to overlook the horrible side effects that the medication had on me. It never dawned on me that not all medications work on all people, or react differently in each patient. When the discomfort became too much I eliminated the drug and I added booze into the mix with my weed and speed.

On Father's Day I woke up anxious. It was my first without my dad. I was off to a racing start emotionally. Squeaky, Hem and I went to the flea market and it was crowded. I was doing my best to please them both. People pleasing is another part of my personality profile. I was quick with the tongue, sharp with the wit, some of it stinging. I was in a mildly manic state, plain and simple.

The confusing paradox of mania is that it can be quite useful at some times. At moments, when managed and organized, I can get quite a bit done. It is also difficult at times for me to recognize it because I am a high functioning person. I am not classic manic. I am actually 2 levels below that. I have more depression issues than manic ones. I have never had a true manic episode. However, I have had full blown depression. That I think is in the family bloodline.

I tended to the girls and scurried about and was quiet or short in my responses. I cooked on the grill and rambled at dinner. I was taken aback when I went up to kiss my wife and tell her that I was going to a recovery meeting that she snapped and said I had been a f***ing pr**k all day. I was genuinely blind sided by her comment. Being in an irritable state I got pouty and left for the meeting, tail firmly lodged between my legs, bemoaning my father's death and nurturing the martyrdom of MY Father's Day being ruined by her comments.

The meeting made me feel better and I thought about my behavior and that of the days prior. Had I been short tempered? Aloof? Isolating? A victim? Critical? Selfish? The honest answer was yes. I have enough sobriety and insight into my disease, healthy and unhealthy behaviors to assess my actions and go from there. I returned home and my daughter said, "Daddy, you were a bit manic today." Those words were much more productive and useful for me to work with than my wife's but I held no grudge. She is recovering from surgery and was venting.

I called my doctor in the morning and we reviewed my prior day's behavior and medication regiment. I had missed my last appointment and we had moved to a new med since our meeting 4 months prior. I didn't realize that the medication was meant to be slowly increased to reach the optimal therapeutic level. I was just glad that my depression was gone and I was active again. The meds were adjusted and one was removed permanently. I felt better. The family felt better and today I feel great. I feel like me.

I have come to realize that I am not nuts, just a little wacky. I am cool with that. I prefer it actually. That is my gift and my identity. God made me this way. The round pegs are going in the round holes. I do need to stay on top of my moods and behaviors. Medications lose their effectiveness after awhile. That is an unfortunate reality of my condition. I plead with you to educate yourself on depression and mental disorders.

Aside from the heart, the brain does the most work but gets such little respect. A friend of mine who suffers from depression said a person recently asked him if he heard voices. That is funny and sad at the same time. The way our society looks at a person with a brain that is not dialed right as defective baffles me.

Here are a few folks you may know who suffered or suffer from Manic Depression. Would you call them Nuts? The list includes Mozart, Winston Churchill, Ted Turner, Jim Carrey, Tom Waits, Isaac Newton, Walt Whitman, Cary Grant, Abe Lincoln, Vincent Van Gogh, Francis Ford Coppola, Drew Carey, Mark Twain, Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, Ralph Waldo Emerson, T.S. Elliot, Robert E. Lee. I'll hang with that crowd any day.

We fear what we do not understand. Educate yourself and free yourself from fear. God Bless.

Me, My Dad and Michelangelo...

Between approximately 1508 and 1512 Michelangelo created one of the world's most magnificent, awe inspiring works of art in his painting of the Sistine Chapel ceiling. Much to the chagrin of Pope Julius
II, the artist worked tirelessly, on his back, candle in mouth to create a complete telling of the Bible from "The Creation of Adam" to the death and resurrection of Christ. "The Creation of Adam" or more specifically, the two hands reaching towards each other, is one of my favorite art pieces of all time. We have it hanging in our home. I never tire of the work, staring at it as I sip my coffee. I am always drawn to some new wrinkle or detail that the artist painstakingly included to complete his vision. It says so much in just that tiny corner of the massive cathedral mural. I am absolutely convinced the work was that of divine intervention or vision.

Tomorrow is Father's Day. It will be the first one I experience without my dad, affectionately known as the Big Bopper or Pops. He's with the Bears and Papa Bear at ethereal training camp. Knowing my dad I am quite sure that he has offered his services to the Creator to help out in showing the new camp arrivals around and introducing them to his friends. He loved doing that here. Why would he stop in paradise?

I can say that it is strange and painful not knowing he is "here." I am grateful he is "there" and free of the pain and anxiety that wore at his mind and body at the end of his journey on Earth. That being said, there were some Father's Days when he was here and I wasn't all there. Thus I didn't share those moments with him. Addiction doesn't care about holidays. They are licenses to use as far as I was concerned. If I wasn't on good terms with my Pop it was a reason to feel shame and get extra lit to bury that uncomfortable emotion.

As a father myself, this Father's Day is bittersweet. Last night 3 of my 4 kids slept at home. Hemi is in from Germany. Amanda is doing better and slept on our couch. Bro is always here. The 4 have not been assembled together in months. Tomorrow 2 of the 3 will go to their biological father's house for the "Big Day", as it should be. I will spend the day with my wife and Hemi going to Montana Charlie's flea market. I collect antique book and CD's out of print. I love the smell of an old book like burning leaves or freshly popped movie popcorn. Finding a rare blues CD or out of print album from my youth is like finding a lost treasure. Then I will come home and sacrifice some poor creature on the grill for all of our culinary pleasure and fall asleep to a White Sox game. I look very much forward to both or all three.

I do not know where my youngest daughter Kelly is. I know she is safe and I know her Mother treats her well. It troubles me that I have purposely had the same phone number since she was 3, yet she still doesn't call. I pray for her to, but if she does is beyond my control. I have accepted that. As I am older and my sobriety deepens I can see how the Big Bopper must have felt on those days when I lived on the street not knowing if I would call, if I was hungry, alive or worse.

I have been lucky to be with her on 2 of her last 3 birthdays. She knows her daddy has never used in front
of her. She has never seen me drunk. Unfortunately she is hearing one side of the story right now about her mother and me. My time will come. I will be sober and she can draw her own conclusions.

I don't think God is an evil god but I do think He teaches me through things I've done. He usually uses my mistakes more than my successes. Kelly will call in her time. I will work that out with God and Kelly at the time or if it never happens at all I will deal with it also. This is life.

The photo you see posted at the top of this chapter was taken a few days before my dad passed. I took it with my camera phone. I did not do it to be morbid or saddened. My dad was an "Old School" tough guy for the most part, until the end. Towards the end of his life he would ask that I hold his hand. I did so eagerly, making up for years missed and opportunities wasted. I snapped this shot as he slipped off to sleep and I was leaving. I was unaware that he was so close to eternity. I was elated at its modern parallel to my favorite Michelangelo work, "The Creation of Adam."

I do not know how your relationship with your Pop, Daddy, Father, Pa or whatever name you call him is. As Father's Day is only 24 hours away you have some options. You may see him. When you do, kiss him and tell him you love him. You may honor his memory. Think of a wonderful time when you both laughed and he made you feel special, like the most precious gift in the world. You may be on difficult terms with him. Call him and just say Happy Father's Day. It may be the first step to a new relationship. You may not know who he is or where he is at. In that case forgive him and pray for him and thank him for giving you life to become the special person you are to your family, children and friends.

Pops, I love you.

Talking to my Son and my FATHER......

I had a talk with my son yesterday. It was one of those talks where we take off the labels of "dad" and "son" and just rapped like a couple of dudes. It was a nice time during the sit down. I didn't tell him where he messed up mowing the lawn, or taking out the trash or blowing his curfew. We just talked about girls, driving, jobs and life.

I call my son Bro. It is my nickname for him because his biological father has Son as his name for him. When he was little I did not want to make it awkward by calling him Son and adding to the icky awkward "STEP" thing. I also call him "Biggie" and he calls me "Smalls." That's fine by me because by physical measurement the monikers fit quite well. He fully knows when it comes to the law of the land I am Biggie and he is a resident of the land.

There are times when I have to talk to him like the Law and sometimes like Smalls. I can assure you both are inevitable but it is not always necessary for me to be the law. Sometimes talking to him as Smalls, usually in fact, we have much better conversations. He opens up more. He hears me. He shares his feelings. He is honest and we both walk away feeling good.

When it comes to being a Christian I certainly do not hide the fact that I am one. I would proudly state that to my death and life. That is what works for me. As soon as that statement was read a few of you probably  rolled your eyes and thought "Oh man here we go..." I am sorry for that. Your ears probably began to close. Your mind drifted to preconceived notions of Christians gone by. The word hypocrisy rang in your head. I don't blame you. I feel the same way and I am one.

You see, where many of us go wrong as Christians is that we seem to exude an air of superiority to the non-believer, spiritualist and agnostic. That is truly sad. I am no better than you. I am no worse than you. We will all meet our maker. That is a fact. What that is is open to conjecture. How we choose to address that maker is optional and personal.

I talk to God all day. I do it on the toilet, on my knees and in my car a lot. I do it in short sentences and long diatribes. I also ask Him to talk to me through other people. He does. I know He speaks through me sometimes. I am grateful when He does. I am humbled when I am of use to Him and grateful when someone says I have inspired or given them hope. I kick the compliment upstairs. I am a messenger. That's it. We all are, wittingly or unwittingly.

To the reader: I ask that you not lump us all into one big pot. To the Christian on the mountain of righteousness, please look at the log in your eye before pointing out the splinters in the eyes of the masses. God is not a marketing tool, a campaign slogan or a political platform. To use Him as such is blasphemy at its greatest in my book.

I do ask the reader to say hello to the Creator, The Great Spirit, Father Earth, The Painter of the Cosmos. For years I had a hole that I couldn't understand inside me. Something was missing. I see now that it was a relationship with my FATHER. A connection to the universe. I have a "Bat line" to him that is always open. I don't know if it's red and under a glass cake cover like on the TV show. I do know he's always there when I call.

Jesus works for me. Church works for me. I did have to change the ones I grew up with and read the Bible to reeducate my mind. The church I go to now leaves me feeling love, not guilt. I feel I am headed towards a wonderful eternity, not a guaranteed guilt filled hell. However, this is not a requirement. Before Jesus left us he had 2 instructions for man. Not 374 rules and who to vote for. They were in paraphrasing, Love God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength. The other was love your brothers like I have loved you.

There was no color, orientation, party affiliation, caveats, "buts" or "except those people" in his statement. That is where the trouble begins. When man twists God's plan of love for power, greed and power and greed. Shame, shame, shame! Those who do that will have to stand in front of the maker just like the hippies, artists, liberals and tree huggers.

God is love. Go out and lay some God on someone today, no and's, if's or but's about it. He loves you!

When All That's Left is Laughing or Crying....

It seems like the words just flow sometimes, other times I can't spit out a two word sentence. When you're a wind bag like me you can't let that stuff get bottled up. It's like that old joke about the monkey, the pig and the cork. It can get very messy inside and out if I keep the cork in too long.

I used to let life get bottled up inside me until I unplugged the bottle and sought liquid or chemical relief from my worries, fears and emotions I couldn't process. Booze was like letting the air out of the tire that was me. The more I drank the less pressure I felt until I felt nothing at all, was left flat and was of no use to anyone. I've always felt that God put nerve endings on the outside of me and that left an empty spot inside. I feel everything to the nth degree. Emotion is palpable to me whether their yours or mine.

When you get sober, you are faced with feelings and situations that the normal thinking mind takes for granted in its dealings. My addicted mind is baffled and amazed sometimes at new feelings I have never bared to face. Sometimes it's euphoric like that of a baby's first taste of ice cream. At other times it seems like a portal from my past is thrown open to a memory and feeling so oppressive I am paralyzed like that same child's first experience that leaves them frozen in their booties.

I now face what I spent years so desperately trying to escape from. I am grateful that my kids came out bright, polite and out of sight. I owe most of that to my wife. When they remind me of some logical piece of advice I gave them while they were growing up, I attribute it to God. I was always great at giving advice. If I listened to any of it that I dished out, I wouldn't be writing an addiction recovery book today. That is until lately.

My eldest daughter Hemi is in from Germany. She is madly in love with her husband. They truly are best friends. The culture shock of living in another country is far beyond what she imagined it would be. If you read my earlier chapters I drove her away at age 18 when I had stopped drinking and took up the pot cure for alcoholism. Being natural, endorsed by Native Americans and being part Cherokee myself this made perfect sense at the time.

Now we are in a good spot. Then, although I was not drinking, I just switched from booze to drugs to "prove" to myself I wasn't an alcoholic. I wasn't treating the source of my addiction. That problem was my inability to deal with life logically, "on life's terms" only emotionally. I was a dry drunk by recovery terms.

We are great friends now. We are daddy and daughter in the true sense of the definition and I admire her greatly. I see a lot of me in her. The artist, the adventurer, the in your face, ready to grab life by the short hair mentality that I instilled in her as a teenager is vibrant today. When it comes to advice on her situation with marriage and what to do about the whole thing, I tell her to talk to her husband and the father...leave daddy out of it. It's not because I don't care. It's because I don't know. I am mature enough to say I don't know now.

For years I felt the need to be right or have an answer or opinion on every subject. I felt compelled to take a side in all arguments even before I had all the facts. It was a part of my insecurity with myself. I didn't want to appear dumb. I also thought I knew what was right for everybody in the universe. I am comfortable with the words, "I don't know" spilling from my lips now. I am at ease with keeping my pie hole shut also. I will always support my children and will go to the ends of the earth to help them when they sincerely call for it. I will not call the plays and control their situations. I created a lot of resentment and made some wrong calls doing that for Hemi and lost her for a while. I will not do it again.

I did tell her that marriage is tough no matter where you're at. The first year can be the worst. There is no such thing as 50-50. One person is always giving in more or taking more. Balance is the key. The question I ask myself with Squeaky is "How important is it to me to fight this battle right now?" Do I want to ruin my day or hers? Is it that I truly disagree or just wish to disagree? Is it better to endure a little discomfort to make her happy, or give both of us a lot of discomfort by going against the grain? Things work out one way or the other.

Sunny is still out there doing things I did for all those years. It kills me. The drugs of choice today for young adults are legal and can be bought at age 18 from many cigarette or cigar stores. She thinks the world is against her, that no one knows pain like hers and she is running with some troubled people. At 18 there is little I can do. She lives with her donor father. That leaves me even more powerless. He seems to be oblivious. We pray, we call, we love. She makes up stories ad infinitum. I wonder if this is the come around from my go around.

You may think me cold for letting her go right now, like we do not care. It is quite the opposite my friend. I let her go because I do. I can no longer enable her to control my life and that of the rest of this family. She needs to hit her bottom. Then I will be there like the calvary, with arms wide open. Until then I pray and trust that God is looking after her. She is an adult. It was not until I lost everything that I reached my hand out for another to help me. It was not until I begged God for mercy, instead of a favor, that I found freedom from addiction.

I am at the point where I am stuck between a giggle and a sob. There is so much going on in that three and a half inches behind my eyes and my mouth. I am glad that I have a God who hears my prayers and angels earthly and ethereal who guide me and look out for her. I am grateful to feel everything even though at times I think I might explode. That empty spot is filled with love and faith, hope and growth, laughing and crying. I lost so many years to addiction and depression. My darkest day of sobriety is better than my sunniest day drunk. When Sunny comes back I'll be there to listen.

"I Need Serenity!" - Tully (GODSMACK)

Serenity is one of those words that has the feel of the word wrapped up in itself. Words like agitate, make my tongue live the definition as it lurches uncomfortably through the three syllables. Caress soothes my mind and body as I utter the invitingly crafted letters. When I say the word serenity I feel the lightness of the elusive word barely hovering on my lips. Tranquilly means contentment with who I am and where I'm at.

I have known moments of serenity. I bathe in it when stuck right dab in the middle of it. I get chaotic chasing after it. The feeling of being completely at peace with myself, my creator and my universe is like nothing else. The paradox is that serenity is like a drug in itself. Now that I have had fleeting glimpses of it I want more. My whole problem with myself, and my conflict with the real world, is my desire for ME and MORE and NOW!

The harder I seek serenity, the farther it seems to be from me. I remember when I was a kid and would be riding in the backseat of the car, staring at the clouds. As the car would be going along I would pick out a cloud and wait for the car to catch it. No matter how fast we went, no matter how long I stared, the cloud always seemed to be just out of reach. Then suddenly we had passed it by.

I also watched the races between the corn row runners. If you lived in corn country as a child you know the corn runners. When you drive by great spans of cornfields and stare at the rows of corn, they seem to come alive. The rows begin to take the shape of legs and begin to run. No matter how many fields you pass, corn runners never tire. They just keep on going. The corn runners are either are just in front of you, or right along side of you. They can run all day and into the evening, as long as the shadows and light, are just right.

It's like paper pad animation. You start on the first page. Draw a circle, turn the page.As you flip from page to page you move the circle up or down. Continue page by page until the circle hits the bottom of the page and you reach the end of the pad of paper. Now flip the pages through your fingers and the bouncing ball comes alive. I used to do this for hours on end with clouds, corn runners and many pads of paper.

Serenity is defined by the American Heritage Dictionary as, "Clear," "Tranquil," "Unruffled" and "Unclouded." I was surprised by the definition when I read it. I though it would be much more mystical and Dali Lama-like. That is how things tend to go for me when I pre-decide how outcomes should be. They rarely live up to the billing or grand notion my mind has erected. People and their lives, feelings, choices and reactions keep messing up my paper.

I have come to realize that serenity isn't a chosen conscious feeling or experience. It happens when it happens. Usually, when I go with the flow and let things be. What I shoot for now is "surrenderty." I can make that happen by letting go.When I force things to happen I end up feeling agitated. The situation at hand, usually gets worse.

I choose to be happy today. The same can be said for unhappy, angry, resentful, unforgiving and all the negative emotions that are produced through human interaction. I don't have to take the bait. It's like drinking poison and waiting for the other guy to die.

It's all in how I decide to accept and surrender to the people and circumstances who are in my reality that are going to determine my serenity or lack of it. I look forward to when it comes again. For now I am grateful to have moments of serenity, and a philosophy of "surrenderty." 


I will still chase clouds and dreams. I will still watch the corn runners keeping pace alongside my car. I don't waste the paper I used when I was creating my crude animations. I know one thing for sure. If I think I can control outcomes, run other people's lives and worry my way to serenity, I'll never even catch a glimpse of it. Thanks God for giving me the wisdom to realize how little I know. I appreciate the insights into and finally realizing I don't need to.

I LOVE YOU...Wonderful When Heard...Stinging When Withheld...

I love you. It is such a simple phrase. A powerful one at that. It can hold you together or it can make you fall apart. I say it every day to my wife, my children and my friends. I say it to the world and mean it. There are times it is said in passing, like a tip of the hat. The times it can have the deepest impact are the times it's not said.

Growing up my grandmothers rarely, if ever, used these words. They were of a different generation I guess. Both were strong women from tough backgrounds and challenging lives lived. I knew they loved me. To hear it spoken wasn't so. A scribble in a birthday card nestled next to a crisp five dollar bill was as close to the deed as they got.

In my drinking and using days I threw "I love you's" around like raindrops. They landed upon any young woman who was the object of my desire. I desperately wanted to feel love because I felt so badly about myself. I was a love junkie. I was always the first to say those three little words. I see now how empty and shallow it was. Those are sacred words. To me they are the definition of God Himself.

As I have matured and grown in my sobriety, I have noticed a terrible habit that I have picked up from some of my family members. That is the intentional omission of the words "I love you". To me that is more harmful than a half-hearted utterance of the phrase. After reaching a resolution at the end of a disagreement with my wife she'll say "I love you" and there have been times where I have replied, "luv ya," or "ditto." Most likely because I was pouting or things weren't resolved to MY satisfaction.

There have been times when ending a phone conversation she says "I love you" as she utters her goodbye, and I merely say goodbye. This is truly a sad statement about my conduct and a reflection on what a big dumb baby I can be sometimes. I love my wife to the center of my being. Why in the name of God wouldn't I take every single opportunity to let her know that?

I know how bad it makes me feel when I tell someone I love them and they don't say it back to me. To do the same thing to others is just continuing a cycle that is fruitless and cold. Love is the most beautiful thing that we have in this world and should never be taken for granted. I would hate to walk away from someone knowing I held back those words in my selfishness and never see them again.

I know I can be corny and can be a dork. I really believe that the whole problem with this big ball we are spinning on is that we are moving away from hugging each other to getting wrapped up in ourselves. That "me-ism" might be our downfall. I have so much to learn about myself. I am glad that I can see where I am wrong and try to change things. I know I don't have to be the guy I was yesterday or an hour ago.

All You Need Is LOVE was such a simple Lennon song. Almost like a nursery rhyme in its' structure the song's simplicity is right on the money. If all you need is love and someone gives me what I need, I damn well owe it to them to give them what they need, right?