Entitle Fight..

What have I been doing? Where have I been? These are valid questions since it has been months since I have written a blog entry. Yeah, I am still sober.... but yeah, I still need a lot of recovery. On paper, it looks like I am making progress, and at one day at a time, I suppose I am. 301 days to be exact.

Somedays are breezy for me... I don't think about escaping from my life or reality with drugs or alcohol, because the reality is that my life has gotten pretty good relatively fast just by showing up where I am suppose to be when I am suppose to be there clean and sober.. I just need to be present and show up for it. I finally figured out why in school they did roll call every morning as the teacher questioned if we students were "Present or Absent" I thought it was funny in my smart ass way to respond "Just here." I suppose the joke was on me as I carried that philosophy from High School and into most of my adulthood. Just being here or there floating through life didn't always help my relationships, as I was mostly somewhere else in my head, or out of my head on drugs and / or alcohol.

Being self aware is a pretty common goal for most enlightened folks these days.. but becoming self aware after living so many years as an entitled asshole is a rough road to hoe. I realize now that all of my problems and issues I have with the world and the people / places / and institutions in it are exactly that. My problems and issues. Now the self entitlement kicks in... I am fucking special, should obviously have different circumstances, and when things I don't like happen to me, you should be aware of them and bend over backwards to make it right.

Does that sound as absurd to you reading it as does to write a rant about it? I struggle with this very rationale within my addict brain. What is real, what is true, what has happened to me, what should have been different in my life. There is an entitlement fight going rounds in my head everyday and I am not proud to admit that, but I am proud to identify the culprit as I stand toe to toe with him in the mirror.

The worst things that have happened to me are things I project onto the world from my very own mind. Mostly untrue (I am learning so at least) I must learn to give up control. To rely on my higher power when things are not going quite like I want them to. Good or bad. It goes both ways as I believe I don't deserve either... yes, I am really that messed up.

I am working on this internal struggle, I am working on equinimity, I am working on giving up control. It is a work in progress and will never be perfection, but that self entitled asshole & his character defects are going down round by round.

99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.....

Eighteen years is a lifetime... more specifically the lifetime of my once older brother Elias who passed away in a drinking and driving accident on April 27th 1996.  This day changed me, changed my family, changed my future.... forever. The anniversary of this event takes me away every year, or more than anything, I use to take myself away. Isolate myself from the living. Family, friends, lovers, and mostly myself.  I wanted to do anything just not to feel this pain, this sadness.. it hurts.

It is always so surreal when I really take the time to think about the gravity of it all. When I was floored by the news that evening of his death, I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to run and hide, jump out of my own skin... I wanted to wake up from this nightmare. For 18 years that is what I have done.. run.
This year, Elias has been dead for almost as long as he was alive. At 6 months sober, this is the first year I have faced this fact without the assistance of drugs and / or alcohol.

When Elias died, something in me was born. If addiction has a gestation period, mine was roughly 16 yrs. Growing from a seed that had undoubtedly been planted at my conception, like Godzilla, my addiction was awoken by an earthquake deep under a sea of chaos. I needed to cope. I needed to escape. I needed this not to be real. Experimenting with the effects produced by drugs and alcohol worked for me. There is a phrase "trouble will find me" well, I went through a period of time where I was set on finding that trouble first.

Fast forward to the present, that seed has grown into full blown alcoholism and multiple addictions. I am not blaming my brothers untimely death as the reason I am an addict. I would have turned out this way no matter what. It was just the timing and catalyst that my addiction needed to take flight. I had the itch to fly and I flew.

But in this cycle of life, death and rebirth. I think 18 yrs is an appropriate time as any to put my addiction to rest.

Waging war.




I will leave you with this, written 3 yrs ago, and another time I was set on beating the odds of addiction

The Wizard                                      

15 years ago I was a week away from my 16th birthday, which meant until the end of September I would only be 2 years younger than my older brother Elias. I looked up to him in a lot of ways and I remember feeling closer, cooler and not so little for 5 months. Then came April 27th 1996....the day my older brother stopped aging, a day so surreal that anything could hurt my hero, let alone take him away forever. We grew up in a double wide trailer on 20 acres in West Virginia, and like most older brothers he antagonized me relentlessly. 

One time when I was 3 he dumped a bucket of roofing tar on my head while we had crawled under the elevated chicken coop to play.... he exclaimed to my livid mother that I had asked him to do it. Being a redhead, I think he was jealous of my bright blonde hair, and obviously wanted them to cut it all off.

Our antics were not always one sided, as I remember him riding his Huffy down our Dirt road while speeding past kicking me. I found a branch about as thick and long as a broom stick and promptly speared it into his front spokes sending him end over end into the hard dirt. Another time while helping our dad build a tree house in the woods behind our trailer, Elias was chasing me around bullying me, until I picked up a 16 penny nail and chased him back.... I never did catch him, but in his frantic escape he tripped and took a sharp stick through his cheek earning him a couple of stitches in the process. Even better was the fact that school pictures were days later and his included his smiling face with a butterfly bandage front and center. My poor mother...

We were not always heathens, these were not everyday occurrences, just ones that stand out as instances of brotherly devotion. As my older brother, he always had more size on me so I had to be agile. Elias was always smarter than me, so I had to be more clever. Looking back, I wouldn't have grown up any other way. For all the lickings I took when he wanted to try out the latest wrestling moves he and his sidekicks witnessed on TV that day, it ultimately made me more resilient. A quality maybe he knew I would need through out this life. Maybe he was preparing me for when I was the older brother.... As the younger sibling, I feel I got the upper hand as I picked up all his qualities, intelligence, wittiness, plus the ability to adapt new ones he couldn't learn from a older brother.

I also learned from my brother to follow my dreams, and not live life for what others "think" or what social norms may be. Elias was gifted with intelligence. He was always in honor classes throughout school, his peers jealous of how he didn't have to study for advanced Algebra 2 classes and still ace tests. He had a full state college scholarship offered to him upon graduating High school.... instead Elias chose to follow his passion of skiing, moved to Lake Tahoe with a handful of other ski bums, worked the night shift at 7-11 and searched for fresh powder runs during the day.

Unfortunately a knee injury ended his season and ability to continue his excellent journey. He came home in Late March of 1996, and for the first time of our lives, we got along. He took me around his friends, not as his younger brother, but as a cohort. A month later, 15 years ago was the last time I'd get that chance.... 

Forever young, but never Forgotten.

EELS - Mistakes Of My Youth

Fox in Socks

Foals - Late Night (official video)

Affected

I have not written much lately (at least not on this blog) as I am smack in the middle of my 4th step of my 12 steps of recovery. For those not familar with the process, just as I sure the Hell wasn't a year ago, it involves "A Fearless and Searching Moral Inventory" of ones self. 

And for those of you who know me at all, I was / am one sick puppy. While I have been fearfully searching for most of my life, I really only found outside sources of fleeting happiness. Mostly through temporary relationships while grasping for momentary relief in substance & drink. Which I can realize now that is exactly what I did. When I was down in it, my addiction fooled me into thinking there was permeance, or at least the hope in my failed relationships / attempts at using with success. I thought each one would be the solution to lifes problems. 

Until I was able to put some time & distance between a relationship, a bottle of whiskey, and schedule 1 stimulant of some sort.. I didn't realize that my inner most problems & issues were exactly that. Internal. It takes a lot of willingness to do some serious work and look at your insides before anything outside is effected in a different way. 

For what it's worth, I have never partaken in Bath Salts... 

I will leave you with that, but I would also like to recycle a post from last April, which most of still applies. Except this year.... my outlook is changing. I suppose I am not living in quite as much fear... not sitting in quite as much resentment. While that is by no means perfection, it is a lot of progress over where I was a year ago and every other April since I was 15.

Death and Taxes. posted April 2013

Two  Three years ago this week I wrote a post aptly titled "The Wizard" during a time when I had to face some of lifes harder choices.... should I stay or should I go? Should I try to attempt an implausable feat?

It was April 2011 and I was uprooting my career, my friends, a business partnership, and my familiar day to day life, seemingly at the drop of a hat to try and start a new life. I searched for some form of guidance or a sign. Though when faced with uncertainty of whats next to come, I always find myself asking, "What would my big brother do?" This approach has led me to a rather interesting life, but a full and satisfying one.

April has easily won the title of "My least favorite of the 12 months." contest for 17 years running. And this April is really not getting any easier.  I use to dread it and try to hide, maybe sometimes I still approach it that way.

What's April deal anyway? I mean, it starts off with a practical joke holiday, "April Fools day" the very 1st thing. Welcome to the party... what are you? In 8th grade still? Then, right smack in the middle of April is Tax day.... Super funny. But April to me will always be the anniversary of a period of time when my brother Elias and I hung out and got along, it was a fleeting moment, as he passed way before his time on April 27th 1996.

I took the way he lived his life and especially his last days as my guiding light. 2 yrs  3 yrs ago I did drop everything and moved to Utah. I didn't know at the time, but the new life I would be starting was that of our daughter Rosaline Jean Black. I see a lot of her Uncle Elias in not only her appearance, but her personality and mannerisms. Most people would say they are mine, but where do you think I learned them from?

This ones for you Eli

"In Memory of your Uncle Elias Black"

A few other reasons April is the shittiest Month. And if your wondering what month came runner up in "My least favorite of the 12 months." contest? the next in the alphabet... August.

15 Historic Events That Prove April Is The Worst Month Ever

Start of The Civil War: April 12th 1861

Abraham Lincoln Shot: April 14th 1865

Hitler Born: April 20th 1889

San Francisco Earthquake: April 18th 1906

Titanic Sinks: April 15th 1912

Failed Bay of Pigs Invasion: April 20th 1961

Martin Luther King Jr. Assassinated: April 4th 1968

Chernobyl: April 26th 1986

Start of Bosnian War: April 4th 1992

Waco: April 19th 1993

Kurt Cobain Suicide: April 5th 1994

Oklahoma City Bombing: April 19th 1995

Columbine: April 20th 1999

Virginia Tech Shooting: April 16th 2007

BP Oil Spill Disaster: April 20th 2010

Gathering in the Head.

I was recently presented a entertaining list of reasons to be committed into an Insane asylum during the 1800's.. hunnids, hunnids. While I had to laugh, I also had to realize I would be eligible for life without parole, but hey, better than being burned at the stake. Right?

One reason on the list hit me in particular... (the rest were just humorous) as it stated "Gathering in the Head" As an addict, one might start thinking of gathering in the bathroom around an 8 ball of blow or getting fellated by a transexual hooker... or is that just what I think?

 In all seriousness, I tried to google the definition, and came up almost empty handed, but not empty headed. No one really seemed to no what it meant, but found some mumblings about evil spirits, demons, etc. It makes perfect sense to me as the God and the Devil are raging inside my head on a constant basis.

I have decided to come up with my own definition as it pertains to addicts / alcoholics.

Addikipedia definition : Gathering in the head - letting your fears, resentments, failures, regrets, etc gather in your fucking head till all you can hear is their constant noise, chatter, and hum & shrieks of their background noise.

Much like the annoying college age girls that live upstairs having a house party all night long while you are trying to sleep because you are a responsible adult and work a 9 ish to 5 ish job. Sometimes...

I don't know about you, but when I can't sleep due to outside induced noises I want to flip a switch and go on a violent rampage until that noise is dead... which may just land you in a insane asylum in this day and age. You wouldn't rent a room in your house to those loud, disrespectful bitches so why would you rent space to them in your own head? Let alone permit them to gather there?..

Ass to seat, pen to paper, head to heart.

I have been told, I have been learning, I have been open to the suggestion, that the only way to get rid of the gathering in my head is to get out those fears, resentments, regrets, failures, etc on paper, to address them properly, to drop the weight of the world I have been carrying around, trying to lessen the gravity of it all by floating in a cocktail or baggie of mind altering substances.

You would think I would be stronger from carrying this weight..

This is almost two years old that I recently found..

Shit's deep...


Let the un-gathering in my head begin.

In the mean time, take this self test for asylum commital....

Dream On / Dream Off.

I awoke this morning in a panic.. I quickly grabbed my phone and scrolled through my call log. Nothing. . .  a warm relief started washing over me. I looked around, gatherering my bearings. I saw that my alarm had not gone off yet. I wasn't late for work. I didn't spend my rent & grocery money. I didn't let my family down. I didn't abandon my daughter by choosing drugs over being with her.  I didn't have to feel the shame and regret of it all. But in my dream I did...

 I thought I fucked it all up, I thought I threw away 4 1/2 months of continuous sobriety. What I thought, was that I called my drug dealer and relapsed like I did in the past & in the messed up dream that I just woke up from. I was in a state of fear and panic, scared that all it would take is one momentary lapse of reason to slip up and throw away my progress.

Then I realized that is all it takes. I am always just one wrong thought away of staring at the business end of a crack pipe, or sticking a straw in my nose or heaven forbid a actual needle in my vein. . . It really is that easy to go back out there. Misery, despair, and the dope man are out there lurking in the shadows. Like I have said before, my disease is in the parking lot doing push ups and getting stronger. I have to stay that much more focused & in shape physically, mentally, and spiritually to beat it. I can't be content, or lackadaisical in my recovery.

I had a good day after realizing I had actually been blessed by my higher power to have had a sober night (allowing me to dream), and sober day. It made me realize I need to take it as a warning sign to get off my ass and keep moving, don't stop, don't settle. The life I want and know I can have is out there if I stay sober. The life my addiction wants to trick me into believing won't happen to me if "I just call the dealer and get a few pills or gram of this or a pinch of that mind altering substance." is also out there, waiting for me to slip up a make that call, drive to that house, put that shit in my body, dig that bottom deeper.... It didn't get me today, and with that I hit my knees and pray for another 24.



  "You can be a slave to your addiction, or you can be a warrior in your recovery" - Jesse D.

Icarus Effect

I have learned more about myself in 9 months of recovery than I ever imagined possible. Taking a good hard look at myself is exactly what the phrase implies. It is hard, and most likely why I have put it off for so long. I have gained a lot,  ok, some insight on the 33 some odd years that have led me to here. Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose? How will the rest of my life go now?

I am an overachiever. I got here by excessiveness. . . mostly.

I over-think, over-analyze, over-want, over-drink, over-work, over-step boundaries, over-do it, over-screw it, over-eat, over-care what the fuck you think, over-ride, over-fall in love, over-extend, over-stress, over-run, over-hide, over- seek, over-want, over-take, over-used...

Most of these qualities have not served me well, and I am doing my best to address them. I have felt this  internal pressure my whole life to strive and succeed. But looking back, it has always been to fulfill my own selfish needs and desires. I was stubborn, if I wanted something, I would not give up until I accomplished it. I wanted to impress you, I wanted you to be proud of me, and if I percieved that you weren't... then I really over-wanted it more.



At a very early age, I became a self taught gymnast.. w.t.a.f. (what the actual fuck) is a self taught gymnast you ask? Well, that is me watching the Olympic gymnasts and trying what they were doing on TV until I could do it. My mom tells a story where I was first learning to do headstands at 5-6 yrs old and would try & try and cry if I couldn't do it out of frustration until I perfected it and then moved on to hand stands, front hand springs, etc.

At first these were admirable traits as a young kid, as I excelled in anything that piqued my interest. Soccer, track n field, fishing, football, BMX racing and finally Motocross. I was highly competitive... mostly with myself.  When I hit my early teens I became excessively good at things I thought were deemed as normal teenage things by the 80's and early 90's standards I was raised in. Namely sex, drugs, and rock n' roll.  by my mid to late 20's, I became the best womanizer (a.k.a. man-whore), the best alcoholic (who was super fun mind you), and a really good, well rounded, functioning cocaine addict. Yes... that was sarcastic.

Somehow in the midst of my excess, in between the binges, the week long runs, or during moments of clarity I would achieve real success. I am not listing these accomplishments to be boastful, just to show that my character defect can go to both extremes. You know, I am realizing that I am afraid of my own potential. The saying is that what goes up must come down, and if there is one thing I have learned from being an addict is that I hate to come down. It is the Icarus myth in the back of my head, that if I soar to great heights in life( as I should) that I will ultimately come crashing down. I self sabotage my own relationships, my own success, my own happiness. I need to start owning up to that shit.
I am seeing it now, and I am working to correct it.

 I went to trade school and graduated top of my class....

I had success in my chosen field on a professional race team for many years...

I started a business from the ground up and somehow still have it today...

But my all time greatest accomplishment, and something I can be proud to say I am an overachiever at, is being a dad to this precious little girl.

And I never plan to let her down.

(is) God Complex

Turn the other Cheek

Stand your ground! Be a man! Fight to the death! This is 'Merica God Damn it, land of the free, and home of the brave. We do not negotiate with terrorists. We do not obey threats. We fucking Nuke people for breakfast ... or just whole countries with people in it anyways. War and the fact that we are number fuckin  ONE have been glorified throughout our countries history.

At least that is what I think I picked up from History class, the History channel, and the John Wayne movie marathons I watched as a kid. Or perhaps it's a republican thing.. not backing down or giving in to the democrats in congress even if the changes could be better or maybe a step in the right direction. Don't even get started trying to think this is another liberal anti-war, or ReplubliCON rant. It AIN'T.

I really do have a point I am getting to. Because I happen to be fighting the fight of my life right now. I am waging a war against a disease that doesn't fight fair. It leaves me feeling quite cynical about having things like trust, faith, and courage.  That doing things a different way other than my own will ever matter. That doing good will prevail over evil in anyway.

This disease I speak of is addiction / alcoholism. I was born onto a battlefield and sent to the front lines of a fight I didn't know or understand I was even in. Not until I got lost deep into the core of it. And you just can't expect to turn around and walk out of a jungle you have been wandering into for 18 yrs now can you?

I am angry. I am pissed off. I want to bomb and Nuke shit. But I am learning not hit the red button . Learning that my first thought is wrong. My addict brain is broken... I keep hearing from old timers that this is the only disease you can actually beat by surrendering. That however,  is not the American way, and is probably why this great country has a great drug, alcohol, and mental health problem.

I can now recognize myself feeling crazy when I try to battle everything & everyone because I want to be right or in control. Even when I feel justified and I have my evidence & present my case / argument logically in my head.. It still doesn't get me where I need to go. It puts me living in fear, building up resentments and reasons why it would be ok to drink away the worries of my day. I am choosing to surrender today. And not in a French pansy way.. but in a turn my other cheek manly way.

Today I cease to fight anything or anyone, including myself, and it brings me peace.

Children of Divorce

Back to these cold, shitty days in Salt Lake....

Return from Cookie Mountain

Do you think Cookie Monster is happy & agreeable when he is stuffing his face with cookies all day? Damn right he is.

Would you think Cookie Monster freaks the fuck out when he is down to his last cookie, breaking it up into smaller pieces trying to spread it out so he wont run out? Then licks his fingers wiping the empty cookie jar clean of every last crumb and spec of cookie goodness? Most likely.....

I know you and I cannot decide for another if they are in fact an addict, but I think it's safe to say that Cookie Monster has a problem.... and his problems are sure to be exaberated when he runs out of his fix, affecting not only him, but others around him.

It's not hard to imagine the chaos that Cookie Monster would inflict on Sesame Street when he runs out of cookies and can't find more... Looking back, I can now start to see how I have acted out in personal relationships. (any relationship for that matter)  How I effected those closest to me when I ran out (or said I was quitting) of my drink, drug or any other cookie like substance. Irritable, dis-content, lonely, a complete asshole. But I didn't know why. I lashed out and compounded problems / issues, built up resentments out of them toward those closest to me and dove head first back into any cookie jar I could find...