Addicts are Blessed and Cursed!

While I was growing up, long before I took my first drug or drink, I reacted with one of two emotions during confrontation or crisis or when I didn't get my way. The first was anger and the second was tears. During my tender years, anger and tears were the answer to every emotional situation I couldn't process. You could easily have labelled me a "cry baby" when I was a young man, up until the age of about 18. Tears spilled out easily when I was hurt or didn't know how to handle a situation correctly. When I sought sympathy or was trying to divert attention from a mistake I had committed, or was overwhelmed with a moment, I would cry my way through and out of it. I had not developed enough coping mechanisms to react in a healthy way to the challenges of every day healthy thinking.

When an adult sees a man sobbing after about the age of 14, they are instantly put into a consoling or uncomfortable state of mind. I couldn't control my emotions and the tears would just come. I now see that I suffered from depression issues from a very young age. The tears could be used as a form of manipulation and I used them often to get my demands met. If I got a bad grade on a report card, or a girlfriend wanted to dump me, my weeping and sobs could turn the situation around in an instant. My parents would comfort me with a "try harder next time" and the unhappy girlfriend would say "let's give it another try." I would escape the pain through my tearful drama and get my way.

Anger is rarely a part of my emotional skill set now, but it occasionally rears its ugly head. I have written in other chapters that my angry outbursts were based in fear, not actual anger at the situation. My father and mother both had combustible tempers and when I coupled that with the fact that I was "Irish", the angry outbursts were easily rationalized. Anger was my weapon and shield. My insecurities and low self-esteem made this emotional response necessary and convenient. I am normally witty and light hearted, but when I am angered, I have the roar of a lion and the look of a madman.

An addict wants the world to judge us by our motives and intentions, not our actions. Please re-read that sentence because there is a lot there. Even when I shouted rage filled diatribes at my children when my fear was of them being hurt or into trouble, they didn't see the motive of protection. They just saw the old man going off and most likely tuned me out. Anger is normal and we are human. It's going to happen but how we project that anger is the deal breaker. Once angry I spewed hurtful, cutting remarks that went way beyond the incident or infraction. The verbal punishment didn't fit the crime. When angered every hurtful thing I could think of seemed to line up behind my tongue just waiting to burst out on my victim.

There are times when I am angered, but the distance between that anger and my mouth has grown farther apart. I can think rationally while I am mad and stay on point. I can express my anger through constructive conversation, not just bursts of rage filled emotion. As for the tears, I have a hard time crying now and I miss it. There is a cleansing release after a good cry. I always feel relief after I have wept over the death of a loved one or seeing my kids in pain. That is the irony of my tears. They used to pop out effortlessly. Now I sometimes have to consciously try to make myself cry to relieve some of my anger and frustrations like a tea kettle whistling out steam. A viewing of one of my favorite films, "The Notebook," sits ready on my shelf when I must relieve my pain through tears and can't do it through recall alone.

The reference of addiction being a blessing and a curse is only allowable if they are coupled together. The escape into using at the moment of pain may seem like a blessing, but it is a curse in that it is temporary. Addicts seek
escape from the pain. The things we do while high creates more pain, new pain and the original excuse for getting high in the first place is still there in the morning, accompanied by a new pile of remorse, bewilderment, shame and self hate. When we have lost our ability to choose, using even when we don't want to, it is definitely a curse. The fact that I don't remember a decade is quite sad because I missed out on some beautiful life experiences. I would call that a curse.

The blessing of being an addict comes fully into the light when you realize you truly are one and you seek help. I know what it means to be a "grateful recovering addict" now. I have faced my demons, made peace with my past, and no longer fear the uncertainty of the future. Through working with other people in recovery, and the help of my God, I have discovered who I am. The question of "who am I?" is the one us addicts ask ourselves the most. I am blessed that I see that there are others who think a little off, just like me. I am blessed knowing I have a choice to not use today. When I thought my active use was a blessing I had no choice. Getting high was on my everyday agenda. Armed with the information I have learned in recovery, many of the questions and reasons for why I used have been answered and are gone. That is a blessing.

Realizing that it's the first high that gets me, not the 100th, is a blessing. If I pick up a drug today I am guaranteed one absolute truth: there will be lots more booze and drugs to follow. The fact that I can get through life with a clear mind and conscience is a blessing. Remembering that I am an addict at the start of everyday, knowing if I use drugs today and that the insanity will return quickly, is a blessing. The fact that I will always be an alcoholic and addict that has been given another chance at life is a blessing. Respecting these simple truths allow me to control the curse of addiction a day at a time.

Have A Day!

People who know me well have heard me mutter,"Have a Day!" many, many times. It says it all. "Have a great day," or "Have a nice day," are the norm, and quite pleasant to hear from friends, shopkeepers and passersby, particularly from the ones who actually mean it.  "Have a blessed day," is my favorite response to people who cross my path, but it can be a little too brand specific for some of those whom I encounter.

To an Atheist, "have a blessed day," is stinging. If you don't believe in the blesser, a kind "bless you" in passing conversation, or following a hearty sneeze, must leave them feeling unfulfilled. It must be confusing that no one is wishing them good health or undeserved gifts. For all Atheists I want to offer you a permanent Grandfather clause of "May MY God Bless you!" This is to cover all present and future sneezes and positive wishes for your life. Since it's MY God, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to your non-belief and you can take comfort in the fact that the Atheist  philosophy has not been violated. I'll take all the heat!

The unconvincing, "Have a nice day!" from a rude check out girl or Walmart employee who just smashed my cookies into the revolving bagger is not "nice."  Even more unnerving to me is when they put one tiny item into the huge, non-biodegradable bag. I somehow walk out with 5 items in 6 bags. Visions of turtles and porpoises choking at sea on my bag that held my box of Rice-a-Roni troubles me. It is not a "Nice day!" moment.

"Have a good day!" is quite cheeky and cheerful when the kids are smiling and my wife is beaming at me on a bright sunny day. However, if I have been the dumping station for all of the crap my fellow man can pitch out into my tiny universe that day, I feel the urge to reach across the counter and slug the well wisher and reply, "Have a good Dentist!" In the middle of a rotten day, those words might as well be "hope your day continues to be a living hell!" It would make me feel less frustration.

That is why I have come up with the perfect solution. When you want to end a conversation on a pleasant note, tell the person in your midst to, "Have a Day!" It's ideal. It is an innocuous, non-feeling proposition to just exist for the rest of that 24 hours. It is a wish for a continued life until the clock strikes midnight. It doesn't take religion or moods into account. It is an acceptable reply to digest when your trudging through the crap that occasionally rains on your precise coordinates for that day.

In a world where terms are sanitized into ambiguous catch phrases it fits right in. It offends no one, except the dead! Most people welcome having a day. It keeps expectations and ambitions for achieving great feats at bay. It is a call to just populate the universe for the next 24 hours. It isn't far reaching or filled with pressure. It is quite calming and not too far reaching.

To an addict like me, having another "day" of sobriety is amazing. To the couple in marital distress on the verge of separation, having a day may be the one that starts them on the road to reconciliation. To the person at the end of their rope, having a day may be the one that moves them towards hope. To a sick or dying loved one, having an extra day with them is a gift.

What a perfect thing to wish upon someone. Try it tomorrow when the moment is right. Tell a stranger to "have a day!" Wait for their reaction. It may be a laugh. They may think you're nuts. But this simple statement guarantees a response. Give it a shot and until I talk to you again I hope you "have a day."