I finally find my way into the meeting.
It's up 3 flights of stairs and back through several doors.
There's a young(er than myself) guy telling someone he had his phone stolen after he got jumped while sleeping outside last night.
I briefly flash to the night I had on the upper **** **** with my girlfriend.
I'm not in a good place emotionally.
I'm tense because I haven't hit a meeting in a few days and I've been living like a normal person.
I've been looking normal, sharp even, well-dressed, articulate, all the things a normal person. I took my girl to an expensive play off ********.
I'm not feeling a ton of gratitude because I've been out of the circle, away from fellowship, not taking time to pray, the whole jazz. And while I'm physically sober, I'm feeling the discontent coming back on strong.
I sit through the first meeting and stay for another. I feel some calm come back to me and I remember to call my sponsor.
--
Flash forward to weeks later.
I'm watching True Detective with my girl. I'm hearing words and phrases from our fellowship in the dialogue of the show. Whoever is writing it has some knowledge of the literature of the fellowship and while I watch these fictional character thrash about violently riddled with resentment, shame, fear, self-loathing, anxiety, and the hatred of self that manifests outwardly as faux hatred of humanity and the world....I see them self-medicate with meaningless sex or violence toward others...it all screams of a child shouting there are no ghosts while hiding in the closet in the dark of night in their room.
I don't shun or look away from the all too human depiction of these so humanly flawed characters.
I don't think about my impending incarceration nor the uncertainty of how long I'll be away or what I'll do when I get out or how I'll slowly put my life back together. I stop to be thankful I have some money set aside but also accept that my plans aren't assured and that I may have to truly start over when I get out for fate is a cruel mistress...not fate, no, I don't see things as inexorable as I once did (so long as I'm sober)...but rather, the design or what is to be will occur with or without my input and that ultimately, a truth I do know and 110% believe is that me getting my way is almost always disastrous and that when I force things....they fail miserably and that when I follow the path, or perhaps....when I look for some signs and guidance along the way....good things come even after the painfully horrendous.
Perhaps. Perhaps this is aphasia, perhaps this is passive acceptance of a world I do not understand nor hope to....perhaps it is many things but this is an easier, softer way.
My way has historically led to jails, institutions, and on a number of occasions nearly death.
I feel like I'm in the 3rd or 4th round of a game of Russian Roulette.
I know the bullet is drawing close....but I can choose to just not play the game.
But...I have to work daily to avoid sitting down at the table and seeing what's in the chamber before it's too late.....
It's up 3 flights of stairs and back through several doors.
There's a young(er than myself) guy telling someone he had his phone stolen after he got jumped while sleeping outside last night.
I briefly flash to the night I had on the upper **** **** with my girlfriend.
I'm not in a good place emotionally.
I'm tense because I haven't hit a meeting in a few days and I've been living like a normal person.
I've been looking normal, sharp even, well-dressed, articulate, all the things a normal person. I took my girl to an expensive play off ********.
I'm not feeling a ton of gratitude because I've been out of the circle, away from fellowship, not taking time to pray, the whole jazz. And while I'm physically sober, I'm feeling the discontent coming back on strong.
I sit through the first meeting and stay for another. I feel some calm come back to me and I remember to call my sponsor.
--
Flash forward to weeks later.
I'm watching True Detective with my girl. I'm hearing words and phrases from our fellowship in the dialogue of the show. Whoever is writing it has some knowledge of the literature of the fellowship and while I watch these fictional character thrash about violently riddled with resentment, shame, fear, self-loathing, anxiety, and the hatred of self that manifests outwardly as faux hatred of humanity and the world....I see them self-medicate with meaningless sex or violence toward others...it all screams of a child shouting there are no ghosts while hiding in the closet in the dark of night in their room.
I don't shun or look away from the all too human depiction of these so humanly flawed characters.
I don't think about my impending incarceration nor the uncertainty of how long I'll be away or what I'll do when I get out or how I'll slowly put my life back together. I stop to be thankful I have some money set aside but also accept that my plans aren't assured and that I may have to truly start over when I get out for fate is a cruel mistress...not fate, no, I don't see things as inexorable as I once did (so long as I'm sober)...but rather, the design or what is to be will occur with or without my input and that ultimately, a truth I do know and 110% believe is that me getting my way is almost always disastrous and that when I force things....they fail miserably and that when I follow the path, or perhaps....when I look for some signs and guidance along the way....good things come even after the painfully horrendous.
Perhaps. Perhaps this is aphasia, perhaps this is passive acceptance of a world I do not understand nor hope to....perhaps it is many things but this is an easier, softer way.
My way has historically led to jails, institutions, and on a number of occasions nearly death.
I feel like I'm in the 3rd or 4th round of a game of Russian Roulette.
I know the bullet is drawing close....but I can choose to just not play the game.
But...I have to work daily to avoid sitting down at the table and seeing what's in the chamber before it's too late.....
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