Recovery...the old fashioned way

In the past 37 days, I have made about 55 meetings, prayed every morning and at night, met my appointments at the V.A., taken my medication, called my sponsor every day, helped others where I could, and looked for work.

(19 applications in two and a half weeks and submitted all of them without a car.)

I finally gained employment and begin orientation on Tuesday.

That's one hurdle down.

I'm not sure where the willingness to do all this came from, and it was exactly that, becoming willing to do what I had to, no matter what, and it started with a willingness to be willing to believe in something greater than myself, to turn all my stuff over to whatever that is (call it what you will) and to do what was put in front of me, especially if I didn't want to.

A friend told me a story today about birds in her yard that built a nest about three feet off the ground. She was concerned because she has five cats...and so she built a little fence around the nest.

It was, she said, an analogy for her spiritual life. "You can build a fence around yourself and try to keep you safe (i.e. isolated) but eventually you have to learn how to fly. You could also be eaten."

Nice to remember...

One moment, one breath...

The now. Attempting to practice the ability to stay there. Not easy, but like any new endeavor it takes practice.

Far too simple to travel back into past pain and resentment, to relive the moments of loss...or to jump into an unknown future, projecting the horrors of bewilderment, or self-fulfilling prophecy (always in a negative context...forget the lottery.)

But the positive is elusive...hard to allow myself the luxury of thinking of a future that includes romance, financial security and peace of mind.

Easier to settle for the bullshit. The guilt, the shame, the things that keep me stuck. Allowing my past to keep me in the cycle.

But no one said positive change is easy.

Through letting go of the defects that keep me from being of service, and helping others without regard or regret, change will come.

My mind wails, "When will the change come? When will it get better?"

And a soft, still voice gently reminds me... as soon as I want it to.

Now, about that lottery.

In the theater of the mind there is gum under my seat.

Call it what you will; internal dialogue, the committee, old tapes or just fuckin' nuts but I'm starting to referee my thoughts. More often than not it's noisy and confusing but I'm doing what I can.

Filling out daily applications, meetings every day, family obligations and trying to avoid the wreckage I have caused can wear you down, but I'm still plugging.

I've even started to pray.

How's that for change?

And on...

So it's on to plan B.

The VA won't accept me in to the program I had planned on for at least thirty more days, and I don't have time to wait. It's time to get back at it and rebuild, but this time, my priority is recovery. I can be no good to anyone unless I am at my best.

I'm staying with my Aunt and Uncle in the neighborhood I lived in in the first grade. Searching for work within walking distance and save up enough money to get in to a recovery based halfway house on a bus line.

Yes, my next car will be a bus pass, or the tennis shoe express. That's okay too. I'm not too proud to walk, done it before.

If any one has a direct line to a miracle, let me know. Although I suppose others are in more need of one, I'm just putting in my shot.

Onward through the fog.

I'm no hero...

I've thought long and hard as to how to how best to explain my absence on the blog and the truth is the only way to go.

I was just released from the VA hospital. I checked in last week. Suicidal and self-medicating, again. For you novices to recovery I was drinking and smoking weed. No apologies, no excuses.

Turns out my medication stopped working about a year ago. I didn't know it. So every day, I slipped lower into the shit...wondering eventually how it got up to my nose.

Also let me know I have been dealing with untreated PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) since childhood. Untreated for forty years. Nice. At least I have a name to attach to it and thereby get help for it. So yeah, it's back to meetings, medication, therapy and an attempt to salvage my relationships with my children. If I have the time left.

I'm on new medication, and it looks promising. I hope so.

They offered electro-shock therapy, as an alternative to the meds. No effing thank you, I like what personality I have, and I have no need to arc weld when I piss, so I say no to the voltage. Jesus.

This stops. Regardless how this pans out, the self destructive, hateful behavior ends. I am electing to go into two different VA treatment programs, walking away from what little I had, to get better.

I was hesitant to try the VA as there are so many who really have paid the price, and will never come home, or get well.

A sideways kind of survivor guilt, maybe. Who knows.

I learned a lot in a week. I learned my guilt and remorse over my three failed marriages and the disastrous job I did with my kids has kept me from finding someone else to love. I stayed alone, and grew more and more disconnected. Talk about a fixer-upper.

I would love to write material for my act about the experience but feel it too selfish while others still fight and die and lose more than I have ever had.

They are the heroes. I'm just trying to settle the demons.

To my family and friends who have been supportive and continue to be, thank you. It means more than I can express.

If less is more I'm going to have to get a bigger empty apartment.

Back to survival boys and girls...everyone's favorite topic.

I won't bore you with trite details, although therein lies the Devil.

Or so they say.

I'm up to my chin in a pond of debt. Oh great...a wave. Just what I needed.

And here I thought it was a winning quick pick or an agent in the audience with a sweetheart deal.

While I wouldn't say no to either one...holding my breath is just going to make me winded.

Life's too short to wheeze around the ugly.

If I was driving with my windows down, and had a male inflatable doll...would it look like I was driving a surprised Michael J. Fox to the Doctor?

I used that the last time I did my act. It went over really well.

I went through one of the hardest, bullshit weeks I've had in a while. I was going to cancel the show. Was not feeling it.

But apparently I have friends who believe in what I'm doing. They wouldn't let me cancel.

They inspired me to book a spot at Hyena's at 75 and Mockingbird on the Sunday after Easter.

Back Door Comedy on the Thursday after Easter and Hyena's on Sunday.

I'm not at all used to people believing in me...who are making me realize my potential, or at least trying to.

Friends...hmmm.

Third time up...

I performed for the third time last night. Strong material, good set, but the crowd was laughing at really simple stuff.

This set was new and the material I used required a little thought.

Maybe next time I'll just do knock knock jokes.

Odd crowd...I swear I heard cud chewing and the occasional moo.

Cows are great for hamburger and suede jackets but they like their comedy a little too straightforward.

Screw it. Next time I'll set up a grill and scare the shit out of them...

Comedy...it's not always funny.

Crickets...boy, are they loud.

I knew my first set worked...so I tried all new stuff for the second. The material I had was good, however, three jokes in and I went blindingly blank. Nothing. All I could hear were crickets. But I recovered and went on and finished.

The gap was probably about 15 seconds but seemed like six weeks. Wow. Not good. But next time I'm planning a strong set. Come out blazing.

Rehearsal is the key.

I book my sets every other Thursday. So the next time I'm up is March 19, again at 8:30.

This last time I went on before the amputee. Nice.

Hee Hee. Things are looking up?

Who knows...still working two jobs I loathe, but I am starting to live for three minutes every two weeks.

At least I have a goal.

I killed...

At least I'd like to think so. The show went better than I could have hoped and am expecting comments and pics from some folks who attended.

I was 37 out of 40 comics. I followed an amputee who actually removed his leg during his set. How did I follow that?

I'll let them tell the story...

It's a real indicator of my makeup that I am uncomfortable writing in public but I can get up in front of 60 people and try to make them laugh.

I have troubles...

I'm doing it again, but with a new set, March 5-8:30.

Standing on the edge...with one foot in space.

Writing in public, (I am using the library computer) is hard. Difficult to write in my robe and scratch myself while "Story time" unfolds across the room. But no matter...this is just an update.

I pulled the trigger and booked my first three minutes of time doing stand up. If you are in the Dallas area and read this blog, I would love to see you at the event. February 19, next Thursday at Back Door Comedy at the Doubletree in Dallas. I75 and Northwest Highway. The show starts at eight-thirty.

If you can make it leave me a comment on the blog.

Further update...I made my appointment at The VA and have to go back Friday for lab work. When I saw the Doctor last week he disturbed me. He told me I had to stop masturbating. Apparently it bothered the other Veterans.

I'm actually using that in my set. I have no shame...

And on...

I don't feel funny today. Or cute, or particularly clever. Guess you can't have it all.

Struggling mightily to get rent paid in time...it's not looking good. I worked a wine dinner tonight. Easy. But it's still a struggle. But I know it's a struggle for almost everyone, right now. I know I am not the only father behind in child support, and there are those who have even less than I do.

Poor bastards. Gratitude is my way out, and that, my friends, is a bitch. Always has been. Bumps up against this damned sense of entitlement I have always wrestled. At least it can be a goal. Short term.

I made that appointment with the VA, check on my meds. Need to. I am out of whack. Someone told me I might have a thyroid problem. Explain the largess and the lack of desire to do anything constructive. Worth a shot.

The weather is not helping. It has been colder than a blue fuck the past few days, and I'm heartily tired of it. Ice almost cost me a bad slip outside the apartment. Ice on the top step about resulted in the back of my skull rapping smartly against the sharp edge of the top step.

I imagined laying in the freezing ice storm, slowly bleeding to death. No one was out. I would not have been found in time. That would so suck.

I'm being told the best is yet to come and cannot imagine how this will all end up. But if we did know, would we still follow the course we set?


I can't imagine asking for this...