This Too...

I was born into the world early in the month of May. My first experiences were the sights of lush green foliage, taking in the sweet aroma of Wild Columbine flowers or the musty scent of native mushrooms & hearing the melodies of nesting Scarlet Tanagers of rural West Virginia. 

Little did I know that after a mere 6 months of being alive, I would begin to experience my first cycle of death. Everything I had associated my life around would soon go away.. all that I had known would start to wither, die, migrate, or hibernate... they all knew it, mother nature knew it. Taking place of the sun's warmth would be the wind chilled kiss of winters darkness.

Why can't I just hibernate until Spring?

I personally struggle with the seasons changing. I am still fine from Summer heading into Fall,  but as we fade into the darker, shorter days of the winter months, I feel this internal shift, this primal instinct in me as the leaves change colors.. dying off then falling to the ground where they will decay.. as they have done 36 times in my life span. 

I have noticed this much more in the last five years of searching for, attempting, then achieving sobriety. The more I recover, the clearer it becomes that it isn't as simple as "not liking cold, or the snow, or Holidays."  I can actually tolerate them all & have found the joy in each. To me, recovery is finally getting to work on my weaknesses. The areas that have historically taken me down, that seem to be compounded by the time November rolls around.

Is it because the Spring & Summer months are easy n' breezy for the most part? Not always, as this year and many others have seen their share of difficulties to be sure. Is it something as simple as being able to enjoy my chosen outdoor sport & hobby of Motocross during the warmer, longer days? Not exactly, as I have ridden year round or lived in places that are warm enough to ride all winter as well. I've still isolated during these times.

Hindsight is 20/20 and as I track my last decade I can clearly see my issues with this season. Arrests, Suicidal, homicidal, relapses, drinking binges & drug sprees, all of my worst character defects come out to play when the warmth of the sun dives lower into the Southern hemisphere, so this year I've made myself aware. With awareness comes choice, & though I have struggled, I have been able to choose to walk through it even as I don't fully understand why I feel this way. Why I have this internal clock going off telling me it's time to fuck things up?

Life is good right now. I have the most continuous length of sobriety I've ever achieved. While my outside world is not in some sort of self imposed crisis or in the chaos of scrambling back out of the hole I've dug myself into, my mind & body remember. They recall that this time of year is supposed to be crazy, wild, unmanageable, INSANE!] I am not supposed to be ok with anyone especially with myself.

I

Do I dread the scarcity.. of running out? Like with a drink & a drug, or of light & love?

Fall & Winter = scarcity / Spring & Summer = Abundance

Feeling like a dog that knows it is about to be hit, I cower with my tail between my legs at the sight of Old man winters cold hand raised in the air ... I KNOW it's coming.

Today is a perfectly fine day. The sun eventually rose, burning off the bite of Novembers first morning frost. Temps eventually climbed into what I still consider T-shirt & shorts weather. Why do I feel life's luster fading before my eyes in anticipation of cold, dead, winter? This realization has made me face the fact that I do not handle seasonal changes well at all.

If this were the same day in the Spring, same weather, same sun rise & sunset, I'd be excited. I'd be hopeful of what was to come, longer days in the sunshine. I would know things were on the upswing MORE, MORE, MORE!

But in the Fall.... I see the drain swirling, I see her suitcase is packed, I see the bottle is half empty, I seen the corner baggie is running out. I see LESS, LESS, LESS.

“Breathe. You're going to be okay. Breathe and remember that you’ve been in this place before. You’ve been this uncomfortable and anxious and scared, and you've survived. Breathe and know that you can survive this too. These feelings can’t break you. They're painful and debilitating, but you can sit with them and eventually, they will pass. Maybe not immediately, but sometime soon, they are going to fade and when they do, you'll look back at this moment and laugh for having doubted your resilience. I know it feels unbearable right now, but keep breathing, again and again. This will pass. I promise it will pass.” 

—Daniell Koepke

Terminal Sickness

I don't often think about having a drink very anymore.. until today.
Some say old habits die hard... I believe they are then reincarnated into new ones. I still have the mindset to seek out excitement, the attention span of a fruit fly, the same time on my hands as there has always been. Now I try to spread it out somewhat evenly over multiple mindfully healthy activities. or I could focus ALL of my resources into doing the Hell out of one specific task.

It's Monday at 1:05 pm I've been in the Phoenix airport since 5 a.m. I am attempting to get back to Utah for the start of my work week. I am flying stand-by (can be stressful) I didn't make the cut onto the 6 am direct flight into Salt Lake city, where I would have landed at 7:30 in the morning, in time to grab coffee & breakfast while still making it in by 9 o'clock to open The Dirt Lab for business.

I didn't make the 8:30 am flight either (now I entering the stress zone) It is setting in that I am not making it to work on time, I have not been able to contact my employee on his scheduled day off to let him know that I'll be MIA, that I'll need him to hopefully open the shop.

I am not in control of the situation. I inhale deeply, then softly exhale out, pacing my breathing. I realize this, but it is proving difficult to accept as I scramble for other options before finally saying fuck it. This situation is what this situation is. Ultimately I've put myself in it.

Airports are like their own little universe, airplanes like their own little planets.. all of them allocated with booze & plenty strangers that to drink with. I spent a lot of years drinking like a sophisticated traveler in airports all over the continent, week in & week out. Much like having hoes in different area codes, who would even know? 

I'm not writing this to worry anyone close to my recovery who is reading, but by this point I have been considering pulling up a stool at one of the many Phoenix airport bars. A Tequila bar to be exact. Though its been a couple of years, I can still recall tasting the salt, shooting back the tequila, & sinking my teeth into the lime wedge.

I feel the chilled shot rush down my gullet, where upon hitting my empty stomach it turns into heat radiating from my belly... coursing through my veins out into my arms & legs ...   I crave it. Then another, and another..

I began to project how much time I had, then calculated how much money I had in my wallet, knowing I would have to pay for the experience in so many other painful ways.. ultimately I decided it wasn't quite worth it. Not today. 

I'm writing this because saying it out loud helps. Writing down my thought processes & thinking errors help. I'm saying this so I don't keep it in my head where this absurd thought can somehow be rationalized into an even more absurd action.

I repeated the serenity prayer over & over, I talked to another alcoholic on the phone. I found a quite area of an empty gate and laid down using my jacket as a pillow. I said the serenity prayer again.. I fell asleep.

I woke up and felt hunger rumble in my empty stomach. I found a new airport restaurant since I've last been through Phoenix called "Cowboy Ciao" I waited to be seated & since I was solo, I briefly pondered sitting at the bar.. not sure why it seems more socially acceptable to saunter on up to the bar like some kind of bad ass lead slinging outlaw, (as opposed to a quiet table for one.) but I opted for the latter.

My waitress arrived chipperly asking if I'd liked to start with one of their famously delicious Bloody Mary's or perhaps a mimosa? The thought ran through my head as I blurted out, "just coffee for me"!  Immediately feeling the relief in my answer. 

This occurrence of free will is a given for others, though in my world this is a break through to finally have the freedom of choice. Not long ago my answer to most any question was alcohol, drugs, or any mind altering substance. It has taken some recovery for me to figure out that almighty alcohol is not a solution, not the glue holding my life together, but rather a solvent eroding my life away.


The antithesis of no one ever knowing that I took a drink while stuck in the airport all day, is that my ego wants everyone to know that I was stuck in the airport all day and didn't take that first drink. Even though I thought about it, I now have the choice to say "Not This Day" so I wrote about it instead. You're Welcome.

I eventually made it home to Salt Lake City unscathed, the world didn't fall apart in my delayed absence, & I was able to walk through another of life's many obstacles sober. 
Though it would be nice to get a gold star by my name every time someone asks me if I'd like alcohol & I answer "No, thanks, just coffee for me." Like I was answering the winning question on Jeopardy or acing the SAT's....


 I'm going to have a talk with my sponsor about that one.

Hello Sensation

... I feel you near. Hello emotion, I see you coming my way. I'd like to invite you in, to sit with you for tea, to finally get to know you better.

For the longest time I've felt awkward around emotions, much like being around members of the opposite sex. I felt I was better equipped at handling their presence with a few swigs of liquor or a couple tokes off of a joint. While this most likely never took away my clumsiness around women or displaying emotions, it gave me the false sense of comfort to separate from my separation anxiety / to temporarily detach from my attachment disorder.

Of course I didn't realize when I first began experimenting with drugs & alcohol that I carried these fears of connection around with me, as it has taken peeling off a few layers of the onion while shedding a few burning tears to discover the underlying matters.

I just knew when I felt different or strange in social situations & that taking a mind altering substance beforehand seemed to alleviate it. Or at least give me a really good excuse for acting strange & different..

When I first sought out addiction therapy & 12 step programs, I was hopeful for deliverance from the misery & horrors of my failed attempts of using for escape. I'd figuratively & almost literally reached the end of my rope. The handful of times I used toward the end I was immediately hurling myself into certain psychosis... the shadowy people & dark figurines surrounded me.. just like the emotions & sensations I thought I could negate, they too, had me fenced in.

Hello darkness, I feel you near... 
Hello shadows, I see you coming...

I had been inviting them in for tea, I had gotten to know them all too well. . .

Calling the authorities in a panic on these demons I had willingly invited inside my domain didn't ever bode well, but after multiple visits to hospitals, institutions, & jail I was eventually able to get well.

Leaning into the discomfort is a new & challenging concept to me in this area of my recovery, but I find it so utterly necessary for my growth.
To leave the past & darkness where it lies was all I knew I wanted, but recovery has given me a new design for living. Beginning with surrendering, I can now accept the things I find undesirable, things that didn't quite go the way I thought they should for me.

If I strip it all away, I still have a thinking problem. always "Thinking, thinking...." Today I have the choice to notice my thoughts as just that. I can then identify them, label them good / bad / or neutral. I no longer have to be reactive to my thoughts, while noticing the underlying emotions behind them, & furthermore the initial sensations spawning the emotion. 

I can then invite them all in.

Inverse Reasoning

I spent most of the night in search of desperately needed sleep, Ultimately, I ended up lying in bed tossing & turning in search of (what I deemed to be) desperately needed answers. My pursuit of either came up empty handed leaving me with more questions of "Why this? / Why not that? Why me? / Why not me?" than I could keep track of.  As the first signs of dawn began to soak through a thick layer of clouds, eerily spreading that soft, dim light of early Autumn daybreak.  As an addict in recovery I despise this feeling of impending doom more than the misery of abusing a substance itself. I should have been sleeping, not obsessing over things out of my control..

Life today is far different now for the most part. I have progressed to an awareness that sleep, relaxation, appetite, physical health, my mental well-being and deep connection with others are my most prized possessions. When any of these staples become sacrificed or inadequate in sobriety it instantly triggers feelings from my past of self neglect, self abuse, or just being completely devoid of self. When I am having an off day mentally or physically due to lack of self care now, it feels so much like being hungover from drugs & alcohol that I actually feel similar shame & guilt. I have to accept that this may always be the case for me...

Fighting an internal  battle day in & day out can wear on you, like waves constantly pounding upon the beach, crashing down over and over. Sometimes its low tide, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, sometimes the high tide is exhilarating yet overwhelming. The only thing you can be certain of is it will always be present, surely there shall be storms, just as there shall be calm sunny days, just as the tides of life shall constantly ebb & flow.. they never cease. 
"This too shall Pass"

Since I'm not living in G.I. Joe land, I don't consider myself the militant one, an operator, or that I possess special forces. ... I won't subscribe to the"Knowing is half the battle." mantra, or any other military-ism. 

Simply knowing something doesn't  always cultivate the kind of deeply inspired change necessary to progress. You can know a lot of things but still ignore the signs, warning labels, surgeon generals "suggestions" or that California "Knows" that almost everything causes cancer. Chances are that most of us continue on with the "Ignoring is bliss" mentality.

People that smoke know it is bad for them.

I knew for a long time that I was an alcoholic, but until I could accept my alcoholism... accept that I had lost my right to use or drink successfully to escape.. I couldn't change.



Just because I'm not a veteran of foreign wars, doesn't mean I don't have symptoms of PTSD, suffering many of the same horrors with the best of them..... as a warrior on the front lines of my recovery from a hopeless state of mind, body, and spirit.

You never turn your back on the ocean, you always keep an eye on those next set of waves forming, just like with the disease of addiction I have to be aware that it is always there, keeping and eye on it through a daily reprieve of working my program.

Then I have to accept that the waves of life on life's terms are never going to subside & I am never going to be the master of the tides. Nor shall I ever be in control of when, what, where, or fucking why a wave will come crashing down from over my head, pulling everything I had been planning on out to sea with the undertow.


I believe that half of the battle is awareness / while the other half is acceptance.

It is not up for me to understand or to figure it out.

It is only up for me to be aware & accept it.

To be on the victorious plane of serenity, I needed to accept that I could never win this conflict while mired within my own psyche. I stepped out of my comfort zone at the bottom, took a good hard look at myself, becoming aware of my underlying traumas. The ones I had previously thought I could just drink, use, or act out over, or run away from until they disappeared into the rearview mirror. I wasn't aware that with awareness comes choice. I believe in accepting the choice to change & seeking to live in the solutions instead of floundering in the problems.

Stolen Identity

While you may not even know me, I have been identifying with myself as an alcoholic / addict for a number of years now. Upon waking everyday I admit out loud that this is still the case for me as a pray to a higher power that I can be guided through another day clean & sober.

Did I have this aspiration growing up to earn my very own seat at the round table of recovery? To not be able to drink alcohol in a normal fashion? No, I did not. Though in hindsight it would seem my pathways in life were designed to make it here.
I remember the first time I was able to mutter the trembling words to another human being, "I'm a cocaine addict and I need help.." to which I received a varied reply of disbelief.. something about me being a lying fucking asshole, that I couldn't possibly be an addict, I was functioning on too high of a level..  I was however, "Just your typical run of the mill womanizer who had been caught cheating on their partner & needed an excuse.'' 

It took everything I had to finally admit this to another human being, one that I actually cared for... a lot. I was at the defined point of no return, of incomprehensible demoralization. 
I wasn't really admitting it to someone else, as much as I was finally admitting it to myself. This dark moment was to be the start of my journey into recovery. I had no idea what was to be in store for me then, I just knew I couldn't go on being spiritually bankrupt. This was in October 2011.

Though I was immediately defeated by her response, I prayed that my now former partner was actually correct & that I was the latter of the two choices. "God, I hope she's right and I'm just your typical asshole." I did not want to be an out of control addict. I had recently moved in with her from another state in a mental state of pure desperation to escape my endless drinking & cocaine binges of what had become my life in Phoenix. 

In typical addict fashion, I somehow portrayed my outside world as being completely fine. I was operating a business by day, not having legal or financial problems, in a loving long distance relationship that I had every intention on keeping perfectly intact.
So, I up and left one morning heading for Utah.. leaving behind the undesirable aspects of my life in Phoenix, bound & determined to start a new way of living once I had geographically arrived in another state. . . while this was my outward perspective I wanted you to believe, my insides did not match my outsides. My insides were tormented by the pang of unquenched addiction, withdrawals, & obsession.

Outside of 12 step meetings, outside of the rooms of recovery, outside of this blog, most outsiders would find it alarming that I of all people would self identify as a "drug addicted Alcoholic." Let alone be writing about it publicly on the internet. This is how I've been able to come to grips with life on life's terms, where I have begun to own my story. I am hopeful it can inspire & help others who may find themselves in a similar situation. 

This is what came up when I searched "Alcoholic Cartoon" 

Like many before me, I thought that the worst thing that could happen to a guy like me, was to end up an alcoholic. My life would be over as I knew it. After all, during most of my 20's casual partying & drinking were seamlessly integrated into my social life, my friendships, my dating world. First it was only on the weekends or special occasions. Next perhaps some midweek drinks for Taco Tuesday, then Whiskey Wednesday, which of course was followed by thirsty Thursday.... which was naturally topped off with eight-ball Friday.

Sundays were for nursing hangovers at the bloody mary bar, and Mondays were the day you finally swore off drinking THAT much for THAT long ever again. Until sooner or later you get introduced to the prescription wonder drug adderall, taken by cramming college students, working professionals, or stay at home fit moms with ADHD.   I was under the immediate impression that adderall was made for professional drinkers such as myself, allowing me to drink any day of the week, wake up popping (or crushing up & snorting) a few pills, functioning at work, then able to repeat the process over.

Red Bull gives your adderal wings. .. & a turbo jet propulsion system.

There seems to be a recent movement going around the various recovery circles of NOT identifying as an alcoholic or an addict after having a few years of sobriety under your belt. I find this trend fascinating & truly interesting to me as I can see the attraction of a differing status.

Article about identifying as "I am in Long Term Recovery" which allows me to function as.....

I am not for or against it at this juncture. I'm sure as I continue to progress & display new growth in recovery my knowledge base will expand allowing my views to shift. As of right now, for me personally, it could do more harm than good by not identify as an alcoholic / addict.

While I never gave this disease permission or squatter's rights to set up camp in my head, the only way I know how to expose my darkness is to shine a spotlight on it, identify it, & never take my eyes off of it until it can be properly contained. I am just not in a hurry to be labeled as something else until I figure out exactly what I currently am.

 Some wonder why I would admit that, saying "You are so much more than that, don't be so hard on yourself!"

What they don't understand, possibly what you don't understand, is I am wired differently.

Yes, I am a father, a brother, a son, a business owner/ operator, an athlete, a lover, a friend, a sponsor.

... But Addiction / alcoholism touches every part of my being. I can't be any one of those things with out recovery first & foremost.

 As soon as I stop owning my story, my story owns me.

Yes, some people recover & move away from meetings,  graduate from treatment, move into the suburbs with their chosen life partner, 2.5 kids & a dog. They may now say that they "used to be an addict" and go about their lives in complete normalcy. The problem is that I still dream of the time when I am retired, my children are grown & responsible adults on their own, so that I can go to a secluded tropical island with a wheel barrow full of hookers n blow.. 

So, nah.... I don't think I'll stop calling myself an addict anytime soon.

I will however say that I strive to be "In long term recovery from all mind altering substances"

Out of Bounds

What I used to think about boundaries

Really, boundaries? But aren't those sort of like make believe rules or laws? Which sort of don't apply to me & are sort of made to be broken? There was a time not too long ago that my immediate answer would have been,"No thanks, not for me, not in this lifetime." I am a rebel, an outlaw, or at least a terminally unique individual, not one to conform to social norms.

I am sitting here alone (imagine that) inside of my head - pondering "Just why is it that I have such an issue with the concept of boundaries?" Why is it that I attach my own meaning to the actual practice & principles behind setting them, or even worse yet, OBEYING them? (yes even my own) I actually don't fully comprehend having boundaries set, holding to them & how they pertain to my own life. My life in recovery, my life in relationships, my life in business.

 I really don't have logical explanations, or hard evidence, of why my perception of boundaries has always meant someone was imposing one upon me. Ones that I most likely would have never chosen for myself. Since I don't like others making these unilateral decisions that affect my life, I believe it plays into my storyline that "everyone goes away in the end" or that "loving Jesse" is out of the question when others have formed protective boundary lines.

The negative connotations of them echo loudly through my skull as I know full well the very next phrase goes a lot like : 

"I can't see you anymore, I need to focus on myself or career, or any number of things that do not involve you anymore"

"I can't date you anymore, you don't have enough recovery time under your belt yet, but for what it's worth, I believe you have a lot of potential."

What I know I should know about boundaries

I am not sure if I think I'm above boundaries because I'm so cool, so extreme, so good looking, so charming, so terminally unique, to be bound by anything - people, places, things, idea, or philosophies.

... I have been through a bit of therapy & recovery to have had the phrase of establishing "healthy boundaries" thrown my way a time or two. It has been suggested to me that having my own boundaries would be a positive thing as well.

Times I know I should have obeyed boundaries, but didn't

When I think of boundaries, I envision myself testing them, pushing them, bending them, questioning them, & ignoring them. After all...do they really even apply to me? My mind then recalls times in the past that I've felt en(forced) by them. 

Example:


Might I of been the one who pushed some boundaries one cold January night as a K-9 police dog named Tex drug me through a yard by both hands while five police officers wrestled me into handcuffs after I laid in hiding from them motionless for what seemed like hours?
Yes.

this is real.

Example: 

Did I once consider a protective order being put in place the accustomed language used to communicate that my relationship with my daughters mother is probably not going to work out this one last time? Yes.

this is also real

Example:



Have I chosen over & over to believe I could convince someone who had justifiable concerns of the direction we were heading to just stay in love with me?  

To let it play out on blind faith without establishing clear expectations or set boundaries? To just stay in an intimate relationship with me, after they have decided to establish healthy boundaries that we are most likely not emotionally equipped to take on such a task at this point in our story lines?
Most definitely

Have I ignored my own boundaries in life? Have I relapsed, gotten into relationships too early, not given recovery my all?

What I know I am slowly learning about boundaries

Has thinking I'm above boundaries landed me behind bars, hand cuffed in the backseats of cop cars, dog bites, ambulance, emergency rooms, restraining orders, blocked numbers, ignored calls?. Yeah, though I've made it through each and everyone of those mishaps. 

This time I've maintained my sobriety, grabbed ahold of recovery & the 12 steps with all that I have... well, because that is really all I have. The one boundary I have set for myself is to not pick up, no matter what. It is hard to see the results of doing this work at times when you are as sick as me.

It feels so much like despair at times to deal with life's current events. The unfamiliar sensations of longing running their course through me. I have never been the type to stay in the moment when the moment fucking hurts, all the while knowing a temporary solution is out there by the name of sex, drugs, n' rock & roll that always deliver what it is they promise. "Head Change"

THIS.
"You cannot see the reasons now, it may be sometime before you begin to understand why... but if you walk through this... if you stay in each painful moment of growth,I promise you clarity, strength, & purpose on the other side."


I've been TOLD this, I've been HEARING this.... but for the first time in my LIFE I've actually been LISTENING to THIS. Mere suggestions from other people who have been through the same life scenarios & somehow didn't find the NEED to get loaded or escape these WHITE-HOT feelings that seem like they will KILL me if I linger with them a MOMENT longer.

The problem with my boundaries are they intertwine right along with my expectations of others. Do you think others even know that I know I even have them? I thought I knew that others should know that I have boundaries & expectations of them respecting them.. but now I know they don't know.