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....

Shameless...William H. Macy, Me, and Addiction Flashbacks!

I was blessed to have the opportunity to work on an episode of the new Showtime series "Shameless," starring William H. Macy. I was cast as his neighbor and when the episode airs you will definitely see me. The show revolves around a father with alcohol issues trying to raise a brood of kids in the working neighborhoods of Chicago. It is well written and sure to be a hit.

It was an unseasonably warm November day for Chicago and the scene was taking place in the dead of winter. Temperatures got up into the 60's that day and we were dressed as if it were January. Snow trucks were brought in to create the winter scene, complete with a guy who had a spray can to dirty the snow on the street. I can not say what the episode was about specifically in respect and confidence to the Showtime Network and professional acting courtesy.

In both "Shameless" and "The Chicago Code," great pains are taken to make details and authenticity as accurate as possible. From regional dialect and slang, to the casting of locals in the neighborhood providing background, no detail is too small to overlook. When a shoot is in progress, lights, semis, cameras, wardrobe, trolley rails, production assistants, actors and extras litter the street. Curious neighbors sit on their porch or on the sidelines taking in the magic and technical wizardry that makes Hollywood so cool.

If a civilian is brought into the production they must sign a waiver and are often paid for their appearance in it. On this particular day we were on the west side in one of the more blue collar, urban neighborhoods for the shoot. As we rehearsed our scenes and repeatedly returned to our marks for another take or camera angle change, a woman kept walking onto the set. After a few interruptions, one of the best production assistants I have ever worked with took her to the side and signed her up to be an official player for the shoot for that day.

The woman was haggard and seemed a bit nervous. She was in clothing that seemed worn for a few days in a row and was skittish and tweaky. She was obviously withdrawing and jonesing for whatever candy kept her going. An addict can pick out another in a stadium full of strangers. It is just a skill we pick up in case we need to commiserate or score. We are always scanning and defining the people around us. That one is uppity. That one is a push over. That one is full of themself. That one is weak. That one will buy my story and give me a few bucks. We move from character to character and are usually dead on in our predeterminations of our fellow man's weak spots.

I was lucky enough to play an integral part in a scene with William H. Macy. He is a consummate character actor and professional. I was in the middle of asking the director how she wanted me to play the scene and she walked away to put out a more important fire. Mr. Macy stopped over and answered my question as to how he felt my demeanor should be in reacting to his actions. He is not an ego guy. He is just a guy. He presented no pretension or condescension, only a desire in doing the scene as perfectly as possible. I thanked him and played my part as he suggested. I was surprised when he later joined the extras in the holding area for chit chat and a picture or two.
In the scene some money is thrown up in the air in celebration of a joyous event. Prop money was used for the rehearsal and actual cash when we were ready to print. Each of us were given a set denomination of moola and responsible for returning it at the wrap of the scene. I was drawn to the woman as after each scene was "cut" we would retrieve the amount we were given and prepare for the next "take." When the call came to "check the gate and print", the scene was over and we returned our money to the PA handling the bankroll. The amount of money distributed was less than what returned.

I returned my portion and looked around for the skittish woman but she was gone. I scanned the streets of the restricted area and saw her smiling ear to ear and shouting into her cell phone. She was a block away and through all the confusion and chaos that is business as usual on set, I could hear her pleas drifting to me from so far away. She waited by the corner and was picked up by a car that stopped just long enough for her to jump in as it lurched away.

My first urge was to tell the PA about the lady and be a hero and doer of good deeds. I didn't say a word though. As I returned my share, the old street code of not ratting out a fellow user came back to me as clear as the days when I was using. It was not my business and I was probably doing her a favor. There were a few more scenes that required my participation as camera angles were switched and slight changes to the scene printed, just in case they wanted to alter something later.

The woman returned shortly after she left on the 14 hour long shoot. She was a different person. Her speech was slower and clearer. She didn't twitch or itch and looked like she had found the medicine she needed to feel normal again. I felt for her. As I looked at her she smiled back, eyes glazed over and content. I knew how she felt. I had been there. I knew what it was like to go to any means necessary to get the chemical cure to what was ailing me. I said a prayer for her. I don't know if she took the money but I know what addicts are capable of. I thanked God for his grace that it wasn't me. I looked back once more at her euphoric grin and was grateful for another day of sobriety. But for the Grace of God there go I.