Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

Been a minute

It has been a minute since I’ve written on this blog. Ever since I’ve started working I haven’t made time for it. Six days a week I’m doing my thing. My life consists of work, church and home. I’m not complaining thought. Who would’ve ever thought monotony would be so blissful. I have to be honest, sometimes I get bored and my mind wonders into the abyss of insanity. Thinking about the former chaotic life so sex, drugs and rock and roll and my mind tries to romanticize about it. However, I’m quick to shoot those thoughts down and constantly asking for God’s help in doing so because my flesh doesn’t want me to shoot those thoughts down. It’s a struggle sometimes. Not that I can’t overcome it, but I struggle with finding pleasure in that former life. Then it’s like some kind of internal battle going on because I don’t want to find pleasure in those thoughts of past shenanigans. So, I inadvertently end up pulling closer to God. Coincidence or is there a genius at work? I’m glad my travel arrangements are the way they are at the moment. This is the first time not having any wheels, but every place I need to go the travel is supplied. I’ve finally decided I’m not in a rush to get my own car even though I can. I have classic and kind of expensive taste, so I don’t want to settle for a Honda when I want another BMW…or Lexus…or Mercedes Benz. So, that’s what I’m saving for, and no I’m not going to waste all my money on something grand. I know how to shop for bargains and I’m looking accordingly. I just have a type and I know what I want. Never settle for less. I’ve been blessed thus far, and I believe God is going to blow my mind with what He has in store for me. Not just material things, but spiritually. I’ve been learning patience. It’s such a virtue. Not too long ago, I would’ve been ready to bust out of my seams ready for what’s next in life. Trying to figure out what’s going to happen a month, even a year from now. Now, I just leave it up to God. Every morning I pray that He guides every step that I make. EVERY step. Let Him have complete control, because I know He won’t let me stumble. I went to Walmart today and just took in the whole state of being. Does anyone ever just go into a trance sort of state and think “Wow, I’m alive. Look at all of the people around me. Look at all of the matter around me. I can’t believe I’m breathing. I can’t believe I can hear. I can’t believe I have thoughts.” Yea, I was in Walmart thinking all of this and taking it in. I looked at the people and how homely they and I looked walking around in that facility and I loved every one of them for just being a part of my experience of being alive…in Walmart. I know it sounds silly, but whatever. I appreciate everything at this moment, and I hope for all the time that I’m here in this Earth. Thank God for Jesus. That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing


Oh man. I haven’t been writing like I should. Everyday is like Groundhog’s Day. That’s a good thing though. All I’ve been doing is going to work and looking for a new car. I’ve finally decided to take my time looking for a new ride. I don’t want to rush anything. Also, it’s a good thing that I’m limited with mobility because I’ve been having some tempting thoughts. Sex, drugs and rock and roll have been on my mind, but I start praying as soon as the thoughts come. I ask God to take away the desire, because He’s going to have to because my flesh desires it. Just keeping to 100. Then, I’ll listen to something gospel. Then God reminds me of the blessings that have not taken place yet and I look at how good the last couple of months have been and no way I’m going to blow it. But I tell you IT’S HARD!! The temptation in my mind coupled with my impatience…man I can F my whole life up in 30 seconds. Oh yea, I have 6 months sober. I put it up on my Facebook. I was reluctant at first because a lot of people don’t know that I have addiction issues. However, I feel like all of this experience was for a reason. It’s the platform God wants to use me to do His work. Well, I’ll write more frequently……well we’ll see. Don’t get me to lying. I b tired after work. That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

It doesn’t belong to you

I’ll start taking pictures of things other than myself. I promise. I just went to Wal-Mart, and on my way in the parking lot there was a guy on the side panhandling. Immediately, my spirit told me to give to him. So, I went in Wal-Mart and got my stuff, and when I came back out I proceeded to give to the man. I got out of the car with my lights shining bright on him and he started to walk over. I handed him an undisclosed amount and left. He reeked of marijuana and I could tell he was on some kind of something, but that wasn’t the point. I left him with a fist bump and “Jesus loves you.” I’m saying all of this because most people would say, “Don’t give him anything. All he is going to do is go out and spend it blah blah blah.” In fact, the whole time I was in Wal-Mart pondering on the guy my mind wanted to go there and say “Save your money. You’ll need it for lunch.” But before that thought could proceed any further it’s like God spoke to me and said “IT DOESN’T BELONG TO YOU!!” The money I worked so hard for doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to Him. Nothing belongs to me except Him. It’s amazing how at this point in my life my perspective on things have changed. I teased my mother the other day about being miserly. I’m not going to be that way. It’s stressful and I KNOW that heaven has my back, so I’m not going to be a miser since He supplies all of my needs, my wants and He’ll give me the desires of my heart. I can’t be anxious about my spending. I will be wise about it, but I tend to make money an idol as many people do. I don’t want to idolize anything, because I know He’ll take it away. A point I took into consideration is that no matter what the guy does with the money, he’s no worse than me. I am him. He is me. We all need grace and mercy. I wanted to sit out there and talk to him, but when he started rambling and telling me all this story about a bunch of nothing I was like “Nope, time to go” in my mind. The simple short message that Jesus loves him was all the conversation we needed to have. It doesn’t belong to me. The love I have in my heart for mankind doesn’t belong to me. The empathy doesn’t belong to me. So, I must give it freely to whomever. I don’t know if anyone will get what I’m saying, but that’s ok. This message doesn’t belong to me. That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

The Mailbox

I don’t have much to talk about really. I just finished putting up another mailbox for the house since someone decided to hit ours and knock it down. I kind of like myself, and the fact that I take action quickly. Yeah, it was kind of irritating to look out the window and see that some idiot ran into the mailbox and knocked it down, but there was no time to dwell on it. It was late in the evening the sun was about to start going down. That required quick action because I had to get a mailbox before the mailman delivers tomorrow, or we wouldn’t get any mail. So, I didn’t waste any time cursing the person who did it out in my head. I jumped in the car, went to Wal-Mart and stood there for about fifteen minutes just looking like a looker. You know how Wal-Mart is. Anyhow, I decided to pray and ask God what to do. He told me to go to Home Depot. I didn’t know mailboxes were so expensive. I was trying to be cheap about it, and God was like “Why are you being cheap? I’ve supplied you with the means to get what you need now just do it.” I obliged. He told me to go to Home Depot because they had the exact mailbox I need. Quick installation. Half the post was still left from the other mailbox, and this new mailbox just required that I have an 4×4 wooden post already in the ground. Check. All I had to do was install the new mailbox over the old broken post. This was such a relief. I was thinking I was going to have to dig and get cement and all the other riff raff. Turns out, the mailbox I bought looks way better than the old one. It only took 15-20 minutes to install. I’m proud of the work and I owe it all to God. I’m looking out the window now at this new mailbox. It’s way better looking than the old one which was kind of raggedy once I saw it on the ground. It had all kind of spider webs and stuff. We needed an upgrade. Out with the old, in with the new. Who knew a mailbox would have such a story. I’m about to write some lyrics to some songs. That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Writing


Maybe I think too much, but I feel like I’m on some conspiracy type of stuff. Even with these allergies I’m having because of the pollen levels. I’ve never had them this bad, and there must be an epidemic because when I went to the allergy section at Wal-Mart to get some Zyrtec the whole aisle of medicine was empty. I looked in the sky the other day and say about fifty chem trails. It just made me think what if those chem trails are the source of this horrible allergy season. After all, allergy medicine is an huge industry, so why wouldn’t the makers of these drugs invest in a few planes dropping all kinds of allergens in the air so that we have no choice but to boost their industry. Far fetched? You’d be surprise about the evil that men do. Even if it’s just a far fetched thought, it’s a lucrative thought and worth a whole lot of money. The darn Zytec isn’t even working though! My ears are itching like crazy, and the pathway from my ears to my throat is itching like crazy too. I woke up the other night because I literally could not breath. My nose had closed completely up. I was mad because I was so sleepy, and I couldn’t sleep without being able to breathe. Something weird is going on. Something supernatural that’s turning into the natural. It’s like the earth is reacting to something. I don’t want to say that there’s a cataclysmic event that’s about to occur, but at the same time I wouldn’t he surprised. The ants aren’t even coming out. I killed a hornet the other day and it’s still lying on the pavement where I killed it. The ants supposed to have BEEN munched on that dead carcass. Then the weather. I believe there’s going to be tornado after tornado after tornado. I mean, it’s 40 degrees at night and 85 during the day. I’m no scientist but aren’t tornadoes formed in those kinds of wind streams? Oh yea, forgot to mention the wind is blowing like crazy. Anyway, on another subject, you ever had a friend that ends up liking you? It’s so weird when that happens. I try to stay in the friend zone, but it happens to me a lot. A friend ends up liking me, and then I’m saying to myself “Noooooo!!!” I just don’t react to it anymore, but I’m running into this situation again. So, I’ll just have to distance myself, because I don’t want any hurt feelings or awkwardness. Plus I don’t want anyone looking stupid, because that leads to resentment. Oh well, that’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share. And if you’re my friend and read this and think I’m talking about you, I’m not. Who I’m referring to isn’t going to read this.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

In a funk..

I feel like something’s missing. It might be my neglecting to write. Haven’t been on the blog much since I’ve started my new job. I can almost feel the emptiness of not doing my passion like I’m supposed to be. Consistency is key. I aim to remain consistent. So, I’ll try to do better. I haven’t made any meetings because my schedule is now hectic and I get off late, but when the dust settles and I get acclimated to this new journey I’ll make sure to reposition myself accordingly. I’m pursuing writing music still. I have two songs completed in my head and on paper. I sent my cousin who is a master musician, the melody in a wave and he’s going to produce it. I have a few vocalist to help whenever he emails it back to me so we can go into the studio record. Until then it’s like I’m on pause. I write lyrics to other songs down, but I’m anxious to see how this whole process is going to work out. It’s all God driven. He’s not in any hurry, and I’m impatient but I see his plan working out divinely. The right people are being placed in my life to work on this project, and I see the end result. I just so ready for it to happen. I guess this is a test of how steadfast I remain. Usually when I get anxious and impatient I’ll get depressed and feel like nothing in life is working for me and then BOOM relapse. See, God is good. I just figured out that equation while I’m writing. That’s why writing is therapeutic for me. I find out things about myself. Who knew that the funk that I’m in, which I titled this entry, was actually depression trying to creep in because I’m so anxious to see the finished product of this songwriting experience. Dang, that impatience can be a beast now that I look at it in depth. I’ve been a little a-hole too in my head. I’ve been harboring selfishness and being judgmental to certain situations. If I believe God has me completely, I have to live that way. No other option. When I act in such a way that does not reflect that notion, I am indulging in self and that’s not His will. I want to be in His will. I’ve got to be in His will. His will is for me to be a scribe. It’s such a relief just writing this blog right now. It’s like a reflection on the circumstances that behoove me, and I’m getting the answers that I’ve been longing for. I’m seeing why I was in a funk. I prayed that when I got this job that I would not let it take over my life, and here I was letting it do so. Not saying that I can’t handle the job, it just goes to show that going to work, coming home, eating and taking a nap and watching TV is NOT what to do. I need to go to work, come home and write, go to the gym, create new ideas, be innovative. I need to develop the projects that I began before I started back working. And just like that God has shown me the epiphany from a funk I was in when I started writing this. I wonder is this documentation of God revealing things to me seen by anyone who reads this, or does it sound like I’m rambling? Whatever. As long as I got what I need. No, I shouldn’t say that. This blog is for others. Not me. I don’t know how my thoughts and words my impact someone, but great if it does. I’m just trying to be transparent. That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

New Beginnings

Look at my eyes! These allergies are crazy! The pollen is thick. The air is humid. I spend half of my day making pig noises trying to scratch my throat. Anyway, I haven’t been posting lately because I’ve been kind of exhausted from this new job with FedEx. I have to figure out my energy level and how to balance life now that I’m back in the workforce. God is so patient with me. He told me to just chill out and let my body and mind get used to this new venture, because I’m doing other things on the side as well that I want to be successful. So, right now I just need to focus on this job adjustment and my other projects will be there. I have to learn to create time to rest too, because I’m on 1000. I just want to keep going and going, and today my body was like REST. I didn’t even go to church. I feel empty about it, but I know God isn’t going to hold it against me. Anyway, I work as a driver and it is super easy and kind of a lot of work. I don’t mind working, but you sometimes find people who are lazy and complain about work. I’m not lazy at all. I’m more impatient and ready to get the job done. I’m going to go to a meeting at either 6PM or 8PM since I didn’t get a chance to make it to any last week. I’ve been working from 7am until all week, through Saturday. I see some people complaining and I feel so fortunate to be where I am compared to where I was at the end of last year and the beginning of this year that I just sometimes have to walk away from the conversation. I don’t want any negative energy rubbing off on me. The guy I was training with noticed that I didn’t curse. I didn’t give it any thought because in my mind I’m cursing all the time, but that gave me an epiphany that people are really watching and the words that come out of my mouth mean something. Also, the words that don’t come out of my mouth mean something. I mean I do swear every now and then, but I guess I’ve learned to tame my tongue. I don’t want to speak curses on anything. Only healing. It’s a tornado watch out right now. I feel like there’s going to be a lot of bad weather in the upcoming months. Specifically tornadoes. I’ve said that in a post earlier. Also, what’s in your heart proceeds to become thoughts which then come out of your mouth. I wonder if your dreams tell you what’s in your heart? I had a dream that a certain person took of my beloved packets of grape Kool Aid and made his own pitcher of it. I was so irate in the dream and when i woke up I wondered why was I so irate? It was like a real feeling that I harbor but I don’t know where it comes from. I don’t even know what the feeling is, but I know it’s there in my heart because I felt it. Perhaps it’s selfishness. 🤔 . Anyway, that’s all I got. Don’t know how I got off on that last tangent, but it is what it is. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

The Crucial Game of Recovery

The price that we pay to remain up in this recovery game. Is it a test? Like the game of chess? I just got the word that one of my buddies that I met in rehab died today. I’m grief stricken, but I’m at peace. I know that this kind of events is one of my triggers. I thank God that He has given me the ability to cope. Me and Gavin had private talks no one knew about. He described to me how he didn’t want to live life as an addict. We both dealt with situations where we were right there when someone died and we both had it in common how that PTSD had effected us. Man…he was only 28. So much more life to live. Such promising vocal skills and guitar skills. I remember he and I going together in the truck to get cigarettes and I must’ve talked his ear off. I just can’t believe it. However, this is a crucial game. Addiction is a crucial game. It’s sole intention is to take you out. I knew where the hurt was with him. We both had that moment where we felt responsible for someone losing their life. I’m getting ahead of this grief before it has a chance to even try to get me again. I’ve reached out. My folks are making sure that I’m alright. I’ve let people know that this is the kind of thing that triggers me. I have a good support system, and I have a strong relationship with my creator. I wonder why He created me this way? I have such a strong love for people and life. I hate that I’ll never get to see Gavin ever again. That’s the part about death that tears me to pieces. You never get to see that person ever again in this lifetime. Just thinking about that whole aspect of death makes my heart grieve. That’s why I’m learning coping skills, because it’s bound to happen. I’m bound to lose another friend in this battle. It’s the nature of the beast. I just have to grieve and cry and let it all out. It relieves something in my spirit to do that. Holding it in will lead me to trying to numb the pain. As I’ve stated over time and time again I’m very tender hearted. More than the average person I believe. I wrote down today in my journal that I am my brother’s keeper. So, with that I’ll cry and I’ll grieve for my brother because my brothers’ life means more than he knows it, and I’ll cherish every memory and every moment that our energies collided and created that particular stamp in time. That’s not just for Gavin, but for most people I have known and share a brotherhood with. That’s real talk. I love hard. I love you when you don’t love yourself. That’s just how I’m built. I have the heart of a lion and I love unconditionally, and it’s deep rooted. Where did I come from? Why did you create me like this God? Why don’t I know how to hate? Why don’t I know how not to care about people? Why have I not been given a heart of stone like most people? It would be so easier not to feel than to love unconditionally. But I wouldn’t change it for the world. My heart is heavy right now, but I know all things work together for good. I don’t question God on these things I just trust Him to be the sustainer of my heart, because He knows that it’s fragile. Gavin, you didn’t have to go. Come back man, we miss you. That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

Prayers Answered

Well, prayers have been answered from the post I posted earlier this week. I received a call telling me that I got the position I applied for. A great brother entered into my life to guide me in my songwriting experience. All glory to God. When I didn’t get the call from the position I wanted the day that I wanted it I got discouraged. Instead of being down and out I continued to stay positive as much as possible and took the “Well, if the job wasn’t for me, then it wasn’t in God’s will for me to have it.” I had to exercise my faith, because though that seems good to think theoretically it’s still discouraging. However, when I received that call today I had to give thanks. I’ve been working on this project with my daddy doing vinyl siding and the timing was perfect because we’re just finishing up the job and then I get this call while I’m en route to the site telling me to come in at 8 AM for my drug screening. I’m so happy to be able to pass a drug test honestly. I’m ready for it. That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Poetry, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing


In December
The Word of God manifest
Let this child be born
Let this child be blessed

Twenty-one days in
Mark of the winter solstice
Down in Carolina
Became the last of mom and dad focus

I climbed out the womb
Couldn't wait to get into this world
Impatient from the start
Created two boys, one girl

The last of the offspring
Starting a new generation
Contemplation, hesitation
All aboard the ship of relation

The final of the grands
That my grandfather ever saw
Four days before Christmas
So perfected, never saw my flaws

Now I'm here on earth
One day before Capricorn
Call it Caprittarius
Thirteen days after the day my mother was born

It's so cliche
How they say we're here for a reason
I wonder why I was born after Fall
A brand new season

God put me here to prophesy
Never forget, always remember
Eleven other months in the year
But there's something about December.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

Greatest Week Ever

Don’t ask. I didn’t have a better visual. I’m going to claim this week to be a week of miracles, of favor, of God just working in my life and making my dreams come into fruition. I’m not going to be dismayed or pessimistic. Well, come to think of it I’m not any of that anyway. I’m an upbeat optimistic guy. I just tend to prepare for the worst in case the worst happens. So, I’m not going to even place the concept of “the worst” in my path. I’m going to let triumph enter into my soul. This is going to be one of the best week ever of many to come. It will be the beginning of a journey I would never imagine I would be on. It will be full of excitement and awe. It will be pleasant and fruitful. I will write like I never have. I will get the position I want. People that are good for me will enter into my life. I receive it. In the name of Jesus. So shall it be. That’s what I have for the moment. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Poetry, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing


Dear Heavenly Father,

I come to You and I pray
That everyday, all day
You give me strength
No man can take away

And so, I'll live this life for You
I'll even die for You
But you died for me
So that I won't have to

Pumping poison in my veins
Definition of insane
Mom and dad stressed out
What's going through my brain

Somebody slap me
That's not the way I was raised
But you prayed, and I prayed
And we prayed, then we praised

And the chains began to break
And then God released His grace
And I went from overcoming
To this home called Faith

I gotta thank my daddy
For staying up in my face
Slowed down after 12 steps
He told me "Pick up the pace"

I made the discovery
God is my recovery
I'll depend on Him
I can feel His spirit hovering

A good work has begun
In the name of God the Son
And when this life is finished
I want to hear "Well done"

My brothers hold no remorse
Get to the Source
Make amends
And when this journey is finished
It don't begin till it end
Seen it again and again and again and again
I decrease so You can increase
And let the church say
Posted in Journal, Recovery, Writing


Lol, I don’t think my brother knows I took that picture of him looking crazy. I’m in a good mood today. I’m always in a good mood believe it or not. I think my blogs are dramatic sometimes, but I search the depths of my soul when I write them. Anyway, this weather has my allergies going crazy. I bet I’ve sneezed 1000 times today. I love sneezing. It’s like an orgasm. I wonder do other people like to sneeze or am I weird. Sometimes I say things that normal people won’t say, but when you think about it you’ll be like “Hey…he might have something here.” Think about it. Do you love to sneeze? Isn’t it refreshing and relieving, and all your worries are gone for a split second. I even rub my nostril sometimes to make myself sneeze, and I love when I was the double triple sneeze effect. Mmmmm, sneezing. I smile and I close my eyes thinking about it. Lol. I hate when other people sneeze though. Especially when their sneeze smells like sneeze. That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Poetry, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing


I see the love, I feel the love
A tear fell from your eye
Because when you saw me again
All you could do is cry

I'm not the same person
The old me had to die
I won't question your absence
When I was slowly committing suicide

You didn't know what was going on inside
You did the best you could when you tried
I walked that boulevard alone
But in the end I found God

How do I characterize 
This new being, metamorphosized
A story so profound
It could never be plagiarized

I didn't know to find myself
I would have to be ostracized 

Like the butterfly
Transformed from the worm on the ground
Having to crawl through the dirt
So new life can be found

It's all for His glory
Look at the new creation
Only He could do this work
Purified through lamentation

Now I can't resent
To the world I present
The child of the King
The throne of a prince.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

Every thought is fulfilled in the prophecy….

I’m reading this book called The Definitive Guide to the Prophetic by Joni Ames. From what I’ve read so far it details the goals and what the prophetic ministry in the church. Edification is a buzz word in the book from what I have read. I have a prophetic gift. I don’t want to call myself a prophet, because that carries a lot of weight, and I just don’t think I’m worthy enough. However, I cannot deny the gift. I’ve always been a very spiritual person, and it’s like I have a constant whisper in my ear. I can’t deny the gift. I believe everyone has a prophetic gift. Wow, this is so uncomfortable writing about for some reason. Anyway, it’s like I know stuff that I’m not supposed to know by logic. Nevertheless, if someone says “Tell me about so and so, or what do you see with me” I can’t answer them. Well, I found out in the book the reason I can’t answer them is because it becomes a form of sorcery when someone asks you what God says concerning them or a situation. Instead of going to God themselves, they ask someone with a gift of prophecy which is the same as seeking a psychic experience. It felt good to read that, because people have picked up on my prophetic gift and have asked me about themselves and I tell them I honestly can’t answer them. It’s like the whisper in my ear shuts completely up and I’m left looking baffled. Anyway, I’m to use this gift for edification, not for condemning. Words are powerful, and I have to be careful not to speak the wrong things because for some reason the things I speak manifest physically. I don’t know why or how I’ve tapped into that realm, but whenever I say something it happens and it has gotten so powerful that I can’t believe it myself. However. It can’t be anything that’s derived from vanity or pride. It’s subtle words. I’ll stop talking about it now. Anyway, I went to an interview today and while I was meeting with the hiring manager I saw one of my oldest, best friends that I lost contact with while I was lost in addiction. It was a very emotional moment, and here we were in the middle of me trying to get a job crying. That allowed me to see that I need to repair that relationship with her. She’s one of the people I had been holding resentments against, because I had been thinking “Where were you when I needed a friend?? I was dying, and everyone abandoned me!” People abandoned me like I was stealing, cheating and doing all kind of things to them and I wasn’t. Well, looks like I’m still holding a little resentment. God please take the resentment away. I’m hurt, but I don’t want to be resentful. Do I need to just let it go, or do I need to reconnect with everyone so the hurt I feel for being abandoned can be acknowledged and move on? I’m also riddled with shame. What to do what to do??? That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing


I feel this resentment building up for some odd reason. Resentment for everyone who knows about my battle with addiction, but never reached out to me. I know it’s not even that serious, but I’m just expressing what’s going on in my head so I can get it out of my head and get over it. I shared at the meeting tonight that I feel like I never have gotten the chance to tell my side of the story. Does it really matter? After all, I painted the picture everyone has seen. No one knows that a lot of my drug and alcohol use was a reaction of my not being able to cope with life on life’s terms. I commonly validate my usage with the fact that I never really infringed on anyone else’s life. However, I have effected those who love and care about me. I created this storm. All they know is I had a problem and I was slowly killing myself and they didn’t care to see that happen. I feel like certain people gave up on me, and I wasn’t even that bad in my eyes. It’s not their fault that they didn’t know how to handle the situation. I feel like if someone I loved was battling this demon I would’ve been vocal in their life. Nevertheless, I can feel that way because I know that battle of addiction. It’s my own fault that I feel like most people abandoned me when I was suffering from life threatening sickness, dealing with losing two best friends in a short period of time, losing my grandmother, and trying to maintain these feeling and operate to some kind of capacity. It all became too much, and so the usage became too much. I can’t fault anyone for keeping their distance, because I can’t control their reaction to the situation. Just like no one could control my reaction to my life. I wonder if I can get healing through empathy? Who will empathize? Does it really matter? Who really cares? That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

Thursday Night Blues

This visual is too kool. Anyway, today much of nothing happened. I figured out I’m being the guenie pig for something. I won’t go into detail. It’s funny how you can figure stuff out the older you get. It’s a cold world man, and it’s ran by money. I believe there’s a cure for a lot of things like cancer, HIV, diabetes, but there’s so much money in being sick that the powers that be will never let that happen. I think that’s why people try to shut down Jesus, because by his stripes we are healed. If we have faith the size of a mustard seed we can move mountains, so the first order of action is to destroy faith. The powers that be don’t want those mountains moved. There’s money in those mountains. Those mountains are giants. So the powers that be who live in those mountains will start dying, because giants die. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Wow. Don’t know how I got on that tangent. But so be it. 3/21/19. Come to pass. That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share. I feel like a huge earthquake

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

The Image

I’m kind of embarrassed to talk about this, but I feel so ugly as far as physical features. I know it’s not the most masculine thing to talk about, but it is a component to the addiction issue in my life. I feel ugly, then I feel the need to feel wanted. That leads to me being a male whore. That leads to me feeling convicted for compromising my morals, because I dare not have sex because it is the forbidden act that God will strike you dead over (being facetious). So, I have to drown all that sorrow in substance. Well, you get the picture. It’s crazy how I haven’t been having self esteem issues lately, and yesterday I told myself how peaceful I was and how it couldn’t be taken. Yet, today as I drove from court to get that DUS off of my butt, I look in the mirror to make sure I look at least a little presentable and all I hear in my head is Shug Avery from The Color Purple saying “You sho is ugly!!” Then, I commence to thinking about this fat I gained while in rehab, so my body is all nasty looking. Well, to me it is. Some people would probably kill to be my size. Nevertheless, I feel like a skinny, fat burnt piece of booty. I don’t know how to get over it. Help me! This has bothered me all of my life. They say us addicts have low self esteem, and my physical appearance is a low point for me. I’m man enough to admit it. That’s why I’ll sleep with anyone who pays me any attention, because I feel like “Oh wow! You want little, ugly me??!! Well I’m gonna make it worth your while.” Then, I’ve become a pro in the sack, and then that’s all I’m used for is sex. A Male THOT. A freaking gigolo. Then I’m hung out to dry like a wet rag. Smh.. Dang, I didn’t mean to be this vulnerable. I’m almost ready to delete this blog and not publish it. Let me end right here and publish before I change my mind. Please forgive any typos or grammatical errors. I’m not proofreading because I want to keep this as raw as possible. I reiterate, I am so skeptical about posting this. But here goes. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Poetry, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing


I'm tired of having nothing
When I know that I am something
Can't depend on myself
So now it's God I'm trusting

I'm tired of straddling the fence
Always on the defense
Insult my intelligence 
That I don't have common sense

Not to get with that trick
Not to get that syringe 
Not to walk on the edge
Not to go on a binge

But what can it be?
Oh! It's called INSANITY
I love the genius is possess
But I'm not a fan of me

Jesus paid the price
For my life, for my strife
Blessings right before me
But I continue to gripe

Now I listen to the lessons
Of my own gripe sessions
Discover what I'm missing
Try to stop blocking blessings

Give me a pencil, I'm testing
Multiple choice is my preference 
Don't know the answer to the question
So I guess I'll be guessing

No more gambling or betting
No more smoked out sessions
Main Entrance To Hell
LORD, I don't want those directions

Please don't take it away
I need it, I'm needy
Let me be humble about it
I tend to get greedy

It's ministry, the chemistry 
God, between You and me
Imagine me, the imagery
But it's no good if I'm not serving

It's all about You
The Cornerstone of Life
Head of the Household
Before any husband or wife

The words you give me
Let me be your vessel of penmanship 
The scribe of these ages
Show the world the human kinship 

I can't do it without you
You're my ever present help
I look to the hills
Your beauty takes away every breath

Fear of pride from inside
But with You all is well
When the world bids for this gift
Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

Because I’m Happy

Today I found out what unspeakable joy means. Unspeakable joy is when you go to the doctor and they give you a run down of your current state and you say to yourself “D*man, your life sucks” and laugh about it. It’s something only God can give. I know if I can smile through all of this, when I rise even higher I’ll be untouchable and my goal is to help as many people as possible achieve that level of peace. It’s a beautiful thing. That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

The Interview

So, I had my job interview today and I think it went well. It’s a new venture, and hopefully they’ll choose me. It’s in hospitality which is a whole new field for me. I hope made a good impression. I feel like I was likeable. Only tomorrow will tell. I also had a crazy spell come on me and I went on Facebook live singing Rihanna “Diamonds” like a maniac. It was comic relief in my eyes, because things seem so serious regarding me and rehab and all that serious stuff. I just took a chance to be my normal silly self, and dropped the mic and ended the live sensation of my boisterous singing. That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

So Sleepy

Why am I so sleepy?!??! I guess it’s because of that daylight savings time we had last week. My sleep mode is all off balance. I laid down for a nap around 3pm and it’s after 10pm! What in the world??!! Boy. I guess I’ll try to go back to sleep after I do some prayer and meditation. I needed the sleep though because when I’m sleepy my mind gets to racing and I start acting like a little emotional basketcase. I wonder why is it that I get all in my feelings when I’m sleepy. I guess a lot of people do and that’s why they act all stupid and mean in the morning. Well, I’m wired different. I’ll start acting all stupid and mean in the middle of the day when I’m sleepy. I think I’m due for some sleep, given I’ve been wide open for the past three years if you know what I mean. I used to joke in rehab that I slept so much because I’d been up for the past ten years. Why did God preserve me? I don’t look anything like what I’ve been through. Trying not to sound like vanity, but he’s in the business of restoring. I’m a good 37. Lol. Thank you Jesus. That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

St. Patrick’s Day 2019

That’s my dog niece LuLu. Today was pretty good. I finally made it to a meeting. I haven’t been to one all week. I have too much pride than to ask for a ride everywhere. I got to spend time with the family. All is well. It’s been a while since I’ve been around immediate family sober, and it felt good. Most importantly for me, there are no regrets. What was done in the past is the past. I got to see my nephew, well the ladies in my family, put together is invitations for his graduation. I don’t know how those graduation people are still making money off those cards. I guess it’s just tradition, because nowadays you can slap that sucker up on Facebook and it would be just as effective. Anyway, I’m proud of him. God is good. Nothing short of amazing. Well, that’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

Posted in Journal, Recovery, Spirituality, Writing

Door Opens

I don’t know what happened to me today. I was just completely tired and the only reason I’m waking up now is so that I can write this blog, and I’m going back to sleep. I had my interview today and I go in for another interview Monday which may seal the deal for this job. I hope they give me another full week before starting because I’m actually busy next week with “Justin” maintenance. Not self indulgent maintenance, but doctor’s visit and court for the ticket I got for my license being suspended. The anxiety is starting to try to kick in because I’m worried about transportation to and from work. I’ve never been without a car in my life and I wish I could just get mine fixed. Let me give that to God, because I get discouraged when I think about it. I have to stop setting myself up for failure with each win. I can’t be so pessimistic . I have to exercise faith. He’ll provide as usual. That visual is a picture on my wall as I lie here in bed. I’m going back to sleep. That’s all I got. Thanks for letting me share.