Step One: Powerlessness (Twelve Steps)

Addiction is the cold war pulling at our heartstrings; each an isolation of its own and all unwilling to reach out in communion with the rest. It’s a cold war that leaves us seething with resentment and anger over the people, places, and things we have no control over.

Enslaved by social norms, jonesing for distraction, obsessed with feel-good moments, fixated on the notion that the whole world revolves around whatever prison we have created for ourselves.

Step One: Despair and Isolation

Despair and isolation is the sum of most of my life. I can’t remember a time when I felt connected to this nonsensical world around me. The ‘people’ in it continuously leave me in a staggering daze, endlessly pondering how humanity has come this far with such astounding stupidity weighing on the scale of triumph.

Growing up, I was an extremely angry loner. I was mean to all my short-lived friends and I was royally pissed at the world. I saw absolutely no hope in the future, and I didn’t give a flying rat’s ass what anybody thought of me.

I Will Fight (Journal Entry)

It’s so weird to be alive. I wake up, eat, shower, get dressed, check up on the happenings of this strange world, run errands, eat, sleep, dream and wake up. The days meld together. Weeks turn into months. As I drift into the future the past seems more like a dream.

I try to make sense of it all, try to live each day unto itself. I try to dig a little deeper, try to better myself. I try to strengthen my spirit and lend a helping hand. Be a friend to my neighbor, and be grateful for what I have.

Heartache and Time (Journal Entry)

Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck between a dump truck and a cliff. As the days go by the harder it is to look back. But moving forward feels so empty, a void that can neither be filled nor emptied. The upside down of the right side wrong. The further I walk the more I’ve lost.

And as I lose the self that won’t come back to me. I detach from the life that meant so much to me. I can’t remember the good or the bad. It’s like I jumped out a wormhole and forgot what just happened.

A Letter to My Evil Alter (Journal Entry)

Dearest Mean Mean Maria Jean,

We’ve been through many tough times together, and you’ve always been there to stick it to anybody who tried to hurt me. You’ve made me laugh, cry, gag, cough, sneeze and damn near crap my pants all at the same time, and for that I am grateful. 

However, the time has come for me to let go of all my anger and resentments. I can no longer partake in pity-parties and mud-slinging contests with you. Although the things you say are funny, certain people might misconstrue some of the mean and hurtful things you say and do as childish and lacking in self-awareness. 

Pondering the Matrix (Journal Entry)

I was born to be invisible. Like the stump of a sofa that gets tripped into and cursed then forgotten once again. I always wondered what it would be like to have loving, doting parents. Would I have grown to be such a loser?

Sometimes I wish I was anybody but me. Then I look at everybody else and wish I were just plain dead. Because if I were the happy type, I’d be oblivious to the world that enslaves me in a bubble where my greatest defense against reality is to push the ‘block’ button. And if I were born with a silver spoon I’d be as rotten as a carcass.

The Miracle (Journal Entry)

If I had a million dollars I could finally set me free. I would have the independence I never thought I’d see. I would wake up every day without a worry on my mind as I accomplished all those little things I often toss aside.

The Living Vine (Journal Entry)

The light at the end of my thorn garnished path seems to get a little brighter as I give it more slack. As I grow a little higher I get a little less cold. My vine is creeping up past that shade hanging over.

And I’m alright and I’m okay, and I’ll do fine as I cross fate. These thorns can’t stop my climb or snatch my fruits before they ripe.

And I will slither through the holes, slip right past the shards and stones. As my branches cross the wall, a perfect painting starts to grow.

Another seedling starts to hatch. A baby bird finds food to scratch. New life makes a home in this journey I have tolled. 

Super Nova (Journal Entry)

Guilt, shame, blame. I go through the motions then go back to bed. I can’t turn back and I can’t move forward. This pain in my gut is boiling over.

Fool me once shame on you. Fool me a thousand times and I lost my point of view. How many times can I endure your love? The bane of my existence is my surrender to your…

I… Can’t… Breathe when I think of all the times you shat upon my heart. Maybe this time it sounds a lot better but what is better what all you know is hurt? And I hate the way I feel most times. No words can fill that cup. I drink then I get drunk then I plant face into the dirt.

Step One: Powerlessness (Twelve Steps)

Upon much contemplation over what powerlessness means to me I have reached the fullness of my conviction. I struggled with powerlessness the first time I got sober because it was easy for me to stop drinking. If I was powerless over alcoholism why was I able to quit with such ease? It wasn’t until my resentments came to a boil that I gave way to a nearly two-year run of binge drinking and blackouts.