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.

Step One: Getting out of my own way (Journal Entry)

Is there a wrong way to heal? When I say it like that it doesn’t feel so bad. People keep telling me not to isolate, talk to someone, go to a meeting. But the less I think about the pain the less I want to punch someone’s head.

Everything gives me bad memories. I find myself avoiding such triggers everywhere I go. I never want to go back to that place. Of helplessness, of isolation so consuming that I don’t even have my own thoughts to keep company.

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.

Step One: Cleaning House (Journal Entry)

When I exited rehab I had a new sense of order in my life. I was on schedule. I woke up every day at seven o’clock, showered, dressed, made my bed, cleaned my room, made a to-do list, read some daily reflection and wrote in my journal. Most importantly, I attended meetings and maintained a fellowship with recovering addicts. 

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.

The Devil’s Lies (Poem)

The Devil been tellin me lies again
That I’m such a fool
I’m better off dead

He follows me around everywhere that I go
Every move that I make
Every seed that I sow

He’s the rule I can’t break
The crux to my fall
The pill on my tongue
The hate in my gall

Everyday is a heartache
And it all ends the same
Like I’m trapped in a Matrix
Lost in a game

I try to do what’s right
But I keep hearing all that noise
The Devil captivates my ear
Telling lies to fill the void

He says that I’m not worthy
My life is such a shame
I’ll never be much brighter
than a matchbox in the rain

But he’ll be brokenhearted
When I make him out a fool
As the light that shines inside my heart
Sheds the grace of truth

Letter to Rehab Donors

The following is a letter I wrote for a newsletter at the sober living house where I am residing…

Step One: The Pink Cloud (Journal Entry)

Last time I got sober I went through the Pink Cloud Syndrome, which lasted for ten months and ended in broken windows and a trip to the psych ward followed by a devastating relapse. At the time I was unaware of the pink cloud. I didn’t find out about the pink cloud until 1 1/2 years later when I entered rehab. 

Step One: Denial (Journal Entry)

“How dare anyone tell me I have a problem. I have been wronged. I have been mistreated. Everyone on the planet is a complete moron. I’m sick of being told I need to wait on the sidelines and accept the fact that I am doomed to destruction because everyone else has a problem. If I am forced to eat everyone else’s shit then I’m gonna drink while I do it so you can save the wagon for someone else…”

My excuses for drinking could go on and on for days…