Easy to Remember, Hard to Forget....

In life, everyone has done or said things they would like to forget and can't. There are memories we try to wish and pray away. There are always a few in some dark corner of our minds just waiting for us to wrap our heads around them, and drag them back into the light. Sometimes they are dragged out for us.

Alcohol, and/or anger makes people say, and do things they wouldn't normally even consider when calm or sober. There's the cutting remarks, pushing of hot buttons, dredged up family secrets and reminders of poor past decisions. We want them erased permanently from our memory drive. There is inevitably something we have done or said while drunk, or riled up, that we wish we could take back. This is not exclusive to people like me. Everyone has an incident or remark they remember, or don't, that haunts them or embarrasses them to some degree.

For an alcoholic this haunting presents itself through remorse, shame and self-loathing that eventually becomes overwhelming. It is simple math. Too many drinks, plus several years of too many drinks, equals loss of control, rage, verbal warfare and multiple bad decisions. This beast of burden becomes so daunting that it creates a cycle of more drinking and bad decisions. The equation is more drinks to forget, more for created mistakes, more drinks, ad infinitum.

For the occasional partier or abstainer, there are probably a few silly, or sometimes serious, incidents that happened on a vacation, or at a company party that are uncomfortable when relived. Some of them were serious enough to create a permanent scar on the parties involved. The normal person moves on, or works through it.

Before I ever picked up a drink, things happened to me that I couldn't process as a little boy. The incidents were confusing, and happened at the hands of a person I trusted. The mixed messages created conflicting emotions, and later would fuel my isolation and anger. It twisted my sense of trust and robbed me of my innocence. This "loved" one is no longer here. I have never shared the pain with my family. I know that nothing positive will result from dredging up the ghost of painful past.

That person is not here to respond, and other lives would be damaged by the news. It is my choice to hold it inside. There is no redemption that would result from my soul cleansing. It can not be changed, no matter how badly I want it to. No human can change history. I have forgiven this person. Not for his actions, but for his human weakness, and my own sanity. God has given me so many chances. To hold hatred inside would rot away at me like acid, while he is dead. He has stood before his maker and accounted for his stop here. His fate is up to powers I can't even perceive.

One of the most difficult parts of my recovery  has been facing the past, and those whom I have hurt along the way. By cleaning up the messes I have created, I am relieved of some of the baggage I was burdened with daily, monthly and yearly. We drink to forget. We drink to escape. We try to temporarily erase the massive discomfort we have created through the fog of a hangover.

Remember the Grinch cartoon where the little dog with the stick on his head is pulling that massive sled stacked four stories high with the Grinch's stolen Christmas booty? At one point they slide down a hill to a cliff, the overstuffed sleigh is teetering on the edge of disaster. The cute little dog is hanging over the edge of the cliff looking up at the huge bags that are sure to destroy him if it falls. That is what a drunk in recovery is trying to fix. Active drinkers keep adding to the burden. We try to remove the baggage, a little bit at a time, so that it doesn't destroy us. As we lighten the burden, the urge to escape is replaced by satisfaction in making things right, or at least taking responsibility for our past mistakes.

Setting the record straight with those we have wronged is greeted with acceptance and forgiveness, angry rejection or indifference by the attempted confession. The outcomes, once again, are out of our control but the issue being faced takes one more package off the sleigh of guilt. There are those we can't reach, those who are dead that make taking the responsibility for past wrongs impossible. We do the best we can with who we can, and leave the rest up to GOD'S timing.

The majority of people we have crossed are wives, husbands, loved ones and friends who are still in our orbit. The reparations offered to these people are lifetime repairs. By leading decent, sober well intentioned lives, we show others that we are "new creatures." Our actions, without expecting anything in return, is a lifetime commitment to sobriety, and our sanity. The ultimate goal is taking ownership of our errors and living peaceably with those offended in our darker days.

The selfish, uncaring drunk I was for 20 years, is still inside of me, and a part of my permanent record. It can not be expunged. There are times when people perceive that I have done them wrong. I am accused of things I did not do. The false accusations are understood but create anger and resentment towards our accuser. If a dog has stolen your socks time after time, when one goes missing, the doghouse is the first place you check. Lashing out creates more trouble. An honest appraisal of my past gives me understanding as to why they think I am the perpetrator. I was a sock stealing dog for years. I just don't steal them anymore.

Forgiveness is the key to contented life, whether drunk or sober. Anger and resentment are deadly for an addict. If dwelled upon for too long, these feelings will eventually lead us back to escape through the bottle or insanity. Forgiving myself has been the hardest reparation I have faced. The self-loathing, self-hate, fear, remorse, regret and shame can be relentless as my mind gets clearer in my sobriety. Forgiveness of self is vital, or I will end up drunk and crazy again.

I know GOD has forgiven me for my sins and human failings. By failing to forgive myself and others, I am questioning GOD'S omnipotence. I have been pardoned for my past mistakes by the ultimate expert on forgiveness. If I question my worthiness for forgiveness, I am doubting his authority and grace. It will take time, but with help, I will make it to the other side. I spent 28 years drinking. It may take 50 years before I am forgiven by others, and myself. As long as I am open-minded, and keep GOD centered in my efforts, everything will work out fine. More specifically, they will work out exactly as God has planned.

Forgive yourself and others for shortcomings and their humanity. God has forgiven us if we have sincerely asked for his mercy. Life is too short to live in the past. Remember that every day is a gift, and the days we live with hate and anger, whether inward or outward, robs us of enjoying the "present" of today. If I don't share the grace and blessings that have been freely given to me, I just might lose them all....

SQUEAKY HAD A BABY at the "Chicago Code" PREMIERE!

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the.........Chicago Code Premiere!

A funny thing happened on the way to the Chicago premiere of "The Chicago Code." The show starts Monday February 7, 2011, at 9pm on FOX. The first month of ratings will determine if there is a season two. I'm sure there will be because the show ROCKS! It has obvious appeal to Chicagoans, being shot entirely in the city and 'burbs. The story line, edgy feel, great writing and acting by Jennifer Beals, Jason Clarke, Delroy Lindo, Matt Lauria and the rest of the cast, create a dynamic that is attractive to any audience, in any market.

I pray for a second season, not only for the work, but because the cast and crew are amazing. We need your support for this show, every week, so we get picked up for a second season! I ended up on the editing floor in the pilot, but that's show biz. I am proud to have been a part of several episodes, starting with episode 2. From the first day I walked onto the set I could feel that I was a part of something special. All the cast and crew bonded immediately and working 14 hour days became fun, no matter how physically exhausting.

   Photo Courtesy Twentieth Century Fox Television

The premiere party was held at Hollywood Boulevard Theatre in Woodridge. The place was packed with cast and crew and local news crews were on hand to interview some of the VIP's. Hosted by the amazing Darlene Hunt and daughter Rachel, we were greeted with gifts and an air of excitement. It was my first official premiere as an actor and my head was bobbing like a kid in a candy store. I can't tell you much about the show but the shots of Chicago, great acting and fresh plot are sure to make the show a hit. I am truly grateful to be a part of such an amazing project. But that is not where the story begins or ends.

A good friend of mine, and fellow "Chicago Code" actor, Edward Majka doesn't drive. He called me early in the afternoon to see if we could pick him up at the Downers Grove train station and get him to the premiere. I obliged and we set out early to gather up my friend. On the way I asked Squeaky if she wanted Starbucks - her liquid crack. She said no and we navigated the icy streets of Downers Grove to rendezvous at the train station. I have mentioned I have O.C.D. about being late and we arrived 30 minutes before Edward was due to arrive.

There is another Starbucks strategically located on Main Street, right across from the station. I told my wife I wanted a cup of Joe and that it was a great place to meet Edward. We purchased our coffees and I picked up the new Greg Allman CD "Low Country Blues." Four stars I might add. It is a must for Blues aficionado's. As I added sugar, cream and cinnamon to my steamy beverage, my wife spotted a flyer with a picture of a cute, wee puppy named Fiona. I was busy ripping the plastic off my Cd and stirring my coffee, running through our time table to make sure we would make the premiere on time.

Being the cynical, losing faith in humans, kinda guy I am, I thought the poster was for a missing dog. I remarked that "Some idiot probably stole the dog and has it up for sale on the Internet as we speak." My wife went on to tell me that the pup, named Fiona, was from a family that had an old dog that couldn't handle the rambunctious little Japanese Chin/Pekingese playmate. They also had a nephew who was allergic to her and it limited his ability to visit his auntie regularly. My wife looked at me. Her eyes spoke volumes. I had seen it before when we rescued Grace! I called the number and asked the owner to meet us back at the coffee shop at 8:30.

We grabbed Edward and shot to the premiere party. Squeaky was speaking in the present tense about Fiona, the 1 1/2 year old, 8 pound Pekingese/Chin. "Do you like her name?", "How do you think she WILL get along with Grace?" I played the straight man telling her to slow down and we would talk about it later. Inside, I am as squishy as wet sand between your toes when it comes to animals. It's humans that seem to rub me the wrong way. As we watched the premiere I could tell Squeaky was already picking out places to put her bed and how to configure the feeding stations in the kitchen. 

After the premiere wrapped up Squeaky began the Ali, "rope-a-dope" on me. "Something called us to that Starbucks. You know that." "She is the same breed as Grace!" I knew that unless the pup was ridden with ticks and fleas, and hungry for the fingers of Italian women, Fiona would be coming home with us. Even if she had all those conditions, we probably would have taken her out of pity and nursed her back to health. When I met Kris, she didn't even care much for dogs. Now we have four. Stay tuned to Hoarders because I see myself in a guest shot soon. I am glad I passed on my love and kindness towards all of God's creatures to my wife and kids. They share the same passions for critters as I do.

At 8:30pm the deal went down in the vestibule of Starbucks. The owner handed my wife the tiny pup, who instantly licked her nose. A Hollywood director couldn't have written it any better. It was over. I had a new pup named Fiona. We got her home and our other female Pekingese/Chin, Grace, was dominating her right from the start. I officiated and introduced Fiona to the pack correctly. As the Alpha Dog I placed her between my legs and the butt sniffing parade began. 

Just like when our kids were small, Squeaky passed out for the night and I was left to comfort our tiny guest. I think I got a total of about 2 hours sleep. Fiona slept between the couch and my back. My fear of squishing her miniature frame had me contorting my body to accommodate her comfort. I'm like butter when it comes to creatures big and small, except bats. We made it through the night with all troops alive and accounted for.

I really do not believe in coincidence. I had the call from Edward for a ride, the stop at Starbucks after my wife turned down my first offer earlier. I also did an episode of "Shameless" where the lead actress is named of course, Fiona. What a night, my first movie premiere gala, the pride of being a part of what is sure to be a hit series, and a new baby in the family. See ya on Animal Hoarders Chicago soon. Until then I would like to welcome, Fiona Apple Schmutzy Connolly!

The Last Words of an Atheist are, "I Was Only Kidding!"

The Last Words of an Atheist are, "I Was Only Kidding!" (unedited original 12/2010)

Soul Parole: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself -Preview (AMAZON/Soulparole.com

March 17,2012)

In one of my stand-up bits, I say that an atheists' last words are, "I was only kidding..." In another I say “I've tried Methodism, Catholicism, Judaism, and Buddhism, but found the answers to all of life's mysteries in alcoholism.” GOD, The Creator, The Great Spirit, The Man, whatever you want to call him/her or it, used to scare me to death.

In the winter of 1998, I was living with a prostitute in a crack hotel in Stone Park, Illinois, a hustling blue collar suburb west of Chicago. We didn't have a relationship or sex. It was economics! I wouldn't have sex with a crack head prostitute! She was below me! I was a homeless drunken alcoholic with a legitimate job, making less money than she did, but I had morals and boundaries! It was so much easier to point out what a loser she was, than to take a hard look at myself. I spent considerable time with these so-called "lower companions." When I was full of booze, and whatever else I could find, I would counsel them about their problems and shortcomings.

I would live in my car for a week, spend a few days in a sleazy motel to clean up and drink up, then return to the car. It had no heat, but I needed to save money to drink. When I had a room, I spent my nights encased in sheets like a mummy. When the lights went out cockroaches scampered all over my face and body. I could feel them probing for a way into my mouth and nose. No openings, no problem. I had a job for cry sake! I wasn't a whore or dealer! I was educated. I had a Bachelors of Arts degree from Columbia College in Chicago! I was simply a man down on his luck. 

Just before Christmas that year, my roommate got arrested and thrown into County at Twenty-Sixth and California. I would get calls from Cook County Jail every day. The guard would call asking me to "come bail out my girlfriend." Girlfriend! She was a prostitute and crackhead! I would never date a girl like that! We never had sex. She could hardly be called a girlfriend! Besides, I needed my money for booze, not for bailing “friends”out of jail.

I spent that Christmas alone in my room with my roaches. It is the only Christmas I spent alone. I wasn't completely without companionship, because I invited my friend Jim Beam over. On holidays, all earthlings are issued a license to drink. I just had twice as much as usual. Every day was a holiday for me. There were no calls from family or friends. I had no friends, and my family was done watching me die an inch at a time. I disregarded my lying, stealing, manipulating, and broken promises as possible factors. I didn't look at myself as being a pathetic drunk. I figured I was just misunderstood or maybe a tortured genius.

I talked to GOD that day. He really freaked me out. Ultimately, I thought he just didn't have time for a guy like me. I was going to hell, and I figured I would just enjoy the ride. GOD, to me, was pissed off! My visual was that of Charlton Heston as Moses. He had lightning bolts in one pocket and plagues in the other. He was not to be trifled with by my little problems. He had bigger things to do, like light the earth, cause famines, let little kids die. On bad days, I thought He was out to get me, little ole' me! He’d push the cosmos to the side and say to himself, "Hmm..I think I'll mess with the Connolly kid today.” Out of all the billions of people in the world, I was sure He was a cosmic bully singling me out. I spent a lot of time running from him or chasing after him.

Yes, I believed there was a GOD and life on other planets. How can we be the only intelligent life in a universe we can't even measure? Flowers are beautiful; the ocean is awesome and vast, but the idea they happened through coincidence after coincidence was, and is, impossible for me to grasp. When I talked to Him, it was as if I was on Santa's lap: “Please let me win the lotto.” “Please don't let me get a DUI.” “Please let beer be on sale, and the candy man be extra giving today.” GOD was an order taker, bail bondsman and Vegas Showman! I told him what I was going to do and asked him to answer my prayers through tricks. “If you want me to stop drinking, make The Beatles’, Nowhere Man come on the radio.” “If you think I should quit my job, make this light turn green."

Ultimately, I thought GOD only gave me crap. Looking back at the accidents that did and DIDN'T happen, the trouble I got into or OUT of, and the pain He put me through then DELIVERED me from, I now understand HE WAS THERE ALL THE TIME. When I'm sharing at recovery meetings I start out by saying I'm grateful for what GOD has given me and more importantly WHAT HE HASN'T. Then I thank him for ignoring me when I used to shake my fist at the heavens and shout, "GIVE ME WHAT I DESERVE!"....

1095 Today's...Today is the Greatest Day I've Ever Known....

On January 16, 2009 I took my last drink of alcohol against my will. It is my 3 year sobriety anniversary. Today is my 1095th today without a drink or drug. I say the last was against my will because I'm an alcoholic and addict. Once I take the first sip or hit, all bets are off. I can not stop. My need to use becomes more important than ANYTHING on this earth. The lengths I will go to achieve those results are pathetic, edging on frightening.

 I will cast my family, job, friends, food, water, self-respect and ultimately my life aside, to get high. That is, if I pick up that first one. I was not addicted to any one drug. I liked all of them as long as they got me high and out of me. Booze was my favorite. I was addicted to SELF-DESTRUCTION! Fear ruled my life.

In 3 short years I am just beginning to see who I am. I no longer have the desire to use or escape my own skin. I have been blessed beyond my wildest dreams in my personal and professional life. In a strange bit of irony the Joliet Herald News and Shorewood Sentinel are running a "2011 Year in Review" series. On Sunday they ran a recap of "Rally Round Recovery" and a synopsis of my story, and mission, as this years spokesman and emcee.  On January 16, 2009 if you told me that in September, 2011 I would be standing in front of Senators, Congressmen, Councilmen, Commissioners and most importantly recovering addicts sharing my story of RECOVERY and life in comedy, TV and film as Spokesman for National Recovery Month I would have burped!

I am humbled and honored that they have asked me to host again in 2012. I am further humbled when people say my story inspires them. The people who came before me and newcomers in recovery inspire me. Everyday People inspire me along with Sly and The Family Stone. I take very little credit for my sobriety. As a shameless, carnival barker promoter of MY projects, I sincerely mean that. In early sobriety I depended solely on faith and the guidance of others to not drink or use. My decisions got me high. Today only some of the people I attend recovery meetings with know what I do for a living. Addiction doesn't care. It's an equal opportunity killer, it loves to destroy everything. I have sat between surgeons and felons discussing our common ailment. That is a twisted perception of reality that mixed with an allergy and obsession makes drinking and using mind altering substances safely IMPOSSIBLE!

I usually sit down and the words just flow. I make the point of saying I do my blogs in one sitting so that they are one flow of consciousness instead of cobbled, contrived Stepford speak. I am really grateful to be alive. A few years ago I had no idea what gratitude was. I TOOK EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE FOR GRANTED. I love helping other people find sobriety, understand their depression and catch their dreams. Just helping other people gets me out of my head. That's where all my problems center.

If you think you might have a problem with addiction or alcohol, you just may. I thought about it all the time. I made jokes about it. Then when I was alone I knew I was going mad. My life was out of control. Not on the outside, but on the inside. I used more and more to slow the DEATH RACE down that was run everyday! Today my mind has slowed down to about a hundred. That's cool!

My mother left me a message today about using her metal detector down on Lido Beach. I REMEMBER getting it for her 2 Christmas's ago. I had chicken with my daughter for lunch. This morning I went to a recovery meeting with 2 guys who I called on that last night of drinking. Then I talked to a girl about being bi-polar. I'm bi-polar and shared some HOPE. Three years ago I felt like I was alone and had to figure it all out on my own. TODAY I see that I am never alone and don't have to look very far to find people who are just like me....