So Busy You Forget Your Own Memories....

There is an old adage hung on young baseball players who are entering their second year in the bigs. It's called the Sophomore Slump. It is a reference to players having career setbacks in their second season. Some go through it, some do not. Most of them have some growth, and a few setbacks.

July 21, 2012 marked the second anniversary of my father's death. Ironically the official release of my book SOUL PAROLE is this weekend the 28th. I didn't plan for it to work out that way. The day was based on the publishing date and hall availability. The exact time of Dads' death was 7:27pm.

I decided to write about how I'm feeling a few days before the weekend. I was thinking that his passing was this weekend at 7:21 pm. Thinking of dad, and my mental mix-up is eye opening. My melancholy has been replaced with shock that I had dropped the ball.. I could cry on a dime. When I think about the friends who are coming out to support the book launch, I could cry on that same dime. The first is born from a loss. The second a mark of accomplishment. The reconciliation and personal success was a direct result of teamwork. For this whole week I've been thinking his death was on 7-27-10 at 7:21pm. I was scheduled to do an interview on the 27th. I made a mental note that it was ironic to be honoring his memory on that date. I thought Pop would think it was pretty cool.

I wrote about my Pop in Soul Parole: Making Peace with My Mind, GOD and Myself quite a bit. It was a natural. Although we only lived under the same roof for the first two years of my life we were together quite a bit as I grew up. I yearn to hear his unmistakable laugh. I have been so busy, I flipped the date with the time of his passing.

I often write about starting over. We can do it any day, or moment, we choose. Before the Big Bopper moved on to the Isle of Green in the heavens I was given the gift ofgrace before his passing. My despair would be doubly compounded if I had not squared the wreckage of my past with him before he moved on. I am glad he is at peace. I am grateful the book was closed free of regrets.

It is easy to conjure up smells that please us, and some we would love to forget. When you read the words buttered popcorn and burning leaves, the aroma immediately wafts into your mind and nose. They are permanently burned into our honkers. The same can be said for dead skunk. Our snouts have uncanny recall.

My Dad had a smell that was unique to him. I'm recalling it now. They say we are dirty Irish but that refers to mixed blood lines, not personal hygiene. It seems our clan got an extra chromosome of oily hair and skin. With it comes it's own. The smell our hyper oil output creates is not foul. It is just one of those smells I can recall like popcorn and leaves. I have the same condition sans the unique smell. If the day comes that I do, I will know I have lived a rich life, and be reminded of my Pop daily.


When I received the initial shipment of books from the publisher I ripped open the first one like a kid at Christmas. The smell of cardboard, and new book surrounded me. I bathed in it. I felt contentment as I gazed upon the piles of my creation. It was burned into the "never forget" smell file.


There was a time when I thought I had written a book. I now see that my Dad and friends wrote it with me. I just held the pen. There are at least 100 of my friends nestled in the pages. Each one of them should be listed as contributors. I do mention several of them in the  Special Thanks section. If I listed all the people who have touched and enriched my life, it would read like the family trees from the Old Testament.

Last weekend I was relaxing in my garage after work and was enjoying the sights and smells of a mid summer night evening. I could hear the calls of frogs and cicadas. The wind was whispering and a few of the neighborhood dogs were taking claim of the night. Their howls were like challenges between canine warriors. I was just taking it all in.

For a moment THAT smell wafted around me. I turned quickly to see if he was standing behind me. I called Squeaky into the garage. She said she didn't notice. I would like to think he was there. It lingered for about a minute or so. I called out and told him I missed him. I could imagine his pride in how far I have come in recovery and life. The smells I longed for disappeared as quickly as they had befallen me. It was the 21st.

We all have goals we want to achieve. There are people whom reside in the dark places in our hearts. This is called the human experience. How we approach them is unique to the individual. Fear can paralyze us from even attempting to catch our dreams. Difficult, and often deeply seeded pains can keep us from trying to reconcile with loved ones. We get busy, and say we'll get to it.

Nothing compares to the liberation you feel when you reach out for a goal or mend a relationships broken fences. I'd rather live at peace with the world than fight to be right. I would rather try and fail, than never try at all. Regrets are living through the retching of daily self poisoning, without death...ad infinitum.

I don't think anyone would say that facing the pink elephants trapped in our souls is easy. It is rewarding, or creates closure on the poison drinking. I know I have a better day when I'm free of the anxiety of fear and resentment. My moods are directly proportionate to how much good or bad energy I'm adding to the cosmos.

It's never to late to become a new you. The Beatles nailed it in Tomorrow Never Knows. This weekend will  be filled with mixed feelings and conflicting emotions. No matter how I feel I will be contented by the fact that I am reaching for the stars and mending life's fences. There will forward progress and some failures. In either case, I am cleaning up my side of the street. My Dad would laugh at the fact that I flipped the date and times. I say good night to him every time my head hits the pillow.

Learning to say "Never Say Never," is an attitude. I like keeping my mind open. I also know that "missing the bus" is a reality.  I hit the sophomore slump with my revised calendar. It's time to get back to the fundamentals, and start over. In the past I have said  that I would give anything to hear my Dad repeat the things I ignored as a kid. If he could talk to me again I know he would say, "Good job kid." I would look back and say, "Thanks Dad. I gave it my best. I couldn't have done it without you." I think about you every day...



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.

Put Your Hands on the Television and for $19.95 your prayers will be heard!

I am a Christian. I am proud of it and I will never back down from it. I am willing to die for my faith. I am also tolerant of other religions. I do not think my God is better than yours. My beliefs are rock solid and yours are yours. There is plenty of room for us all.

The fact that man tries to define God and his universe, how or what HE is, and how HE wants things to be is where the problems lie. I am fairly certain that living peaceably with each other, tolerance and respect for each other and providing a decent standard of living for all humanity is what any creator would want.

I have had my problems with Christianity along the way to today. I have found a church that I am very comfortable with. It is simple and Gospel based. All monies collected by the members are open for review to any member and all of it goes to help the needy around Chicago and the world. The Pastor, Dr. Tim Harlow, delivers his message in jeans and welcomes people "as they are." It is not a fashion show or "Who's Who of member importance." All are welcome to take part in communion, a loving God and the sacrifice of his SON for US is the focus.

Strictly as a spectator I see why many people are "troubled" by religion and "Church." They are the creations of men. Spirituality is between the CREATOR and the man. It hurts me to see some of the apples spoil the bunch for those who really might get a lot from the fellowship and service to the community that comes with belonging to a church. A church is not a building, it is the people who are in it.

Today, after an audition for a part in a teen Christian TV Series "The In Crowd," I was drawn to the sounds of beautiful gospel music floating down Chicago's Oakwood Drive in the Boulevards neighborhood. The sounds of laughter and southern cooking filled my nose as I made my way west down the 600 block. I found my self at Holy Angels Church Stone Soul Picnic for St. Clotilde. As Chicago's oldest African American Catholic Church, Sister Stephanie and Renatta greeted me lickety split. They didn't care how I looked. I wasn't a member of the church. I was a child of God and they took me right in offering me wonderful food, fellowship, music and laughter. That is a church!

How can the skeptic not be driven farther from the doors of a church when they see the Pope talk about the plight of the poor while he shuffles along corridors adorned with gold and multimillion dollar paintings covering every inch of the walls in the comfort of his Prada shoes? TV evangelists speak of humility and convincing the less fortunate they can have all the riches they want while asking them to send in their last dollar. The camera lights go out and they slip into the back of their Bentleys and review the financial statements for the day.

I am not saying that these men are wicked or should live in caves. I do think it is hard to discern for those caught between wanting to believe and fearing the greed of men and the corruption power brings. When I was in California last week there was a guy baptizing people in the river just outside Old Sacramento. It really got me. He was doing it for nothing but the desire to serve GOD and help the willing to be reborn. He was right out of a movie. He was dirty, driven and happy to be right where he was at. He had a cardboard sign with John 3:16 written on it and was soaking wet when he walked by. Business must have been okay.

In addiction I have always felt most comfortable talking about my problems with other addicts. I certainly wouldn't go to a dentist with crooked teeth. I think that's where things get sticky for folks in TV religion. I would like to point out that I do think there are some exceptions to the rule. Naming them would be pointless and irrelevant. It's hard for me to have compassion for a chubby guy complaining that he doesn't have enough to eat. Whoever said money isn't everything was right but probably was rich. A guy in a Versace suit stepping from a Benz just doesn't know the same day to day problems I have.

If a guy is on TV in a $5000 dollar suit and tells me that I need to send in $19.95 for my prayers to be answered and his ministry to continue, the first thing I think of is why don't you shop at Walmart or Sears? That would save you about $4900 right there. Multiply that by all the shows you do a year and you won't have to ask any old ladies for a dime! God takes you as you are. He doesn't have "a list" and guys outside looking for the "right folks" to get on the prayer list. Everyone is welcome.

I'm sure there are those that will take the side of the well dressed evangelist. I see nothing wrong with dressing your best for God. I also know some of these people raise millions for the less fortunate. There is a thick line between humility and overindulgence. I also know the best dressed, worst dressed, filthiest dressed, torn dressed are all welcome in God's kingdom. You don't need $19.95 for God to hear your prayers. All you need is a simple statement. "Hello God. It's me and I need you." The rest is free.

When All That's Left is Laughing or Crying....

It seems like the words just flow sometimes, other times I can't spit out a two word sentence. When you're a wind bag like me you can't let that stuff get bottled up. It's like that old joke about the monkey, the pig and the cork. It can get very messy inside and out if I keep the cork in too long.

I used to let life get bottled up inside me until I unplugged the bottle and sought liquid or chemical relief from my worries, fears and emotions I couldn't process. Booze was like letting the air out of the tire that was me. The more I drank the less pressure I felt until I felt nothing at all, was left flat and was of no use to anyone. I've always felt that God put nerve endings on the outside of me and that left an empty spot inside. I feel everything to the nth degree. Emotion is palpable to me whether their yours or mine.

When you get sober, you are faced with feelings and situations that the normal thinking mind takes for granted in its dealings. My addicted mind is baffled and amazed sometimes at new feelings I have never bared to face. Sometimes it's euphoric like that of a baby's first taste of ice cream. At other times it seems like a portal from my past is thrown open to a memory and feeling so oppressive I am paralyzed like that same child's first experience that leaves them frozen in their booties.

I now face what I spent years so desperately trying to escape from. I am grateful that my kids came out bright, polite and out of sight. I owe most of that to my wife. When they remind me of some logical piece of advice I gave them while they were growing up, I attribute it to God. I was always great at giving advice. If I listened to any of it that I dished out, I wouldn't be writing an addiction recovery book today. That is until lately.

My eldest daughter Hemi is in from Germany. She is madly in love with her husband. They truly are best friends. The culture shock of living in another country is far beyond what she imagined it would be. If you read my earlier chapters I drove her away at age 18 when I had stopped drinking and took up the pot cure for alcoholism. Being natural, endorsed by Native Americans and being part Cherokee myself this made perfect sense at the time.

Now we are in a good spot. Then, although I was not drinking, I just switched from booze to drugs to "prove" to myself I wasn't an alcoholic. I wasn't treating the source of my addiction. That problem was my inability to deal with life logically, "on life's terms" only emotionally. I was a dry drunk by recovery terms.

We are great friends now. We are daddy and daughter in the true sense of the definition and I admire her greatly. I see a lot of me in her. The artist, the adventurer, the in your face, ready to grab life by the short hair mentality that I instilled in her as a teenager is vibrant today. When it comes to advice on her situation with marriage and what to do about the whole thing, I tell her to talk to her husband and the father...leave daddy out of it. It's not because I don't care. It's because I don't know. I am mature enough to say I don't know now.

For years I felt the need to be right or have an answer or opinion on every subject. I felt compelled to take a side in all arguments even before I had all the facts. It was a part of my insecurity with myself. I didn't want to appear dumb. I also thought I knew what was right for everybody in the universe. I am comfortable with the words, "I don't know" spilling from my lips now. I am at ease with keeping my pie hole shut also. I will always support my children and will go to the ends of the earth to help them when they sincerely call for it. I will not call the plays and control their situations. I created a lot of resentment and made some wrong calls doing that for Hemi and lost her for a while. I will not do it again.

I did tell her that marriage is tough no matter where you're at. The first year can be the worst. There is no such thing as 50-50. One person is always giving in more or taking more. Balance is the key. The question I ask myself with Squeaky is "How important is it to me to fight this battle right now?" Do I want to ruin my day or hers? Is it that I truly disagree or just wish to disagree? Is it better to endure a little discomfort to make her happy, or give both of us a lot of discomfort by going against the grain? Things work out one way or the other.

Sunny is still out there doing things I did for all those years. It kills me. The drugs of choice today for young adults are legal and can be bought at age 18 from many cigarette or cigar stores. She thinks the world is against her, that no one knows pain like hers and she is running with some troubled people. At 18 there is little I can do. She lives with her donor father. That leaves me even more powerless. He seems to be oblivious. We pray, we call, we love. She makes up stories ad infinitum. I wonder if this is the come around from my go around.

You may think me cold for letting her go right now, like we do not care. It is quite the opposite my friend. I let her go because I do. I can no longer enable her to control my life and that of the rest of this family. She needs to hit her bottom. Then I will be there like the calvary, with arms wide open. Until then I pray and trust that God is looking after her. She is an adult. It was not until I lost everything that I reached my hand out for another to help me. It was not until I begged God for mercy, instead of a favor, that I found freedom from addiction.

I am at the point where I am stuck between a giggle and a sob. There is so much going on in that three and a half inches behind my eyes and my mouth. I am glad that I have a God who hears my prayers and angels earthly and ethereal who guide me and look out for her. I am grateful to feel everything even though at times I think I might explode. That empty spot is filled with love and faith, hope and growth, laughing and crying. I lost so many years to addiction and depression. My darkest day of sobriety is better than my sunniest day drunk. When Sunny comes back I'll be there to listen.

Married Four Times Makes Me a Marriage Expert Right?

Today is my 9th wedding anniversary to my wife Kris. Most folks know I call her Squeaky. The nickname is a reference to how she sounds, more than that of the strange woman who tried to whack President Ford, but being from Berwyn and Italian, my Squeaky is up for anything. This is my fourth marriage. Based on experience alone that makes me an expert, right?

Now that I am at the ripe young age of 45, and sober, it is a lot easier to look back on my 3 previous marriages and see where they failed. They failed because of 2 people who were not realistic about marriage and one who wasn't ever consulted. The 2 people who were not realistic were me and my addiction. The one never consulted - God.

I get a lot of heat from people saying I'm too hard on myself. I know that is true to a point. Self criticism is a problem that goes way back for me and is deeply rooted. I work on it daily. I can say that I don't use a bat any more to smack myself. It's more of the "socker-bopper" type these days. Coming from a critical upbringing, it is just a part of my being. Not passing it on to my kids is the key to breaking the chain. I am doing a pretty good job in that department. I praise my kids whenever possible. If they make a mistake I am always quick to point out the sunshine along with the clouds, not just the clouds.

That being said my first marriage lasted about 4 months. The second one lasted maybe 6. The third lasted a year, but we never lived together for a week straight. In my first year of marriage to Kris I had already surpassed the cumulative total of my previous 3 marriages. I take full responsibility for the failure of the first 3 marriages because I was not in a place of physical, emotional or spiritual well being to be married but did it anyway.

My first marriage was at age 26. My father was married to my mother at 26 and I was drinking and using speed quite heavily. I thought that by getting married I would "slow down." I thought that with marriage a switch would be flipped in my head which would turn me from an addicted boy into a responsible man. My wife to be was a great lady who wanted a wedding and had some idealistic ideas of marriage herself. She didn't fully understand the impact full time life with an alcoholic would take on her. I was functional outside but dysfunctional emotionally. To her credit, she left after 4 months.

My next two marriages were "shotgun marriages" so to speak. What I really wanted out of marriage was a child. A wife was just an addition and a means to an end of me getting what I wanted. Wife number two got pregnant, we got married, she lost the baby. We found out we were unable to have children together so that made the marriage disposable to me. She was out of there in 6 months. She is happily married now. My first wife went on to have a family of her own and I had the pleasure of meeting her son. I am happy for the both of them and grateful that they escaped me and my addiction.

Wife 3 and I were married for about a year but never lived together for a week straight. She got pregnant and lost the child. I married her before the miscarriage out of manufactured nobility and ended up empty handed. By the end of the marriage she did give me a beautiful daughter, but they have since disappeared. Kelly pops in and out of my life. She is 11 and I have learned to be patient and leave things in the Lord's hands when it comes to seeing her. I know that she is getting to the age where I hope she is getting more curious about spending time or talking to Dad. I used to obsess about it and it only made me sick. It will work itself out in God's time.

When I met Kris I was alcohol free but on the herbal life program. Not the healthy one. Since I was still using mind altering chemicals I wasn't growing emotionally or at least not as fast as I could have been if I was completely clean. She came with a ready made family so I jumped in and tried to fix things. One of an addict's or a man's biggest challenge is that we always feel the need to fix or advise, even when fixing or advising hasn't been requested or isn't needed.

The first few years were rough. The first one the roughest. We spent 3 years together before we got married. I was scared and I think she was too. It gave us both a chance to grow. 12 years together,  I can say that we really are best friends. Here are some of my observations on my marriage and why it works. I've also thrown in some general observations about marriage that I have surmised over the last few years.

1. When you see a couple and think that they never have a disagreement about anything, ever. This couple either doesn't talk, has separate bedrooms, one is a pushover, they don't talk, one is a pushover or they don't talk.

2. I don't need to be right. For years I did. What the hell do I achieve by being right? I prefer peace to right. Being able to say I am wrong gives me a lot more peace and satisfaction in my house than gloating over when I am right.

3. Just because I think that clearing the blinking time from the microwave, putting the dishes in the dishwasher in a particular order and wiping the water spots from the sink is stupid, the extra 30 seconds it takes for me to do these things to make my wife happy, is worth more than the grief I get from pointing out how silly it is. Am I the expert on silly and sane? I think not!

4. When my wife gives me 2 choices of what she should wear to a function I pick the one I don't want her to wear. This ensures that she will undoubtedly wear the other one: the one I want her to wear.

5. I don't have to fix her problems after work unless directly asked. Usually she wants me to sit like one of those plastic dogs with the bobbing heads while she vents. If I jump in and try to fix stuff, I'm done. The head bob and occasional ummm hmmm works perfectly here.

6. Sometimes even when I'm right, and I have been hurt, it's better to bite the bullet and move on than to waste the day on a silly fight. Life's too short for pouting.

7. Shoe shopping with my wife is a sure way to show her I love her and a great way to grow my patience with her and Vera Wang. I dislike shopping.

8. Shopping is when you go in a store and buy something. Looking is when you go in to stores and look at things. I don't like when my wife takes me looking. Shopping is okay...sometimes.

9. Sometimes the best thing to do is hit the pause button and walk away. There comes a time in a relationship when the discomfort of disharmony becomes stronger than the argument. We argue about dumb stuff like wrapping paper and what kind of cheese to buy, not money and the kids. Fix it and move on. I get heartburn from disharmony. Life's too short for heartburn.

10. God is at the center of our relationship. That has made it all work.

Hi....It's Me....

Hi.
It's Me.
You left here mad last night.
I know you hurt.
I know it's worse to be reminded.
You said you were okay, just glad to have someone to listen to you.
We were glad you talked.
We will always listen to YOU.
Not to THAT...

You didn't make it home last night,
Nor to school today.
I know, too tired to drive, or maybe up all night.
You are 18.
You are an adult.
We love YOU and always will.
THAT can't poison our love for you.
We will do anything to help you...help you.
We will not let you do THAT you choose.
Your choices are yours.
We hope YOU are home soon.....



Hi
It's me.
I sit here mad right now.
I am hurt by her pain.
I have felt it before.
I know you have to.
I know there is little I can do.
That is except, trust you, and pray for her.
I want so badly to spare her from the misery I endured.

I am glad that I have you to talk to.
I know you are always there to listen.
The lessons you teach aren't always directed to me.
I learn from all of them though.
There is no comparing the sacrifice of your Son to the struggles of my daughter.
I know I love her with the deepest love that you created.
I have faith that you will help us all weather this storm.
I ask that you watch over her.
Give her strength.
Fill her heart with hope.
Deliver HER back to us before THAT takes her.
Give me YOUR wisdom, YOUR strength and YOUR grace to handle whatever your plans may be.
Amen

"I'm Sorry,"..."Thank You,"..PC Reactions or Heartfelt Epiphany!

Before I dive into the 700 mile an hour salt flat speed testing site, known as the inside of my mind, I want to say a few HEARTFELT "I'm Sorries." The first goes to my wife Kris, the second to my good friend LT in AZ! I'm sorry and thank you  for being the focus of today's trip into Tommy's recovery and depression fun house. Please put your seat belt on. Do not stand up while the ride is moving and you must be taller than Frodo to take the trip.

An addict, a depression sufferer and a human will say "I'm sorry" and/or "I thank you" for many reasons daily. I will speak for myself. I hope you can relate. When I was drinking "I'm sorry" and "I promise" were the two phrases that came out of my mouth most. That is after I had poured booze and whatever down my throat and hurt feelings and did rotten things. I used "I'm sorry" as a way to get out of things, to avoid shouting out how I really wasn't sorry, or because "it's the right thing to say" after a disagreement or when I was wrong. Sometimes, it was to avoid my own feelings.

"Thank you" and "please" are two more beautifully cobbled simple phrases with a lot of power packed into a syllable or two. I used these to appear grateful, look good, show temporary superficial happiness and put on a good show. Of course, there were occasional times I meant all of these phrases but they have now become so over used that they are losing their power. I/maybe we, just say them because we are supposed to. I can honestly say that I have had a girl spill my coffee all over me at the gas station at checkout and thanked her for it! I have been conditioned into some of these responses. They have lost their heartfelt, soul based meaning that they are intended to partner with. I have also said "THANK YOU!" in an almost demonic tone to some rude register lady to show her how civilized I am. HUH? Earth to Tom!

There are so many of these phrases in the English language. American style has the best, which we have beaten down into meaning less innocuous, droning reactions instead of feelings. When my kids come home from school I ask them how their day was and they normally respond with, "it was great" or "it was cool" or "it was fine". In all honesty I am relieved because I think to myself that I am glad that there won't be a crisis to settle that evening. That should be the time I jump up and ask them what made it "great" or "cool". I don't do that nearly enough! Why? Because I accept the simple word of contentedness as affirmation that all is well. When they come home and say their day was "horrible," rotten," etc.,. I won't lie. In my head I think, "oh no, here we go..." Shame on me!

My depression medication had run its course and was no longer working at an effective therapeutic level for me. I switched to a different medication. When you switch medications that are manipulating the wiring in your melon there is a transition. The switch is accompanied with yet more depression, mood swings, sleep problems and a list of symptoms unique to the med and the patient. Depression, like alcoholism and addiction is never cured, it is merely arrested, controlled and managed.

My new meds are evening out now and I feel great. I feel motivated again and have put my NIN CD's back and gotten my Ramone's back out. I have had some moody outbursts with a few friends, and especially my wife, over the last few weeks. I know it's the meds. They know it's the meds. As always I must remember the world judges me by what comes out of my mouth, not what goes into it.

I learn more and more about me each day and it's getting much easier to live with me and within me. I find the more sober I get the more alcoholic I realize I really am. I have come to accept and surrender to the fact that I have some conditions that are real and forever. It ain't so bad. I am growing and happy for the most part. I make mistakes and can admit them. It sure is nice not having to be right all the time. As for those words we use like hello's and goodbyes.

I am truly sorry to Squeaky and my friends for shooting off my mouth, new meds or not. The best solution for big mouthitis is keeping it closed. As for thank you's. I thank you for taking time out of your day to read my ramblings. I hope it helps you. I know it helps me. I know I am getting somewhere down the road of life because my prayer life is less frantic and more grateful. I don't seek comfort in things I can wear, drive or eat, drink or show off. I have a prayer list. I have friends I pray for daily. When I hit my knees at the end of the day I thank God for giving me another day of life, even if it was a rotten one by human standards. You see, it wasn't too long ago those same prayers were begging him to not let me wake up the next day. Now when I do wake up, I jump up and say "What are we doing today!"

That is after I say "Dear Lord, please get inside my head before I do." Have a Day!

COMING NEXT WEEK!   PROCRASTINATION

If Life Is Serving You A Turd Sandwich You Don't Have To Eat It!

Every Day Is A Gift. I can see that more clearly now. The immeasurable fury of nature is awesome at the least. I think it's God's way of letting us know he may let us run the show sometimes, but he is the director. I do not say that lightly. We can put a camera on Mars, but we can't accurately predict the weather. Sometimes we are humbled by God's grace, other times humbled by his power.

For my brief political fact one of the first things that the GOP controlled Senate slashed from the budget was NOAH and the Tsunami early detection system funding. California, Alaska, Hawaii, Florida and the whole East and West coast take heed. Cutting spending in areas that could cost thousands of lives and billions in treasure is backwards thinking. The early warning system in Japan gave the population 30 minutes to reach higher ground. Thousands of lives were undoubtedly saved from the Noah warnings.

The devastation that continues to rock Japan, and the world, is a quick way in and out of the pity pot. My last few chapters have been dark and sad, yet starkly real. The challenges we are going through with our daughter's recovery is day to day. My Lab Cooter's health is day to day. My job search is day to day. Our economic health is on life support but we are alive. Every day is a gift. I see it more clearly daily.

Sometimes as humans we tend to focus on the things we don't have instead of rejoicing for the things we do. I know I do. Once my snowflake of self-pity starts rolling it can become a massive ball of icy chaos before I can say Frosty the Snowman. I don't know if everyone does it, but I can't be happy in my discontentment when there is one thing that is out of whack in my world. I tend to start searching for more of what's wrong in my life so I can have a big fat, sour life sucker to pout with.

My wife can make a simple correction or "suggestion" to me about how I am putting the plates in the dishwasher the wrong way and I'm off to the races. Suddenly I'm catapulted into a complete reevaluation of my life. Is our marriage failing? Should I move to Nassau? She probably has someone else! I'm joining the Peace Corp! I can go from not putting the coffee cups on the right rack to eating wolverines in the jungles of Nicaragua in the span of about 2 minutes!

If I don't catch the ice mass when it is still a snow ball I'm in for a very long day with myself. As if taking cues from my wife's remarks, the whole world seems to turn their focus on giving me a turd sandwich to munch on for the rest of the day. Drivers cut me off. I get flipped off for unknown reasons. It starts to pour as I open my car door. My coffee spills down my shirt on the last sip. It is like a universal conspiracy has been set in motion to insure my day goes horribly!

I know very little, but some things I know for sure. If I think that God takes time out of his day to mess with me it's time to reassess my size in the universe. I also know that people, places and things don't make us happy. We allow them to make us happy or sad, angry or indifferent. Feelings are an inside job. There have been times when my wife has called me a "big baby" and I laugh at her amusing observation. Yet other times when she has called me a "big baby" I have puckered my lip and said I AM NOT A BABY! YOU ARE TIMES INFINITY!

The key to healthy, right thinking is in my approach. I start my day by saying to myself "God, please get into my head before I do." That usually starts things out on a good note. If I roll out of bed and say it's gonna be "one of those days," it will be. If I find that my day is not going the way I want it to, I can stop, regroup, check what is really bothering me and start all over again. The choice is mine. When my day is filled with more thank you's than pleases I know I'm on the right track.

Prayer for Dummies!

Praying for Dummies! Start with Hello!

I would like to welcome China and Turkey to my blog family. Keep the faith. It's been a few days since my last blog. Obviously my daughter has been the center of my attention, as it should be. I am scheduled to do comedy at a great venue in the city tonight and I'm not feeling very funny. I still haven't found full time employment and my acting career is pretty much on hold.

The title of the blog is a play on all those "Dummies" books they sell. It is not intended to hurt anyone. I won't say that I am a prayer expert but I have a lot of experience. In a Facebook statement I said that "BELIEF is knowing that there's someone to catch you when you fall. FAITH is knowing the guy who catches you." I believe in prayer. My friend Maria says she has 82 people or groups praying for my daughter. There is strength in numbers.

I believe that God made us all different because he wanted different relationships with each of us. I also believe that set rituals and prayers are a great start but a simple "Hello" or "Help" is a sufficient introduction to a direct connection to the almighty. He doesn't make prayer rules or require that we spin 3 times and click our heels together to get His attention. I pray often and when I am getting into a funk, I know I need to pray more. So here it goes:

Hello, Father Almighty. Thanks for another day of life and sobriety. Thank you for all the blessings you have bestowed upon me and my family. I am really grateful. Thanks for being with me right now when I am feeling so alone. Thank you for sending your son to die so that I may live. Please continue to look after Sunny, Squeaky, my family and the kids. Please bless those I remember in my heart and the ones I forget. Thank you for the gifts you have given me. Help guide me into using them the way you see fit. Help me to be a better person today. Allow me to be a messenger of your love. I know I'll snap out of this. I feel good knowing you're there. As I make mistakes and sin, forgive me and help me to grow. Please let me add something positive to your world today. May thy will be done. With your strength I know anything is possible. In your name I will always pray...amen

Conversations about Life and Death...A Sit Down With My Sunny!

We all want to think our kids are perfect. We all want to believe that they tell the truth. We all pray for their safety when they walk out the door. We all pray harder that they will walk back in again. The fact of the matter is that we don't have to look very much farther than our own teenage years when it comes to our kids. They think we just hatched when they were born. They think we are clueless as to what really goes on in the world. When we think back to the idiotic things we did in those years we hope they don't do the same.

My Sunny will be over in one hour for a sit down about her "hospital experience" and I am afraid. I am afraid of what I know. I am afraid of what addiction can do. I am afraid that she will have the defiance, excuses, stories and "I promises" all ready to go. I remember all of the rehearsed stories I went over in my head when I had to tell my folks about a bad grade or some trouble I found myself in. Those conversations never went as planned. The one we are going to have in an hour is no different.

Out of all the conversations I have had with strangers and friends about the power and manipulation that chemical dependency has over our minds, I never thought I would have to do it with family. I have to deal with the emotions that come from having been through the battle myself and be staring into the eyes of our middle child. The supportive side is there but I also am fighting with the anger and terror of knowing what she is up against.

Remember when your folks would tell you not to go to a party? You often made up stories and went anyway. "You tell your Mom I am with you, and I'll tell my Mom I'm with you." When we were told about the "bad" kids we were instantly attracted to their "badness" even if it was from afar. If my Mom told me not to look in a drawer, I ran to it like a man posessed as soon as the coast was clear. If our kids knew of some of our prior holiday antics or college war stories those would be instantly thrown into our face.

I am by no means supporting the drugs of the past, present or future. However, the stuff they are making today is unbelieveable. They are mixing cocaine and soap crystals. Meth is made with battery acid, draino, cleaning products and cold pills. The drugs are getting more potent, more deadly and more addictive. When I was growing up smoking grass was like you were a drug king pin. You were a "stoner." There was some speed and that was about it. Now kids have synthetic death to get off on along with all the stuff us parents have in our medicine cabinets to fight insomnia or anxiety.

One thing I won't do is start screaming. It is the quickest way to tune a kid out and give them the fuel to go seek more chemical relief. The goals of the chemical of addiction are to isolate, manipulate then dominate the user. The more the drug gets a hold the more it fans the flames of teenage angst. It's tough enough being stuck between being a kid and an adult as it is. Alcohol and drugs make that angst all the more gripping and powerful. The teenage years are truly the crossroads or turning point of success or catastrophe.

The addict feel nobody loves or understands them. That is part of growing up. When chemicals are added to the mix the disease tells you it really loves you and is your only friend. It really wants you dead. The fearless, indestructable attitude we have in our teenage years is blind but deeply engrained. At that age 60 is like a million years old. The thought of living to 50 seems like a pretty good run. They/we feel like we are invincible. Kids think it won't happen to me (overdose). Parents tighten their blinders and think "Not my sweet little Johnny."

It is thirty minutes until she arrives. I will pray that God gives me the words to help her understand what she's heading for. I often say "Show me your friends and I'll show you your future." No truer words can be spoken. I will listen instead of talk. I will have a conversation, not deliver a lecture. There will be consequences and boundaries set. There will be love and understanding. I will share with her the pain I have endured and put others through. I will let her know she is not alone. I will do what I can to support her. The rest is up to her and God. Please pray for her and our family.

This is just the beginning. Hopefully it was a phase or experience. During my sobriety I have been to more kids funerals than in the 20 plus years when I was an addict and alcoholic. I don't want to go to another one. When it comes to drugs think the worst, not the best about your child's experimentation. Addiction doesn't care how good or bad of a parent you are. It does not care how rich or poor you are. It does not care if you go to church on Sunday. It is an equal opportunity killer.

I Know A Guy Who Is losing A Loved One To Addiction...That Guy Is Me!

The pain and despair that comes with addiction is excruciating. Every day that you wake up you feel like hell and you know you are going to do the same thing that day. It's like there's a guy with a sledge hammer standing behind a door and even though you know he's there, you choose to open the door any way. The power of addiction is merciless, deceitful and doesn't care who you are. It just wants you to submit to it's every command - and you do.

Being through addiction, part of my recovery is trying to help others to recover and make it to the other side. As a recovering addict I have done the lying, cheating, stealing and manipulation that makes addiction possible. Being an alcoholic or addict is a 24 hour job. You are either trying to get high, getting high or suffering from the last high. The paradox of addiction is that it convinces you that you are not an addict. It also twists your mind into thinking that your family and the world are against you. It reassures you that giving in and getting high is your only path to peace.

There is a person very dear to me who I see slipping into the jaws of addiction. Knowing the signs and games an addict plays is both a blessing and a curse. It's like you know the fastball is coming and you still strike out. The person I am speaking of is a beautiful girl. She is bright and intelligent and only 18 years old. She has her future mapped out and is only a few months away from graduating high school. But now, in the final stretch, she has found a new future with a dead end in the form of chemical dependency.

When I used "checking out" of myself was required. I had no choice. For over 20 years I continuously opened the door and let the guy with the sledgehammer beat my brains in. I lost everything from my self respect to my family. Those losses just added fuel to the fire and more power to the addiction's constant reminder that it was my only friend. It wasn't until I truly thought I was losing my mind and going to die that I got help. Friends, family, strangers and God Almighty can't help an addict until they get tired of the guy with the sledgehammer beating them to death. I was thrown life preserver after life preserver and my denial let me drown for years.

It is so sad for me to look at her and see the patterns I am so familiar with. There have been threats, sob stories, broken promises and I'm sorries. The patterns are all the same. Only the faces and places change. I see the pain in her eyes and the self hate she has for herself. The self hate is the ultimate master of destruction and obsession for an addict. As life gets more chaotic, the greater the drive is to escape. It is hell on earth.

As a loved one you can make threats, try tough love, beg, spoil and play every game you can think of to get an addict to see reality just for that one second. Sometimes it works. Other times it doesn't. Alcoholism and addiction are the only diseases that tell you you're not sick, that you can quit at anytime. An addict thinks they know all the answers and everyone else is full of shite! Prayers are important. Setting a good example is right thinking. Loving the addict who is suffering is vital.

The reality check is that all of the solutions, combinations of them, love, anger, compassion and punishment, may or may not work. It's a crap shoot. Some times you roll a 7. Sometimes you roll box cars. There is no perfect solution. All of us suffer from terminal uniqueness. You can do your best and keep the faith. That is all.

I am going to see this lovely girl tomorrow night. I can share with her my love, experience, strength and hope. I can pray for her. I can tell her the stories of living on the street or having cockroaches crawling all over my body. Maybe something will stick. Maybe it won't. We can control our actions but we have no control over the outcomes. When she walks out the door she will be left with my love and words of support and the knowledge that I will always be there for her. Once she hits the streets it's just her and her addiction. Until the scale tilts from misery to recovery I must accept I can only do so much.
When she walks out that door I will say "Sunny, I love you and I'm here for you."

Squeaky Speaks! Life with an Alcoholic....a Wife's Point of View!

Hey gang long time no blog. Well, this is it. My wife speaks! These are her words. I put her through hell and back. Let her tell you about it.

Hi, I'm Kris Connolly, also known as Squeaky. I’m not the writer in the family, that would be my husband and our oldest daughter. They’re writers.  I’m just a mom, a wife and a friend who’s been through some life.

I grew up with 2 parents (still married to this day!), 1 sister & 3 brothers. I guess you could say we had a kind of “Cleaver” life.  I grew up in Berwyn when everyone knew who everyone was and where your parents knew what you did before you even got home to deny it. Life was simple and easy. My dad has his own company so we were pretty spoiled. Mom didn’t like for us to stay out late so we were pretty naive. That was until we broke loose and discovered life; drinking, smoking & breaking curfew. I drank in high school, doesn’t everybody?  It’s a phase, right?  We didn’t have any alcoholics in the family.

Of course we pretty much had our share of strange relatives, as does every other family. We were able to drink wine on holidays, it was no big deal. We had a “friend” of the family who got blasted at every family function. He was a sloppy drunk and quite embarrassing. I later heard he had a drinking problem and started a recovery process. That was the first time I’d ever heard of people that could not stop drinking. Personally, drinking made me tired and slow. I had no use for it - and then there was prom night 1984. I had a few too many, got a little crazy with my boyfriend and 9 months later there was beautiful baby girl. Talk about growing up fast! 

 As a single teenage mother I didn’t have my "crazy" time until about 21. I had a good job working for Dad’s company. Every Friday night we would all go out to the local bar after work and there I met HIM, the “bad boy”. He was married, good looking, tattooed, rude and drunk. There was my chance to not be “Mom” and get crazy. I got loaded that night and did some things out of character. A year later I ended up marrying him. 

He had a drinking problem and I knew it from the start. I was just having fun until he told me he was getting divorced, because of me. Oh, great! I knew what he was, I heard about these “types” that drink all the time. One of my co-workers even went so far as to say he was an alcoholic. I was sure he drank because he was in a "bad marriage". Ok, I’ll marry him and he’ll be happy and not drink. I soon learned that anytime was “beer:30” in his world and it was always 5 o’clock somewhere. The drinking was insane and soon so was I.

On to plan B. Let’s have a baby! That will certainly make him stop! Shortly thereafter a beautiful baby girl was born, then a baby boy. I found myself alone, now raising 3 kids. He went out every night after work, came home so drunk he could barely crawl up the stairs. On to plan C. Let’s move and buy a house. Once he has an established home and family he will surely stop drinking. Well, that didn’t work either. His drinking escalated to the point of no return. We had knock down, full on fights. He could certainly throw a punch but my sober stamina and crazy Italian blood wouldn’t allow it. I knew he would eventually wear out and I would win. I only looked like I lost according to the police and E.R. doctors. Needless to say the marriage was over. I gave him one last chance, the booze or your family, and his exact quote to me was “You don’t want to hear my answer."

Fast forward about 5 years. I was working for a small export company that rented space from my sister's company. It was great to be in the same building with my family. I remember one day I was feeling very depressed and lonely.  I walked out into the main office and saw this strange fellow standing there.  He was dressed kind of messy and looked dirty. I figured he was one of the dock guys. He was wearing a stocking cap pulled down and the one thing I remember most were his awful looking sneakers! For some reason I found myself staring at him as he stood talking to someone. I saw a light around him, I guess you would call that his aura. I don’t even think he noticed me. I was frozen. I’ve never had anything like that ever happen to me. I remember asking his boss who he was. The boss told me “That’s Tom, the new guy.  Stay away from him, he’s trouble. He’s a recovering alcoholic." A WHAT? Recovering alcoholic? I’ve never heard of such a thing. I had no idea those even existed. That means they stopped drinking. How interesting.

I had to know this man. I would occasionally run into him outside for smoke breaks. We would sit on the stairs and talk about everything. I couldn’t let him know a part of me was fascinated with his “recovery." After all he didn’t know that I knew. I left to work for another company but we kept in touch. I remember the day he showed up at my new office and showed me his 6 month coin. He then shared his story with me about his past, his life and his future. I found myself falling in love with this man deep in my heart. The more I thought about it, the more I knew that this was God's way of putting him in my life. 

 We started having lunch dates, then after-work dates, then he moved in with us. At the time he was living at the YMCA. I couldn’t bear the thought and had to "save" him. I gave him an instant family and home. After two years we were married and sure to be the new “Cleavers”.

Over time I would notice him getting short tempered. I chalked it up to his Irish blood and went on with life. Eventually he met some of my co-workers. They were a younger bunch that liked to party and smoke the maryjane - everyday. Well, Tom thought that would help calm him down. I was all for it.  After all, he wasn’t drinking, right?  

I saw a new, calm man and was very happy with the results. I had no problem getting it for him since I had the hook ups. Then he started doing it every day. He was putting me in very uncomfortable situations. If my connections were dry, he would get very upset with me. I felt like I failed him. There were times we would drive 40 miles to a friends house to "score." Looking back, what was I thinking? I guess I’m what you call a "people pleaser."  I wanted my man to be happy, while making myself miserable. I found him taking other drugs. In my mind that was okay, he wasn’t drinking and booze was the monster I was most afraid of.

Eventually we had a house built and were the perfect couple living the American dream. I will never forget the day I came home from work and we were running out for a few grocery items. We were driving in the car and I thought I smelled booze. That’s one of those nasty things you don’t forget. I tried to make conversation with him but he would only nod and face the window when speaking to me. I must be crazy, there’s no way he would drink! He was a recovering alcoholic. They can’t drink, right? I dismissed it and didn’t say a word to him. The following day I came home from work and there was a six pack of beer on the table. I couldn’t understand. He said it wasn’t a problem to drink a few, that he would stop when he was done. I thought it was no big deal. Well, six turned into twelve, twelve turned into twenty-four. When that stopped working the hard liquor was next. When that wasn’t enough the pills and who knows what else was required. I found myself right back in the nightmare I was in from the beginning.

What the heck is wrong with me that I’m driving these men to drink? Maybe I work too much. Maybe my kids are driving him crazy. Soon I found myself watching him drink himself into oblivion every night. I would get up to check on him and usually find him laying on the floor somewhere (bathroom, dining room, kitchen). I would always make sure he was still breathing, mumble a few choice words under my breath and return to bed, angry. Very angry. On the few nights he would make it up to bed, I usually didn’t know until  morning when I would wake up soaking wet in his piss. Yeah, I’d say that’s a bad start to anyone's day.

I lived like that for a long time. Every night he was the meanest person on earth ridiculing me and the kids. He would throw my innermost secrets in my face. He would remind me on a daily basis that I was a complete failure as a wife and mother. I would wake up every morning very hurt. I started blaming myself until I started blaming him. Then it was all out warfare. I tried escaping and moving back to Mom’s. That was the day he tried to kill himself. I remember sitting in my mother's kitchen and talking to him on the phone thinking he’ll never go through with it. I was trying to be compassionate but all of my feelings were turning black. I was pissed that he would mess up the house. I was even more pissed that he didn’t have any life insurance, leaving me with nothing. In the back of my mind I thought that it would probably be the best thing for both of us.

Well, he called me the next morning. It wasn’t successful as I had planned.  He promised me the drinking was over. You see, if I had a dime for every time he said that to me, I wouldn’t have needed to think about life insurance because I would have been a millionaire. I ended up going back to him. It was like that move Groundhog Day where nothing changed. I was determined to find a reason to end this marriage. So I did what every good wife does and checked the Internet history. Bingo! I got you this time! Porn, really? Singles and dating sites, are you kidding me? Sending nasty messages to other women when you won’t even look at the one you’re sleeping next to? O.K, I’m done now! I can handle everything but cheating. He thought it was harmless. I saw the Internet trash as cheating. I was mentally exhausted and empty. I had to get out of there or go crazy with him. 

I started house hunting. I’m not sure how my husband found out (perhaps the Internet history) but he confronted me on it. We actually sat down and talked, like "big people" about what was going on. I told him I would no longer live like this and something to the effect that he was pathetic! Seems that out of all the things I had called him “pathetic” struck a nerve.

He started going back to recovery meetings and introduced me to some other spouses of alcoholics. Not only were the wives there, but there was a man too. I didn’t get it. Aren’t alcoholics only men? I was thrown into a world of people that had actually lived like me and thought like me. You mean this wasn’t a big secret we just lived with? I made a comment in a meeting about growing up in an Italian family. We’re born, baptized and immediately fitted with a set of blinders. We don’t talk about what goes on in our family with other people. After all, what will the neighbors think?

    

I can honestly tell you that this meeting was one of the best things that ever happened to me. These people loved their spouses so much that they were going to get “treated” for a problem that wasn’t even theirs? I don’t have a drinking problem. I don’t belong here and I certainly can’t talk about what goes on in my house. It only took a few turns around the table before I lost it.  They really did live and think like me. I’m not weak because I love this man and want him back. I’m human and I feel and I love. I can be weak. It’s okay to cry and share with other people. I’m not the only one in this situation. My problem was, I just didn’t know. I learned that alcoholism is a disease that cannot just be turned off because I want it to. I learned that my husband has to “want” to stop. It’s all up to him, NOT ME. 

 I learned that I need to pray. I need to thank God everyday for putting our family back together, for giving us strength to get through it together and for giving my husband the desire to quit drinking. I pray that we will never have to go through the misery and pain that alcohol has caused in our lives. I pray that my children saw and learned what addiction does to a family. I sometimes wonder why we had to go through that horrible chapter in our lives but then I would be questioning God. Our pastor once said "God never gives us more than we can handle."  Well, HE must think very highly of us. After all, God is the one that chose for me to see Tom's aura that day. I suppose we did it just the way HE planned. I hope HE’s pleased.

Today I look at my husband as a man. He's a man that I’m proud of and that I love being married to. I can’t imagine my life without him. I don’t want to give the impression that every day is roses and daisies but at least we can get through them together. To quote my husband “Every day is a gift." Thanks for letting me share.

Love

Squeaky

The Great Spirit... The Last To Know... and the First to Go!

I have to confess that I am lazy. I take things for granted and I can slip back into old thinking and bad habits pretty easy. Whether it's being a good husband, father, son, friend or follower I can get complacent pretty quickly. I think the way to judge where I stand, or sit, in the relationships I listed above are based largely on how good or bad things are going in my life. For me, I am at the top of my game in all these relationships when there is trouble or challenges facing me. But as soon as things smooth out again I slip back into cruise control.

When I am with my wife I am a loving, attentive husband. If she is unhappy with me or anyone else I become "super hubby," jumping up like a loyal Shirpa to meet her every need. It is when I am alone, or things are just peachy, that I get a real gauge on how I am living my life. As I'm driving with my wife in the car and a pretty girl is walking down the street, I take a quick glance and look away out of respect for her feelings and our marriage. If I am alone the glance is a little longer and my thoughts less honorable or down right rotten.

When my kids are having problems with school or a relationship, I am Johnny on the spot to help them with homework or to lend an ear. When they are happy and cruising along through life, my relationship with them becomes less engaging and moves to the back burner. I see that they're okay and don't feel I need to jump in the middle and harsh their life buzz. This is laziness and pure rationalization on my part. If I don't see a problem, I assume that I'm not needed.

I have spoken of the conflicts I go through with my mother. If she is sick, or it's around a holiday or birthday, I see her more. I call her more. I take an active role in her well being and put my discomfort and issues with her to the side. As soon as she gets back on track, or says something hurtful to me, the calls become fewer and the visits nearly extinct. It's easy to do the right thing when things are a little shaky, but when we are on solid ground I retreat into complacency and go back to worrying about me.

When I am navigating my way through life on my own, I truly have a fool as my compass. I work with people in recovery and those who struggle with sobriety. That is the whole purpose in writing this book. If I have a fresh alcohol beaten subject in my midst, I am full of knowledge, guidance and myself. I help them to get a little sobriety under their belt, then push them out of the nest to learn to fly on their own when their wings are just starting to get strong.

It's easy to have faith when you are sitting in a pile of life's bird droppings and have nowhere to look but up. There were innumerable times when I was in hot water and I turned to heaven, begging God to "save me this one last time and I will do thy bidding." "Help my son out of this jam and I'll join the church choir." "Answer my prayers and I will dedicate my life to you and all of humanity." As soon as I was delivered and the heat is off, the prayers slow down to a trickle and my relationship with "Him" goes from confidante to acquaintance.

When the mortgage and bills are paid and all is well, I slip into spiritual cruise control and move from leaning on God, back to leaning on my own understanding. It is when I try to go it alone that things start falling apart in the first place. I go from dedicating all of my life to the will of God, to just filling him in on what's on my life schedule. My insistence on running the show is what gets me into the pickle in the first place! When I go it alone I begin to slowly self destruct.

The true test of faith is when things are good, not bad. When I am on fire I turn to my faith like a spiritual fire extinguisher. As soon as the flames are out I set the extinguisher to the side waiting for the next flare up. True faith is continuous and consistent. When I put my spiritual health at the front of the line in my life, good things happen. All the other relationships in my life bloom and thrive. When I try to run the show things start to go wrong.

A healthy life and faith are like beautiful flowers. It needs water, food, weeding and constant attention. As soon as we feed it less, water it on occasion and settle for the state it is in, it begins to die. I am human and will make lots of mistakes. A mentor to C.S. Lewis made the statement that "man can fail miserably with God, or succeed more miserably without him." These are wise words that I can't let myself ever forget. I need to give thanks for every day, good or bad. My attention to my marriage, children, family and friends need to be tended to at all times. If I begin to lose sight of my blessings all of the beautiful things I have been given will slowly start to die, just like that beautiful flower.

GOD Part Two....U2, "Rattle and Hum"

I'm sure you're wondering why I went off on a tangent on religion and God in the last post. Addiction and God or, a "Higher Power,"  go hand in hand. I am a Christian but have no beefs with Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism or Judaism or any organized religion. All of them revolve around a Great Creator of the universe and that is a common thread that unites us all. It is the religion part of the equation that has been proven to cause all the chaos.

I know as an addict or more specifically, as a human, I have always had questions about God. For many years I filled my spiritual void with addiction and sin. I was frustrated that my prayers or conversations with him were inadequate. I was frustrated when he didn't give me what I wanted when I wanted it. I was confused and angered at the death of a child or famine and wars. Those conflicting emotions kept me from forming a meaningful relationship and friendship with him. I spent my years chasing after or running from God instead of just walking with him.

I always joke that God has to be a man because after seeing the pain of childbirth and the monthly discomfort a woman goes through there is no way the Master of the Universe would put himself, or herself through that. I refer to God in the masculine tense but ultimately don't think of him as a him. I think of "him" as an energy. That energy is LOVE.

It confounds me when people say there is no God because you can't see him, touch, smell or taste him. I disagree. I see him everywhere. I also wish that I saw him in more places. If you don't believe because you can't see I have a simple test for you. Think of the person you love the most in this whole wide world. Now take that love and set it on the kitchen table. Describe to me the texture, the color, the smell and the sounds love makes sitting there. What, you can't see it sitting there? Then if you can't see it it must not be real!

God and love are the same thing. They make us feel elation and comfort, they hurt us and confuse us, they are experienced in great waves or subtly in the corner of our hearts. They sometimes anger us or scare us but they are always there. There aren't any lovethists out there but lots of atheists. Why not come out against the existence of love? Because it takes on the same characteristics of God?

Nowhere in the Bible or any other sacred reading does it state that life will always be rosy. It doesn't say that you're going to get everything you want and dream. It doesn't promise that things will be fair and that justice will always be served. God is like love because we need it but we don't always understand it. Those readings promise that we are not in the fight alone.

The difference between the two is that we are so quick to dismiss God as not being there when we want direct answers from him in a timely manner. When our kids do something that hurts us we don't dismiss them as not existing because of the pain they cause. Why do we do so with God? When a "Man of God" does something human we use it to condemn the whole God shooting match. When someone with a different spiritual view does something we don't understand we lump everyone together and mark the box as defective and wrong.

Like love itself, God wants an individual relationship with each of us. If that weren't the case we would look, walk, talk and think the same things. We would be automatronic and unfeeling. Then he would be an idol. But no, the key is that he gives us the choice to follow or not follow. He could have made us little worker ants pre-programmed with jobs to do and no emotion. He loved us so much that he lets us decide if we want a relationship with him.

I used to get frustrated with my prayers because I thought they were wrong or inadequate. Did I need to say 3 of these, 2 of those, spin around three times and throw a penny over my shoulder? The answer is no! God knows me better than I know me. He wants a relationship with Tom Connolly. I will fail because I am human. He sent us a second chance so he could feel our humanity and give us a ticket to paradise.

The hole in my heart that was once filled with booze and drugs, sex and codependency is now filled to the brim with faith in his love. I get hurt when I don't get what I want but it feels great to not be alone. If God wanted one relationship with man he would have created only one! My prayers are simple. I don't have to be sitting a certain way or mumble certain phrases. I just have to be honest and reach out for some help. If you don't know how to pray let me help you get started. HELLO GOD IT'S ME......