I had to pick a point where Soul Parole would wrap up. My trip to California was a logical choice. My career in comedy and acting took off after I realized how valuable life is when my dad died. I have acted a man possessed savoring family, friends and opportunities since then. Sobriety and life itself is a gift. I will leave nothing on the table of regrets behind. This project falls 2 days after the first anniversary of his passing.
I can not reveal much about my time here in California but I can say that I am facing another fear that has plagued me since I was a small boy. I can not in good conscience write of hope and courage asking others to face personal demons and not be willing to face my own. This fear is not one that has prevented me from getting jobs or kept me up at night. It has robbed me of doing things I love alone and with my kids. I am here seeking therapy.
It took 17 hours to get here from O'Hare airport yesterday. I spent 9 hours in Chicago and 4 in Minneapolis before reaching the Golden State at midnight. There was chaos, anger, frustration and confusion. None of it from me. I was filled with gratitude to be picked for the project and relieve more of the bondage of being me. The weather was out of my control. Anger slows the clock to a grind for me. Frustration is contagious. Mainly, I wanted to reflect on the last 10 months of my growth in sobriety and depression management.
I have become a different man. On some days there are mental "dry" spots where I act like a drunk without the sauce. There are more steps forward than back. I have accepted my humanity. For a long time I thought becoming sober would cure me of anger, frustration, sarcasm and all negative shortcomings. In short I thought I would become the Dalai Lama. I see now that I am striving to be a better Tommy Connolly. It seems to be working. God is shaping me in his time.
I no longer wake up hating Tommy, loathing existence and looking for a way out of me any way possible. I am getting to know Tom. He's not a bad guy on most occasions. He can be a bit pouty and a baby. He has a bit of a drama queen flair about him but he also has deep passion and genuine compassion. When drunk, all he knew was chaos and pain. He has more ups than downs. He doesn't live in yesterdays nor dread 2038. He digs right here, right now.
I have come to know a GOD who equals love, not locusts and guilt. God is love. We chat all the time. I really like the guy. His kid is like my brother. We talk even more. He would do anything for me. It is so cool to know that I am not alone. For years I drank, used, chased God, ran from him and had this huge void inside that I tried to fill with outside things.
Money, cars, girls, booze, porn, thrills, places, jobs, clothes and toys all were fun for about 15 minutes then the emptiness crept back into the inside. Until I filled the hole with hope and faith the hole just got bigger and the addiction bigger with it. Addiction is an inside job that requires outside help. So is depression. You are not alone. You can not beat it alone safely and sanely on your own. Ask for help. As for God he will help you any time, any place. Just ask for it. None of us can get through life alone or God would have stopped at Adam. For the Atheists, he would have stopped at the first one celled organism. WE NEED EACH OTHER!
For all of you who think you are unique in your addiction and can beat it, so did John Coltrane, Billie Holiday, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Keith Moon, Jim Morrision, John Belushi, Chris Farley, Charlie Parker, John Bonham, Ernest Heminway and Amy Winehouse. Just to name a few. These are some talented people. Addiction wants you dead regardless of how talented you are, how cute your kids are and how nice you treat your grandma. You are not, and can not, do it alone. Reach out your hand for help. There will be some one to help you. If you don't there's room left on the list to add your name.
This is not the end of the line, only one drawn in the sand.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
"The Quiet Man" and My Dad....
I woke up at exactly midnight today. It is the one year anniversary of my dad's death. Before you read on please understand that I am sad inside but glad that he is at peace. My life has changed dramatically in the year since his passing. Some of it good, some of it bad but all of it sobering and real.
I've heard it said that time heals all wounds. I didn't take the time to look up who said it. I disagree with the quote at this point. It seems harder now than when he went to meet his maker. He was in pain then and I prayed for him to be relieved of his human suffering. At 7:27pm July 21, 2010 God answered my prayers and brought him home.
I was watching "The Quiet Man," the John Wayne/Catherine O'Hara classic, set in Ireland, when I got the call from my sister at the hospital that he was gone. It was his favorite movie. Squeaky and I were watching the movie at the time because she had never seen it. I wanted to share Dad's favorite with her. It was kind of befitting that we were in the middle of THAT film when he passed on to paradise. Pop was big on making grand entrances and exits.
Tonight when I woke up at the stroke of midnight I actually called out his name hoping he would answer. I wanted him to give me a sign that he was here and safe up there. I wanted so desperately to know that he woke me up. Maybe he would knock a book off my night stand or rustle the blinds in an acknowledgement from the other side. He is here. I need only look in the mirror and see him. I resemble him more and more each day.
I am grateful that I was a good son in the final year and a half of his life. I was humbled to shower and shave him and help my second mom and sisters look after him whenever I could. I didn't do much but I did what I could. I can say that I was able to tell him all the things I wanted to say to him and heard all the things I wanted to hear from him in that last year and a half. I know he was proud of me. I know God got me sober when He did to be there for those days he needed me most.
At his memorial I did what amounted to a stand-up routine about him and his life. That is what he would have wanted. It was a celebration of his life. We laughed through tears and stories about his mannerisms and quirks. It was my best gig ever. I owe my sense of humor to him more than anyone. My Pop could tell a joke about darned near any subject. His laugh was a blend of Curly from "The Stooges" and Arnold Horshak from "Welcome back Kotter". It was infectious.
2 months later, in the first week of October, we had most of his ashes interred at Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery. The service was grand and patriotic. The twenty one gun salute was deafening. Each shot rattled me to my core. I broke down. All the emotion and stoicism I tried to display the previous 18 months collapsed and I imploded. My eyes flowed like rivers. I crawled around on the ground frantically searching for each of the ejected shells from the rifles that were fired in salute to SGT. Joseph Robert Connolly.
The remaining part of his ashes are to be returned to Ireland just as soon as I can get there. It will complete the wishes of two things my father was passionate about. He loved America and being a Vet and he loved Ireland. A bagpiper played Danny Boy and Amazing Grace as the tribute was ending. Danny Boy was his favorite Irish song.
The military service was held on a Friday. My second sister Chris Jaksy had been telling me for years to try acting to compliment my comedy. My feelings about mortality were sensitive and raw. I didn't want to leave any regrets on the table. She gave me some names of Chicago casting agents. I sent out my stats and thin resume to a few on Saturday. On Sunday I was contacted by Darlene Hunt, CEO and president of Extraordinary Casting in Chicago She wanted me to play a featured extra role in "Ride Along." It would later be renamed "The Chicago Code" the following day.
My head was still spinning the next day as I sat a few feet from Jennifer Beals and Jason Clarke on my first day in show business. I thought about my dad and was bitten by the acting bug BAD! I loved everything about it. I wear my Dad's cross and carry a memento from him on every movie or TV project I do. I figure we are going to Hollywood together. I was not nervous about working with celebrities. My father's death showed me that mortality is for everybody. Some jobs are just more glamorous than others. That takes us back to now.
Since that day I have appeared as an extra in 5 TV series and 2 films. I have had speaking roles in 5 films and have done 2 commercials and an industrial film. That's a busy 9 months. I have been blessed and driven. My comedy career has put me on stages around Chicago and at Statesville Prison as a part of Comics for Convicts Faith Outreach. Saturday I leave for Northern California for a week to do a project on a reality show. It is my first Hollywood gig on the west coast.
I miss the Big Bopper more each day. Not less. I owe so much to him. He never gave up on me but did lay some tough love on me at the right times. I do not mourn his death. I mourn for his life and wish we could talk about the Bears just one more time. I feel him sometimes. I see him every time I shave. I thank God for my sobriety and his timing for it. My dad gave me so many gifts and bailed me out of jam after jam. I will make it through today moment by moment. I will watch the Duke and I will listen to Danny Boy endlessly and give thanks over a tear or three for having known Bob Connolly. I am proud to be his son. Thanks God for your grace, mercy and my dad.
I've heard it said that time heals all wounds. I didn't take the time to look up who said it. I disagree with the quote at this point. It seems harder now than when he went to meet his maker. He was in pain then and I prayed for him to be relieved of his human suffering. At 7:27pm July 21, 2010 God answered my prayers and brought him home.
I was watching "The Quiet Man," the John Wayne/Catherine O'Hara classic, set in Ireland, when I got the call from my sister at the hospital that he was gone. It was his favorite movie. Squeaky and I were watching the movie at the time because she had never seen it. I wanted to share Dad's favorite with her. It was kind of befitting that we were in the middle of THAT film when he passed on to paradise. Pop was big on making grand entrances and exits.
Tonight when I woke up at the stroke of midnight I actually called out his name hoping he would answer. I wanted him to give me a sign that he was here and safe up there. I wanted so desperately to know that he woke me up. Maybe he would knock a book off my night stand or rustle the blinds in an acknowledgement from the other side. He is here. I need only look in the mirror and see him. I resemble him more and more each day.
I am grateful that I was a good son in the final year and a half of his life. I was humbled to shower and shave him and help my second mom and sisters look after him whenever I could. I didn't do much but I did what I could. I can say that I was able to tell him all the things I wanted to say to him and heard all the things I wanted to hear from him in that last year and a half. I know he was proud of me. I know God got me sober when He did to be there for those days he needed me most.
At his memorial I did what amounted to a stand-up routine about him and his life. That is what he would have wanted. It was a celebration of his life. We laughed through tears and stories about his mannerisms and quirks. It was my best gig ever. I owe my sense of humor to him more than anyone. My Pop could tell a joke about darned near any subject. His laugh was a blend of Curly from "The Stooges" and Arnold Horshak from "Welcome back Kotter". It was infectious.
2 months later, in the first week of October, we had most of his ashes interred at Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery. The service was grand and patriotic. The twenty one gun salute was deafening. Each shot rattled me to my core. I broke down. All the emotion and stoicism I tried to display the previous 18 months collapsed and I imploded. My eyes flowed like rivers. I crawled around on the ground frantically searching for each of the ejected shells from the rifles that were fired in salute to SGT. Joseph Robert Connolly.
The remaining part of his ashes are to be returned to Ireland just as soon as I can get there. It will complete the wishes of two things my father was passionate about. He loved America and being a Vet and he loved Ireland. A bagpiper played Danny Boy and Amazing Grace as the tribute was ending. Danny Boy was his favorite Irish song.
The military service was held on a Friday. My second sister Chris Jaksy had been telling me for years to try acting to compliment my comedy. My feelings about mortality were sensitive and raw. I didn't want to leave any regrets on the table. She gave me some names of Chicago casting agents. I sent out my stats and thin resume to a few on Saturday. On Sunday I was contacted by Darlene Hunt, CEO and president of Extraordinary Casting in Chicago She wanted me to play a featured extra role in "Ride Along." It would later be renamed "The Chicago Code" the following day.
My head was still spinning the next day as I sat a few feet from Jennifer Beals and Jason Clarke on my first day in show business. I thought about my dad and was bitten by the acting bug BAD! I loved everything about it. I wear my Dad's cross and carry a memento from him on every movie or TV project I do. I figure we are going to Hollywood together. I was not nervous about working with celebrities. My father's death showed me that mortality is for everybody. Some jobs are just more glamorous than others. That takes us back to now.
Since that day I have appeared as an extra in 5 TV series and 2 films. I have had speaking roles in 5 films and have done 2 commercials and an industrial film. That's a busy 9 months. I have been blessed and driven. My comedy career has put me on stages around Chicago and at Statesville Prison as a part of Comics for Convicts Faith Outreach. Saturday I leave for Northern California for a week to do a project on a reality show. It is my first Hollywood gig on the west coast.
I miss the Big Bopper more each day. Not less. I owe so much to him. He never gave up on me but did lay some tough love on me at the right times. I do not mourn his death. I mourn for his life and wish we could talk about the Bears just one more time. I feel him sometimes. I see him every time I shave. I thank God for my sobriety and his timing for it. My dad gave me so many gifts and bailed me out of jam after jam. I will make it through today moment by moment. I will watch the Duke and I will listen to Danny Boy endlessly and give thanks over a tear or three for having known Bob Connolly. I am proud to be his son. Thanks God for your grace, mercy and my dad.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Take Me to the River....Dunk Me in the Water...Talking Heads/AlGreen
In the last nine months of my entire acting career, I have appeared in 5 television series and 7 films. There have been commercials for industry and the web, industrial films, and mostly extras work. I have pushed and clawed my way into a career that takes many actors years to achieve in a fraction of a year. I have been a man bent on making up for all the time I lost at the bottom of a bottle or trapped inside of my depression.
It is surreal looking back at my abbreviated career and the roster of people I have been in scenes with. The list includes: Kate Winslet, William H. Macy, Joan Cusack, Larry Fishburne, Bryan Cranstan, Jennifer Beals, Jason Clarke, Delroy Lindo, Jason Patrick and scores of Chicago's finest actors. From the directors list I have been fortunate to work under Steven Soderbergh, Mario Von Peebles, Charles McDougall and Michael Dinner.
Of the seven films I have done 4 of them were with speaking roles. I have been told "I am a natural." I am flattered by the compliment and grateful to God for giving me a gift that I truly love to use. I attribute my ability to my life on the street. When I was an active alcoholic and addict I had to be the ultimate actor. I was a chameleon switching from role to role as the audiences changed. Addiction is a 24 hour job. I had to hide hangovers, downplay highs that were too intense and manipulate the marks that were in my path to achieve the score. That is what adds to my abilities "in character." Becoming someone else comes quite naturally to me because I was so many different people for nearly twenty eight years. Not having to be me was my intended purpose.
Today I am okay being me. I love acting and no longer seek chemical vacations from myself. Some days are better than others. Being a person with depression issues I have to keep things in perspective and not let emotion get the best or worst of me. Yesterday was a day that I felt down emotionally but was given a grace filled day that put all of my life into perspective.
When Squeaky and I were baptized in August of 2009 I was overwhelmed with the experience. The church asked us to share our testimony on a video to be shared at a later date during services. I spoke of my addictions and Squeaky spoke of the miracles in her life. Parkview Christian Church, our church, has a day set aside yearly for congregational baptism. They also do them weekly or as people request. The day they played our testimony was on the mass baptism day and over 730 people rededicated their lives to Christ. I cried like a baby. I know our video didn't inspire them to take the plunge but we were humbled to be part of such a special day.
Since then we have been part of the baptism team. We help people behind the scenes prepare for their baptisms that occur at the end of worship. We have assisted about 20 people so far. It is our way to give service to the church and thanks to God for giving me and us a second chance. I will always make it a part of my life, no matter what path it takes.
Yesterday we were called to help a family who were getting two members baptized into Christ. One was an 81 year old man, the patriarch of the family who suffered from Parkinson's disease. The other was his granddaughter, a girl of about 18 who has cerebral palsy. We performed our usual tasks, showing them where to change and reviewing how the rites of baptism would be performed. They were excited and tears of joy and hugs flowed freely amongst us all. A frantic member of the family said she had no one to take photos. In a Clark Kent moment I told her not to worry. Grabbing her camera I rushed down the stairs back into the sanctuary and found a friend to capture the special moment forever.
The joyous moment came and grandpa and granddaughter stepped into the warm waters of the swirling baptismal pool. They were followed by their baptizer who was the father of the girl and son of the man. They recited their Confession of Faith. The old man could be heard to say that his feet were tingling. I laughed and then began to weep. It was a moment of crystal clarity. This was the important work in my life. These were the real people whom I served.
The girl giggled and thrashed as she was submerged in the warm waters cleansing herself and beginning life anew. As they came up out of the water and back up the stairs Squeaky and I hugged them. We were part of the family. The first few moments after someone has rededicated their lives to God and Christ are magical. Their eyes sparkle. The anxiety and worries of moments before seem to have been washed away. They are new creatures.
Kate was down to earth. William just a regular guy. Jennifer was gracious. Bryan was a riot. Jason Clarke does a South Side accent better than most Southsiders. Joan was bubbly. All of them wouldn't recognize me if they ran into me today. The grandpa and young lady whom we shared the experience of rebirth with will never forget us. That day is burned into their memories. The movies are fun and I am grateful for the opportunities. The people I serve for the glory of God are the stars that really shine in my heart and the ones that really matter.
It is surreal looking back at my abbreviated career and the roster of people I have been in scenes with. The list includes: Kate Winslet, William H. Macy, Joan Cusack, Larry Fishburne, Bryan Cranstan, Jennifer Beals, Jason Clarke, Delroy Lindo, Jason Patrick and scores of Chicago's finest actors. From the directors list I have been fortunate to work under Steven Soderbergh, Mario Von Peebles, Charles McDougall and Michael Dinner.
Of the seven films I have done 4 of them were with speaking roles. I have been told "I am a natural." I am flattered by the compliment and grateful to God for giving me a gift that I truly love to use. I attribute my ability to my life on the street. When I was an active alcoholic and addict I had to be the ultimate actor. I was a chameleon switching from role to role as the audiences changed. Addiction is a 24 hour job. I had to hide hangovers, downplay highs that were too intense and manipulate the marks that were in my path to achieve the score. That is what adds to my abilities "in character." Becoming someone else comes quite naturally to me because I was so many different people for nearly twenty eight years. Not having to be me was my intended purpose.
Today I am okay being me. I love acting and no longer seek chemical vacations from myself. Some days are better than others. Being a person with depression issues I have to keep things in perspective and not let emotion get the best or worst of me. Yesterday was a day that I felt down emotionally but was given a grace filled day that put all of my life into perspective.
When Squeaky and I were baptized in August of 2009 I was overwhelmed with the experience. The church asked us to share our testimony on a video to be shared at a later date during services. I spoke of my addictions and Squeaky spoke of the miracles in her life. Parkview Christian Church, our church, has a day set aside yearly for congregational baptism. They also do them weekly or as people request. The day they played our testimony was on the mass baptism day and over 730 people rededicated their lives to Christ. I cried like a baby. I know our video didn't inspire them to take the plunge but we were humbled to be part of such a special day.
Since then we have been part of the baptism team. We help people behind the scenes prepare for their baptisms that occur at the end of worship. We have assisted about 20 people so far. It is our way to give service to the church and thanks to God for giving me and us a second chance. I will always make it a part of my life, no matter what path it takes.
Yesterday we were called to help a family who were getting two members baptized into Christ. One was an 81 year old man, the patriarch of the family who suffered from Parkinson's disease. The other was his granddaughter, a girl of about 18 who has cerebral palsy. We performed our usual tasks, showing them where to change and reviewing how the rites of baptism would be performed. They were excited and tears of joy and hugs flowed freely amongst us all. A frantic member of the family said she had no one to take photos. In a Clark Kent moment I told her not to worry. Grabbing her camera I rushed down the stairs back into the sanctuary and found a friend to capture the special moment forever.
The joyous moment came and grandpa and granddaughter stepped into the warm waters of the swirling baptismal pool. They were followed by their baptizer who was the father of the girl and son of the man. They recited their Confession of Faith. The old man could be heard to say that his feet were tingling. I laughed and then began to weep. It was a moment of crystal clarity. This was the important work in my life. These were the real people whom I served.
The girl giggled and thrashed as she was submerged in the warm waters cleansing herself and beginning life anew. As they came up out of the water and back up the stairs Squeaky and I hugged them. We were part of the family. The first few moments after someone has rededicated their lives to God and Christ are magical. Their eyes sparkle. The anxiety and worries of moments before seem to have been washed away. They are new creatures.
Kate was down to earth. William just a regular guy. Jennifer was gracious. Bryan was a riot. Jason Clarke does a South Side accent better than most Southsiders. Joan was bubbly. All of them wouldn't recognize me if they ran into me today. The grandpa and young lady whom we shared the experience of rebirth with will never forget us. That day is burned into their memories. The movies are fun and I am grateful for the opportunities. The people I serve for the glory of God are the stars that really shine in my heart and the ones that really matter.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
I am Here...
In a few months "Every Day is a Gift" will be published as a book by Amazon. It will be titled "Soul Parole." I had no intention of writing a book about my addictions and depression. I have always wanted to pen a novel. There were many nights when I would sit with drink in hand and fancy myself a future Hemingway writing of safaris and wars abroad. My life has been an adventure. The wars were fought inside my head.
It has been strangely nostalgic reading through the 140 plus chapters I've written and see the changes in me and my thinking. I see progress and setbacks. There's forging ahead and old patterns and behaviors. A few are wrought with depression and "dry drunk" rantings. All of it is real. All of it is me.
I will be donating a portion of the proceeds of my book to the publishers by obligation. I will be gratefully donating a portion of my proceeds to area addiction programs, homeless shelters and a clinic that studies mental disorders. I am not setting out to become an L.A. author. I like where I'm at and I have to share the gifts God has lent me. They are not mine. They are to be used to give thanks for his grace and glory.
I want to say thanks for helping me. I thought my mind dumps were to only help others. I hope they helped you or someone you know. Ultimately we help each other. That's the whole key to finding some semblance of peace on this spinning blue ball we call earth. When I help someone else I get out of me, my anxiety, depression, obsession and selfishness. I do not have to look far and find some one who has it much worse than I do. That puts my cry for me and more in to realignment lickety split.
The 1 year anniversary of my father's death is in a few days. I miss him more, not less, each day. I started the acting thing in October of 2010. In 9 months I have appeared in 5 TV series and 7 films, 3 commercials and an industrial film. I know he would be proud. It all still numbs my mind. Next week I leave for Los Angeles for a week long shoot on a project for the Animal Planet. I carry a memento of Dad on every project I do. He would like that. I have found my calling. I am blessed and have worked tirelessly to get so far so quickly. I know my 28 years of living like a chameleon in addiction has made acting natural for me.
Thank you all for being my friends and my support group. Thanks for letting me bare my soul and share my war stories and small victories. As you can see from recent blogs our family has new battles on the horizon. God will get us through as long as we trust him and don't get in the way. I know the pain. I know the odds. I am prepared for all the possible outcomes.
I will continue to rant. I hope you continue to read. I pray that you see that facing your demons, no matter what they are, is possible and the key to reasonable happiness. I am always going to be a little nutty, a little left of center one day and a little right of it the next. That's just me. I am starting to like me. I am comfortable spending time with me. I no longer feel the need to run away from myself and escape into a bottle, jug, pill, porn shop or addiction of the week club. I take things as they come. I do my best and leave the outcomes to my FATHER. I have choice today. I choose living!
It has been strangely nostalgic reading through the 140 plus chapters I've written and see the changes in me and my thinking. I see progress and setbacks. There's forging ahead and old patterns and behaviors. A few are wrought with depression and "dry drunk" rantings. All of it is real. All of it is me.
I will be donating a portion of the proceeds of my book to the publishers by obligation. I will be gratefully donating a portion of my proceeds to area addiction programs, homeless shelters and a clinic that studies mental disorders. I am not setting out to become an L.A. author. I like where I'm at and I have to share the gifts God has lent me. They are not mine. They are to be used to give thanks for his grace and glory.
I want to say thanks for helping me. I thought my mind dumps were to only help others. I hope they helped you or someone you know. Ultimately we help each other. That's the whole key to finding some semblance of peace on this spinning blue ball we call earth. When I help someone else I get out of me, my anxiety, depression, obsession and selfishness. I do not have to look far and find some one who has it much worse than I do. That puts my cry for me and more in to realignment lickety split.
The 1 year anniversary of my father's death is in a few days. I miss him more, not less, each day. I started the acting thing in October of 2010. In 9 months I have appeared in 5 TV series and 7 films, 3 commercials and an industrial film. I know he would be proud. It all still numbs my mind. Next week I leave for Los Angeles for a week long shoot on a project for the Animal Planet. I carry a memento of Dad on every project I do. He would like that. I have found my calling. I am blessed and have worked tirelessly to get so far so quickly. I know my 28 years of living like a chameleon in addiction has made acting natural for me.
Thank you all for being my friends and my support group. Thanks for letting me bare my soul and share my war stories and small victories. As you can see from recent blogs our family has new battles on the horizon. God will get us through as long as we trust him and don't get in the way. I know the pain. I know the odds. I am prepared for all the possible outcomes.
I will continue to rant. I hope you continue to read. I pray that you see that facing your demons, no matter what they are, is possible and the key to reasonable happiness. I am always going to be a little nutty, a little left of center one day and a little right of it the next. That's just me. I am starting to like me. I am comfortable spending time with me. I no longer feel the need to run away from myself and escape into a bottle, jug, pill, porn shop or addiction of the week club. I take things as they come. I do my best and leave the outcomes to my FATHER. I have choice today. I choose living!
Monday, July 11, 2011
Caine and Unable....
You may have heard the story before. It was a tale of two family members once close, then the weaker destroyed by the other. It was murder by someone who had once loved the other and promised a lifetime of friendship together. Rage, jealousy and insecurity polluted that love turning it to hate. The victim was helpless and left for dead.
In recovery I have reconciled with my past and have come to see that my 28 years of pain was not lived in vain. God put me there so I could be here. From the feedback I receive I see that my insights impact addicts, and more importantly, their loved ones understand the disease of addiction and depression from the other side. That makes all of my experiences worth it. I am a messenger now. We all are. I put MYSELF through that hell. The outcomes from MY actions GOD is now using to help others to avoid the same fate or to inform others about it.
When I go to a recovery meeting and a hopeless, broken, tired addict or alcoholic comes into a group and says "You don't know what it's like on the streets!" I can say "I do, I slept on them and ate food off of them." It makes them more willing to talk about their pain and they begin to see hope and not darkness. All addicts think they are unique. I take no credit for my recovery. I just didn't drink or use. God, a mentor and others in recovery did the work. I was just willing to listen and learn.
I have a friend whom I love like a daughter. I will call her Sunny to protect her identity. She is addicted to bath salts. They are the latest designer drug and can be bought at many tobacco stores legally. The drug acts much like coCAINE. The euphoria, twitchiness, irritability, paranoia and anger are similar. The difference is these new drugs are man made and man has perfected the "HIGH." The desire is insatiable. It is no longer the stuff of the past. The drugs of today like meth and bath salts do so much damage to the pleasure receptors in the mind they often leave the user in recovery with an inability to experience pleasure naturally. That is a truly heart breaking statement and a sad commentary on what lengths greed will take men to.
My friend has lost her job, she has run from her family, she has lost her car, she is losing her beauty, she is losing her self-dignity, she is losing her mind and she may lose her life. Her addiction tells her she needs none of these things as long as she has IT. IT is her best friend. IT understands her. IT will be there for her when everyone else is gone. IT doesn't care what she does for a living as long as she can score. IT doesn't want her to have people around her that don't accept IT like she does. IT isn't the problem. IT's the solution. IT is what makes her happy, right?
There are two paths I can take with my friend. First and foremost, she must know that I love her and that I have lived with IT too and IT lies. IT will say what it has to so IT can continue to control and manipulate her choices. She knows I will do anything to help her overcome IT. Since I love Sunny so much I want to see her free from pain. That usually means giving her what she needs - money. Who wouldn't help a friend in need? Path one is enabling. We think we are helping our addicted friends by giving them money, shelter, money, listening to their lies and talking ourselves into believing them to make ourselves feel better. Sometimes that path works. Most times it just gives IT more time to slowly kill and control, eating away at the core of what was once our friend. It doesn't kill our hope.
The second path is hard on both friends and IT. It has been called "Tough Love." I don't have a term for it. I just know an addict won't stop until they hit a bottom or wall. They have to get to a point when they can't get IT handed to them and they can't live with IT or without IT. They have to miss friends and loved ones, warm beds and family feasts. IT turns from friend to hostage taker. There are no magic words I can say. IT is stronger than me. No amounts of I love yous will trump IT. The lies get slicker, the drama gets heavier. That's the way IT is.
There are 4 options when it comes to dealing with the outcomes of IT. There is insanity, incarceration, death or recovery. I hope my friend Sunny opts for number 4. I will do all I can to help her if she chooses that option. When I was using those were my choices as well. No one could make them for me. It was not until the pain of addiction got great enough that I was ready to kick IT! I am aware that death is a possibility. It is on any day for the healthy. I pray that God give me and her real friends strength to handle the outcomes and for Sunny to surrender to HIM. I know that I am UNABLE to enable.
In recovery I have reconciled with my past and have come to see that my 28 years of pain was not lived in vain. God put me there so I could be here. From the feedback I receive I see that my insights impact addicts, and more importantly, their loved ones understand the disease of addiction and depression from the other side. That makes all of my experiences worth it. I am a messenger now. We all are. I put MYSELF through that hell. The outcomes from MY actions GOD is now using to help others to avoid the same fate or to inform others about it.
When I go to a recovery meeting and a hopeless, broken, tired addict or alcoholic comes into a group and says "You don't know what it's like on the streets!" I can say "I do, I slept on them and ate food off of them." It makes them more willing to talk about their pain and they begin to see hope and not darkness. All addicts think they are unique. I take no credit for my recovery. I just didn't drink or use. God, a mentor and others in recovery did the work. I was just willing to listen and learn.
I have a friend whom I love like a daughter. I will call her Sunny to protect her identity. She is addicted to bath salts. They are the latest designer drug and can be bought at many tobacco stores legally. The drug acts much like coCAINE. The euphoria, twitchiness, irritability, paranoia and anger are similar. The difference is these new drugs are man made and man has perfected the "HIGH." The desire is insatiable. It is no longer the stuff of the past. The drugs of today like meth and bath salts do so much damage to the pleasure receptors in the mind they often leave the user in recovery with an inability to experience pleasure naturally. That is a truly heart breaking statement and a sad commentary on what lengths greed will take men to.
My friend has lost her job, she has run from her family, she has lost her car, she is losing her beauty, she is losing her self-dignity, she is losing her mind and she may lose her life. Her addiction tells her she needs none of these things as long as she has IT. IT is her best friend. IT understands her. IT will be there for her when everyone else is gone. IT doesn't care what she does for a living as long as she can score. IT doesn't want her to have people around her that don't accept IT like she does. IT isn't the problem. IT's the solution. IT is what makes her happy, right?
There are two paths I can take with my friend. First and foremost, she must know that I love her and that I have lived with IT too and IT lies. IT will say what it has to so IT can continue to control and manipulate her choices. She knows I will do anything to help her overcome IT. Since I love Sunny so much I want to see her free from pain. That usually means giving her what she needs - money. Who wouldn't help a friend in need? Path one is enabling. We think we are helping our addicted friends by giving them money, shelter, money, listening to their lies and talking ourselves into believing them to make ourselves feel better. Sometimes that path works. Most times it just gives IT more time to slowly kill and control, eating away at the core of what was once our friend. It doesn't kill our hope.
The second path is hard on both friends and IT. It has been called "Tough Love." I don't have a term for it. I just know an addict won't stop until they hit a bottom or wall. They have to get to a point when they can't get IT handed to them and they can't live with IT or without IT. They have to miss friends and loved ones, warm beds and family feasts. IT turns from friend to hostage taker. There are no magic words I can say. IT is stronger than me. No amounts of I love yous will trump IT. The lies get slicker, the drama gets heavier. That's the way IT is.
There are 4 options when it comes to dealing with the outcomes of IT. There is insanity, incarceration, death or recovery. I hope my friend Sunny opts for number 4. I will do all I can to help her if she chooses that option. When I was using those were my choices as well. No one could make them for me. It was not until the pain of addiction got great enough that I was ready to kick IT! I am aware that death is a possibility. It is on any day for the healthy. I pray that God give me and her real friends strength to handle the outcomes and for Sunny to surrender to HIM. I know that I am UNABLE to enable.
Friday, July 8, 2011
My 180 at a 360 Degree Tour!
Anyone who knows me is painfully aware that I am a music nut! I take great joy in sharing the sounds that man creates from native chants to rock classics with anyone who is willing to listen. This has been the case since I was about 4. Sometimes it is easier for me to express how I am feeling through a song than trying to speak the words myself. I usually say exactly the opposite of what I am trying to convey.
My combined album, CD, and MP3 collection easily surpasses 30,000 songs. I am a true audiophile. I can talk for hours on end about the most useless rock facts. I dream of going on Jeopardy and Alex reveals an all music clue board. My bets would be full boat on the daily double every time. Along with hearing great music I enjoy seeing live performances as well. The three artists I have seen most are Elvis Costello, Bob Dylan and U2.
From the list you can see that my big three share a common thread. They are all good musicians, great song writers and complete artists. I love artists who are devoted to their art, regardless of the critical response. Dylan is not a singer. He is a poet who delivers the poetry via a rough, acquired taste voice. His songs are meant to be experienced, not enjoyed for their aesthetic vocal quality. It's in the word cobbling. If you are looking for just sound Josh Groban is he ticket. I am a lyrics guy plain and simple.
U2 is one of my favorite bands of ALL time. They are my modern Beatles. Larry is Ringo, Edge is George, Adam is Paul (bass playing only) and Bono is John. I started listening to them in 1982 when "WAR" hit the airwaves. It was their third album. I told everyone to check them out and that they would be huge. I wish I would have kept my mouth shut.
I first saw them in 1986 on the Amnesty International, "Conspiracy of Hope" Tour with, The Police, Peter Gabriel, Lou Reed, Joan Baez, The Neville Brothers, Robin Williams and Bryan Adams. They were surreal live. The Police were breaking up and U2 was the new guard. I was hammered and hopeful and ate up the show like pablum. Who wouldn't with that line up? They wrapped up the night with Pete Seeger's "I Shall Be Released." I was in musical nirvana.
I would end up seeing them a year later on the Joshua Tree Tour. They were growing. The songs were getting deeper, more spiritual and they oozed with raw charisma. It would be 5 years until I would see them again but I made up for it by seeing them 3 times on the Zoo TV Tour. Once indoors at the Allstate Arena, twice outdoors back to back at the then World Music Theater. Public Enemy opened for them and traffic was so bad they flew the band members in individually by helicopter. As the choppers set down and each of the guys hunkered down under the spinning wind blasting rotors I felt like I was at Woodstock. I was behaving like I was as well. It was 1992.
My next experience live with the boys from Dublin was in 2005 during the "All That You Can't Leave Behind Tour." I took Andrea/Hemingway with me. I had passed my love for U2 onto her and they were common ground for us in an otherwise shifting plate existence. The band was great and she loved the show. I felt like a small crack was formed in our complicated relationship. Squeaky went as well and it was a nice family night out beyond the $300 price tag. That made it a mini-vacation. I was "DRY" but had some herb before the show so was not sober.
Fast forward to the current day U2 and me. They were playing a gig at Soldier Field with tickets upwards of $275 dollars. They had sold out to Big Brother in my book. How much money did they need? I don't know how much they donate and do know that Bono's work with AIDS and hunger in Africa earned him the Nobel Peace Prize but come on! A few days before the show I checked online and some $30 tickets were available. I toyed with the idea of going. The best available were behind the stage.
The morning of the show I checked again and a single ticket was available dead center. Like Charlie ripping open a Wonka Bar looking for a golden ticket I ran for my wallet and entered my info carefully watching that demon clock counting down the time in the corner to complete my transaction. I swear my ability to enter information is cut in half while that doomsday device is determined to prevent me from buying me my seat. I made it. Barely! I printed my ticket and was off to see the boys for my seventh and decidedly last time.
Things were different this time. I went to the show alone and did not drive. I took the train downtown then caught a bus. I didn't buy the forty dollar shirt. I bought the $20 version from the parking lot guy. I didn't realize there was an opening act, Interpol. They are very good, 4 stars in my book. There were 2 trains back to Joliet that night 9:45 and 11:15. I had to drive my wife to Oak Brook at 5:15am the next morning and had a full day engagement. The show started at 7pm promptly. Interpol played the usual 40 minutes. I assumed that U2 would hit the stage about 8:00.
I love people watching. It is a hobby I adore and one that adds to my acting skills...I hope. The booze was flying. Old familiar smells wafted by. I was sober. You see that was part of my quest. I had never seen the band sober. I wanted my fascination with the band to come 360 with them. Just like the name of the current tour. They approached the stage to the booming sounds of Bowie's "Space Oddity," one of my all time favorite songs. It was like God knew I was looking for closure. It was also 8:40pm.
They opened with a handful of songs from "Achtung Baby." They had aged as I had. Bono was less flamboyant. Their hair was white or salt and pepper like mine. They were just men, human like me. They're just guys who have really cool jobs. The bubble had burst. The music was still great but the hypnotic chemical fascination gone. I realized it was the music that had drawn me to the band and I do recommend seeing them once if you have the chance. I had seen them all those times so I could rationalize getting hammered.
God sent me a final message. It was coming up on 9:30. The band had been playing for 45 minutes and Bono started talking about his wife Ali who had been with him through thick and thin and was there that night. He then introduced "Out of Control," their first minor hit in America. He said that she stayed with him even when things were out of control. I listened to the song, picked up my things and headed for the train. I called Squeaky on the way home. She was in bed. She had stuck by me when I was out of control and needed me in the morning. 45 minutes sober was quite enough for this ol' boy. I caught a cab to Lasalle street and just made my train.
On the way home I felt blessed to have gone to see U2 one more time. I had $48 dollars left in my pocket from the hundred I bought. In my wild days I would have brought home dust and IOU's. I put the song "40" on my MP3 player, U2's reference to Psalms 40 and my life verse. I fell asleep, stirring as we rolled up to Mokena, my boyhood home. I made it home and into bed by midnight. I kissed my wife and gave thanks to a truly merciful God. I reviewed my day then was out like a light.
I was as fresh as a daisy taking Miss Squeaky to Oak Brook the following morning. There was no hangover, regrets or tired eyes; only thankfulness.
My combined album, CD, and MP3 collection easily surpasses 30,000 songs. I am a true audiophile. I can talk for hours on end about the most useless rock facts. I dream of going on Jeopardy and Alex reveals an all music clue board. My bets would be full boat on the daily double every time. Along with hearing great music I enjoy seeing live performances as well. The three artists I have seen most are Elvis Costello, Bob Dylan and U2.
From the list you can see that my big three share a common thread. They are all good musicians, great song writers and complete artists. I love artists who are devoted to their art, regardless of the critical response. Dylan is not a singer. He is a poet who delivers the poetry via a rough, acquired taste voice. His songs are meant to be experienced, not enjoyed for their aesthetic vocal quality. It's in the word cobbling. If you are looking for just sound Josh Groban is he ticket. I am a lyrics guy plain and simple.
U2 is one of my favorite bands of ALL time. They are my modern Beatles. Larry is Ringo, Edge is George, Adam is Paul (bass playing only) and Bono is John. I started listening to them in 1982 when "WAR" hit the airwaves. It was their third album. I told everyone to check them out and that they would be huge. I wish I would have kept my mouth shut.
I first saw them in 1986 on the Amnesty International, "Conspiracy of Hope" Tour with, The Police, Peter Gabriel, Lou Reed, Joan Baez, The Neville Brothers, Robin Williams and Bryan Adams. They were surreal live. The Police were breaking up and U2 was the new guard. I was hammered and hopeful and ate up the show like pablum. Who wouldn't with that line up? They wrapped up the night with Pete Seeger's "I Shall Be Released." I was in musical nirvana.
I would end up seeing them a year later on the Joshua Tree Tour. They were growing. The songs were getting deeper, more spiritual and they oozed with raw charisma. It would be 5 years until I would see them again but I made up for it by seeing them 3 times on the Zoo TV Tour. Once indoors at the Allstate Arena, twice outdoors back to back at the then World Music Theater. Public Enemy opened for them and traffic was so bad they flew the band members in individually by helicopter. As the choppers set down and each of the guys hunkered down under the spinning wind blasting rotors I felt like I was at Woodstock. I was behaving like I was as well. It was 1992.
My next experience live with the boys from Dublin was in 2005 during the "All That You Can't Leave Behind Tour." I took Andrea/Hemingway with me. I had passed my love for U2 onto her and they were common ground for us in an otherwise shifting plate existence. The band was great and she loved the show. I felt like a small crack was formed in our complicated relationship. Squeaky went as well and it was a nice family night out beyond the $300 price tag. That made it a mini-vacation. I was "DRY" but had some herb before the show so was not sober.
Fast forward to the current day U2 and me. They were playing a gig at Soldier Field with tickets upwards of $275 dollars. They had sold out to Big Brother in my book. How much money did they need? I don't know how much they donate and do know that Bono's work with AIDS and hunger in Africa earned him the Nobel Peace Prize but come on! A few days before the show I checked online and some $30 tickets were available. I toyed with the idea of going. The best available were behind the stage.
The morning of the show I checked again and a single ticket was available dead center. Like Charlie ripping open a Wonka Bar looking for a golden ticket I ran for my wallet and entered my info carefully watching that demon clock counting down the time in the corner to complete my transaction. I swear my ability to enter information is cut in half while that doomsday device is determined to prevent me from buying me my seat. I made it. Barely! I printed my ticket and was off to see the boys for my seventh and decidedly last time.
Things were different this time. I went to the show alone and did not drive. I took the train downtown then caught a bus. I didn't buy the forty dollar shirt. I bought the $20 version from the parking lot guy. I didn't realize there was an opening act, Interpol. They are very good, 4 stars in my book. There were 2 trains back to Joliet that night 9:45 and 11:15. I had to drive my wife to Oak Brook at 5:15am the next morning and had a full day engagement. The show started at 7pm promptly. Interpol played the usual 40 minutes. I assumed that U2 would hit the stage about 8:00.
I love people watching. It is a hobby I adore and one that adds to my acting skills...I hope. The booze was flying. Old familiar smells wafted by. I was sober. You see that was part of my quest. I had never seen the band sober. I wanted my fascination with the band to come 360 with them. Just like the name of the current tour. They approached the stage to the booming sounds of Bowie's "Space Oddity," one of my all time favorite songs. It was like God knew I was looking for closure. It was also 8:40pm.
They opened with a handful of songs from "Achtung Baby." They had aged as I had. Bono was less flamboyant. Their hair was white or salt and pepper like mine. They were just men, human like me. They're just guys who have really cool jobs. The bubble had burst. The music was still great but the hypnotic chemical fascination gone. I realized it was the music that had drawn me to the band and I do recommend seeing them once if you have the chance. I had seen them all those times so I could rationalize getting hammered.
God sent me a final message. It was coming up on 9:30. The band had been playing for 45 minutes and Bono started talking about his wife Ali who had been with him through thick and thin and was there that night. He then introduced "Out of Control," their first minor hit in America. He said that she stayed with him even when things were out of control. I listened to the song, picked up my things and headed for the train. I called Squeaky on the way home. She was in bed. She had stuck by me when I was out of control and needed me in the morning. 45 minutes sober was quite enough for this ol' boy. I caught a cab to Lasalle street and just made my train.
On the way home I felt blessed to have gone to see U2 one more time. I had $48 dollars left in my pocket from the hundred I bought. In my wild days I would have brought home dust and IOU's. I put the song "40" on my MP3 player, U2's reference to Psalms 40 and my life verse. I fell asleep, stirring as we rolled up to Mokena, my boyhood home. I made it home and into bed by midnight. I kissed my wife and gave thanks to a truly merciful God. I reviewed my day then was out like a light.
I was as fresh as a daisy taking Miss Squeaky to Oak Brook the following morning. There was no hangover, regrets or tired eyes; only thankfulness.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
These Days Everyday is Independence and Dependence Day...
As we move in to Independence Day weekend I have much to be thankful for and emotions, old and new, flood my mind. What comes to mind first is that today I have a CHOICE NOT to use. For many years I had no choice. I was going to use no matter how sick, sorry, broken, lost, loved, hated, rich or poor I was. I am no longer a slave to an obsession, compulsion and allergy that makes for a three headed monster that can not be beaten by oneself. PERIOD!
There are those who quit using alcohol or drugs. That is not sobriety. That is merely no longer feeding the beast. The person is just "dry." The issues behind the need to use have not been addressed and the halting of use leaves the person filled with anger, resentment, self-pity, martyrdom, uniqueness and a generally discontented life. That is the norm. Drinking and drugging was a symptom to deeper lying problems that were festering on the surface and deep within me. Depression, low self-esteem and critical thinking were at the core of who I was. I didn't like me. I was trained to feel less than. Chemicals made me okay with me until they turned on me and doubled my misery.
Today I have found I am not unique in my thinking. I am a unique person. My problems, feelings, life experiences, pain and how I reacted to them are personalized to me but are interchangeable with any addict or alcoholic. What a relief! It was a lot of pressure being a one of a kind drunk in a planet populated by billions of human beings! We are all the same. We just did the same things in different places with different people. I am proud to say I am just an average drunk and addict.
It wasn't until I was able to get over my "self" that I began to get different and become comfortable with me and you and the world around me. Addiction and recovery is an inside job. I am starting to like hanging out with me. I still have a hard time taking compliments but at least I can sit with me and be okay. It is a daily project of growth repairing me after 40 years of malfunctioning thinking and self destructive habits.
It wasn't until I was okay with me that I could begin to have real relationships free of conditions or motives with other human beings. For years I thought people were out to leave me, hurt me or screw me over. Now I get great satisfaction out of being of use to others and getting nothing in return. That is an oxymoron because knowing I am now a productive, useful citizen and someone who can be depended on gives me great inner satisfaction. Making someone else happy or giving them ease makes me smile inside. The what's in it for me mentality that goes with addiction has faded.
As far as dependence goes I am no longer dependent on chemicals but am on GOD, friends and family and new thinking to get me through the day to day challenges and wonders of life. I do not have to go it alone. What a cold isolated existence that was. I need others to help me when I don't have the answers or the insights to a problem I face. I seek counsel from my FATHER and friends because I don't want to get lost again. I used to dread not knowing what to do so I would guess and hope for the best. Now I turn to others to point me in the right direction.
As for my depression, it is what it is. Like my alcoholism is arrested and not cured, my depression can be managed but not eliminated. I get the blues but I don't have to let them lead me to dark chasms of despair. I can recognize them, pray for help, call a friend and reach out and get out of myself and then I don't have time to think about the blues. When I get too wound up I can recognize the manic side of depression and find a quiet place and meditate and chat with the big guy until the elevator comes down a few floors.
The thing I love most about my life now is that I don't sweat the future too much and I have made peace with my past. Right now is so cool and whether I wish to accept it or not it's all there is. I have missed too many todays sick from yesterdays and freaking on tomorrows. Time slows down in the present. I enjoy the moment as much as possible. That doesn't mean that some planning doesn't occur. I just don't worry about where I'll be in 2033.
I am grateful for the pain God has put me through. I have learned a lot from it. It has also given me experience that I now share with others who are just coming into recovery. I share my pain, I gain their trust. Never trust a chef who won't eat his own food, right? God saved me for a reason 237 times at least. I used to question why. Now I just say thanks and try to be a messenger of his love and grace and a steward of his unending mercy. I know he loves me. That's good enough. I can't impress him or earn my way to paradise. I can do "on earth as it is in heaven." Just to say thanks for giving me a break 237 times or so.
There are those who quit using alcohol or drugs. That is not sobriety. That is merely no longer feeding the beast. The person is just "dry." The issues behind the need to use have not been addressed and the halting of use leaves the person filled with anger, resentment, self-pity, martyrdom, uniqueness and a generally discontented life. That is the norm. Drinking and drugging was a symptom to deeper lying problems that were festering on the surface and deep within me. Depression, low self-esteem and critical thinking were at the core of who I was. I didn't like me. I was trained to feel less than. Chemicals made me okay with me until they turned on me and doubled my misery.
Today I have found I am not unique in my thinking. I am a unique person. My problems, feelings, life experiences, pain and how I reacted to them are personalized to me but are interchangeable with any addict or alcoholic. What a relief! It was a lot of pressure being a one of a kind drunk in a planet populated by billions of human beings! We are all the same. We just did the same things in different places with different people. I am proud to say I am just an average drunk and addict.
It wasn't until I was able to get over my "self" that I began to get different and become comfortable with me and you and the world around me. Addiction and recovery is an inside job. I am starting to like hanging out with me. I still have a hard time taking compliments but at least I can sit with me and be okay. It is a daily project of growth repairing me after 40 years of malfunctioning thinking and self destructive habits.
It wasn't until I was okay with me that I could begin to have real relationships free of conditions or motives with other human beings. For years I thought people were out to leave me, hurt me or screw me over. Now I get great satisfaction out of being of use to others and getting nothing in return. That is an oxymoron because knowing I am now a productive, useful citizen and someone who can be depended on gives me great inner satisfaction. Making someone else happy or giving them ease makes me smile inside. The what's in it for me mentality that goes with addiction has faded.
As far as dependence goes I am no longer dependent on chemicals but am on GOD, friends and family and new thinking to get me through the day to day challenges and wonders of life. I do not have to go it alone. What a cold isolated existence that was. I need others to help me when I don't have the answers or the insights to a problem I face. I seek counsel from my FATHER and friends because I don't want to get lost again. I used to dread not knowing what to do so I would guess and hope for the best. Now I turn to others to point me in the right direction.
As for my depression, it is what it is. Like my alcoholism is arrested and not cured, my depression can be managed but not eliminated. I get the blues but I don't have to let them lead me to dark chasms of despair. I can recognize them, pray for help, call a friend and reach out and get out of myself and then I don't have time to think about the blues. When I get too wound up I can recognize the manic side of depression and find a quiet place and meditate and chat with the big guy until the elevator comes down a few floors.
The thing I love most about my life now is that I don't sweat the future too much and I have made peace with my past. Right now is so cool and whether I wish to accept it or not it's all there is. I have missed too many todays sick from yesterdays and freaking on tomorrows. Time slows down in the present. I enjoy the moment as much as possible. That doesn't mean that some planning doesn't occur. I just don't worry about where I'll be in 2033.
I am grateful for the pain God has put me through. I have learned a lot from it. It has also given me experience that I now share with others who are just coming into recovery. I share my pain, I gain their trust. Never trust a chef who won't eat his own food, right? God saved me for a reason 237 times at least. I used to question why. Now I just say thanks and try to be a messenger of his love and grace and a steward of his unending mercy. I know he loves me. That's good enough. I can't impress him or earn my way to paradise. I can do "on earth as it is in heaven." Just to say thanks for giving me a break 237 times or so.
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