Death used to cripple me with fear. It gnawed at me before I found sobriety, going back to the time I was a little kid. I would dwell on it. Mostly, I trembled at the thought of how bad it was going to hurt. I obsessed about HOW it was going to happen. I thought about it 24/7.
When I began to use I had a death wish. At the end of my run my fear of dying hospitalized me with horrific panic attacks. Then my thoughts turned to wondering who, if anyone, would show up at my memorial service. I pondered about who would cry or be unaffected. I hoped there would be lots of people, sympathy and drama. It consumed me to the point that I was afraid to live. That is part of the reason I turned to chemical escape.
A friend of mine died of alcohol induced coma last week. It was yet another tragic outcome from the unmerciful ravage of addiction. Like most folks a death brings my own mortality back into focus. I consider every day I am given in sobriety a gift. I tried to kill myself daily. When I demanded that GOD "give me what I deserved," he ignored my rantings. Boy am I thankful for that!
We all have rituals and ways that we remember those who have passed. I wear a piece of jewelry or clothing that was my father's at every comedy and acting performance I participate in. It gives me comfort. I wear his cross from Ireland. That is a gift from both of my Fathers.' I think of him several times a day.
When someone passes I collect a few of their mass or memorial cards. I put them in my visor. I place them in my Bible. I carry them in my wallet. I don't know why. I just do it. Whenever I open my Bible or sit in my car I am reminded of my mortality. I no longer fear it. I hope it doesn't happen for a while. I have a message to spread about hope and sobriety. When it comes, I'm ready.
I know I am going to heaven. I have realized that obsessing about death is the same as worrying about the sun rising or having enough oxygen. I try to live EVERY day like it is my last. I hope I leave a legacy of peace and love. I will see all my friends in paradise.
Last night I was flipping through my Bible and it slipped from my hand. I was taken by the fact that that a half-a-dozen memorial cards fell out onto the floor. I looked at them and thought of my friends and family fondly. There were a few tears and plenty of smiles. As I began to place them back into the pages I had marked with them, it dawned on me. I don't have a card collection of the dead. I have sweet remembrances of the many friends I have made on this earth. It's not a sad pile of cards. It's a display of love.
I no longer fear death. I focus on living. I suck every minute out of it! The more friends I make, more cards will inevitably follow. I have prayed for peace for those suffering near death. I have been devastated at the loss of someone unexpectedly. I keep them alive in my heart. I am grateful for my cards. I know that they are markers of tickets to a better place. They are not alone. I also see that I am not living alone down here as well. Now on with the living! Tomorrow never knows. May God Bless YOU!
When I began to use I had a death wish. At the end of my run my fear of dying hospitalized me with horrific panic attacks. Then my thoughts turned to wondering who, if anyone, would show up at my memorial service. I pondered about who would cry or be unaffected. I hoped there would be lots of people, sympathy and drama. It consumed me to the point that I was afraid to live. That is part of the reason I turned to chemical escape.
A friend of mine died of alcohol induced coma last week. It was yet another tragic outcome from the unmerciful ravage of addiction. Like most folks a death brings my own mortality back into focus. I consider every day I am given in sobriety a gift. I tried to kill myself daily. When I demanded that GOD "give me what I deserved," he ignored my rantings. Boy am I thankful for that!
We all have rituals and ways that we remember those who have passed. I wear a piece of jewelry or clothing that was my father's at every comedy and acting performance I participate in. It gives me comfort. I wear his cross from Ireland. That is a gift from both of my Fathers.' I think of him several times a day.
When someone passes I collect a few of their mass or memorial cards. I put them in my visor. I place them in my Bible. I carry them in my wallet. I don't know why. I just do it. Whenever I open my Bible or sit in my car I am reminded of my mortality. I no longer fear it. I hope it doesn't happen for a while. I have a message to spread about hope and sobriety. When it comes, I'm ready.
I know I am going to heaven. I have realized that obsessing about death is the same as worrying about the sun rising or having enough oxygen. I try to live EVERY day like it is my last. I hope I leave a legacy of peace and love. I will see all my friends in paradise.
Last night I was flipping through my Bible and it slipped from my hand. I was taken by the fact that that a half-a-dozen memorial cards fell out onto the floor. I looked at them and thought of my friends and family fondly. There were a few tears and plenty of smiles. As I began to place them back into the pages I had marked with them, it dawned on me. I don't have a card collection of the dead. I have sweet remembrances of the many friends I have made on this earth. It's not a sad pile of cards. It's a display of love.
I no longer fear death. I focus on living. I suck every minute out of it! The more friends I make, more cards will inevitably follow. I have prayed for peace for those suffering near death. I have been devastated at the loss of someone unexpectedly. I keep them alive in my heart. I am grateful for my cards. I know that they are markers of tickets to a better place. They are not alone. I also see that I am not living alone down here as well. Now on with the living! Tomorrow never knows. May God Bless YOU!
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