Category: Writing

I don’t know why seeking approval is in the back of my mind. I have to keep reminding myself that this is my journey for me, and if God tells me to do it I’m doing it. Point of exclamation. I constantly feel the need to explain why I’ve been through the struggles I’ve been through. The fact of the matter is a course of events have taken place in my life that I didn’t know how to deal with. Then, my outbursts weren’t the best decisions, but I always see the glass half full. It’s usually not the actions that I look to, but the results and the lesson learned from every situation. That allows growth to come in, and it allows me to see how God has worked in my life. This expose’ of recovery is scary for me. This public journal of recovery leaves me vulnerable to judgment and ridicule. It also allows me the chance to reach anyone who may be struggling with the same thing. All I can do is write about my experience, my thoughts, and sometimes an epiphany comes to me. That’s why I chose to create that visual, even though it is pretty gay lol. I didn’t even know what I would be writing about. I took the picture and created it before I started journaling my thoughts on here, and the visual fits perfectly. I’m half naked and vulnerable with three heads. Sums this whole experience up, right? Anyhow, I want to further my creative thoughts and words. Create songs, write scripts, create more visuals. I have all these ideas, but I’m waiting on God to let me know when to proceed. It’s all about Him at the end of the day. Actually, all of the day it’s about Him. I can’t experience Him off others’ merit. We have our own relationship. I am His and He is mine. I have all this poetry collected, and I’m anticipating turning them into songs of worship. I need musicians. Look at me going off on tangents. Anyway, the whole point of it all is no approval is needed from anyone but Him. I don’t know why I wrote about this, but it is what it is. Thanks for letting me share.

I don’t know why I titled this “Today was a good day.” Now I have Ice Cube’s song stuck in my head. Anyway, I took the initiative to go to church on my own. It’s a good thing. I heard what I needed to hear. I came home and seasoned some chicken thighs, and just hung out until it was time to go to the meeting at 8PM. I’m so thankful for uneventful days, because in addiction my days were a mess. Full of confusion. Wasting gas going nowhere at all, and it’s strange how that lunacy still brings a little excitement to me. I’m just being transparent. Something about the thrill of being stupid and chaotic stills draws up a piece of excitement. It goes away quickly though. I guess it’s all to let me know that addiction can sneak in at any point so I have to stay on guard. I put up “Dead Church” a few minutes ago. The title and artwork is meant to throw people off. The message is pretty straightforward. It looks kind of grim, but hey…that’s what being creative is about sometimes. I don’t know why I’m lagging on completing step six. I have 76 character defects and I have to do a lot of writing and I’m just being lazy. It’s going to take me a while. Maybe I should commit to doing three defects a day. I know om impatient and will try doing 30 a day and end up half a**ing it. So, I’ll take my time. No rush. It’s not like I have a due date. Well, this is a short one. I didn’t feel like writing this entry, but I made the commitment to document this recovery errr’day. So…thats all I got. Thanks for letting me share.

I have an awesome family. I don’t think they understand the whole recovery process though. I’m pretty sure they don’t understand me. I’m the most simple, complex individual. There’s a lack of communication that goes on. I just had a talk with my mom and she had no idea of some of the stuff I went through to get me to the point of trying to numb life in general until this blog. I don’t really think my extended family knows either. They just know I’ve in and out of rehab for the past two years. I don’t know how to feel about it. It’s like everybody knows but I have yet to have a conversation with anyone about it. I’m so open to talk about my side, my experience, because if someone is getting a story and it’s not from me then it’s not the whole truth. That’s a perfect recipe for judgment. Or, should I even be worried about it? I don’t know. Part of me wants to wave my hands and shout, “Wait, you don’t know the whole story!” The other part of me says, “To hell with it. I don’t have to explain myself to anybody.” It is what it is. I just don’t want to have to go through the whole sympathy thing, or even the whole “we’re mad because you did drugs and are in recovery.” I don’t really think anyone knows how to treat the situation. So, it’s going to be awkward. Maybe I just need to distance myself. That’s all too much drama, and I like things that aren’t so complicated. I was thinking about who I need to make amends with and it’s really only a few people. I distanced myself from family when I was using because I didn’t want anyone to see me in the position it was in. So much more is expected out of me. It’s strange how the dynamics have shifted. My mom didn’t want to have anything to do with me when I was on one, but now she’s sees me sober and is like “Whew, my son is back” and I’m slowly getting in her good grace. Whereas, my daddy acts like he wants me to just leave recovery alone and stay away from the rehab facility, but he was my only supporter while I was there. God put me there for a reason, and he fails to understand that. I look to God for everything now, and I have my own relationship with him. It just frustrates me sometimes trying to please everybody. Nevertheless, that’s what I am. A people pleaser. All you have to do is get upset with me and I’ll buckle. Damn these character defects. I have to be done with people pleasing. Look where it’s gotten me. Right? I don’t know what or how my brother feels, because he acts so mean and hateful and frowns up everytime somebody says anything to him. Well, me at least. So, I avoid as much contact as possible, because I’m a little sensitive and I get butt hurt at his snarl. It’s see you when I see you with my sister and me. We’re pretty open and vocal with each other. I love my nieces and nephews and I regret missing out on their growth. That’s who I really need to make amends to. Two of them saved my life and they don’t even know it. I was in the darkest area I had ever been in my life and I was going to end it all, and the only reason I didn’t is because my niece and nephew who were living in Virginia at the time were coming down for the summer so I had to get out of myself and they breathed life back into me. Ever since then I have always trusted that God would bring me out of any situation once I passed that point. Even with me using, I’ve always known God would bring me through and that has always been my mindset. So, I would get startled when the family would stress out because they were thinking I was going to kill myself partying. My mindset was “I know it’s bad, but this too shall pass.” I always saw the light at the end of the tunnel, and I owe that to Obie and Leah. I’m just excited too see how God is going to work in my life. It’s not for anyone else either. I can’t keep explaining why I’m led to do some of the things that I’m choosing to do. I can’t let anyone else influence decisions that I’ve prayed about and meditated on, because they don’t get it. Sometimes it’s not for others to get what God’s will for your life is. I don’t have time to go down a wrong path based on someone else’s emotions. I went to Faith Home’s faith based recovery and you hear a lot about people who go out and relapse and die and I put things into perspective. I believe some people came there for rehab because it was God’s will for them to receive salvation because He knew that when they relapsed again they were going to die. It’s all about perspective. Anyway, I’m just rambling. This is my sharing portion of the day since I didn’t go to a meeting. Thanks for letting me share.

I feel like I need to explain how I got to this place in my life. This wasn’t supposed to happen to me. I wasn’t supposed to lose everything. I went by the book. I went to excelled in school, graduated college, got the job, got the stocks, but I was never felt fulfilled. I didn’t know how to pursue my dreams. I had the dreams, but had no idea of what avenue to take to get to my destination. Then, when I would sit back and ponder on it I would get depressed that I was not being creative in my jobs. I was sitting there working a 9-5 like regular people and I’m so not regular. So, I would start numbing the disappointment. Oh yea, I BEEEEN an addict since I was like 16. Almost everybody is an addict, they just can function. I was a functioning addict for about 19 years until I shot up METH (Main Entrance To Hell) and….”Houston we have a problem” that’s the only way to describe it. How did I get on meth? That’s a white people’s drug, right? Yes, there are few black people who shoot math and I did it. It all started when by best cousin/best friend/brother ended up getting sent away to do a 12 year bid. We spent every moment in life together, and all of a sudden he was gone. I took that as a lose. I didn’t know how to cope. The worst part about it is that I isolated. I became the worst friend ever. I treated it like he had passed away. I haven’t wrote, I haven’t visited, I pulled away from his family/my family. I have to make amends. Anyhow, I’ve had never dealt with loss that close. So, I spiraled. I had to numb it. The pills that I got from my boss at work wasn’t enough. The liquor wasn’t enough. The marijuana wasn’t enough. Here I was being the worst friend in the world, my buddy’s gone, I didn’t know how to handle those emotions. So, I started partying more and being promiscuous. Long story short, I was asked to go out and find some pills. Opioids/opiates fyi. I don’t really like opiates, but I was doing it for a friend. Well, I’m a little bit of a square guy, I’m not street at all. So, I went on the internet and found some random to get these pills from. Yes I really did that. Well, me and this individual started hanging out and that’s how I got introduced to meth, and the reality of harsh streets. I was all up in the trap in business casual attire and a Acura. All up in them dope houses. I hated being over there, but drug deals always take so long so I would sit there and have to wait and that’s how meth crept in. Then I finally agreed to let someone shoot me up and it was over. I knew it was sin. I told myself at that exact moment if I ever injected anybody in my life I would go to hell because it felt like sin in my body. Well, me and my dealer became good friends, I guess he was a substitute for my best friend who was locked up. He ended overdosing on me and dying while I tried to give him CPR. Talk about PTSD. Especially when I told him I was going to make him stay up all night so he won’t die on me. He had taken 100mg of methadone and xanax. I dozed off and he died. NUMB, I needed that syringe. So, let me wrap this up by saying the loss of people close to me triggered this spiral. Not making excuses, because the issues go deeper. These events were just the catalyst.

My new name should be Thorn. I’ve been teasing this concept on my Facebook, and I don’t know why I automatically think people know what’s going on in my head. Anyway, while I was rehabbing I wrote this piece called “Thorns” and it’s about the crown on thorns on Jesus’s head and how significant they are. Well, that has turned into the theme of my whole journey. I’ve used the thorn reference a lot in my poetry which are centered around God, because He is my recovery. This thorn of addiction is finally budding roses. I’m a little apprehensive about sharing my thoughts, but at the same time I’m sure it’ll be therapeutic since I’ll have a place to vent. A lot of things go through my mind and no one knows, and then I’ll end up doing something so off the wall and sporadically and then everybody’s looking at me like “What the hell?” For instance, I all of a sudden started posting these pictures of myself with messages like “My Secret Enemy” and “Thorns”, but only a few know that I was teasing the poems I wrote in rehab. Or, maybe no one knew because I actually wanted the photos to be their own separate work of art. Hence, I have a literary work and a visual that are two separate works of art but one at the same time. Make sense? Anyway, I’m a little excited about what’s next. I have to be creative now in this phase of life. Creative with my words, creative with my images, creative and innovative. I’m finally aligning up with God’s will, because my will leads to my final will and testimony. (I hope that didn’t go over any heads).

As far as recovery is going, I’m here for it. I have to tools. I BEEN had the tools when I graduated from the first rehab, I just kind of left God out the equation and He was like “Oh you think you can do this without me? Let’s see how that works” and nine months later I’m looking stupid in rehab number two. Good thing I was looking stupid with about 60 other addicts. I’m praying like crazy and keeping the books close. I’m attending meetings and the best thing I’m doing is writing again. I’ve had writer’s block for the past ten years. It’s my passion, and when it seems like you’ve lost your passion you, well speaking for myself, I felt like I lost my reason to be here. That in itself can lead to destructive behavior. Broken dreams and losing focus can be elements to vicious cycles. See, I never really thought about that, but now since I’m writing it comes out. Perhaps, just perhaps, or maybe intentionally because he’s INTENTIONAL right? (Sup Travis Greene) Maybe God gave me writer’s block and introduced EXPERIENCE to me so that I would have something to write about. That Jesus…he’s an amazing guy. If you don’t know Him, I’ll be glad to introduce you. Til we meet again. Signing off.