I had Amnesia...What was I Just Saying?

When I share a post about day to day life, I try to keep it real. I have done a fairly good job of that to date. I have been candid about my journey to today. I report my triumphs and tragedies, as well as the silly and the insane. In every entry I try to give a piece of myself to my readers to identify with.

When addiction is active in a household, roles are formed and the family adapts around the sick. Mom or Dad steps in and makes decisions on their own to cover for the user. Enablers are confused when the user gets sober because they no longer have a codependent partner. Kids who were pushed into becoming  grown ups prematurely, are suddenly given their chance to be kids again. The whole family dynamic is thrown into flux. Roles are redefined, and there are growing pains that go with that.

Early in my recovery I had the emotional I.Q. of a young adult. I will turn 47 shortly. Thirteen years ago I began a relationship with a woman who came equipped with three beautiful children. I instantly became a stepfather, a word I loathe. I dove in to my new position head first. For the first few years, there was no water in the pool. It was as if I decided to become a brain surgeon and started doing operations the next day. I was suffering from untreated alcoholism and had lots of issues to work through. I did not handle my new role very well. I have done my best with the job, but quite frankly, I don't really know what I'm doing sometimes.

When it comes to being a good husband and father consistently, I often slip into old thinking. That is an honest assessment of myself. I didn't have a traditional upbringing. I grew up in a single parent home. My mother worked very hard. My father had a family of his own. My sister went her way. I went mine. My grandparents were our neighbors. They were caught in the middle.From my late teens on, we were pretty much on our own. That's not a knock on anyone. That's just the way it was.

My first 3 marriages were not even marriages. I was so far gone. I was barely human. The loss of two children made the relationships impossible to mend. The losses fueled my anger at God and the world. My addictions deepened.  Now I AM a husband and stepfather. I love my kids as though they were my own. Some days I am a champ and on others am clueless, jealous, thoughtless and selfish. I sometimes wonder if I'm fit for either job at all. I am just learning what I am all about, and I seem to make mistake after mistake in the "other people" category. I don't do it intentionally. It just happens.

I have grown in my relationship skills over the last 45 months of recovery.  I still have gaping holes in my "big boy" abilities and skills. There are moments when I see my wife with the kids and feel left out. I understand they are her babies. They will always be held in a different light, as they should. When they disrespect me because "I'm not their Dad," it burns me up when she says nothing. I am her husband. I feel she should demand my respect from them. Now, I understand that respect is earned, not an entitlement. She says it's me. I say it's me against them. Our lives can move from, "A deluxe apartment in the sky", to "Funky Town," in a flash. Not knowing where my youngest daughter Mouse is, makes it all the worse.

We both have expectations. Sometimes we don't meet each others. Sometimes others don't meet both of ours'. I know I have a big mouth. I am learning to keep it closed more often. It shrinks with each day in recovery. It doesn't open as wide as it used to.  I have said, and done, many stupid things as a husband and stepfather. I will again. This is still new to me. Each day I learn positive and negative things about myself and the world around me. Getting sober is truly like being reborn. It is like I had amnesia and am being reintroduced to my life. I really don't know how I feel or which way is up. The old me says run. Just run. The new me says go ahead and run. You can help yourself unpack when you get there.


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


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

Beauty and the Beast....

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

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


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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Husbands and The Hardware Store Fantasy Girl!

In my other chapters I have recounted the previous 3 marriages I had prior to Squeaky. In those three failed marriages, I was lost in alcoholism, addiction and undiagnosed depression. They were doomed to fail. I give God most of the credit for my successful marriage to Kris (Squeaky). The rest of the credit goes to her. She dealt with my insanity, mood swings, unreachability, selfishness and indifference. I would have left me a long time ago. She saw through the madness, into my soul and saw there was an actual decent human being in there. I am eternally grateful to God for putting us together and to her for not letting us fall apart.

I love my wife and am as happily married as is humanly possible. I will be with her for the rest of whatever life God gives us. I can honestly say that my wife is my friend. I never feel the need to get away from her. There is nothing another woman could give me that Squeaky doesn't give me already. Our kids see our friendship and love and I am glad they understand the difference. It is easy to fall in love with someone you can't stand. Love is perfect when it is matched with soul connection and a friendship that is man and wife and much more.

That being said we are both still human. The song "I only have eyes for you" is absolute crap unless you are blind. As a man I see women who are attractive. As a woman my wife sees men who are attractive. It is how we react to these "visual distractions" that make for harmony or hell raising. I remember in the crazy days when a pretty woman walked across the room my eyes would follow her all the way along her trip. I had no respect for my wife's feelings. I thought it was harmless but that is from a Neanderthal Man point of view. Women seem to take a quick look at a handsome man and instantly return to whatever they were doing.

My wife and I have 2 ways of dealing with opposite sex attraction. The first is the "3 second rule." Each of us is allowed to take note of the pleasant looking subject for 3 seconds and then reconnect to each other. The second is "compliment code." My wife thinks Andy Garcia is a dream. When he comes on screen she'll say, "He is a very good actor." That's my cue. She thinks he's handsome without her gawking at the screen and shouting, "huma-huma-huma!" When I see Neve Campbell I comment that, "She is a very good actress." Message sent we move on.

My wife is actually a master of cooling my visual libido the older I get. Women are cunning like that. If I see an actress like Megan Fox on the screen and comment on her acting ability, my wife is quick to point out that she is the same age as our oldest daughter. This response sends me from intrigued to disgusted with myself when I realize the actress is practically a kid. Having a daughter that is 25 and 18 wipes out alot of the talent pool. My comments on the attractiveness of Diane Keaton is welcomed by my wife and a cute agreement with my assessment.

Men also secretly want to have women find them attractive. Although happily married, it is an ego feeding proposition to consider that a Barbie-like woman finds us middle aged dads attractive. It is not something you dwell on but it sits in the back of our thick male skulls. The funny part is how we react as men when one of these Barbie-like youngsters seem to take an interest in us.

Last summer I was doing some work around the house. I needed some WD40 and some other miscellaneous hardware items. Dressed in my Van Morrison tee shirt and some dirty cargo shorts, I made my way to the local box hardware emporium. I went from aisle to aisle hunting and gathering the items I needed to complete my "Honey Do List." I moved quickly like I was on a recon mission. I like to get in and get out. I'm not the type of guy to browse around the store.

At the back of the sore, as I picked up my last item, I turned from the shelf and found myself face-to-face with a 20-something Barbie. I was not in the 3 second check mode. I wanted to get home and complete my projects. As I started toward the middle aisle she stepped in front of me and said "You have a Van Morrison shirt on." I looked down and saw she was correct and commented that my wife and I had just seen him on his last tour. I am a music audiophile. I can talk music all day, no ulterior motive needed.

She took another step toward me and said "I really like Van Morrison," twisting back and forth like the bad girl from Catholic school. I was taken off guard a bit and politely mumbled "Yeah, he's the Belfast Cowboy. Ireland's Bob Dylan." I was turning away and it happened. Her next comment was not what one would call Christianly. Looking me right in the eye she cooed "The only thing I like more than Van Morrison is YOU!"

My hands trembled as I unlocked my car and dove into the drivers seat. I hunched down thinking she might have followed me out the door. What a goof! Like she knew what car I was driving! I snapped up my cellphone and called my wife. Her voice was like "glue" in the game of tag I found myself in the middle of. I explained the whole thing to her and she LAUGHED. I was shaken silly by the experience and she thought it was a riot. Now I felt emasculated by not only the terror I faced with Barbie, but how my wife took the final slice at me with her amusement at the whole episode.

To this day we laugh at the story. I do not go back to that box store. I have found another one. I have radar to make sure only hardware store stereotypes help me. I had been faced with the ultimate middle aged fantasy. Of course some flirting or chest puffing conversation would have been harmless. NOPE! I ran to the car and hid, afraid that Barbie was gonna catch me, trembling like a child. The fantasy was over.