Total Pageviews

Showing posts with label tommy connolly comedian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tommy connolly comedian. Show all posts

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Every Day Is A Gift...STILL....

More than six months have passed since I've taken time to share my thoughts on these pages. The keys are foreign to my touch. It wasn't so long ago that they seemed tethered to my heart and just moved my thoughts and emotions  from vapor to paper. I feel as if I'm reaching out to an old friend with whom was always there through the pains and triumphs of each others lives. Then something happens and you slip away from each other. The longing turns from sadness to distance, then terrible longing and hesitance to reach out again.

I plunk along hoping I can plug back in to the stream that connected me to my innermost secrets. I tell aspiring writers to let GOD do the writing and just hold on to the pen. I hope he speak once again through me.

That last writing was in Mid-September of 2012. I was preparing to drive to Hollywood and somehow obtain my SAG card. I left Chicago on September 19th. I arrived in Los Angeles on the 21st. The journey has taken me through more seasons of change in the last six months, than in the last six years. My hair has thinned and grayed.  Parts of my heart have died and new ones have been born. I lost so much and gained much more. I nearly died.

Today...I am a new creature...

I hope to talk again soon.

Tommy

SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself is Available on Amazon.com, KINDLE and Amazon Europe. 

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

Friday, September 14, 2012

A Beauty and a Beast


A Sliver of Hope, a New Direction and a Genius Idea!

This blog is an updated version from September of 2011. It did not make it into SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself. It will definitely appear in SOUL PAROLE: I Was and I AM.


SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself is NOW available ON Amazon.com, KINDLE and Amazon Europe. 

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

NOTE to reader: I write about addiction, recovery and depression. Those are my challenges and issues. Please replace the word ADDICTION with the word that best suits you. Fear, insecurity, envy, jealousy and materialism are just a few. Facing the things that are holding us back from reaching our potential and finding peace within is my purpose... 


My baseline thinking as an addict is usually me. I want the universe and all of its' atoms formed, or random, to revolve around my plans. Whoever came up with the expression "there is no ME in team" was not an addict. I can say that with almost complete certainty. It is not that we don't have feelings for others but that we are so focused on survival when we use it's a challenging mind set to overcome in recovery.

In my sobriety I have found that the biggest problem that fueled my years of self-destruction was the love-hate relationship I had with myself. I would wake up each day and hate myself more and more.Chemical escape enabled me to cope with my crushing self criticism   My addiction LOVED it. The more I hated me, the more I would turn to chemicals and booze to try and escape MYSELF temporarily. The next day I would wake up with an extra helping of self hate and some physical pain, guilt and shame to throw into the party mix. Then the mental "rope-a-dope" would begin again for another 24 hours.

 I realize now that I was using because I am wired wrong inside. It was my thinking. I had a twisted perception on reality. More precisely, I used because the people and atoms of the universe didn't act in a fashion that met with my satisfaction. As I grow in sobriety I have learned to like myself by letting the world do what it is supposed to do. I try to accept others as they are. Most importantly I try not to spend too much time alone in my head. I'm cool in a crowd, but when I'm alone a fight always breaks out.

Squeaky and I were going through a rough season leading up to the "Rally Round Recovery 2011." I was working on a film. I had just returned from California after a week shoot for an "Animal Planet" series. I am in final editing of my book Soul Parole: Making Peace with My Mind, God and Myself. I am about to start 2 new films. I was working to promote the premier of "Chasing Hollywood." I was in hyper "ME" mode. This happens in sobriety and reality.

Squeaky's kidney surgery was scheduled for 2 days later. The doctors were not sure if they were going to take a portion of her right kidney or the whole thing. I cleared my schedule of EVERYTHING. I thank GOD for giving me the sense to do that. It was crystal clarity. I made arrangements to stay with her while she was in the hospital. They were very accommodating. It was one of the most fearful yet enlightening times.

As the time passed all I could think about was the stupid arguments leading up to that day. I questioned GOD about putting her through this instead of me. I was the idiot! After 28 years of trying to destroy myself an inch at a time, my health was perfect. My heart was shifting back to center. Why is it that we have to be in a big pile of shite with a loved one, or they're in an operating room or funeral parlor for us to look at how truly dear they are to us? It boggles my mind! We fight about wrapping paper and who ate my cereal? For the love of GOD who cares?!

The surgery went better than we could have imagined. They were able to use the Da Vinci robotic surgery method on her and as the doctor said, "if her kidney were a hamburger we only had to take two pickle slices." It was the greatest horrible analogy I have ever heard.  It did make me a bit crazy that they assign patients numbers now during operations. They have a television you can check like an arrival board at the airport to see if they are "boarding," "on the runway," "ready for takeoff," "inflight," "on the tarmack" and "safely on the ground." Her flight was near perfect.

He said she would be staying for 2 nights. Whatever she needed I would be there. They would know if it was cancer later in the week. She was medicated.  Her family was there to support her. It kept me calm. In post-op she smiled and spoke in tongues. She looked glorious. Every time she moved I jumped up, afraid she was in pain or going to fall out of bed. I was asking if she needed the nurse every time she winced. I contorted myself up in the tiny Hobbit like chair and slept with one eye open grateful that we had dodged a bullet.

Being the real alcoholic I am I spent the hours beating myself up. I also replayed my behaviors over and over. and realized I was not sharing enough of the projects I was involved in with my wife. I am proud she appeared with me in "Chasing Hollywood." My Squeaky is on IMDB as Pina Connor. That is the Cats Pajamas! But I used to read scripts to her. I used to read all my blogs to her. I used to consult her on every career move I was making, while I was making them. Her opinions play into my decisions on what road to take.

I can't tell you what we talked about during her 60 hour stay there. I honestly don't remember. We just talked and laughed like things were early in our relationship. We were focused on each other and I was in the NOW. I was right there and not so danged worried about the future. We laughed at stupid stuff. I fetched ice chips and cups of coffee. She's a java junkie. I can live with her addiction. It creates the jitters at worst. I started calling her sliver kidney. She chuckles at the nickname.

Everything I try to do is for the betterment of the family and marriage. When things are going wrong in my life, I need to look at myself first. The problem I often have is that I have a grand plan inside my head. It is carefully crafted. Sometimes I can't differentiate between what is best for me or us. That is an honest assessment of myself. She can't see my thoughts. She sees my head hunkered down in front of this laptop like a man possessed. Period. ACTIONS speak louder than thoughts. God calls the shots. I just show up for each DAYS game and try not to worry about making the playoffs.

We have some new challenges facing us now. We made it through one war, now there's another one shaping up on the battlefield. I know we can get through it if we keep our faith strong. I know that if I am sure that I'm doing the right thing, I do it. If I know it's a poor choice I don't make it. When I honestly don't know the road to take I sit back and wait. The answers will come when it's right, and I'm willing to listen to the messenger....

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Make Me An Offer I Can't Forget

We held garage sales over the last 2 weekends. Most have held sales of their own. If you're like me, you have visited a few. When I stop at one, I'm certain that I'm going to find a Ming Vase, or an original copy of the Declaration of Independence tucked behind one of those bug eyed, fuzzy kitty posters.

Once I found a sterling silver chalice. I quickly snapped it up. The ornate engravings and elaborate swirls wrapped around the cup in beautiful detail. I was certain that King Arthur had sipped wine from it. It might even be the Holy Grail! I looked up the stamped marking on the bottom. It was from Egypt and worth $1.99. I bought it for a buck. I doubled my money. I'm ready for Suburban Pickers I reckon! My imagination is sparked when I see glimpses into peoples lives laid out on the tables before me.

Preparation for a hoarders blowout is tiring. After the items have been labeled as keep, sell or toss the adventure has just begun. All of the booty is moved into the garage staging area. Card and camping tables  are round up to display the treasures on.

Cable television has permeated my psyche. I had visions of Martha Stewart chastising me for my lack of style and product placement. I organized the artifacts like Dr. Jones would at a museum exposition featuring items from the Temple of Doom. I  created groupings on the tables to make visitors shopping experience more enjoyable. My final presentation would make the DIY girls giggle with envy.  There were housewares to the left, and sporting goods to the right. The yard was divided into a men's and women's section.

As my wife and I went through the boxes we went through a range of emotions. There were nick-knacks that should have been tossed years before, there were broken cups and plates that had been casualties of basement living. Some of the discoveries were things stuffed away, instead of thrown away.

We had purchased a lot of things together. They had sentimental value, but we no longer had room for them in the basement. Many were items we couldn't even recall buying. We about statues and glass dolphins. Each one took us on a nostalgic journey through our time together.

Most of the romantic bears and hearts were gifts I had presented as offerings of forgiveness after I did something stupid. As Ron White says, "I was stuck on stupid," for a long time. I came across my son's first baseball glove and fondly relived the day I had gotten it for him.

Over the years I have been collecting the kids crafts and putting them in to a box. There are Popsicle stick creations and macaroni faces smiling up from the glitter covered box bottom.  From hand made "whatever they were" to certificates of achievement, I had been socking them all away over the years.

While we were organizing I told Squeaky about the box. She had packed away some of the kids stuff as well. She was touched by my sentimental stash of childhood memories. I think, over the years, I had been filling the secret box as a small gesture, recognizing that even though my mind wasn't always there, my heart was still ticking

The sale began with a bang! I had set signs out at every entrance to our subdivision like political signs. For the first few hours I sold little insulted at the paltry offers for such amazing treasure. Many of the product offerings were methodically removed off the sales floor by some mysterious force as the weekend went by. If you can keep a secret. I just couldn't let go of some of our memories for fifty cents! I started another box! I made room for it in my office.

Garage sales are like life. We have to clean out some of the clutter to make our living space more manageable. We can't hold on to everything. It's impossible. There will be new things bought and received. Some will end up in future garage blow out sales.

Change is really tough sometimes, even when you know it's the right thing. Objects have no feelings. They create them in us. Some wax nostalgic as we see them daily. Yet others get passed by without notice. Things come and go. Memories are forever. There were many items sold that I couldn't hold on to any longer, that I will never forget.

No one can steal my joy, or my memories. As long as I'm growing, new memories will enhance the old ones. I can't live in the past or I won't move forward. Glancing back at it is good. Living in it gets me nowhere.

Financially the sale was a success. The remaining items will go to Goodwill and a Joliet Area Recovery Club. It makes me feel good that my treasures will soon be someone else who needs a few.

P.S. If anyone needs any old wooden spoons or coffee cups, let me know....


SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself is on sale NOW at Amazon.com and Amazon Europe. Please visit tommyconnolly.com by clicking the link at the top of the page. The book will be available on Kindle in September, 2012.

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



Thursday, July 19, 2012

FEAR! Don't Get Licked by a Sucker.....


I write all of my posts from the pit of my heart. I hope you do not think the themes are just about addiction and depression. You can plug any fear or obstacle impeding your journey in to those blanks and it will instantly be pertinent. Someone who bought my book recently was taken back by my brutal honesty in the pages. I took that as a compliment. I did some pretty dark things and kept on plugging away. Face your demons. They always look and feel like giants, but if you face them I guarantee they're not as big as you think. A sucker gets smaller when you lick it. A person who lets fear lick at them become suckers.

Depression makes me laugh. What? You thought I was going to say it makes me sad. Right? It does sometimes. There are times it makes me cry, get obsessive-compulsive, angry or giddy. On other occasions it makes me isolate or dread being alone. I dislike the word depression "sufferer." There are few moments that I suffer from my depression. There are trying times. Every so often I have a difficult day or two.

I usually speak about the triumphs and tribulations of sobriety, addiction and recovery. I don't speak enough about the world of depression and fear. I'm not an expert on it. I live with it, and in it. A friend of mine, who's a county politician, messaged me recently on how stigmatized addiction and depression is in our society. I told her I was going to be addressing that very thing soon.

I was first diagnosed bi-polar in March of 1999 when I checked myself into Hinsdale Hospital for rehab. I have since been rediagnosed as having an anxiety and panic disorder with bi-polar tendencies. My work in recovery, and a therapist has been effective in helping me MANAGE my CONDITION. I have a chemical imbalance that requires medication to stabilize my mood. I am grateful to say that over the last three years I have gone from four pills a day, to two at bedtime. I hope I get to a point when I need no medication at all. The chemical imbalance is a part of life as ME. It's kinda like the fact that I'm left handed living in a right handed world. I have learned to MANAGE and ADAPT.

Bi-Polar used to be called Manic Depressive. That's a beauty! To define what I have is difficult. Simply stated I am attracted to both male and female Arctic people.  Traditionally defined, I have really high-highs and really low-lows emotionally. Most folks spend their time in the emotional middle and spike up or down. I tend to be at one of the polar extremes and have to work towards the emotional middle. My chemical receptors and plugs have a problem lining up just right. It's a bit like a car that needs a new set of wires. The car runs but it misfires.  A lot of addicts use because they have some form of depression or chemical imbalance. We self medicate because we can't cope with racing thoughts, mood swings or can't process our feelings that aren't fitting the picture. This is me.

I often have the wrong emotional response for the situation that is occurring. The world sees my actions not my intentions. When my Aunt Dora died we drove down to Carlisle, Indiana for her funeral. I was about 15 or so. My grandfather was cracking jokes about her in the family lounge. I was laughing like George Carlin was sitting next to me. Tears were rolling down my face. I was clearly boisterous and obnoxious. I didn't KNOW HOW to cope with my feelings over the death. I vented through my laughter.

As White Sox announcer Ken " Hawk" Harrelson says, "right size, wrong shape." It was inappropriate behavior for a funeral. I was depressed and was in a high on my emotional meter. I was in a manic moment. Rightfully, my mother scolded me for my actions. I retreated into a corner feeling as if I had done something horribly wrong. It wasn't that my feelings were wrong. Our feelings are OUR FEELINGS, and are neither right or wrong. My actions were improper for a wake. I couldn't find the middle on how to react to my Aunt's death. When my HIGH reaction was inappropriate I slipped down to the low. Emotional Middle Earth was elusive for me.

I started to drink and use because I couldn't cope with my thoughts and feelings not aligning, and my irrational fears paralyzing me. I was afraid to talk about them. I thought I was crazy for having them.  I felt misunderstood all the time. Sometimes I still do. It's been said that addicts are overly sensitive people. It's not surprising to me when I see us dually diagnosed. It does sting a little when I hear people say addicts have no feelings. WE FEEL EVERYTHING! That is a large part of our problem.

We feel compassion when a butterfly farts! When you mix a chemical imbalance into an addictive personality KABOOM! Catastrophe is down right inevitable. It is a perfect recipe for self-destruction. However, once we get armed with the facts about WHAT WE ARE and WHO WE ARE there's hope in overcoming ANY obstacle, or at least coming to peace with it.

The key to SURVIVING addiction, depression or facing any fear is reaching out for help. As an addict and a person who has wondered if I was going out of my mind I know that is a bitter pill to swallow. The thought of approaching someone about being crazy is nuts! No it's not. It's your only hope. You have to have hope. Even when your sitting under that rock. You're not crazy! You're just a little nuts!

When I addressed my alcohol and addiction issues I was having multiple panic attacks daily. Once I found out my wires were crossed I felt better. I WAS NOT ALONE. Panic attacks suck! The ones' Tony Soprano had were a party! I felt like I was gonna DIE every day! DAY AFTER DAY! That's not living. That's existing until you're finally right!

I saw a couple of noodle professionals. I  eventually found one I was comfortable with. This is not like picking out bagels! Take your time. DO RESEARCH. LEARN. EDUCATE YOURSELF. The more you learn about your melon the less you'll feel your losing your seeds! It isn't the end of the world. It opened me up to my life again. I have not had a full blown attack in over a year. I now recognize my symptoms and know I'm not going to die. To be safe I also don't let ducks raise their young in our backyard.

General public, earthlings and pundits, PLEASE don't judge what you do not understand. Chemical imbalance doesn't mean crazy. An addict doesn't have a morality problem. If it were as easy as "just stopping" ...we would. When it comes to depression and fear, if it were as easy as, "just snapping out of it"...we'd do that too....






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.








Thursday, July 12, 2012

"Signs, Signs Everywhere There's Signs"....

I love the song SIGNS. We sang it in Mr. Lamb's music class when I was in grade school. The original version was written by The Five Man Electric Band. A lot of people think it's a Tesla song. It reminds me of the sixties. The lyrics that revolve around accepting change, and seeing the signs around us, are profound.

For the better part of my life when the world said zig, I zagged. It was intentional. I hated conformity, and being one of the crowd. I was fiercely independent. My definition of independence meant defiance. I thought rules were suggestions. If I liked a rule, I followed it. If I didn't care for it, I dismissed it because I knew better.

Recently, I was issued a ticket for pausing at a stop sign. I paused. No one was around, so I interpreted the sign as pause instead of stop. It was clearly marked. I know what a stop sign means. It means stop, not pause. I had my reasons for the infraction. My wife was in mid-flight on a trip to Germany to visit our daughter. I was praying for a safe flight. I was making deliveries and needed to get back to work. My reasoning for committing the violation were my perceptions, not the reality. It was not what the sign read.

We all have a small still voice inside of us. Before I have said or done anything hurtful or wrong, the small still voice warned me for a split second before I acted. I used to dismiss it. Sometimes I still do. Once again, I knew better. The voice was wrong! Some call it conscience. I call it GOD.

My third marriage was a disaster. My ex wife and I were toxic together. In our abbreviated  marriage we never lived together for a week. We were very much alike. That's what made things so volatile. I was trapped deep in addiction. She had a violent temper. We were not on the same page. I dismissed our troubled beginnings. I thought they were growing pains.

There were signs all over the place before we got married. I saw her instantaneous anger rear its ugly head towards her two year old daughter at Christmas. The little girl opened a present and didn't like what was inside. Her mother became enraged and tossed all of her gifts into a garbage dumpster. After I left the house I returned to the dumpster to retrieve the toys and wrapped packages.

I figured I could change her. I felt as if the insanity is what I deserved. My addictions, and low self esteem talked me in to, what I knew I should run from. I ignored the signs. I jumped in to marriage with her against the advice of my friends and loved ones. I drew closer to her because I thought people were attacking her. Nobody knew her like I did! They were right. I reacted in spite. I knew in my heart that it was a mistake. My drive to zag overtook me. It was going to be me and her against the world. She threw my belongings out into the street the night we were wed.

If I had listened to the voice, heeded the signs I witnessed, and listened to the people observing the situation from the outside, I would not have made the choices I did. Nobody needed to tell me. I knew it, but tossed it, out of the window.

When I get into an argument with someone, in that split second before I say the words I'm going to regret, the tiny voice warns me not to do it. In my younger days I told the voice to SHUT UP and out spilled the venom. On some occasions it still does. I pay the price, often after wounding someone I care for deeply. Then I ask myself why I didn't listen.

As I mature, the tiny voice has gotten louder. I don't ignore it anymore. I realize that the voice is my gut feeling. If I went with that early warning system all the time, I would find myself in better places, with more positive outcomes. I realize the tiny voice is usually right. I can not recall a time when it was wrong.

There are signs everywhere, inside and outside of us. From getting a new job, to buying that shirt I can't afford, there are always signs I can follow or dismiss. I am glad that I can see, and hear, them now. I listen to them when I am unsure. Acceptance does not mean that I am compromising my independence. It proves that I am growing in it.

I now know that zigging doesn't mean I will always like doing it. The outcome is usually to my benefit. Now, I halt at stop signs, and look both ways. The cost of the ticket was enough to teach me it's a stop sign, not a suggested pause. There will be a price to pay...If I don't read the signs....

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


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

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

"I Need Serenity." - Sully-Godsmack




Serenity is one of those words that has the feel of the word wrapped up in itself. Words like agitate, make my tongue live the definition as it lurches uncomfortably through the three syllables. Caress soothes my mind and body as I utter the invitingly crafted letters. When I say the word serenity I feel the lightness of the elusive word barely hovering on my lips. Tranquilly means contentment with who I am and where I'm at.

I have known moments of serenity. I bathe in it when stuck right dab in the middle of it. I get chaotic chasing after it. The feeling of being completely at peace with myself, my creator and my universe is like nothing else. The paradox is that serenity is like a drug in itself. Now that I have had fleeting glimpses of it I want more. My whole problem with myself, and my conflict with the real world, is my desire for ME and MORE and NOW!

The harder I seek serenity, the farther it seems to be from me. I remember when I was a kid I would gaze at the clouds endlessly as I sat in the backseat. As the car would be going along I would pick out a cotton candy cloud and wait for the car to catch it. No matter how fast we went, or how long I stared, the cloud was always just out of reach. Then suddenly we had passed it by.

I also watched the races between the corn row runners. If you lived in corn country as a child, you know the corn runners. When you drive by great spans of cornfields and stare at the rows of corn, they seem to come alive. The rows begin to take the shape of legs and begin to run. No matter how many fields you pass, corn runners never tire. They just keep on going. The corn runners are either are just in front of you, or right along side of you. They can run all day and into the evening, as long as the shadows and light, are just right.

It's like paper pad animation. You start on the first page. Draw a circle and turn the page.As you flip from page to page you move the circle up or down. Continue page by page until the circle hits the bottom, and you reach the end of the pad of paper. Now flip the pages through your fingers and the bouncing ball comes alive. I used to do this for hours, through many pads of paper.

Serenity is defined by the American Heritage Dictionary as, "Clear," "Tranquil," "Unruffled" and "Unclouded." I was surprised by the definition when I read it. I though it would be much more mystical and Dali Lama-like. That is how things tend to go for me when I pre-decide how outcomes should be. They rarely live up to the billing or grand notion my mind has erected. People and their lives, feelings, choices and reactions keep messing up my paper.

I have come to realize that serenity isn't a chosen conscious feeling or experience. It happens when it happens. Usually, when I go with the flow and let things be. What I shoot for now is "surrenderty." I can make that happen by letting go.When I force things to happen I end up feeling agitated. The situation at hand, usually gets worse.

I choose to be happy today. The same can be said for unhappy, angry, resentful, unforgiving and all the negative emotions that are produced through human interaction. I don't have to take the bait. It's like drinking poison and waiting for the other guy to die.

It's all in how I decide to accept and surrender to the people and circumstances who are in my reality that are going to determine my serenity or lack of it. I look forward to when it comes again. For now I am grateful to have moments of serenity, and a philosophy of "surrenderty." 


I will still chase clouds and dreams. I will still watch the corn runners keeping pace alongside my car. I don't waste the paper I used when I was creating my crude animations. I know one thing for sure. If I think I can control outcomes, run other people's lives and worry my way to serenity, I'll never even catch a glimpse of it. Thanks God for giving me the wisdom to realize how little I know. I appreciate the insights finally realizing I don't need to.


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


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

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Belief In GOD Is Personal...Hypocrisy Is Universal...


Recently I had a talk with my son. It was a talk where we take off the labels of "dad" and "son," We just rapped like a couple of dudes. I didn't tell him that he messed up mowing the lawn, taking out the trash or blowing his curfew. We just talked about girls, driving, jobs, life..and God. I told him whether he believed, or how he believed, was his choice. It was a decision I could not, or would not, make for him.

I call my boy Bro. It is my nickname for him because his biological father calls him son. When he was little I chose not to call him son and add to the confusing "STEP Parent" thing. These days I call him son. I also call him "Biggie" and he calls me "Smalls." That's fine because the size between us make the monikers fit quite well. He is a big man. He fully understands that when it comes to the law of the land I am Biggie, and he is a resident of the land.

There are times when I have to talk to him like the sheriff, and sometimes like Smalls. Sometimes talking to him as Smalls makes for a  deeper conversation. He opens up more. He hears me. He shares his feelings. He is honest and we both walk away feeling good.

When it comes to being a Christian, I state with conviction that I am one. I will do so until the day I die.. That is what works for ME. As soon as soon as you read that statement, some of you rolled your eyes and thought "Oh man here we go..."  Your ears probably began to close. Your mind drifted to preconceived notions of Christians gone by. The word hypocrisy rang in your head. I don't blame you. I feel the same way about self righteous Christians. Religion was created by man. God is undefinable. To assume that I am like EVERY other Christian, is just plain wrong.

You see, where many of us go wrong, as Christians, is that some exude an air of superiority to the non-believer, spiritualist, agnostic, atheist or members of other religions. I am no better than anyone. I am not worse either. We will all meet our maker. What God is, is open to interpretation. How people choose to address their maker, is optional and personal. Some can not, or will not, consider the concept of there being an architect of the cosmos. That's cool with me. Ranting on me because I am a Christian is no different than a Christian ranting on others. The intolerance is equal. The hypocrisy shouters are spewing intolerance at those they accuse of being intolerant How is it different? Hypocrisy is a universal shortcoming.

I have never told anyone to convert or burn! I have never called a man a heathen. I have friends who are Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu and Agnostic. I don't check their Spiritual Identification Card before deciding if I want to continue our friendship. My GOD! I have friends who are Muslim! What a Christian who breaks bread with a Muslim? I don't consider other religions, no religion, or agnosticism wrong. It's not up to me. IT"S UP TO YOU. I respect people based on how they act, and treat others, not based on their politics or ideologies. I search the content of a person's character. The connection we make with our higher power is one on one.


I post a positive message on my Facebook page every day. The themes usually focus on hope, catching dreams, and the power of growing with each other. If I post a Christian themed message, the wolves come out and rip me to shreds. They find it offensive. I see posts that are vulgar. Inappropriate photos are often offensive. I do not turn on those who post things I dislike. I say nothing. What is the difference? Last time I checked the Constitution, free speech made the "Top Five Countdown."

I talk to God daily. I do it on the toilet, on my knees and in my car. I do it in short sentences and long diatribes. I ask Him to talk to me through other people. He does. I know He speaks through me sometimes. I am grateful when He does. I am humbled when I am of use to Him. I am grateful when someone says I have inspired them, or given them hope. I kick the compliment upstairs. I am a messenger. That's it. We all are, wittingly or unwittingly.

To the reader: I ask that you not lump everyone into one big pot. To the Christian on the mountain of righteousness, please look at the log in your eye, before pointing out the splinters in the eyes of the masses. God is not a marketing tool, a campaign slogan or a political platform. To use Him, as such, is just plain wrong.

For years I had a hole inside of me that I couldn't understand. Something was missing. I see now that the hole was a PERSONAL relationship with MY GOD and Creator. I have a "Bat line" to him that is always open. I don't know if it's red, and under a glass cake cover, like on the TV show. I do know he's always there when I call.

Jesus works for ME. Worship works for ME. I did have to reassess the one I grew up with. He seemed really mean. The church I attend leaves me feeling love, not guilt. I am not pummeled with guilt and dictates that I am on a one way ticket to hell. However, buildings are not a requirement. Before Jesus left he had two instructions for man. Not 374 rules, and who to vote for. They were, in paraphrasing, Love God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength, and LOVE your brothers as yourself.

There was no color, orientation, party affiliation, caveats, "buts" or "except those people" in his statement. That is where the trouble begins. When man twists God's plan of love for power, greed, personal and public agendas and condemnation he goes against those two suggestions. Shame, shame, shame! Those who do will have to stand in front of the maker just like the hippies, artists, atheists, liberals and tree huggers.

God is love. Go out and share some Good Orderly Direction with someone today, no but's about it. He loves you! If you choose not to embrace GOD, being nice to the people in your orbit is good karma, and a decent way for all of us to live peacefully on this big ole' ball we call EARTH! 

My book, SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself is on sale NOW at Amazon .com. Personalized copies bought through PAYPAL are available at tommyconnolly.com. Proceeds benefit Chicago Area addiction, homeless and mental health programs.

Saturday, July 7, 2012

Great Expectations!

There are few things sweeter than when people, places and things meet my expectations. I make the plans and sit back, waiting for the universe to meet my deadlines. When they aren't met, it can be crushing. Sometimes things work out better than I had planned. Trying to predetermine what they will be, is a mistake.

My mind races. My melon becomes the Daytona 500 of anticipation. I picture myself taking the victory lap, before I have even gotten in the car. I know I only need to make left turns, put the pedal to the metal and wait for the glory. Ah, There's the rub. I can't control the race, only my driving.

My expectations are that everything will go EXACTLY as I want it to. I know I have everything carefully mapped out. I wait with confidence that the players in my model will do what I want. Each new day illustrates the futility experienced when predetermining that plan A is a sure thing.

When it comes to relationships, I often have the dialogue written before I have even met the actor. I am certain that the plot is intriguing. I know that I have carefully considered the blocking, and action that should be followed. I am filled with wonderful intentions, then POW! On cue the actors and action in my grand productions deviate from the script.

Have you ever seen a person at a stop light yelling and they are not on the phone? That's me. I have arguments with people, who aren't even there. That is because I'm rehearsing my lines for the face to face meeting that waits for me down the road. I have even gotten into loud expletive filled rants with myself when things don't meet my...expectations.

One night I planned a surprise romantic dinner for Squeaky. I went to the store and got some steaks and the biggest baked potatoes I could find. I was giddy with ANTICIPATION, delighted by the thoughts of what the magical evening had in store. There were candles on the table set in a center piece that would make Martha Stewart swoon. I made a CD of romantic music, and had placed the player on the counter just a few feet from the mood lighting.

I would lay in wait, with ears tuned in for the familiar sound of the garage door lurching its way up. When Squeaky walked through the door I would light the candles with one hand, and perform a yoga like move to hit play on the music box. It was a scene right out of a Julia Roberts, Hugh Grant film. I could have taken a picture of it for Lifestyle magazine. The caveman would prove, once and for all,  that he was full of mush and cuddly stuff.

She would walk in ravaged by her day at the office. When she passed through the doorway of our lower level she would be greeted with sweet smells and the sounds of Frank and Deano lilting into her tired ears. Her anxieties would melt away. I was dressed in big boy clothes, confident that I was dressed to kill. Everything was just right.

I finished cooking and had considered every detail. As she stepped into the family room I would whisk her off her feet. There would be the sweet, dove like coo's of mutual adoration. I would say, "You look amazing." She would smile and return an equally flattering remark. As the aroma and music overtook her, I would gently take her by the hand and lead her to the Queen's chair. I would become Benson, sans the sarcastic remarks.

I waited, and waited some more. The traffic must have been heavier than usual. I turned down the heat on the oven, to prevent overcooking the culinary delights. I could hardly contain myself as I scanned the grand scene before me. There must have been an accident on the Stevenson. No problem I will sit patiently. The payoff would be worth the few moments of uncomfortable anticipation.

My cell rang. I dashed across the kitchen, scooping up the phone and hitting the answer button with graceful assurance. It was my wife. I had a secret I wasn't going to spill on the call. Tee Hee! In that moment, I was the Don Juan of suburbia. She began the conversation with a tired greeting. "I have got a migraine, a real pounder," she groaned.

As each word spilled from her lips I was suddenly thrown into Charlie Brown's body. All I could hear was the slow motion, "whah, whah, whah," that rang in Charlie's ears as he listened to the teacher drone on. I was a shrinking violet. "I forgot about your appointment," I whimpered meekly. "If your headache is that bad, maybe you should come home." My expectations would soon be dashed, then smashed to pieces.

"I have a hair appointment. Courtney doesn't work any other nights this week. I can't reschedule." She droned on, with a tinge of regret, that she had to honor her commitment. "Well, I'll have something ready to eat for you when you get home," I meekly replied. I was moving in to plan B. "No thanks, one of the vendors brought in subs and I ate at the office. Between that, and this headache, when I get home I'm going to take a shower and go to bed."


"I hope you feel better," I chimed with sincerity mixed with disappointment. I heard her words fade into the distance as she finished our chat with a sweet knock out blow."I'll talk to you later cannoli. I love you." I muttered an I love you and laid my phone on the counter shocked at what I had just experienced. I felt as if  I had  just learned that they were placing a ban on chocolate ice cream.


I sat down with my steak, and wrinkled baked potatoes. I'm surprised I was able to get food past my puckered out boo boo lip. I chewed slowly. I turned on the music that was meant to melt my girl's heart. Sinatra songs can be interpreted as happy or sad, depending on the moment. "All the Way," tormented me as I chewed my cud. How could this have happened?


I cleaned up the table of  plates and circuses, and went up to bed. Soon, I heard the dogs barking as Squeaky pulled herself up the stairs, hair perfectly quaffed. I asked her how her headache was. It had not lessened. She washed up and fell into bed. She remarked that the house smelled good. I told her I had made steak. She returned a weak smile and half attentive nod, then was out like a light.

I stared at the ceiling, as I listened to the lift and fall of her breathing pull her deeper into sleep. Where had I gone wrong? The plan was perfect! The execution was performed with precision. There was nothing left to chance...except life on life's terms. I had failed to figure uncertainty and reality into my grandiose vision.

I could have looked at the calendar on the fridge. She had told me about the hair appointment a few days earlier. I had forgotten which night it was. I could have called her and asked if she would be home on time. Nope. I only counted on my plans and outcomes. I did not consider hers.

I slowly faded into a slumber understanding that I had made the miscalculations. There would be no freeze out the next morning as we drank coffee. Self pity morphed into an understanding of the pains that come with assuming the world is going to do things my way. I was glad she could sleep her headache away. There was a delicious lunch sitting in the fridge. It would be alright. Stupid hair salons....

My book, SOUL PAROLE: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself is on sale NOW at Amazon .com. Personalized copies bought through PAYPAL are available at tommyconnolly.com. Proceeds benefit Chicago Area addiction, homeless and mental health programs.


Friday, July 6, 2012

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....

Thursday, June 28, 2012

I Hate Intolerance

There is nothing that get's my panties in a bunch more than intolerance. It is the politically correct word for hate. I hate... hate. I am having a hard time watching all the hate and intolerance, that is so prevalent in America, and around the world these days.

Yesterday,during the course of my day, I was bombarded with it. As I was driving around on my night job it was everywhere. Impatience is the evil twin of intolerance. The two create anger and ultimately unhappiness.

Now that NASCAR has become so popular, it seems like every male driver thinks he's Tony Stewart in the last lap of the Daytona 500. I have nothing against racing. For many years my second mother raced in the men's division at Santa Fe Speedway. She held her own. When she won races her male counterparts couldn't stand it.

As I sat at a stoplight, and it turned green I didn't push the pedal to the metal fast enough for the guy behind me. After less than two seconds he layed on his horn like I had fallen asleep at the wheel. It was ridiculous. I have experienced it more than once. If you are one of those drivers I can assure you that the two seconds you are trying to make up with your impatience, is not going to get you to your destination any faster.

When I pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall a driver was waiting to make a left hand turn. She did not leave enough room for the driver behind her to turn right. He promptly drove up on her back bumper. He was less than three inches from it. She was startled by his actions. I was too.


 I headed out on my next delivery. A Good Samaritan paused to let another driver into traffic. The soccer mom behind her layed on her horn to voice her automotive distaste at the drivers kindness. Everywhere I go bumper stickers preach hate with vile slogans designed to shock the car behind them.

What the hell is wrong with people? Why all the anger? I understand things are tough, and we are all facing new pressures and anxieties. It seems to me that impatience and intolerance only feeds an already distressed society. It has grown to proportions I have never encountered in my forty-six years on this planet.

Religious intolerance is growing to the point of evilness. Followers of the same beliefs are infighting between themselves to the point of physical confrontation, lies and the distortions of facts. We are all entitled to our own opinions, but the facts aren't open for interpretation.

I really don't think GOD cares the way I vote, or if I vote at all. I have not seen him/her or it come down from the cosmos to endorse a candidate or agenda. There is a little good in the worst of us, and a little bad in the best of us. That is called humanity.

I believe his message to be that we love each other like we love ourselves. Using his name to admonish or condemn a proposal or policy they don't agree with is hypocrisy at its worst. I believe the Bible, and most spiritual themes is to promote peace, love and truth. They ALL speak of honesty peace and watching what we say.

It is saddening to see people who preach righteousness while spewing hate. Whether you are spiritual or not, I think that living life in a positive, peaceful coexistence with our fellow man is a good way to live. The more we hate, and intolerable we become, the more destructive our words and actions become.

There is much talk about Armageddon coming in the near future. I am certain that the earth, as we know it, will experience a cataclysm that pushes humanity into extinction. That could be tomorrow or in ten thousand years. I don't think a calendar will determine it. I do not think the weather will do it. I think it is more likely that we will destroy ourselves before then. If hate and intolerance continue to leach its way on to, more and more, people it is inevitable.

Every Day IS A Gift. Why spend it hating? I hope to die peacefully. I'll start by being tolerant and patient today. My day will be more enjoyable. I would HATE to think that if today is the day I take my last breath I spent it it ticked off. Let's all give it a try. You just might find your day, and life, more peaceful....



Tuesday, June 26, 2012

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.



Sunday, June 3, 2012

Stop My Mind...I Want To Get Off!


This is a chapter from Soul Parole: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself. It will be available at soulparole.com, AMAZON and on Kindle. Proceeds from the book will benefit Chicago Area addiction, mental health facilities and homeless shelters.

I have spoken openly about being Bi-Polar. Because of my condition, I can never turn my mind. Through therapy I have learned to slow it down. My thoughts only run at 100 miles per hour, instead of 500. My thoughts have no punctuation. The chapter takes place over 2 minutes.

This is a chapter about the night before I was to attend the funeral for a dear friend. If you need help with depression, reach out. You are not alone....


My Thoughts Are Racing And I Can't Catch Up To Them
You are about to enter my mind! If you are prone to motion sickness you might want to reconsider before boarding...

I've fallen asleep on the couch reading a book by Uta Hagen. I am just on the edge of consciousness because I rarely get "deep sleep," and when I do sleep I’m easily woken. The sound of a mouse fart will sit me up straight, wide eyed, and mind racing. Since the passing of my sweet friend Debbie on Christmas, my racing mind is kicking up the RPM's. There is no punctuation in my mind. There will be little here.

I shake from my delicate slumber as my lab is nudging my arm. He needs to go out. What time is it? Only 1:05? I'm not getting up until four! Damn dog! 
 "LA Woman, LA Woman!" You know he only wakes you when he really has to go! "LA Woman, LA Woman." She was only forty-three! Come on, guys, let’s go out! Why her? Make it quick boys! Come on! "Grace, stay out of the deep snow! They better not wake up my Squeaky. She's getting up in three hours. "Ridin, Ridin...." Hurry up, Grace! I wonder if she was in pain? Don't forget their treats. Am I afraid to die? "LA Woman, LA Woman." Grace needs a grooming. Quiet! Quiet! "I did a little dot about an hour ago..." What should I wear to the service? What should I wear when I've died? I wonder if a lot of people will come to my funeral? She was only forty-three! I'm forty-five! SHHHH, you guys go back to bed. "Ridin, Ridin...Ridin, Ridin.” I wonder if death hurts? I have to mail out submissions tomorrow. Grace, you have snow all over you! Cooter, you're a good girl! What was that feeling in my chest just now? A heart attack! I'm gonna die right here in the kitchen! "Which way the wind blows," Lord, don't let me die here! Not now! Grandpa was thirty-nine when he died of a grabber. I look just like him. Maybe I'll just wear a sweater and Dockers! "La Woman, LA Woman..." Check your pulse. Just put two fingers up to the side of your throat! No more treats! You guys are done for the night. God, I love you! "Ridin, Ridin..." I have got to get more sleep! My pulse seems normal! Wait, was that an irregular heartbeat? Man, I hate this cold weather! She was so cool. I think I'll be cremated. Those submissions should be sent to the agents by certified mail! "Ridin, Ridin." What if the kids die before me? If I do die, Lord, let it be quick! Squeaky is gonna be a mess! How will she get through it? The service starts at three o’clock. I will leave the house at two forty-five. "Well I did a little dot about an hour ago." I still have a couple hours to sleep. I better put an aspirin on the coffee table in case I do have a heart attack! Aspirin is supposed to help. I remember when we went to the banquet with her! "Ridin, Ridin...” I love her and miss her. I wonder if people will miss me? A sweater is cool! I need to pay my respects, not interview for a job! "Woooooooh." Now I think my heart is beating too slow! Check your neck again! "LA Woman, LA Woman. It's only 1:08. Go lay down guys. Grace, you are looking pudgy! I should put you guys on a diet! Maybe it's just her long hair? I think I'll be cremated in my Lennon shirt. No the Dylan! If I have a heart attack now, will I still be alive when my wife wakes? I'm going to take the aspirin now just in case. I gotta get up in a couple hours! "LA Woman, LA Woman..." It's still 1:08!

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Two Slices Of Pickle And A Dose Of Reality


A Sliver of Hope, a New Direction and a Genius Idea!

As of this writing Squeaky is cancer free. We have been through some other medical hurdles she has been presented with. We are tighter than ever. This entry was written in September, 2011 when she was facing Kidney Cancer surgery. I am grateful to say she made it through a tough season. She's got game! I am blessed to have her as my BFF.




As an addict my default thinking is usually me. I want the universe and all of its' atoms formed, or random, to revolve around my plans. Whoever came up with the expression "there is no ME in team" was not an addict. I can say that with almost complete certainty. It is not that we don't have feelings for others but that our addiction demands 100% percent of our attention. Once the booze is gone the melon needs to be rewired for healthy thinking.

In recovery I have found that the biggest problem that fueled my years of self-destruction was the love-hate relationship I had with myself. I would wake up each day and hate myself more and more.  My addiction LOVED it. The more I hated me, the more I would turn to chemicals and booze to try and escape MYSELF temporarily. The next day I would wake up with an extra helping of self hate and some physical pain, guilt and shame to throw into the mix. Then the games would begin again for another 24 hours.

For years I thought I was using because the world was all wrong! I realize now that I was using because I was all wrong inside. It was my thinking.  I had a twisted perception on reality. More precisely, I used because the people and atoms of the universe didn't act in a way that met with my satisfaction. As I grow in sobriety I have learned to like myself by accepting the fact that the world will do what it is supposed to do. I accept others as they are. Most importantly I try not to spend too much time alone in my head. It can become a Wall Street riot up there in a jiffy.

Now that I am sober I work with other alcoholics and addicts new to recovery. I perform for fundraisers and causes because I am grateful to give back this gift that was freely given to me. I will never give back enough. God and recovery groups gave me my life, family and a purpose to live back.

Squeaky and I had been going through a rough season leading up to the "Rally Round Recovery 2011." I was working on a film. I had just returned from California after a week of therapy and a shoot for an "Animal Planet" series. I am in final editing of my book Soul Parole: Making Peace with My Mind, God and Myself. I am about to start 2 new films. I was working to promote the premier of "Chasing Hollywood." I was in hyper "ME" mode. This happens in sobriety and reality.

Squeaky's kidney surgery was scheduled for 2 days later. The doctors were not sure if they were going to take a portion of her right kidney or the whole thing. I cleared my schedule of EVERYTHING. I thank God for giving me the sense to do that. I did bring a galley copy of the book that I intended to read as Squeaky lay in recovery. I made arrangements to stay with her while she was in the hospital. They were very accommodating. I never once opened the galley.

As the time passed all I could think about was the stupid arguments leading up until that day and question God about putting her through this instead of me. I was the idiot! My heart was shifting back to center. Why is it that we have to be in a big pile of shite with a loved one,  they're in an operating room or funeral parlor for us to look at how truly dear they are to us? It boggles my mind! We fight about wrapping paper and who ate my cereal? For the love of GOD who cares?!

The surgery went better than we could ever have imagined. They were able to use the Da Vinci robotic surgery method on her, and as the doctor said, "if her kidney were a hamburger we only had to take two pickle slices." It was the greatest horrible analogy I had ever heard.  It did make me a bit crazy that they assign patients numbers now during operations. They have a television you can check like an arrival board at the airport to see if they are "boarding," "on the runway," "ready for takeoff," "inflight," "on the tarmack" and "safely on the ground." Her flight was near perfect.

He said she would be staying for 2 nights. That was okay with me. They would know if it was cancer later in the week. She was medicated.  Her family was there to support her, and me, during the day. It kept me calm. In post-op she smiled and mumbled in tongues. She looked glorious. Every time she moved I jumped afraid she was in pain or going to fall out of bed or needed the nurse. I contorted myself up in the tiny Hobbit like chair and slept with one eye open grateful we dodged a bullet.

Being the real alcoholic I am I spent the hours beating myself up a bit. I also reviewed my behavior and realized I was not sharing enough of the projects I was involved in with my wife. I am proud she appeared with me in "Chasing Hollywood." It can be seen in its entirety on youtube. My Squeaky is on IMDB as Pina Connor. That is the Cats Pajamas! But I used to read scripts to her. I used to read all my blogs to her. I used to consult her on every career move I was making as I was making them. Her opinions played into my decisions on what road to take.

I can't tell you what we talked about during her 60 hour stay there. I honestly don't remember. We just talked and laughed like things were early in our relationship. We were focused on each other and I was in the NOW, not so danged worried about the future. We laughed at stupid stuff. She made me stop goofing around because the laughter made her side ache. I fetched ice chips and cups of coffee. I started calling her sliver kidney. She chuckles at the nickname.

Everything I try to do is for the betterment of the family and marriage. When things are going wrong in my life, I need to look at myself first. The problem I often have is that I have a grand plan inside my head. It is carefully crafted. We will work together spreading a message of hope and recovery to alcoholic/addicts and their loved ones. She can't see my thoughts. ACTIONS speak louder than thoughts. God calls the shots. I just show up for each DAYS game and worry less about the season....

Saturday, May 12, 2012

The Devil Made Me Do It...

I have a habit of telling people, "GOD BLESS YOU." No, not just when they sneeze, all the time. I like to add "MAY YOUR GOD BLESS YOU," as well. I am a Christian but feel faith is a personal issue. The key to spiritual contentment starts with a personal relationship with GOD.

Wishing blessings upon people is a beautiful thing. However, I think as Americans we are blessed beyond our wildest dreams. We take our freedom for granted. When I see rude angry people on the street I am puzzled by how they could think we have it so bad. Don't get me wrong, the economy and job market is horrible. I just can't see why everyone is so miffed. Spend a few days living in the streets and your outlook will change in a jiffy. On your next trip to the islands or Mexico have a guide take you outside the tourism district. You'll see people living in boxes...literally!

Why is it that when good things happen we say,"Thank God," but when something bad happens, we blame it on the devil? I don't know about you but I grow the most through pain. As a parent I can be a great guy for twenty-nine days of the month and be in a bad mood one day, and that's what the kids remember. GOD puts us through terrible things to change our direction and give us strength.

I believe in the devil. I just don't think he's the source of all the bad things that happen in our lives. GOD doesn't micromanage. I think GOD says "NO". HE says, "Not Yet," and "I have another plan." We have to keep our eyes out for dark forces, but freewill and, GOD's will need to be considered. When we don't know what his will is, doing the next right thing is usually a pretty good choice.

When my father died it devastated me. It still does. When he passed I was grateful to GOD for relieving him of his pain. His passing gave me the motivation to pursue my dreams of being a comic, actor and writer. This was a painful time that changed my perspective on living. I am more afraid of not living my life to the fullest, than I am of dying.

We can pray to do "GOD'S WILL." However, WE have to do things that are adding to the goodness here on earth...as it is in heaven.  He won't parallel park my car in the city. He won't call me up with job opportunities. He will send messengers. We are to get it, then get it done. We do the footwork.

There are times I have thanked GOD for teaching me a lesson. Sometimes I need to be redirected to the path I think he wants me to travel. I can't do anything to impress him. I can do things that would please him. Mostly, I can do good things for others as a way of saying thanks for all that you do for me BIG GUY!

When I mess up unintentionally that is my humanity. When I act like a jerk because life isn't going MY WAY, I can't blame it on the devil! If I don't work at being good, and helping others, how can I be surprised when things turn bad? When tragedies happen I don't need to blame it on the devil. I'm not going to give him that much credit. Sometimes I have to look in the mirror and decide if the devil really made me do it...or not do it, or was it me. Sometimes I just have to keep the FAITH in knowing the answers will come. I just have to let them in....


Friday, January 20, 2012

Depression Makes Me... Laugh...Cry...Numb...and...ME!

Depression makes me laugh. What? You thought I was gonna say it makes me sad. Right? It does sometimes. There are times it makes me cry, get obsessive-compulsive, angry or giddy. On other occasions it makes me isolate or dread being alone. I dislike the word depression "sufferer." There are few moments that I suffer from my depression. There are trying times. Every so often I have a difficult day or two.

I usually speak about the triumphs and tribulations of sobriety, addiction and recovery. I don't speak enough about the world of depression. I'm not an expert on it. I live with it, and in it. A friend of mine, who's a county politician, messaged me this morning troubled with how stigmatized addiction and depression is in our society. I told her I was going to be addressing that very thing today.

I was first diagnosed bi-polar in March of 1999 when I checked myself into Hinsdale Hospital for rehab. I have since been rediagnosed as having an anxiety and panic disorder with bi-polar tendencies. My work in recovery and with a therapist has been effective in helping me MANAGE my CONDITION. I have a chemical imbalance that requires medication to stabilize my mood. I am grateful to say that over the last three years I have gone from four pills a day, to two at bedtime. I hope I get to a point when I need no medication at all. The chemical imbalance is a part of life as ME. It's kinda like the fact that I'm left handed in a right handed world. I have learned to MANAGE and ADAPT.

Bi-Polar used to be called Manic Depressive. That's a beauty! To define what I have is difficult. Simply stated I am attracted to both male and female Arctic people.  Traditionally defined, I have really high-highs and really low-lows emotionally. Most folks spend their time in the emotional middle and spike up or down. I tend to be at one of the polar extremes and have to work towards the emotional middle. My chemical receptors and plugs have a problem lining up just right. It's a bit like a car that needs a new set of wires. The car runs but it misfires.  A lot of addicts use because they have some form of depression or chemical imbalance. We self medicate because we can't cope with racing thoughts, mood swings or can't process our feelings that aren't fitting the picture. This is me.

I often have the wrong emotional response for the situation that is occurring. The world sees my actions not my intentions. When my Aunt Dora died we drove down to Carlisle, Indiana for her funeral. I was about 15 or so. My grandfather was cracking jokes about her in the family lounge. I was laughing like George Carlin was sitting next to me. Tears were rolling down my face. I was clearly boisterous and obnoxious. I didn't KNOW HOW to cope with my feelings over the death. I vented through my laughter.

 As White Sox announcer Ken " Hawk" Harrelson says, "right size, wrong shape." It was inappropriate behavior for a funeral. I was depressed and was in a high on my emotional meter. I was in a manic moment. Rightfully, my mother scolded me for my actions. I retreated into a corner feeling as if I had done something horribly wrong. It wasn't that my feelings were wrong. Our feelings are OUR FEELINGS, and are neither right or wrong. My actions were improper for a wake. I couldn't find the middle on how to react to my Aunt's death. When my HIGH reaction was inappropriate I slipped down to the low. Emotional Middle Earth was elusive for me.

I started to drink and use because I couldn't cope with my thoughts and feelings not aligning.  I felt misunderstood all the time. Sometimes I still do. It's been said that addicts are overly sensitive people. It's not surprising to me when I see us dually diagnosed. It does sting a little when I hear people say addicts have no feelings. WE FEEL EVERYTHING! That is a large part of our problem. We feel compassion when a butterfly farts! When you mix a chemical imbalance into an addictive personality KABOOM! Catastrophe is down right inevitable. It is a perfect recipe for self-destruction. However, once we get armed with the facts about WHAT WE ARE and WHO WE ARE there's hope.

The key to SURVIVING addiction and depression is reaching out for help. As an addict and a person who has wondered if I was going out of my mind I know that is a bitter pill to swallow. The thought of approaching someone about being crazy is nuts! No it's not. It's your only hope. You have to have hope. Even when your sitting under that rock. You're not crazy! You're just a little nuts!

When I addressed my alcohol and addiction issues I was having multiple panic attacks daily. Once I found out my wires were crossed I felt better. I WAS NOT ALONE. Panic attacks suck! The ones' Tony Soprano had were a party! I felt like I was gonna DIE every day! DAY AFTER DAY! That's not living. That's existing until you're finally right!

I saw a couple of noodle professionals. I  eventually found one I was comfortable with. This is not like picking out bagels! Take your time. DO RESEARCH. LEARN. EDUCATE YOURSELF. The more you learn about your melon the less you'll feel your losing your seeds! It isn't the end of the world. It opened me up to my life again. I have not had a full blown attack in over a year. I now recognize my symptoms and know I'm not going to die. To be safe I also don't let ducks raise their young in our backyard.



General public, earthlings and pundits, PLEASE don't judge what you do not understand. Chemical imbalance doesn't mean crazy. An addict doesn't have a morality problem. If it were as easy as "just stopping" ...we would. When it comes to depression, if it were as easy as, "just snapping out of it"...we'd do that too....






Monday, January 9, 2012

Soul Parole...I was... and I AM....

I never sat down to write a book. It's strange to me as I look at all of the separate chapters cobbled together that they have become one. Each is a glimpse into a lifetime of addiction, and only a snapshot of my sobriety. I am no guru or doctor. The only sure fire advice I can give you in recovery is don't pick-up the first and you won't have to worry about the next thousand. A recovering alcoholic/addict passed that message on to me. I hope you pass it on to someone who thinks they are "one of a kind," like I once did. I was right and wrong. I am not alone in how I look at the world. I am part of a special kind of people called alcoholics and addicts.

The book began as part of a blog I started called "Every Day is a Gift." I believe each day is. In recovery I was taught to live day to day, sometimes moment to moment because my mind is where my addictions are anchored. The pain of my past, FEAR and uncertainty of the future and the futility of trying to manage all of my baggage made living comfortably, with me, impossible. I USED to escape me, not you. In the 12 months I wrote Soul Parole the blog was read by over 13,000 people in 55 countries on 6 continents(see Appendix). It blows my mind. Addiction is universal. Suffering is a choice. I could not stay sober on my own. I share my journey. I pray that I never think I have reached my destination.

Each of the chapters were done in one sitting in one flow of consciousness. I wanted to keep my thoughts honest and unedited. By the time of publishing Editors have gone back and fixed punctuation, grammar and sentence structure. Not Content. I can see evolution in the pages. When I ask my mentor if I'm getting better he says, "your getting different." I'll settle for that. The point is that I am moving forward sober.

Some have said that my stories always have a sugary ending. That may be so. Make no mistake, sobriety is not easy. Sometimes it really stinks! My problems and pressures build and I want to run to the corner, grab a bottle and take a liquid vacation! That would leave me with a hangover, the problems, and a huge pile of some new ones.

I choose to seek solutions now. Addiction and depression is about being trapped in darkness and feeling there is no hope to see light. I don't suddenly have rainbows and fairy dust falling in my path. I FEEL now. I FACE now. These things were once inconceivable to me. Squeaky and I fight, I fail as a father, son and friend. Sobriety has shown me my character flaws. I can go back and try to right what I have wronged, where once I just fled.

I have been blessed to work on comedy stages and in films and on TV. I have come far in a short time according to the calendar. I love acting and making people laugh. My acting is a passion. Making people laugh is a gift. We all have them. Share them. I may never make it to HBO or HOLLYWOOD. That's fine. If I help a few people along their journey to sobriety then my 28 years of addiction was not in vain. There were people who held their hand out freely and showed me a new way to live. I will do the same.

Living in the moment is a gift. GOD has no beginning or end. No man can define GOD. The moment we are in RIGHT NOW has no beginning and no end. That means that right now is as close to GOD on earth as we're gonna get. Why would we take NOW for granted? Why would we take GOD for granted? I am grateful that I live for the day. Time goes faster, but I suck the marrow out of each moment....But for the grace of GOD there go I....

Thursday, October 20, 2011

If I Could Eat My Words I'd Never Have to Shop Again!

I am grateful to GOD for giving me a sense of humor. I am more grateful that HE has one too. As an actor, comic and writer, part of the gift of that humor is that I verbalize the things that people are thinking but don't have the nerve or need to spit out. That's great because it keeps guys like me, philosophers, pundits and poets in business. Tom Dreesen told me that Carl Reiner told him early in his career to "show people your pain." I have always done that in my act. I poke a lot of fun at myself. People identify with the daily mishaps of just trying to get by.

The distance between the frontal lobe (MY MELON) and the voice box (MY BIG FAT MOUTH) is only a few inches. I have seen many pictures of the brain. It looks to me like chubby Ramen Noodles mixed with Silly Putty all smushed together and placed in an airtight bonehead container. It's quite a fascinating looking machine. When I am told that we use less than 10% of it I am appalled. What the hell is flying around in the other 90% of the noodles that we don't use?! The few I am trying to get a rise out of are driving me and everybody around nuts!

I need to call the people who design filters for water or furnaces because I have a bit of a problem. In my personal life those same skills that make me a funny comic or good improv actor sometimes make me a poor communicator. That's PC talk for sometimes I say exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time and I can't help it! I want a filter between the Ramen Noodles, The Silly Putty and my pie hole!

As a recovering alcoholic/addict the problem is doubled because we learn to use words as weapons of mass destruction like fists, knives and passive aggressive napalm! We find our loved ones' tender spots in passionate moments of weakness, trust or sweet confession and BAM! If we get pushed the wrong way we will pull that sweet secret you never told a soul and spit it in your face like rattle snake venom.

In recovery that doesn't just disappear. It slowly goes away but I still have my moments. I'm not beating myself up right now. Don't worry I'll do that when I get to my rant about procrastination somewhere down the line. I am just becoming more self aware of some of my character flaws. Some of the time I am hilarious. Yet other times I can be critical and hurtful and not even realize I am doing it.

The power of a word is more damaging than a fist in my estimation. Both are violent. A sore chin will heal. The wounding of the mind through criticism and demeaning can be crippling. A perfect example is that there were many times my wife called me an alcoholic and every swear word her Berwyn upbringing could conjure up, and they meant nothing to me. The day she called me PATHETIC was the day I took my last drink. Why THAT was the word that pushed my "get sober" button GOD only knows.

The point is that a few simple letters put in a prearranged form said at the right time, under the right conditions had a life changing impact on me. The biggest argument my wife and I EVER had was about...wrapping paper! Yes you heard it...WRAPPING PAPER. Left to it's own proper use wrapping paper is associated with joy and gift giving. In the context of the argument it was connected to my ex-wife and it was a hot button for Squeaky. We were screaming. There were attorneys involved in the uproar. She shouted that I was an "Oedipus Complex!" I spat back that she was an "unclean female dog." It really got ugly. By the time we got home we had pulled over and stopped to laugh at the fact we were going to divorce court over...Wrapping Paper.

The most frequently mentioned subject in the Bible is our words and how we use them. The second is fear. Usually the two go hand in hand. I have a tendency of shooting my mouth off when I am scared of losing something, someone getting hurt or someone hurting another person I love. At that point the Ramen Noodle-Silly Putty-Tongue is connected. That is dangerous for me and something that I am working on. The quick wit and snarky comment work great on stage and for hecklers. Not so for family and friends.

I am trying to incorporate a few new rules into my personal behavior for rules of engagement. These help me with human relations and how comfortably I live with myself. They are as follows and are not all my creations. Most of them were taught to me:

1. I do not have to be right nor have an opinion on everything.
2. It's okay to say "I don't know."
3. I refuse to have arguments with people unless they are actually there!
4. The phrase "hold your tongue"... can actually be done.
5. When I am unsure of what to do, phone a friend is good.
6. When I react emotionally so do other people!
7. Doing NOTHING when I am unsure is acceptable.
8. I do not have to jump into every conversation I meet.
9. Whatever dress I want my wife to wear... pick the opposite one so she wears the one I like.
10. Turn to GOD more often Tom. When you lean on his words you need less of your own...