Showing posts with label beer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beer. Show all posts
Monday, May 30, 2011
A Beer with My Dad a Lesson for Me....
There are certain concepts that I, as a recovering addict, have to keep at the forefront of my thinking if I am to maintain my sobriety. The most important one is to remember at all times that I am just one drink or drug away from the hell I went through for nearly 28 years. When I wake up in the morning I ask God to get into my head before I do because if I get in first it can be a very long and difficult day.
It doesn't mean that I am going to drink or take a drug. It does mean that addiction is a thinking problem. More specifically it is an over thinking problem. At least for me it is. If I wake up and get my melon into overdrive before my first tinkle, the day is likely to be filled with worry, anxiety, frustration, fear, anger, resentment and all the negative emotions that drove my addiction and depression for years.
I used to escape me, not you. Although I don't use any longer I still find myself following me wherever I go. I have had to forge a new relationship with me based on the things I have learned in recovery. My life is for the most part exactly what I want it to be. I am grateful to be alive and thriving in the acting and comedy world, something that was impossible while using. More importantly, I am a trusted friend, husband, father and son. I also try to help others find their way to the gift of sobriety that I have been given so freely.
That being said, I love days when I am just about to crawl under my Scooby Doo sheets and I realize that I went the whole day NOT realizing I was an addict, alcoholic or depression sufferer. In other words, I made it through the day like an earthling! How cool is that?! It doesn't mean that I take my disease for granted. It means I am getting stronger in my sobriety. I spent 28 years using. It will take the rest of my life untwisting the mess inside my head and those I tried to rewire along the way.
Yesterday was the paradox of that feeling. If you watched the video I posted above, Squeaky and I went to Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery yesterday to "have a beer with my Dad." I stopped at the liquor store and was thrilled that the one I visited allowed for the purchase of just one. It has been two and a half years since I have purchased alcohol and it really had no effect on me. I was on a mission to get my dad a beer. My family knows I am McGyver-like in my focus when there is a mission at hand.
The funny side note to that was I stopped at the local corner store to try to get a can earlier in the morning, having forgotten the Sunday selling restrictions, and the store owner looked at me cockeyed when I asked what time they were open for liquor sales. I quickly said it was for my Dad. I am surprised they stayed in business after I quit the stuff. I know their profits went way down for sure!
The memorial was beautiful. It stopped raining long enough for us to toast Pops. The birds were singing and he has a great view of the forest and a pavilion where they honor the latest Vet to be interred there. In an ironic twist he is right next to a soldier named Jones, my wife's maiden name. That soldier was only 46 years old.
As I spilled the frothy beer into the gravel, the earth seemed to gulp it down with vigor. The soldiers all had a sip along with my dad. As I said my goodbyes I could smell the beer on my hands and it brought memories flooding into my mind; some good, many bad. The good ones were of the many laughs I had with my dad over a few cold ones at many a Bear game and when I worked for him. The bad was for the months, and at one time years, I missed in my alcoholic fog that we didn't speak because he couldn't bare to see me self-destruct.
There was no sadness in the time with him. I spent many hours with him at the end of his life making up for those lost years. I am at peace with my past mainly because I can not change it. I have learned from it and know what not to do so I don't have to live it again. I always like to point out in my blog that I am not anti-alcohol or anti-anything. It's just not for me because I can't stop once I get rolling. One is too many and a thousand isn't enough.
Squeaky chuckled as I wiped my hands in the grass to get the smell off my hands. It was like I was trying to wipe bird poop off my hands. My few moments of discomfort were worth the symbolic enjoyment I am sure my dad got out of that beer. He was probably laughing at me with his unit in heaven while I squished my nose at my skunky, beer soaked hands.
I know how he must have felt during those lost years when he didn't know where I was but knew I was hurting and slowly destroying myself. My middle daughter hasn't been around in a week. She dropped our son off today and didn't even stop in to say hi. She had a hangover. She is lost, but she's an adult. There is little I can do. I can be grateful for my sobriety, pray and have the confidence and faith that I will be of clear mind to help her when she's ready for it. My dad was there when I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I'll be there for her too.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Squeeze the Trigger... or Walk Away...
It's been a few days since my trip to the dentist and the pain is easing. I am getting back to my grateful, hopeful, yet cynical self. I have landed a small role in the Joliet Drama Guild production of "Meet My Husbands." I am grateful for the opportunity. My blog was also voted one of the "Top 100 Addiction Blogs" online. That is a trip. But for the grace of God, there go I. I give the credit to God, my recovery friends and those of you who inspire me to continue with sharing my life story.
We all know what the trigger on a gun is. It is the lever we squeeze that causes the gun to fire. To an addict a trigger is similar to that of a gun. It can have the same consequences of destruction or or even death. One of The American Heritage Dictionary definitions of a trigger is "An action that precipitates another." For the gun, the pulling of the trigger precipitates the discharge of the weapon. What happens after the gun has been fired is the wild card.
In recovery, active addiction "triggers" are emotional, physical, visual, auditory, or psychological cues that make us want to use, or remind us of when we used. In simple terms when you smell chocolate chip cookies being baked you suddenly have the urge to eat one. As addicts we have used in so many places and under so many circumstances that almost anything can be a trigger. When I would keep my mind and finger on that trigger long enough I eventually found the denial and justification to squeeze it. Then it was off to the races.
As you move into recovery it becomes a daily practice to recognize our triggers and stay away from them, or at the very least, not to dwell on them. Sometimes they are unavoidable but get easier to dismiss as we grow in sobriety. Getting high doesn't start at the crack of a can or the opening of a bag. It begins earlier in the mind. Addiction is a mental compulsion, obsession and allergy that becomes "The Trilogy of Terror." As a matter of fact my addiction used to chase me like that little demon Indian who chased Karen Black around her house with that tiny knife in the 1970's movie, "Trilogy of Terror."
As a comedian and actor I am faced with booze, drugs and temptation whenever I work. The final film shot of a day on set is called "The Martini Shot." It is a cue that the day is over and time to relax. In comedy clubs booze is where the money is made. Drugs are a part of the background scene and all the other "stuff" that happens there are work hazards I face regularly. It is vital to state that my sobriety level is strong enough to handle the situation. If you are new to sobriety, hanging out at the bar sipping a Coke or chilling with your boys while they roll one up is an invitation to disaster. All such situations should be discussed with your mentor FIRST. My work is in these places. I have a reason to be there and I have the tools to combat any strange urge that comes my way.
What? I have urges? Heck yeah! If you played hockey for 25 years and retired, the occasional thought of those good ol' days on the ice pop in your head every once in a while. The hockey player doesn't grab his skates and head for the stadium. When an addict is in recovery we need to find new thinking to slide into when the bad thoughts linger. I would be a liar if I didn't say that when a TV commercial for some new fangled blue vodka that turns yellow when you mix it with a lime, the thought crosses my mind that that might be tasty. But I let it go.
I know if I drank the blue vodka shown in the happy love-filled party scene, I would drink it all and search out more. It's not number 43 that gets me drunk. It's number 1! If I avoid 1 I don't have to worry about 43. Active addicts and alcoholics have the ability to tune into the fun parts of the high and dismiss the horror that surrounds the during and aftermath of using. That is one of the mysteries of addiction. In recovery we think about the fights, DUI's, pee pee pants, fights and misery. That keeps us sober. We flip the fantasy of using into the reality of the disasters that occur once we pick up.
The other night I did a comedy gig on the West Side. This is an old school tavern with great food and filled to the rim with tough, no nonsense working folks. I went out for a smoke break because it was an "Open Mic." That means lots of comics and a long night. As I stepped outside to prepare for my set I smelled the burning of that old natural, God created, grown like corn, non-addictive, good for your eyes aroma of weed. I took a couple drags of my smoke and went back inside.
The crowd was drunk and tough on every comic. I ended up in a fight on stage with a heckler and cut my set short. I was pissed off. I went outside to regain my composure and have another smoke. One again, I smelled the burning of that old natural, God created, grown like corn, non-addictive, good for your eyes aroma of doobage. I took a couple more drags of my smoke and watched them with curiosity. I returned to my can of Coke and watched the next 4 or 5 comics.
By now the place was packed and I couldn't breathe so I went out back to get some fresh air. Once again, I smelled the burning of that old natural, God created, grown like corn, non-addictive, good for your eyes aroma of mary jane. I smoked my cigarette and made small talk and then it happened. The average earthling has about 6 or 7 thoughts swirling in their minds at once. An addict has 6 to 700. Our minds work on warp speed. They asked me if I wanted some. My whole life of homelessness, addiction, pain, happiness, hope and fear flamed through my melon in a split second.
If I took a hit no one would know. Right? Wrong! I would. It was all natural and not full of preservatives right? WRONG! I politely declined and did not return outside again. The difference in that split second of CHOICE, for a using addict and recovering addict, is the key to happiness or misery. Back in the day I would have hit the joint and then went in and bought a beer. Recovery has taught me I can never use chemicals safely like normal folks. It is an impossibility. I may be able to control it for a short time but it will return with greater destruction than ever.
I see the beauty and serenity of sobriety in life now. There was a time when I thought living sober was NOT possible. I have gotten my family and respect back. I have begun an exciting career in show biz, and most importantly, I wake up being okay with me. It is hard to live inside yourself when you hate yourself. Sobriety removes that hate and replaces it with self respect and love for others. That dark hole I tried to fill with booze and dope and escape has been filled with faith, friendship and hope. I wouldn't trade my sobriety for all the God created, grown like corn, non-addictive, good for your eyes grass in the world.
We all know what the trigger on a gun is. It is the lever we squeeze that causes the gun to fire. To an addict a trigger is similar to that of a gun. It can have the same consequences of destruction or or even death. One of The American Heritage Dictionary definitions of a trigger is "An action that precipitates another." For the gun, the pulling of the trigger precipitates the discharge of the weapon. What happens after the gun has been fired is the wild card.
In recovery, active addiction "triggers" are emotional, physical, visual, auditory, or psychological cues that make us want to use, or remind us of when we used. In simple terms when you smell chocolate chip cookies being baked you suddenly have the urge to eat one. As addicts we have used in so many places and under so many circumstances that almost anything can be a trigger. When I would keep my mind and finger on that trigger long enough I eventually found the denial and justification to squeeze it. Then it was off to the races.
As you move into recovery it becomes a daily practice to recognize our triggers and stay away from them, or at the very least, not to dwell on them. Sometimes they are unavoidable but get easier to dismiss as we grow in sobriety. Getting high doesn't start at the crack of a can or the opening of a bag. It begins earlier in the mind. Addiction is a mental compulsion, obsession and allergy that becomes "The Trilogy of Terror." As a matter of fact my addiction used to chase me like that little demon Indian who chased Karen Black around her house with that tiny knife in the 1970's movie, "Trilogy of Terror."
As a comedian and actor I am faced with booze, drugs and temptation whenever I work. The final film shot of a day on set is called "The Martini Shot." It is a cue that the day is over and time to relax. In comedy clubs booze is where the money is made. Drugs are a part of the background scene and all the other "stuff" that happens there are work hazards I face regularly. It is vital to state that my sobriety level is strong enough to handle the situation. If you are new to sobriety, hanging out at the bar sipping a Coke or chilling with your boys while they roll one up is an invitation to disaster. All such situations should be discussed with your mentor FIRST. My work is in these places. I have a reason to be there and I have the tools to combat any strange urge that comes my way.
What? I have urges? Heck yeah! If you played hockey for 25 years and retired, the occasional thought of those good ol' days on the ice pop in your head every once in a while. The hockey player doesn't grab his skates and head for the stadium. When an addict is in recovery we need to find new thinking to slide into when the bad thoughts linger. I would be a liar if I didn't say that when a TV commercial for some new fangled blue vodka that turns yellow when you mix it with a lime, the thought crosses my mind that that might be tasty. But I let it go.
I know if I drank the blue vodka shown in the happy love-filled party scene, I would drink it all and search out more. It's not number 43 that gets me drunk. It's number 1! If I avoid 1 I don't have to worry about 43. Active addicts and alcoholics have the ability to tune into the fun parts of the high and dismiss the horror that surrounds the during and aftermath of using. That is one of the mysteries of addiction. In recovery we think about the fights, DUI's, pee pee pants, fights and misery. That keeps us sober. We flip the fantasy of using into the reality of the disasters that occur once we pick up.
The other night I did a comedy gig on the West Side. This is an old school tavern with great food and filled to the rim with tough, no nonsense working folks. I went out for a smoke break because it was an "Open Mic." That means lots of comics and a long night. As I stepped outside to prepare for my set I smelled the burning of that old natural, God created, grown like corn, non-addictive, good for your eyes aroma of weed. I took a couple drags of my smoke and went back inside.
The crowd was drunk and tough on every comic. I ended up in a fight on stage with a heckler and cut my set short. I was pissed off. I went outside to regain my composure and have another smoke. One again, I smelled the burning of that old natural, God created, grown like corn, non-addictive, good for your eyes aroma of doobage. I took a couple more drags of my smoke and watched them with curiosity. I returned to my can of Coke and watched the next 4 or 5 comics.
By now the place was packed and I couldn't breathe so I went out back to get some fresh air. Once again, I smelled the burning of that old natural, God created, grown like corn, non-addictive, good for your eyes aroma of mary jane. I smoked my cigarette and made small talk and then it happened. The average earthling has about 6 or 7 thoughts swirling in their minds at once. An addict has 6 to 700. Our minds work on warp speed. They asked me if I wanted some. My whole life of homelessness, addiction, pain, happiness, hope and fear flamed through my melon in a split second.
If I took a hit no one would know. Right? Wrong! I would. It was all natural and not full of preservatives right? WRONG! I politely declined and did not return outside again. The difference in that split second of CHOICE, for a using addict and recovering addict, is the key to happiness or misery. Back in the day I would have hit the joint and then went in and bought a beer. Recovery has taught me I can never use chemicals safely like normal folks. It is an impossibility. I may be able to control it for a short time but it will return with greater destruction than ever.
I see the beauty and serenity of sobriety in life now. There was a time when I thought living sober was NOT possible. I have gotten my family and respect back. I have begun an exciting career in show biz, and most importantly, I wake up being okay with me. It is hard to live inside yourself when you hate yourself. Sobriety removes that hate and replaces it with self respect and love for others. That dark hole I tried to fill with booze and dope and escape has been filled with faith, friendship and hope. I wouldn't trade my sobriety for all the God created, grown like corn, non-addictive, good for your eyes grass in the world.
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