Reality is Real! Act 1

Last week was my five year sobriety anniversary. Yeah. Yeah. I know it's something to be proud of. I'm grateful and do not want to diminish the accomplishment. Deep down at the core of my heart I know it's how I should have been living for the twenty-eight years I was drunk. The most important lessen I have learned in my sobriety is that the world doesn't revolve around me no matter how badly I want it to and when I live emotionally people react with theirs. We all need each other.

In all of my posts I try to keep it real. I bare my soul, warts and all, because it is easy to spin things as being rosy and bright. Behind the scenes of every TV show or film is much different than what ends up on the screen. Life is the same way. I laugh when I think back to times I was with the kids at a store yelling at them and morphing into Mr. Cleaver when an acquaintance came by. It's easy to wear a mask but if you keep it on too long you might suffocate.

I stopped writing for a while because my world was changing so fast and I lost my inner voice. As my moral compass started to get unstuck and point true north again I found myself torn in a million directions. Being bi-polar I tried to take it all on. I used to watch plate spinners on TV growing up. For the younger generation, plate spinners were entertainers like jugglers. A long row of metal rods were strewn across the stage while a performer would spin plates on each one and run back and forth to keep them from crashing to the ground. Some of the performances went perfectly. Yet, others ended in disaster as the dishes came crashing to the floor. My life became one of those less than perfect performances.

You can read about the various TV and comedy work I have done over the last 3 years and 3 months at the top of this page. I am not a SAG actor yet. Most of my film work has been as a background artist, driver or stand-in. Although I have performed comedy on some of the most familiar stages in the business my path has taken me down a road to sharing my story in Senior Communities and at fundraisers. I am not rich and famous. I'm just a guy with a cool job. 

My wife Kris, better known as Squeaky, is my best friend. She has battled kidney cancer and a myriad of health problems over the last few years. She is doing great. Cancer, like sobriety, is a one day at a time battle. There have been some scares since her kidney was partially removed. She is the star of the house. She's got bigger stones than most guys I know. When she was sick I thought I was doing the best I could as a husband and friend. I was wrong.

If you have followed the blog you know that I try to keep a positive spin on every situation. That is born out of gratitude. It can also be blinding to the reality of that situation. I know this for a fact. My own blind ambition to "make it in the business," almost cost me our marriage.

As I started to work more and write less I became obsessed with MY dreams. Little did I know that I was leaving my best friend behind. I was thrilled that my message was being well received by the groups and audiences I shared my stories with. I twisted what I thought was what Squeaky wanted into what I actually wanted. She had given me signs of growing discontentment that I ignored. Italian women say more with the unspoken word than anything that could come out of their mouths. I love it.

My odyssey to Hollywood began on September 19, 2012. I had just finished appearing on the Steve Harvey Show and Hardcore Pawn Chicago. Friend and Actor Steven Eich had an apartment on Yucca Street right behind Highland Donuts just a block from Hollywood Blvd. He was moving out in a few months and lost a roommate. I jumped at the chance to catch my dream! Squeaky was scheduled for surgery the first week of November. I would make it home for that with SAG card in hand and a ticket to easy street.

Squeaky was slipping away. She was frustrated that I was so willing to help other people but so easily dismissed her cries to have me there for her dreams. I had become alienated, or more accurately self absorbed, by my own ambition. I wanted what I wanted...when I wanted it. Everyone else had to step to the rear of the bus. I was in LA for about three days when she announced that she wanted a divorce. She told me she had moved out and we were done. I had lost the one person who had accepted me for who I was. I hadn't considered that catching her dreams were as important as mine....

"You'll Ride Life Into Perfect Laughter" - C.Bukowski

This is my favorite poem of all time! DO IT!

There may not be a tomorrow. BE HERE NOW!

From Pamelasblog. Credited.

Charles Bukowski – Roll The Dice

If you’re going to try, go all the

way.

otherwise, don’t even start.

if you’re going to try, go all the

way.

this could mean losing girlfriends,

wives, relatives, jobs and

maybe your mind.

go all the way.

it could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days.

it could mean freezing on a

park bench.

it could mean jail,

it could mean derision,

mockery,

isolation.

isolation is the gift,

all others are a test of your

endurance, of

how much you really want to

do it.

and you’ll do it

despite rejection and the worst odds

and it will be better than

anything else

you can imagine.

if you’re going to try,

go all the way.

there is no other feeling like

that.

you will be alone with the gods

and the nights will flame with

fire.

do it, do it, do it.

do it.

all the way.

all the way.

you will ride life straight to

perfect laughter, its

the only good fight

there is.

–

And I’m doing it

Enduring the long distance between us

Facing myself when there’s silence and darkness

Working while loosing my passion for it

Living in a city that left me long ago

Pushing time forward

Trying to live my dream

Holding my future closeby

Reading Wilde’s words

And still smiling

Because

I’m doing it!

SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself is on sale NOW at Amazon.com (12.95) and Amazon Europe. Personalized copies can be purchased through PAYPAL at tommyconnolly.com by clicking the link at the top of the page. 

Proceeds benefit Chicago Area addiction, homeless and mental health programs.

" Sweet Release, I love how you use me." - Morriso-

I love Van Morrison. Most people associate him as the singer/songwriter who penned, Gloria, Domino and Brown Eyed Girl. I agree with those who call him the Irish Bob Dylan. I see them both as poets who use songs as their medium.

I am a lyrics guy. Some folks dig a song for the tune. I tune in for the message. When I can't seem to cobble my words together effectively, I'll ask the person I'm trying to communicate with to listen to a song that better conveys what I am trying to express.That thing hanging in the back of my throat seems to change my wonderful thoughts into misunderstood ramblings.

The book release party for Soul Parole: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself was July 28, 2012. It was a week after the second anniversary of my father's death. I thought it was fitting to have the release around that date. He had an impact on my life more than anyone. He was usually around for me, when I was no where to be found.

Writing the book was an emotional journey. The baring of my soul on paper was liberating. It was also painful and difficult at times. Recounting the things that I regret, and am ashamed of from my past, was a closet most folks would spend a lifetime trying to keep closed. For the most part this blog was the source of the books content. "Every Day Is A Gift," reached 19,000 reads today. That is truly humbling. The fact that I've only been writing it for nineteen months makes it mind blowing.

As an author, when you present your work to the world, you're hopeful that it will be gobbled up by the masses. I was certain that friends, family, and most importantly people trying to overcome obstacles, would have it flying off the shelves. As of this writing, seventy one copies have been sold. That is far out!

So far the reviews have been positive. That is truly satisfying. A few have said it has given them hope. I hope all who read it find that it is about overcoming our past and reaching for our future, not just about my addictions.  You can plug in any word for what is holding you back into the spaces that read alcohol or drugs. We are all paralyzed by fears and obstacles that prevent us from reaching for our dreams.

The party was surreal. There were many friends and strangers on hand to enjoy the dinner and show. It is hard to grasp that people would want my signature in a pile of paper. The last time anyone asked for my autograph was when I performed at Stateville Prison. The night was a bookmark in coming full circle on my journey. I was in a dream.

As the multi-gifted Charmane Ward started the festivities with her songs of passion and faith, I was comforted by her angelic voice.The dinner was great. People were laughing. That always makes me smile. Squeaky was graciously greeting guests.Comediennes, M.J. Brown and Josie Dykas rocked the house with hilarious sets. The three ladies entertaining created a night to remember by all. Each of them are making a positive impact in their orbits.

Beyond the faithful friends who attended, I was moved by a few strangers who came out that night. A woman, whose son is fighting addiction and recovery, called to see if she could get tickets at the door. She thought the book would inspire him to stay in recovery. That young man made me realize that my work was making an impact. It reminded me that my sobriety is a gift. It helped me see that the writing of Soul Parole was never intended to be a book. It is meant to be a message. It will never be a best seller. It is not a recovery handbook. That one has been written.

Reality and the wreckage of my past hit me full in the face as well. Not a single one of my family attended. It left me feeling wounded. I see how much damage I have done over my twenty eight year run. My In-Laws came. I looked out over the many who attended and realized family goes beyond flesh and blood. That reinforced how close we have grown together. The hits didn't stop there.

Just as I had sat down to greet the people lining up to have the book signed, our alarm went off at the house. I have read about burglars breaking into homes when people post their vacation or travel plans on Facebook, or in other public forums. Our dogs yelping had set off the alarm once before. I thought that they were the source of the emergency call from the police. In fact, it was someone I know that had made an attempt to break in. That was devastating. It was mind numbing knowing that someone I loved would try such a terrible thing.

I feel a deep sense of accomplishment from fulfilling a life long dream of writing a book. You can catch your dreams as well, if you overcome your FEAR that they are possible. That doesn't mean that there won't be hurddles. It does not mean that realities won't impede your journey.

The signing was a personal success. WE raised two hundred and fifty dollars for an area recovery club. The emotions created in me from the attempted break in, and the fact that none of my family attended leveled the playing field. God keeps my feet on the ground. I still have a long journey in trying to amend my past. Some relationships seem broken beyond repair. Time will tell. As long as I keep my side of the street clean, I can live free of guilt. I am responsible for one half of a hundred percent of the relationships I have in this world.

My favorite Van Morrison Album is The Philosopher Stone. I can listen to it endlessly. One song in particular, I Have Finally Come to Realize, rocks me to my core. In the lyrics Morrison sings," I have finally come to realize, a child don't do what I have done. Cut my nose to spite my face. I'm just one tiny, tiny grain of sand. Oh, sweet release, I love how you soothe me, and when I let go, I love how you use me...It's in the doing that we find, a certain way we can live our lives, and obtain some peace of mind."

The book release showed me where I stand in the world. It also pointed me on my continuing journey to spread some hope. Happiness is a choice. No one can make it for us. No one can steal it from us, unless we let them. Others share emotions that enhance our happiness. Sometimes they inflict some pain. We all do. It's the human condition. My attitude toward adversity and treasuring life, can not be touched by anyone. I choose life. I want to make people smile. It makes me smile. I have wonderful friends. I am blessed, and rich  beyond my wildest dreams.

God is always working in my life whether I'm tuned in or not. Every once in a while he throws me a curve. Sometimes I hit a home run. Sometimes I strike out. I will always step up to the plate. I'm grateful to have others on my team. I am glad to be a messenger. As Van would say, "It's in the doing that we find...."


SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself is on sale NOW at Amazon.com and Amazon Europe. Personalized copies can be purchased through PAYPAL at tommyconnolly.com by clicking the link at the top of the page. 

Proceeds benefit Chicago Area addiction, homeless and mental health programs.

Grandma's Fat Black Typewriter

I have loved reading for as long as I can remember. As a kid my favorites were "Where The Wild Things Are," Encyclopedia Brown," and any book about baseball. I imagined I was the kid in the boat heading for Wild Thing island in his tiny sailboat. I helped Encyclopedia Brown solve the latest neighborhood caper. I read to escape the real world and disappeared between the pages. My love for reading has never left me.


I measured each book between my fingers. I slowly removed my hand, then stared at the gap between my pointer finger and thumb to review its thickness.I was fascinated that someone had cobbled all those words together. I felt a sense of achievement as the the space grew between my digits. The bigger the book I consumed, the better I felt. When I zipped through "The Hobbit," it was ecstasy. I never let my buddies know I was a reading fanatic. Back then it meant you were a geek. I was one, but was not ready to lose my place in the cool club.


I decided I was going to become a writer when I grew up. It was going to be a fat book, with lots of words. People would gobble it up. They would measure it's girth with their fingers and be amazed at my work. I set out, at once, to achieve my goal of literary greatness.


My grandparents lived in the city. It was on the South Side of Chicago, on Karlov Avenue, just east of Harlem and Pulaski. I adored the predominantly Irish neighborhood they lived in. As kids we didn't ring the doorbell when we were seeking out a playmate. We stood on the porch and would call out, "Yo, Johnny can you come out and play?" Our singing pleas were repeated endlessly until someone came to the door. If they didn't come, you moved on to another house replaying the same song with a new subject.They didn't do that in Mokena where I lived. I thought it was the coolest. 


In the summer time the ice cream man would cruise the streets in a white painted cube truck that blared out "Pop Goes The Weasel," to announce his presence. I thought that was the coolest too. My heart would race as the sounds of the droning song got closer and closer. Grandma would pull some change from her tiny clasped purse. I would barely have my hand clinched around the coins before I dashed out the door. We would sit on the curb licking away at bomb pops or the latest Good Humor treat.


Grandma had an old Smith-Corona typewriter in the basement. A ribbon was stretched between two spools. The top half was red. The bottom half was black. The red served as highlighting back then. When you got to the end of the spool, you simply rewound it back to the left and continued with the task at hand. I loved plunking away on the fat round keys. When you wanted to capitalize a letter you would hold down the caps key. The heavy rubber roller would rise up from the black machine as the keys hammered at the paper like piano hammers hitting the strings stretched taunt inside.  When you released the key it would fall back into place with a thump. I worked feverishly as the slender arms slapped the ribbon to the page.

My first work was called "The Monkey and the Eagle." My mother still has it. It was a simple paragraph. The plot revolved around a monkey who steals an egg from an eagles' nest, then returns it after he realizes the mother eagle was sad. I went through pages of paper, and rewound the spools a few times, before I got the story just right. Inevitably I would near completion of my masterpiece and hit the wrong key. The spindle whizzed and whined as I ripped the botched up paper from the machine and replaced it with a fresh one.

I presented it to the world with glowing satisfaction. I was an author just like the ones' who pecked out my favorites. I wrote story after story. I was the hero of course. Sometimes I would type out a sad theme. In those works I tried to save a person or animal from doom. My heart fell to pieces when I couldn't. Now I see that people pleasing, and my desire to save the world, crossed into my reality.

I feel blessed and grateful that I reached my goal of becoming a published author. Writing SOUL PAROLE was a cathartic journey. As a kid I thought my works would be about safaris and daring rescues. I never thought I would pen the recounting of years of self destruction. I hope someone finds it as intriguing as Encyclopedia Brown.

When I got the first proof copy I stared at it for a few minutes. I flipped through the pages in disbelief that I had pecked out the words. I measured the book between my fingers. I slowly removed my hand, then stared at the gap between my pointer finger and thumb to review its thickness.I was fascinated that I had cobbled all those words together. I felt a sense of achievement as I carefully removed my fingers to keep my measurements true. I sat in awe, fixated on the space between the two. I was bathed in a sense of accomplishment. I have come a long way from "The Monkey and the Eagle."


SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself is on sale NOW at Amazon.com and Amazon Europe. Personalized copies can be purchased through PAYPAL at tommyconnolly.com by clicking the link at the top of this page. 


Proceeds benefit Chicago Area addiction, homeless and mental health programs.

Soul Parole: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself

Soul Parole: Making Peace With My Mind, GOD and Myself is now available on AMAZON.com and Amazon Europe. Foreword by Tom Dreesen, Epilogue by David Brenner.


Proceeds will benefit Chicago Area addiction, homeless and mental health facilities for the under served.


It's hard to believe that Soul Parole is finally complete. I have wanted to be an author since I was old enough to read Dick and Jane. I never would have imagined that reaching such a lofty goal would come in the recounting of 28 years of alcoholism, addiction and undiagnosed Bi-Polar Disorder.


My first work was called "The Monkey and the Eagle." I tapped it out, on an old black typewriter, in my Grandmother's basement. It was 1972. There were at least 20 drafts. White out and delete were not invented yet.


Each time I would carefully peck away on the old machine I would near the completion of the work and BANG, I would make a typo and start again. I wanted it to be perfect when I presented it to my Mom. My obsession with trying to do things "perfectly" had gotten a hold of me already.


The book is not perfect. As I read through it, I can say with confidence that it is an interesting read. I also see that I have a penchant for run on sentences, and should use more commas. You can see the growth in my writing abilities as the book progresses. It reflects my growth as a man.


I decided to leave things raw to show my metamorphosis from hopelessness to confidence. Soul Parole (Volume 2)will be more polished. I am grateful to have written all of it. The conception of the book was created, right here. I am humbled by the fact that "Every Day Is A Gift," is read in 62 countries world wide. When I see that a thousand people are reading the blog each month when I am writing so few assures me that I am touching hearts.


I hope people will look at my story from the perspective of overcoming fear. It is not an alcoholic manual. That has been written already. I hope that earthlings see that it is about victory over the things that hold us back from achieving our dreams, or conquering the fears that paralyze us.


Sharing accounts of failed marriages, addiction to darned near everything, and explaining how THIS addict reacts to life was unfurled. It was difficult to put some of those intimate details to paper, but I am glad I had the courage to do just that.


You can do anything with hope, faith and the hand of a friend. Take it from this 46 year old goof who didn't free himself from the bondage of fear until he was 43. I did not do my first film or commercial until I was 44. There are no age restrictions on catching your dreams. Go out and grab what you were meant to do! FEAR is the only thing that is holding you back.


I guarantee that if you put 10 percent of the effort into working on how YOU CAN catch your dreams, versus the 90 percent that you spend THINKING YOU CAN'T, you will be amazed with the results. At the very least, you can walk away with one less obsession and one less regret.


Don't leave any cards on the table. Nobody lays on their deathbed wishing they had made an extra hundred bucks. Many do bemoaning regrets and sadness over the things they DIDN'T do while here. We are all messengers. God gave us ALL gifts to share with the world. I hope people like Soul Parole. The sales will help many.  I have one less regret on the table and another dream realized.


Go out and DO IT! The only thing you have to lose is your fear.


God Bless you ALL for supporting the blog and helping me grow in my sobriety and life. You made it happen. I just wrote it down.

What About Bob?

It has been a long time since I have felt the urge or NEED to write two blogs in one day. If you had a chance to read the entry from this morning the ending revolved around my gratitude for my sobriety. I checked out by saying I was going to a recovery meeting. It was one that changed my mood from happy to sad. It further ingrained in the deepest depths of my psyche that EVERY DAY IS A GIFT!

I hope the readers who regularly follow the blog have realized that you don't have to be an addict to relate to my message. We all have fears and habits that we are slaves to. Some use food, envy, relationships, greed, work and a myriad of other things as their means of escape. The justifications and denials are the same. The pain runs as deep. It effects ones' ability to live comfortably, without guilt. Because it is not a drug, or can be easily concealed, it is dismissed as being just a "BAD HABIT."

To escape the grips of any obstacle that is impeding your ability to live a guilt free, fear free life is my goal. Addiction is what I know best. The other examples I listed are a few of the other things that kept me lost in myself or codependency for years. The joys of being free of self, and at peace with GOD and my fellows is what I hope to drive home.

You can't do it alone. The deeper an unwanted habit or fear is driven the more it tells you to keep it a secret. The less likely we become willing to talk about it. It also becomes nearly impossible to reach out for that help. Once you are freed from the ties that bind you, anything is possible. Life, family and life being "YOU" is amazing!

While I was at my meeting I found out about the death of a friend who was my age. His name was Bob. Bob was a fun loving, highly intelligent guy who loved his family. He had eyes that were piercing. Bob could not escape the grips of alcohol. He died last week. He was taken to a hospital with a blood alcohol level of .70. His organs shut down. Then he did. I am glad he is no longer at war with himself.

People who find the miracle of sobriety are few and blessed indeed. The guilt and shame of living a lie and in a secret world are crushing forces to have to relive day after day. Being said that I have been given a second chance would seem paltry to the miracles I have seen since I turned to GOD and friends for help. My life is anew. I am living a dream. I can deal with me as me. I can cope with reality and have stopped beating myself up emotionally. That is where all these habits center. The euphoria of experiencing our drug of choice is brief. It is really the self loathing, and emotional self beatings, we become addicted to.

When Bob was sober he was like a lamb. I used to see him sleeping in the streets. I gave him clothes and a winter coat. He drank. He was arrested over and over. He drank. He got to a point where if he stopped drinking he would have seizures. I was talking with him once when one occurred. It was terrifying. He jumped up in a moment and was ready to fight. He lost the fight last Week.

Overcoming yourself is the hardest thing a human can do. We get so caught up in chasing after money, material success, and escapism, that we are soon lost.

When I say I try to leave every meeting with a friend or loved one with a good feeling, I MEAN IT! Every day is a gift because we only live moment to moment whether we like it or not. I don't want to leave any regrets on the table when I split for paradise. Guilt is no longer a feeling I can live comfortably with. Anger is an emotion that is toxic for me. I avoid it at all costs.

Wherever you are in your world please realize what you have is so much more than you need. We have it so good in America. Even in these dark economic times. Take a trip through the shacks of the Caribbean Islands or Mexico and see what shanty life is.

Take time to enjoy the simple things in life like smiles, hugs and sunsets. The next time you eat an apple, marvel at its natural beauty. Laugh at the laugh of a child. Most of all, make peace with yourself and the people that surround you. Live like there's no tomorrow. There may not be one. Eventually we all will have a last moment. I do not want my last day to be wasted on fear, hate, broken relationships and wasted negative energy.

The greatest thing about life is that you can start over any time you want. Take time today to thank GOD for what you HAVEN'T been given. Call that lost friend or shunned relative. Your last day may not be tomorrow. Theirs may. Nothing in life is as precious as...LIFE....

Friday is Good!

On Good Friday, 1999 I entered the SHARE Recovery Home in Hoffman Estates. I had been sober for eleven days after spending three days in the detox unit of Hinsdale Hospital. I spent an additional eight days in the psych ward on voluntary admission. That's how many days I had left on my insurance for inpatient care. I had been fired while there. I was so afraid that I was going to drink, that the extra few days with the guys in white was not of concern to me. I so desperately wanted to begin a life free from chemical dependency.

Although I had to surrender my shoe laces, pointed objects, belt and any thing else that I could do harm to myself or someone else with, I was free to come and go from the unit to attend recovery meetings. I spent time in the chapel trying to sort out the insanity that I had been living in. It's hard to make sane decisions with a sick mind. I loved the quietness and peace the tiny room offered and symbolized. I was still fearing, running from, and chasing after a GOD I did not understand. I still figured he didn't have the time to deal with my petty problems. My temporary stay in Hinsdale would be the start of almost five years without alcohol. It was also where I was first diagnosed as being Bi-Polar.

I chose not to participate in craft making during my stay. The thought of making Popsicle stick and macaroni pictures made me feel too much as if I was one of the lock down patients. They were nuts. I wasn't one of them! I surmised that putting yourself in a psych ward didn't count! I spent those times alone trying to sort out what I was going to do with my life when I was on the outside again. I also had visits with the psychologist who wanted to know what made me tick and sick. I lied and denied that I was a REAL alcoholic. I was just a guy who let things get out of control for a bit. He saw right through my addict speak and we got down to how my racing mind and tattered body had driven me to self-commitment.

I explained to him that while most folks could sit and read the morning paper while enjoying a nice cup of coffee, I didn't have the ability to focus on one thing...EVER! 2 minutes after I met someone I couldn't even tell you their name. I still struggle with that problem. I went on to intimate that while I was reading the paper and sipping my coffee, three different songs were running through my head. I was reliving painful moments of my past and obsessing about the doom that was certain to fall upon me at any moment. I was worried about war, famine and the laundry. All I did was THINK...THINK...THINK!

His diagnosis of manic depression, or Bipolar Disorder was swift. As he explained the symptoms and parallels to my life I couldn't deny that it was me he was describing to the letter. He went on to share the fact that many people with BPS and depression often self medicate with drugs and alcohol to slow their minds. I was put on a commonly prescribed medication and he went on his way. I had a hard time accepting the diagnosis even though I knew I suffered manic highs and the darkest of lows. I now embrace the fact, and try to educate people on the misconceptions of mental disorders, or more accurately chemical imbalances.

After my eleven days were up and I entered SHARE for 27 days. My loved ones didn't come to "Family Night." I spent Easter with my new recovery friends as most of the others laughed with their folks and children. After my treatment was complete, my third marriage fell apart. Our toxic relationship that was once strained by my addiction was unsalvageable in sobriety. I checked into the Lagrange YMCA. It was a sad desperate place. It was only 90 days after arriving there that I began to use pot and speed heavily. It was classic switch and control behavior. It was just new candy for the same sick kid. The thick roots of addiction erased the gratitude that God had given me yet ANOTHER chance. I began to have anger issues that I did not understand. The medication I was on was not working for me.

 I stayed on it for nearly 3 years before I realized that something was terribly wrong with my mood swings. The drugs I was ingesting was massive and grew with each passing day. I wasn't drinking. I saw no problem with the drugs. I didn't have a desire to drink. It is no wonder that I was not progressing in establishing. emotional balance. It often takes several different trials of medications to find the one that truly offers balance. I was once again masking my discomfort with prescriptions from Dr. Feelgood. As of this writing, through chemical free living, and the help of a therapist, my mania and depression have been arrested for the most part.

I stopped going to recovery meetings even though they held them in the very building I lived in, and throughout Lagrange. I quit talking to people like me. I did nothing that was suggested for a life of contented sobriety. I could do it all on my own. I was a survivor, a warrior! That need to figure it out on my own is a common addiction thread. Nobody understands us. Nobody feels like we do. No one can help us. We have all the answers.

It would be another nine more years before I was completely sober. Between my days living in the street to the last drunken end I learned to be highly functional in my disease. I lived 7 years with my depression unchecked. My addiction was a roller coaster ride of ups and downs and I couldn't get off! The highs were never high enough to slow my thoughts down. My using was increasing but my professional career was booming. Good money was coming in and bringing out bad behavior. I had all the justification in the world! I was salesman of the month! I was top ten in the country! How could I possibly be out of control? Even after Squeaky left me for a few weeks and I tried to end my life, I still couldn't stop....

On GOOD FRIDAY 2012 God's grace was shining on me. I finally completed and submitted the final manuscript for Soul Parole: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself. My marriage is stronger than ever. My friends are close. My recovery is strong. I am doing the next right thing, a day at a time. I have worked on 3 TV series in the last month and have a commercial and 2 movies to shoot in the coming weeks. I have two agencies considering representing me on a tour promoting the book.

As I felt the tension, brought on from deadlines and editing subside, I realized it was Good Friday. I saw the grace of God shining into my world. On that holy day that represents the end of suffering and the beginning of life renewed in paradise, I had come full circle. Where there was once only despair, there is rebirth. I was lost but now am found. Hopefully, Soul Parole will help someone seek sobriety, a relationship walking with God and let them know that dreams come true. For almost 28 years I was lost in the wilderness. I was lost but now...I'm found! HE saved a wretch like me. Every Day IS a GIFT.

It's Only A Dream!

Dreams have always fascinated me. When I was a small boy I used to sleep walk. I laugh at my Mother's recounting of finding me in our tiny Mokena apartment playing football with the house plants in our living room. There was also the time she found me intently peeing all over our bathroom. When she asked me what I was doing I stated with conviction that I was a fireman and was putting out a fire. She always tried to talk me out of my zombie state or somnambulism by medical definition.

One ugly episode involved me screaming bloody murder about a spider being on my chest at about age 13. Ma rushed in to tell me that she knocked off the spider and all was well. I would have none of it! I called her every rotten word in the book because the spider was still clearly in the middle of my sternum. I woke up with no recollection of these episodes. Eventually they lessened but there are still times when I wake my wife to engage her in unusual dialogue about a man in Britain or reminding her to make a call in the morning to someone who doesn't exist.

Even though I can't recall my sleep conversations I do remember most of my dreams. I have been working on it for years. I was watching Donahue at about age 10 and the discussion was on dream recall. As I remember the guest said something about keeping a pad of paper next to the bed and writing down a color and word from the dream when you awake. Then the next morning read the word and color and try to remember images. I tried it and the main thing I got out of it was trying to remember your dream right when you wake.

As I have developed my dream awareness I now have the ability to be in the middle of a dream and know it is one. That may sound nutty, or a bit of a tongue twister at the least, but it is true. I can be inthe midst of a dream and "go with it" and be conscious of the fact that I am in a dream state and won't get hurt or that whatever is occurring is in fact not happening. If I try to manipulate the dream I wake up instantly. It does not happen in every dream. In most I am merely dreaming. There are several I want to remember and forget to review before I get out of bed and are lost. Occasionally they come back to me later in the day in scenes.

Sometimes I ask God in my prayers to let my Dad or Grandma show up during my prayers. Occasionally they do. Remember I can't manipulate the dreams. I just go with the flow. I know I'm dreaming. I want to call out, "Dad what's heaven like?!" I dare not because I know I'll wake up and I don't know when I'll see him again. He had a car business, both sales and rental. His dreams usually revolve around cars . In most he is younger and happy, or all business. I am just glad to see him. My Grandma was old school. She loved to cook, would slip you a twenty and wasn't big on outward affection. I knew she loved me with all her heart. In the dreams she's just the same.

I have been working on a toy, book and winter clothing drive here in Chicago over the last few weeks. What started out as a friends suggestion has turned into an amazing reality. It is a dream really. It has been physically and mentally challenging taxing trying to coordinate, make calls, find locations, blah...blah...blah. I'm not complaining. The whole project has exploded into something beyond my wildest...well...dreams. It is a chapter in itself. The bottom line is I have been putting a lot of pressure on myself because time is running out and I don't want to let anyone down.  My sleep has been irregular and I haven't been eating well. I trust GOD will make it all work out but there is still work on earth that must be done. When I put my heart into something it is all or nothing. This is definitely ALL.

Today I fell asleep on the couch with my little dog Fiona. I call her Shmutz. She is about 9 pounds and 8 of that are lovin.' She sleeps in between my legs with her wee head on my thigh. I started to dream that I was sitting on a spiral staircase waiting for my Dad. I was surrounded by water,  the stairs were right in the middle of a lake. The water was like blue crystal. I could see all these beautiful fish swimming in a circle around the stairs that came up out of the water that I was sitting on. They were all sizes and shapes. All of them looked friendly or at least like they weren't going to eat me.

I was growing impatient waiting for my father. My stress and anxiety had followed me into the dream. I began to call out, "Dad? I really miss you and I need to see you right now! I feel like I'm going out of my mind....Please?" I began to cry physically but was still asleep. I kept calling and calling but he didn't come. I was sobbing...begging.

 Suddenly I was thrown back into concsiousness as a tiny tongue was licking my eyes. Shmutzy saw and heard me crying and was trying to comfort me. She saw that I was in pain and wanted to make me feel better. I wiped my eyes and kissed her. I haven't sobbed in a while. What a release. Something unexplained had occurred. I felt relief. The sobbing in my dream relieved me of the bottled up tension I had. I felt like a million bucks with a couple short for the headache from crying. It was as if a ton of pressure was lifted off me.

I sat there reflecting on the fish and the stairs as I pet the Shmutz and realized that everything was going to work out fine. I have lots of friends and lots of amazing people helping me on this adventure. It's a great cause! It's in bigger hands than mine! My fears of letting anyone down are ridiculous. I also realized that in my time of need when I called out to my father to show up and relieve me of my fears and anxiety MY FATHER did...and gave it to me....

Rally's and Alley's a "BOSS" DAY! (Soul Parole)

I am grateful to have been asked to emcee and perform at Rally Round Recovery 2012. It is an honor. This is from 2011 and a chapter preview from Soul Parole.


Time: 8:00 am. I'm sitting in Joliet's Hotel Plaza restaurant in the heart of the city, just across from the library. It's been here forever. I'd call it a diner. This is my kinda joint. It's no frills, good food and great prices. The place has a feel about it. It breathes. You can feel the history as you slide into your booth, sticking halfway into place. 

There's a handful of tables and the prerequisite single stool bar. A couple of regulars checker the place. The waitress knows everyone by name and what they want as they sit down. She treats me like she's known me for years as she offers me coffee, a menu and my choice of newspapers. That's service.

I know what I'm going to order. I am a creature of habit. It'll be two eggs over medium with hash browns and ham well done. She takes my menu and flashes a smile while tucking it under her arm and spinning toward the kitchen. It's waitress ballet. I have been here, and by here, before as both an alcoholic/addict and in recovery. In a few short hours I will be standing in front of the Will County Board, the County President and State's Attorney. I feel my nerves and blood pressure beginning to build.

The men's room is just around the corner from where I am sitting. I can't help but notice a group of photos hanging in a bunch along the way. They have shot an episode of "Boss," the new Kelsey Grammer series debuting this fall on STARZ here. There is a picture of Kelsey and an autographed pic of Director Mario Van Peebles on a bulletin board along with some other celebrities. I smile, grateful that I have been blessed to work on a 4 episodes of the show. Several of the episodes are directed by Mr. Van Peebles. I am a featured extra as a school teacher in one episode. The irony is staggering knowing that in years gone by I have bought drugs not far from this very spot. I have also talked to struggling addicts here trying to get their lives together.

I return to the table and my food awaits. The egg whites are cooked but runny. Perfect. I have no idea what I am going to say when they present the County Proclamation to me as Spokesman and Emcee of "Rally Round Recovery 2011." I know God will give me the words when my moment comes. I just hopes he gives me good ones. Whatever they are, they will be grateful ones. I skim the newspaper and am careful not to get food on my clothes. I am a slob. I am the guy who drops a meatball down his shirt even when he's not eating a meatball.

I pay my tab and tip the waitress. I begin to make my way toward the courthouse only to realize that the event is at the county building. Joliet has changed so much in the last 20 years. The downtown area is gorgeous. I stroll past alleys where I once looked for "dates" or chemical escape, happy to be alive and sober. The sun is shining and I am on the right side of the street. I have a choice today not to use. There was a time when I had no choice. I begged my addiction to spare me for the day but it always managed to find a reason to beat me into submission again and again. Not today.

I arrived at the Will County Commission building before nine. One of the beauties of sobriety is I am not late. I greet Robert Snipes and Paul Lauridsen, organizers and bigwigs from Stepping Stones Recovery home and Southwest Alliance for Recovery. We sat in the gallery amongst the political elite. It was fascinating watching the District Commissioners talk in millions like you and I would talk in hundreds. I loved the fact that a prayer was done before the session. Forget Church and State. I want God to bless any meeting that has to do with my money!

As they called us up and Commissioner Dralle called me to the podium I was still shaking. Representative Larry Walsh handed me the plaque recognizing "Rally Round Recovery 2011" and September as National Recovery month. I thanked the commissioners and council members for their support and for having me there by invitation, not by SUBPOENA! It was a truly humbling moment, and one I will never forget.

I can't recall what I said beyond the joke. My recovery mentor says if I don't remember when I speak in situations like that it came from the heart or GOD, not me. I like that. In a few moments we were whisked off and the next group to be recognized was ushered up to the podium. I was still shaking.

David Brenner told me if you don't get butterflies before a performance get out of the business because it means you've lost your passion. I believe that. I have a genuine passion in sharing my story to let people know they are not alone but can not do it alone. The 28 years I suffered through and put my family through were hell. I see more and more in my sobriety as I help others in recovery and those with depression issues that those days were not spent in vain. I would not wish that hell on ANYONE.

As each day goes by and I share my message of hope, faith and the wonders of sobriety I am giving away what was given to me by those who came before me. I am a garden variety drunk and addict with a cool job. I am grateful to GOD that he continues to give me work in the business. I love both acting and comedy. I get my greatest satisfaction showing people the wonders of sobriety and living with the choice not to use.

"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.

Spring in Chicago Means...... Baseball and Film Season is Here!

I have been busy. I hope you have. When I'm busy I don't have time to think and worry, obsess and isolate. Most people hope for the days when their schedule slows down and they can catch their breath. Not me. I like when things are crazy, busy, day packed top to bottom. It's when I'm bored and alone that the carnival I know as my mind takes me to the fun house with those mirrors that distort things and make me uncomfortable. I guess as part of my basic make up I enjoy chaos.

I have started writing for a publisher and have had some articles and photographs published already. You can find these at www.triond.com/tommyconnolly . The venture is something I have always wanted to do: to be a published author. So many of my dreams are coming true. None of them would be possible without the help of God, recovery and friends like you. At 45 I may be falling apart but I am catching my dreams. I'm not chasing them anymore. The difference between a dream and a reality is one you imagine and one you do.

I have been lining up more comedy dates and have worked on 2 films with a third this weekend. You might say I am a man on a mission. I am. I wasted so much time, being wasted for so much of the time. Now I am doing productive things. I have helped a handful of people jump into the film business. That rocks my world. I try to put 2 smiles on people's faces for every frown I created over 28 years of addiction and depression. I try to play tag with the world. When I tag someone it's with hope and encouragement that life is for living, not being frozen in a moment or trapped in fear. You can start your life over with the next sunrise. All you have to do is do.

Baseball has begun and my beloved White Sox are doing okay. The pitching is average but over all I am optimistic about the season. More importantly, the warmer weather brings film and TV work to Chicago, the most beautiful city in the world. There are pilots being shot in town for MTV, a pilot for a comedy starring Frazier, funny man Kelsey Grammar, Superman is heading back into town and so many more projects I hope to have work up through Christmas. I have already worked on one of the projects. It was a 13 hour day and I loved it!

There is nothing like the insanity and collective vision on a set. I could spend hours just watching the crew setting the lighting, moving the sets, placing the props. The only thing I don't like about the film business is that they aren't too thrilled with Chicago winters. There should be more films about hockey, ice fishing and figure skating. That would solve the problem.

On the home front, sobriety is day to day. I am doing all the things I need to do to maintain it. When I am busy I need to ALWAYS keep God and the knowledge of my addictive past at the center of my mind and heart and work from there. If I start to slip away from sobriety, I will step right back into a bar or dope house. That's the fact Jack! 

I miss Cooter, big dumb dog. She has been gone for almost a month now. My mom had to put her Chloe down and that brought all the feelings of loss rushing back. I love my dogs with every ounce of my being but saying goodbye hurts me the same as if it were one of my children. I have gotten more involved with PET PARDON. Please look for them on Face book. You can find them on my page at www.facebook.com/tommyconnollycomedian . You can adopt or sponsor a dog. You can even be a virtual foster parent. Please check out Kiva.com as well.

KIVA is a non-profit organization that is a charity where you and I LOAN money to people whom we choose from around the world to help them become entrepreneurs for as little as $25 bucks! It's not a hand out. You can track the progress of the project you fund and the person you are supporting. It is a beautiful concept and one I am honored to be a part of.

There has been some craziness too. My daughter Andrea is coming home from Germany soon. I can't wait. She has been helping me with my articles. She is an amazing editor and I am looking forward to giving her a wet sloppy kiss on her beautiful Italian face! Sunny is doing well for the most part but has had a set back or two. We love and support her, but can't keep her locked in a cage. Like all of us, she is given free choice in this world to make her own decisions. I just pray for her to find the way to a straight path. She is attracted to the rocky road like a magnet. She reminds me of me and I am powerless over her choices. I can share my love, my God and my hope with her. The rest is up to her.

Well I guess that's the quick update. Last night they ran "The Chicago Code" episode that began my journey to today. My father's memorial service was on a Friday and I appeared in the episode 3 days later. I took the chance. I caught a dream. I got off my butt and went for it. Life is always full of the things we are going to do the next day or we waste today regretting yesterday. That is such wasted energy and time. Today is a gift, that IS why it's the PRESENT! God Bless. Catch a dream today and spread a little sunshine today. Love ya!

Angels and Dreamin's.......What Dreams I See....

I have written 3 past chapters about angels, dreams, near death experiences and visitations. I am a firm believer in heaven and hell. So if there are good angels, there has to be bad ones too. I am not crazy. It is a part of my faith and the Bible says God created angels before man. He also said that the bad ones intermingled with humans. That made him real mad! I believe there are good and bad spirits that walk among us. I believe there are some, who for whatever reason, are trapped in limbo between our reality and other dimensions.

I have been interested in dreams and dream manipulation since I was a little boy. I dream in color. My Bing research says that between 4 and 75% of people dream in color. That's a pretty big range. Where do you fall? My further research says that we dream between 4 and 7 times per night. The theories as to why we dream range from long term memory building, data dumping and telepathic/prophetic experiences. I really don't care about the facts. I just love to dream.

I first got into dreams when I was about 7 or 8. I was watching the Donahue show and this lady was explaining that the best way to remember your dreams, or cue them, is to put a pad of paper by the bed and when you wake up from the dream write down a word, a number and a color and go back to sleep. I tried this process for a couple nights but it didn't help me remember. I do keep a pad of paper by my bed to jot down a note or theme when I wake up. The most effective thing for me has been to simply try to remember and retrieve the dream when I first wake up before I have even gotten out of bed.

My dreams were like what most folks have and usually involved flying or falling. I still remember when I would soar over my neighborhood, just above the tree tops and look at the tiny village of Mokena below. I have never flown over the village in a plane but my dreams were remarkably accurate in their geographic layout. The more I relaxed in the dream the longer the flights. I had no wings. It was just like the film "The Boy Who Could Fly." I enjoy that film to this day. I didn't take off vertically. My flight started from a run, then into a horizontal take off.

Strangely enough, when I dream of falling those dreams are in black, white and grey. They are short, abrupt and I usually wake up. As a young one I learned to comprehend that I was dreaming, while I was in the middle of one. This still happens for me about half of the time I dream. If I try to engage a person or shift the dream I wake up. If I just flow with the dream, and don't try to manipulate the plot, I am able to experience it fully aware that I am in a dream and enjoying the ride.

The subject of my dreams over the last few years revolve around malls, train stations, airports and shopping markets. I don't know why or care but I do have the ability to enjoy the trip. The more open minded you are to your dreams and remembering them, the stronger your ability to remember them gets.
The key is to make it a habit to try to remember a scene when you wake up. Don't try to remember the whole thing immediately or you will forget everything. Take a snapshot in the dream and when you wake up try to focus on the picture and the other elements will fill themselves in. The pad of paper with one written word also helps.

I dream frequently about fish; swimming fish, like coy or trout. I am never trying to catch them. They are just a part of my dream scape. I also have dreams of my teeth falling out in front of people while I am conversing with them. Some of my dreams are easily traced to a program I have watched earlier or a book I am reading, other times they are random. I have practiced enough that every time I am dreaming, I am conscious of the fact that I am in the middle of one.

The coolest thing that happens in my dreams is when my father appears. When I say my prayers I ask God if it would be possible for him to let my dad visit me that night in my dreams. Quite often it works. He is not sick or passing messages to me. He is just another co-star in the dream. Since I have some cognizant knowledge that I am dreaming, it is really cool to see him and talk to him. When he appears there is also a car in the dream. My dad was in the car business for years and he always brings one to my dreams.

After I have taken a scene or snapshot from my dream, when I am not fully awake, I take a few seconds to see if I can remember more. I don't dwell too long on the scene or I tend to forget the whole thing. Throughout the day I revisit the mental snapshot and more pieces come into my conscious reality. I hope this doesn't sound like Syd Barrett's autobiography. I really believe in dream recall and have worked on it for years. Most of the dreams are positive but sometimes very troubling. That is the good part about being partially conscious that I'm dreaming. If it's bad I know I am in a dream and not reality.

I don't know where dreams come from or why we have them. I know they have a purpose. Again, I go back to the fact that us humans use such a small part of our brain capacity, I know there is a dream decoder in there somewhere. I know I love to see my dad alive again and am happy when he shows up. Last night I dreamed I was a John Lennon imitator in a Beatles cover band that featured the real Paul McCartney. In the dream I asked him for his autograph 4 times as we sat in a hotel room waiting for a gig.

That dream I can connect to an ongoing verbal jousting contest I have with my mate Ian, on who was more influential, John or Paul. I say John. He picks Paul. I am also in the process of selling a drum set on EBay. Again there is the mental connection. I am glad I remember even the silliest dreams. Take some time with your dreams. Relax and try to be aware that you are in fact dreaming. It takes practice but gives me great comfort and enjoyment. I don't try to get lotto numbers from them or read the future. I just go for the ride, and what a long strange trip it's been.