Sailing without a Compass IS for Dummies....

In recovery WE learn straight away that using was a symptom of our thinking problem. We get ourselves so "overthunkified" that life gets unbearable and we need to escape our minds and discomfort of our own skin. The world and its occupants don't seem to understand us and OUR order of things, so WE go mad trying to change the universe and everyone in it. Strangers are included. People on the TV, or halfway across the planet, catch our attention as equally as the old lady standing next to us at Piggly-Wiggly.

As we work through our baggage and find peace within and outside of ourselves we have flashes of serenity. When I have it,  MAN I love it! It's all CONTINGENT upon how well I am keeping in touch with my GOD, my moral compass. When I am good with him everything is alright. Being good with him means PRAYING, asking for guidance and help with my shortcomings as a human.I've got quite a pile. I also have some pretty cool stuff to work with. I have to trust him. He's got the plan. I do the foot work. The small still voice is clearly audible now.

As an addict I need repetition in recovery like I did in active addiction. I used to rationalize my own
self-destruction daily for over twenty eight years. Along the way I obviously developed some unhealthy thinking about the world and myself. Three years clean and I'm just starting to crawl.

In the last few weeks I've been restless, irritable and discontent. I can see it in every corner of my world. My desk is covered with half finished projects and piles of books and CD's. It is an accurate snapshot of the chaos that is building inside me. My comments and jokes to friends are sarcastic. I'm isolating. That is a premeditated recipe for misery at the best and using to death at its' worst.

Recovery is a really simple design for living for people who really love complicating things. I sure do. If you break recovery down to it's simplest elements beyond NOT USING its:

TRUST GOD!
Worry About YOU!
Try to HELP OTHERS!

It is so simple and I can blow em' all before I get out of bed! I am grateful that I don't have the urge to use. I still very clearly have a lifetime of work to do on me and in helping others. I LOVE HELPING OTHERS! I can get so paralyzed by ME that I do nothing. When I get to these points I need to get back to the basics and the 3 SIMPLE rules of living above.

Sometimes doing the right thing for me is just getting out of bed and taking the time to say, "Good Morning God! Thanks for waking me up. You take it from here." Then going to a meeting or work. It gets that simple or that complicated. If I think beyond that I get "overthunkified" and I want to crawl back under the covers and I get nowhere....

STATEVILLE PRISON-"You Make Those Guys Laugh You're Funny."-Brenner

STATEVILLE! My First Invitation to Prison and I Didn't Want To Leave.....(original unedited copy 12/10)

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

I was part of the "Comedy Faith Outreach" Ministry Tour that did a show at Stateville Prison. The program was conceived by comic, and spiritual leader George "Milkdud" Poe, and coordinated on Statesville's end by the unforgettable prison Chaplain Adamson. The Comedy/Faith Ministry has already visited Dwight Women's Correctional Institution and will be heading to Danville Prison a week from today. I was honored to be a part of that show. It changed the direction of my career dramatically and I hope it changed some young men's future choices as well.

I have been in a jail before. I have even spent a night in one or two before. No, it wasn't for a charity fundraiser but the jail did raise some funds from my personal overnight stays and the required fees for me to be released. PRISON is a different universe. Statesville Prison is another dimension. Let me put it this way. Stateville is an enigma wrapped in ah....whatever that thing Churchill talked about during the war, but just add some really heavy vibes, killers, thieves, murderers, rapists and some guys who made some really poor choices. It was an unforgettable day for me and I hope it was for them too. I was one of 7 comedians and a headliner, plus an emcee and Minister. Lets startfrom the beginning.

Pulling into Stateville, you are quickly deceived by the tranquil drive outside of the massive maximum security that stands a quarter mile from the perky entrance. I felt like I was heading down Forest Gump's driveway. The words Stateville are written out neatly in big stones. I wanted to grab a couple of the big fellers and put em' in my drawers because I realized trying to humor 300 inmates, who may never seefreedom again, was like having a mild stroke at a morticians convention. They would all just be staring at me, waiting for their moment. I pulled into the staff lot and could see the armed guards waving down at me. I wish it was with their teeth. My smile was much more disarming as I was unarmed.

I went into the visitor center and checked in with a sergeant who didn't know about the show. Government didn't work on the inside either. That gave me comfort in my choice to join the band of merry makers. Chaplain Bishop came out and greeted me along with Tom Dykstra, Ray Fisher and Salty Peters. Milkdud Poe, our emcee and minister for the show's end, wasn't there yet. We were waiting for Poe, Patrick Bagdon, Jay Washington and headliner Lady Lunchabell.

I really wasn't as nervous as I thought I would be. I had been in cuffs a few times, was comfortable around weapons and hung out with some bad guys back in the booze and dope days. The cool thing was that back then, I would spend the night hopped up and paranoid that I could get busted for an assortment of things that I was doing. I was clean the day of the show. I knew I was going home and I was eyeing up a couple of the weaker comics like we were gazelle in the Serengeti. If someone was going down it wasn't going to be me. I had been doing leg crunches all week and had a reverse chastity belt made for the gig. The only thing I feared was a skeleton key.

Chaplain Adamson was not what I pictured. I was the idiot picturing Spencer Tracy in a collar and whites. No. Adamson was part Jeff Bridges, part Chuck Norris and part Dennis Hopper, but with a theological bend instead of an existential one. He was cool, all the way from his pony tail to his snake skin boots. I wanted this guy on my side if I was dying or in a bar fight. After we left I saw why he needed all these characteristics to survive, and thrive, with a positive message in a pretty dark place. The chaplain also had a great sense of humor...I think. Being April Fool's Day he told the 300 inmates we were performing for that we were theologians from around the country, coming in for a round table discussion.

Our fearless leader George Poe, Patrick Bagdon and Jay Washington arrived and we began our walk to the gymnasium for the "theological symposium." The walk took about 4 days. I would have been thrilled with a "Green Mile." This was a "Red faced 2!" I walked the line and hummed the Johnny Cash song, keeping my head down. The chaplain kept us cool with funny stories and the guys we met were very respectful. I tried to act like I was just one of them. I was for a couple years as I recall. I was proud to be part of a show that was sending a positive message to these men and glad that I had the stones to commit to doing it. I will do it again. Milkdud, you have my word.

We entered the gymnasium to a largely minority group of males, who at first looked pissed that we weren't imams or monks or bishops. I thought I would piss myself but I didn't want to rust the chastity belt and create a possible weakness in one of the hinges. Adamson had a podium and 8 chairs sprawled out in front of our captive audience. He is a truly inspiring guy with the perfect demeanor for a difficult job.

As I sat and listened to the first few comics do their sets, I was people watching. I can't speak for other comics or actors but I literally could watch people for hours on end. My favorite part of air travel is the terminal, not the flight. Human behavior is fascinating. I saw these guys as men, not inmates. I wondered to myself what they had done to get there. Out of the 300 I saw, one young man was barely 20. I have belts that old. A haggard old gentleman of about 90 sat calm and chiseled with life experience. I also saw two people I recognized from recovery groups I had attended with in the past. I was floored. My life's troubles seemed like whining suddenly. I won't speak on the morality of the deeds the men did but they were paying their dues to society.

It EASILY could have been me sitting there and one of those guys telling jokes. I just didn't get caught. I got the breaks. I was leaving that night to have a nice dinner not mystery meat and beans-n-rice. You become very aware of how blessed you are after being in a prison. We were allowed to bring in a piece of paper and an I.D. That was it. No Tic-Tacs, Chapstick, Blackberry or bubble gum. We take for granted how we can just reach into our pocket for some Bazooka or an Atomic Fire Ball. These guys would love to have that just once in a while as a TREAT.

After Tom, Ray and Salty did funny, well received sets. Then it was my turn. A calm came over me. I opened with a bit about this being my first sold out gig and that after reviewing all the restrictions on material, I was left with only Knock, Knock jokes. I told a few more and went on to talk about my alcoholism at 17, homelessness at 32, 4 marriages and now an acting and comedy career starting to take off at age 45! I'm in "The Chicago Code" with "Flashdance" knock-out Jennifer Beals, blah, blah. The point being that I never gave up, even when I wanted to die.

Hell, I used to pray to die! Literally, as the roaches crawled on me. I told them to have faith in the goodness of their God because He saved my ass for some reason. I am nobody special but we all have our burdens to face each day and we have to keep our chins up and move forward. I didn't make light or try to intimate that I had a clue as to what they were facing, but I did tell them that we all are in prison within our hearts and minds. Some of us do it in jail. Some at Walmart. Some of us alone in our bed. Life is for living, no matter what your circumstances are. No man is better or worse than the next in God's eyes. We have all failed. We will all stand before Him and account for our actions individually.

Jay Washington came out and tore the house down. He is one of Chicago's hottest! Patrick Bagdon was feeling a little under the weather but I admire the fact that he showed up to the gig and kept his word. That's a pro. Of course, Lady Lunchchabell had them rolling in the aisles and I just soaked it all in. George "Milkdud" Poe wrapped up with his words of faith, surrender, hope and redemption. He hit all the good stuff. He has a gift for comedy but more importantly, faith. It was the most memorable show I have ever done. Then came the twist...

As we finished it seemed like, we/I shook hands with all 300 men who were in that sweaty gymnasium. I was not concerned about why they were there. I was glad I had made them laugh and given them a moment or two of hope. It might have been the high point of their day. As I said earlier, the restrictions on our material made me take a hard look at my set and write comedy that could play anywhere from a church to a nursing home and it felt good. It also taught me that we are all screw ups, some just get caught. Some of us are screwed up and live in a prison of our own, in our own private universes that we call our lives.

About half way through the hand shaking, a young man stopped by and said he was inspired by my message from addict to actor/comic, faith and hope and asked if I would give him my autograph. Any comic or actor remembers the first time someone asks for their autograph. At least I will. This was my first. It was not an ego feeding moment. He asked me to sign his bible where he had written some encouraging, sad, desperate and cheerful thoughts over the years for inspiration. There were a lot of notes. I was moved to a little tear, and certainly wasn't going to take that moment to scrawl in 2 inch letters, "GREAT TO MEET YOU MY MAN, ALL THE BEST TOMMY CONNOLLY", especially in a Bible. I took it as a message to keep my ego in check and that I can deliver a clean show and message that is funny and uplifting. God has a sense of humor. For the first autograph request in my career, I merely wrote next to his notes "Faith Not Fear." I printed it like it was for a 1st grade school paper. That's how humbled I was by the moment. I was proud that my words touched the young man. I was moved to humbly print in pencil a word of encouragement to him and pray that he finds a new path when he gets back on the other side of the wall - if he gets to the other side of the wall.

I was glad to be a human on this earth, trying to get along on this troubled ball of pain and confusion we know as Earth. God Bless. Never did I think, EVER, that my first request for my John Hancock would be in the words of God! I had a goal of reading the Bible cover to cover the first year of my sobriety. I had a Gideon's Bible from one of the crack hotels I lived in during the late 90's. Every night I would scribble a line or two about my feeling after reading a few pages. It became a sort of diary in the footnote of that Bible from my "Lost Years." I finished reading it from Genesis to Revelations that year and I have a journal of my first year of sobriety.

That young man saying I gave him inspiration and putting a few words of hope in his Bible made that whole thing come full circle. My pain wasn't wasted years fully realized in a moment. Good luck to all of you. Bishop Adamson, keep slinging the word and riding that white pony. You are a tribute to the profession, a great messenger and I am amazed you can walk around with a Bible in one hand and 50 pound cahones weighing you down all with a smile in your heart.

To Milkdud, The Bishop, Jay, Lady, Patrick, Salty, Tom, Ray and "The Comedy Faith Outreach" Tour and Ministry: thanks for letting me be a part of such an amazing day. I will never forget it. Amen.

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!

David Brenner...The Coolest Pen Pal Ever....

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

Amazon/Kindle-soulparole.com March 17, 2012

I'm moving into the final stages of formatting with the printers and designers of Soul Parole. I had no idea so much went into the process. The experience has been rewarding and frustrating. I have learned so much! The book could have been released months ago. Film and TV projects like "Boss" and "My Extreme Animal Phobia," my "EXTRA HANDS of HOPE" charity and the decision to launch a publishing company of my own, Soul Parole Productions, Inc. instead of  publishing traditionally were God's detours.  Margins changed and monies to charity will benefit. The company is also ASCAP.

 My vision of helping artists get their works to market without losing their rights to the material is being realized. My yet unrealized reality is to have a think tank or communal group of artists that will be a central low or no cost council of elders to young artists is forming on the horizon.

The biggest obstacle has been in the editing process. Anyone who knows me is well aware of the fact that keeping it short isn't part of who I am. I am volumous. People unsubscribe to my Facebook feeds because I chatter. I also am not a polished writer. I am a talker on paper. The challenge has been in "keeping it real and raw," like it was when I was writing it. I don't like rewrites on my thoughts. I don't see commas float out of my mouth as I speak. The book will not be grammaticlly perfect. So be it. It will be emotionally accurate. 

This is one of my first blogs with mention of David Brenner. When I got sober I sent my stand-up to Tom Dreesen, David Brenner, Mike Toomey, Marsha Warfield and Billy Connolly. I told them all I was an addict and wanted to be a recovering alcoholic addict comic! Tom basically said showing your pain is important. We             wrote back and forth and he has been amazingly supportive. David has been the street wise Pen Pal. He always answers my notes but is more of a realist. He says stuff like, "don't tell people not to drink in a bar where the guy who's paying you gets his money from people who buy drinks." We have not been as close as me and Tom. Both have been very supportive of my mission to reach those still suffering from depression and addiction. Neither call me when they are in town. I have met Tom and talked with him more than a few times. He is Chicago comedy....

4th blog December 2010 

"Why Would You Ever Let Yourself Become A Comedian?"...David Brenner

Legendary comedian and writer David Brenner once posted on my Facebook wall, "I understand everything you have done and been, with one exception. Why would you ever let yourself become a comedian?"

I don't fully understand the word "let". The fact that such an iconic comedy pioneer responded to a schmuck like me makes me feel like I'm doing something right, or at least, making people think that. I appreciate the input, Mr. Brenner.

I started my professional comedy career in 2006. It was 7 days before my forty-first birthday, and since I had made trying stand-up before turning forty-one of my bucket list items, I signed up for an open mic at Barrel' O Laughs featuring Bill Brady in Oak Lawn, Chicago's longest running comedy venue. The rules were simple: no f-word, n-word, c-word, or p-word. I was cool with that, because I think the shock value of those words have unnecessarily taken over the crafting of a good joke.

My love for making people laugh was probably my first addiction. I was a happy kid outwardly, while growing up in a difficult existence. My mom and dad got divorced when I was two and my sister was five. Our apartment was tiny, almost motel-like, and a single mother with kids was stigmatized in those days. I did anything to make a relative, friend or stranger crack-up. Mom worked all the time, so entertaining myself and others was no problem. The sound of someone laughing at me and my antics drove me.  When Mom came home after a long day, it was show time, and I would make her laugh until she got mad at me. I felt those laughs in every fiber of my being. It was euphoric, and I wanted more,  and all the time.

When I started kindergarten at Carpenter Street School in the heart of Mokena, Illinois I had a whole new audience; the classroom and playground were my Broadway and Vegas. As the laughs grew, I grew more frantic saying and doing crazy physical comedy and impressions of kids, teachers, and movie stars.

Those were my happiest times in front of a crowd. Someone asked me, “How can you stand up in front of all those people and not be terrified?” The terror didn’t happen in front of a crowd, but when I was alone with my racing thoughts. “Class clown” was my official entry in elementary school and high school newspapers and yearbooks. Every laugh released endorphins in me, but I craved still more. If I was growing up now, I would absolutely be labelled as having attention defecit disorder.

As I took the stage that night, the Chicago Tribune was there and wrote a feature story on me based on people taking chances in their forties and older. The article was titled First Time Comic Stands up to His Fears and Takes the Stage, September 22, 2006. That added to my terror and made me really unpopular  with the other comics. I am grateful to say I was sober that night, but only because I was afraid I would forget my material if I was drunk. Bill Brady took me to the side before I went on and said, "Don't worry. We have very low expectations for you." It was priceless, and loosened me up. I hit the stage and the spotlight blinded my eyes. I remember thinking, “What a great idea,” because I couldn’t see the crowd. I later learned that's exactly why it was there.

I heard the first laugh, and I was hooked. My set was supposed to last seven minutes and I did twenty! I had no idea why the blue light was flashing on and off at the rear of the club. I thought a pizza order was ready for the waitress and just kept ripping. I wrapped up my set with a joke about Jesus returning as a union carpenter and being asked to turn one sausage into a thousand sausages at the company picnic. I didn't fail. I wouldn't call it a kill, but I felt euphoria. I told the reporter it was like climbing Mount Everest: pure adrenalin.

I think art chooses the artist. Unfortunately my models of comic and material success were guys like Richard Pryor, George Carlin, John Belushi, and Ernest Hemingway. Carson and Dean Martin always had a cocktail in hand. The dark side of comedy was seductive to me, and I planned on following in their steps. Those guys partied hard after they were famous. I was content for many years with the party and the darkness, but the material success never arrived. I just drank and used and thought of all the jokes I was gonna write...tomorrow.

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!"....

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....

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....