From Hopeless To Fatherhood

When comparing my life to that of Paul’s, there are big similarities. There is a big difference though, I was blind for a lot longer than 3 days.

I tell select people about the specifics regarding me being saved. I’m not selective about talking about being saved, I do that every chance I am afforded, but I do use discernment when unloading the specific experiences I have had because sometimes people aren’t ready for all that and I have been working with others enough to know what to say and when.

I have had a venomous tongue for followers of Jesus before, based on my own experiences and have formed opinions without an open mind. I used my life and what happened to me to determine that not only was there not a God, but that no man could say with certainty that they knew Him.

Roughly 15 years ago, after around 9 years of trying to get and stay sober, I finally figured it out. I figured out that the man God wanted me to be was a servant. A truth teller. A father, brother and a son. He wanted me to help others with true altruism and after a lot of pain, I submitted to that idea. That was the big secret. The recipe for peace and permanent sobriety. I simply needed to rely on God and help others. I did those things and I got the results I was promised.

But I didn’t know God. I knew there was a God and I knew I wasn’t God. But I didn’t know God and I don’t think God truly knew me. Let be clear, God knew me…He created me. But there was no solid relationship with God for us to truly know each other. I prayed to a God I didn’t know and left it at that.

I do not know when exactly me being saved in the traditional sense happened. My pastor tells me I was saved for quite some time before I knew it. In hindsight, I can’t say I disagree. But what I do know is that through a series of conversations, exploration towards Jesus, reading, praying and while hesitant to say this, I will…supernatural occurrences, I came to Christ. This was not my plan. I promise. In fact, I fought it. I fought it stubbornly and aggressively just like everything else in my life I have fought for. In almost every example of me vs (insert life stuff here) I ended up “winning.” I have been told by too many people to ignore this and not consider it true, but I am one of those people that when I put my mind to something, I make it happen. But this fight with me vs Christianity was different.

I’m at a place in my life where not only am I not embarrassed about this, but moreover I am overjoyed by it. That Jesus showed me what a fight looked like. He fought for me, even when I belittled anyone who believed in Him.

He did things to me that have never been done. This included out of body experiences, visions, orchestration of life events, people being placed in my life and a thirst for scripture. I don’t believe that I am not full of sin, because I am. But I am aware of these misses and I try to repent for them. I try to testify about what Jesus has done for me and to me. I try to carry myself (I miss terribly on this one) in the way He would want me to and He loves me enough even in my faulted state to show up every minute of every day. I do believe that since I became a believer and was formally baptized (in November, in the cold outside) that I sin less.

Right now my family and I are in a very tough season. I have shared some of it publicly and somethings I haven’t shared. Just know right now things are not easy. But even in these moments, I am so happy that I know God. I have been deeper in prayer, more committed to bettering myself as a Christian, and even as recently as today was given a little glimpse that God is with me in a very obvious way.

Isaiah 4:6 NIV
It will be a shelter and shade from the heat of the day, and a refuge and hiding place from the storm and rain.

Psalm 91: 1-2 NIV
Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”

Reflection of my past is a very active part of my thought process on almost a daily basis. I am calculated with my thoughts and more often than not I utilize my past in order to make current decisions about life. I find it to work out well and I use my past in combination with prayer, referencing scripture, gut feelings and the insight of mentors and friends to figure out life.

Even in my worst moments, I loved my child more than life itself. When I was using drugs and alcohol, I only had 1 child, so for reference, whenever I refer to having 1 child, that was the part of my life prior to getting sober.

I wish I could say that I never did anything risky with Canaan present, because I did. However I never wanted to. When it came to choosing people to watch him, I remember being hyper sensitive. I never wanted someone to look after him that didn’t convince me that they would keep him safe.

But when it came time for me to look after him, I was often drunk, high or in a generally bad place mentally. I hate that about my past. It was something of a focal point when I got sober. It was actually the sole motivating factor for me getting sober in the first place.

I wanted to be a sober, present, loving father to my son. That was it. I didn’t care about anything else. I wanted to protect him. I wanted him to have a better life than me. I wanted him to always feel safe, never abandoned and I wanted him to know that his father was always going to be there to support him.

So far, with the guidance of others and a reliance on God, that goal has been accomplished and you can’t find a single reason to think it will go in the opposite direction.

Fast forward to today.

I have 4 kids, 3 of whom have never seen me take a drink. Never seen me intoxicated or smoked out on herb. Never seen me nod out from opiates. Never heard me talk a mile a minute from using cocaine. Never seen me in a drug fueled fit of rage.

They see me as strong. A protector. A provider. A lover of God. A truth seeker. A good man. A supportive husband. A kind, but fierce when needed, father. They see me exactly the way that God intends me to be.

My daughter Luna has a piece of my heart that I cannot explain. She has softened me, I can assume it’s partially due to her being a girl and partially due to her age, but it is my truth. She is no more impactful in my life than any of my other children though. She is not more important, and she’s not less important. She provides me something different, just like Canaan and Keegan both provide me different things. I am still figuring out what Ocean gives me, but there’s plenty of time for that.

What I noticed recently about my children is that they each offer my spirit certain things, and they each are a cause for different concerns. I also noticed that I have implemented this approach to every relationship I have. My friends provide their own unique set of gifts and concerns. People I try to help do the same. My parents do the same. My wife does the same.

So on any given day, I am navigating how to respond to these gifts, and how to tackle any anxiety created from the fears I have related to my concern for others.

Why is this important? It’s important because I look back at my past all the time, and do not recall this awareness. I was only concerned about myself. I was not prioritizing gratitude for what the people in my life offer, and I was not concerned about what they needed…at least not enough to change my behavior or approach.

So today, I am aware. I am awake and I am caring. I’ve developed an empathy that I do not think was present prior to my recovery.

And that is a gift I am thankful for.

At 21 years old, I was addicted to OxyContin, heroin and alcohol. If you asked me what was important, I would’ve told you “my family” without hesitation. That would have been partially true, but what trumped all on the importance scale, was my comfort. I slid everything to the side to ensure I felt “ok” or at least felt less pain. I prioritized my perceived wellbeing over everything.

On this day, 21 years ago, I was 23 years old. It was 9 days after 9/11 and I was scared. I was having my first son. I was very much addicted to opiates and I felt ill-equipped to be a father. I had helped raise a step son by this point, but I’m sure I wasn’t much help. I was still putting my fists through walls and such.

I wish I could remember the birth of my son, but I cannot.

I do remember manipulating his mother out of the percocets they gave her for pain after the delivery, and I remember holding Canaan for the first time, but the rest is a blur. I was selfish, fearful and unconcerned with most of the people around me.

The best part about having Canaan at this time, was that he would ultimately be the catalyst for my recovery, it would just take him surviving for another 7 years. I have told him a hundred times the role he’s played, and I’m sure I’ll tell him a hundred more. When I say I am forever indebted to him, I mean it. Of course, God fixed me…but Canaan’s existence was the motivation I needed to open my heart and my eyes to see God.

Tonight we will celebrate Canaan’s 21st birthday. He will be surrounded by some of his family. He will not be at the bar, getting hammered or lurking in West Baltimore copping drugs. I will credit this to his own choices, but I also believe that the divine orchestration that was laid out for me played a role in my ability to support him and keep him close.

Admittedly, I do feel a little melancholy about Canaan staying home on his 21st birthday. I imagine we would rather be surrounded by friends having fun at this age, but he’s got plenty of time for that.

I was able to purchase him a nice birthday present, with money I earned rather than stealing money or goods or robbing someone in order to get him a birthday present. I can tell you, that’s different than his first 7 birthdays. In fact, on his 7th birthday, I wasn’t there. I was in South Florida, wrapping up my stay down there, trying to stay sober. I left on September 26th, 2009.

It was an amazing day.

I look forward to however many days I have with my son living under the same roof and I am hopeful that his life will play out in a fashion that brings him peace.

I have still not provided him the link to this site, a site devoted to my experience with him, drugs, God, recovery, pain and family. But I may just do that tonight.

Canaan,

If you do ever read this, I love you. You mean so much to me. I envy you in many way and I know I don’t say it enough, but I am proud of you. You make me laugh, teach me how to love and I appreciate you so much.

I am sorry for the pain I caused you. I am sorry you are still experiencing pain. I wish I could take every ounce of hurt you feel. I wish I could “fix” certain parts of your life, or change certain people, but I cannot. I can love and support you and I hope you see that I am trying my best to do that.

I pray for you constantly, despite your avoidance of God. One day, you will see and feel that God is very real. My prayers are that you find Him in a different way than I did. But I know you will find Him.

Kelli and I both love you. You are admired and loved by your siblings. You are talented beyond measure. You will find your way.

Happy Birthday, Canaan. Your life is just starting.

There was a very large portion of my life that was seemingly godless. Not because God wasn’t there, but because I was too proud and stubborn to look in His direction. I “knew” the truth, lol. God has always been surrounding me, protecting me and loving me.

I was just unaware.

I am guilty of many things. I was violent. I was distant. I was manipulative. I lied, I stole, I cheated. I punished, I abused, I used. I was many things that I am not proud of when I walked a godless life, I imagine you were as well if you’re like me.

I thought, “Why should I believe in God while my life is like this?” What kind of God allows someone to have this level of harm caused to his kids? Meanwhile, I am causing harm to my kid. I thought, what kind of God permits disappointment after disappointment, while I am doing the same to my family. What kind of Father abandons his child, while I walked away from mine?

I woke up one morning in a dark room. It smelled like a mold infested basement. It was disgusting. There were strangers in the room, people I’ve never seen before hovering over me. Within 30 seconds I had to run to the bathroom to vomit. I was sweating, frail, wearing dirty clothes and couldn’t stand on my feet to finish throwing up. I remember collapsing to my knees, emptying out my digestive system. I laid my head on the toilet out of complete exhaustion. It was as if my body had given up fighting. I was probably 25 pounds under weight, hadn’t slept correctly in 6 months. There was evil all throughout my body. I had injected poison in my veins daily, my spirit was polluted, my mind on autopilot…as to not be distracted with the world.

When I exited the bathroom, there were 2 “members” from a “gang” questioning me. I disregarded them and returned to bed.

This was day 1 in rehab.

I don’t recall anything from the next week or so, probably better that way. I do recall inviting God into my life to heal me.

Here’s something I find worthwhile while reliving my past and looking at my life over the past 13 years or so:

I didn’t get happy and then sought out God, I am happy because I found Him.

Let’s run that back for those who weren’t paying attention…

I didn’t get happy and THEN sought out God, I am happy because I found Him.

It’s very often that on my commute to and from daycare with Luna, she requests songs. Outside of songs from the Frozen soundtrack, she asks for worship songs. Her favorite being “Lion” by Elevation Worship. While the song is playing, she is laughing and smiling. She is singing. She’s doing this while music about Jesus is playing. It is a very beautiful thing.

Let’s jump back to day 1 in rehab and look at how I slept/didn’t sleep. Let’s look at my bathroom trips. Let’s look at my surroundings.

Now, let me share with you what happens at night time these days.

I read 2-3 books to my daughter. While demanding, she is excited. She needs things her way, which I normally respect within reason. When we’re done, we pray.

We thank God for all the people in our lives, naming a good bit of them. Admittedly, I steer the prayer and then we say “Amen” at the end. Then we lay together until she falls asleep.

Not too ling ago, after a very tough couple of days, I heard her whispering prayers. What I heard was her thanking God for her Daddy.

“Thank you, God for my Daddy. Amen.” I’m not too macho to admit I was wiping away tears from that.

My life today if filled with these moments. I believe God does this intentionally and deliberately when I need it most, and I am grateful for that.

In the morning I would wake up and see an empty 40oz bottle of malt liquor with 3 to 4 cigarette butts in it. Ashes all over the make-shift night stand next to the mattress I had on the floor. The bottle’s neighbor, a week-old diabetes needle, dull and dirty. I would often sleep fully clothed, so there wasn’t really a need to get dressed most mornings. At this time of my life, I didn’t really plan things out, my days were always the same for the most part. Figure out how to get well, then figure out how to get high.

The thing about active addiction or alcoholism for me that trapped me in it so long, was that I could never wrap my hands around a solution. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to change, or that I didn’t have a reason to change, because I had those things. It was that I didn’t have the hope to change. I wasn’t strong enough to hope. I was never strong enough to muster up the hope on my own, that never changed.

On the day I made the decision to get sober, the hope was given to me in the form of love for my son, Canaan. The love I had for him was the only reason I decided to try sobriety one last time. It is also partially the reason I have managed to get through some very tough days.

The love for my eldest child was the catalyst for my relationship with God as well. Now before you come at me with “No, God’s Love for you was the catalyst for your relationship with Him” let me point out that I don’t disagree with you. My heart tells me that God is limitless and God knows better than anyone or anything…and God knew that the only way to pierce the hopelessness I had was by reminding me that Canaan deserved the best version of me. She

That’s what happened.

In the morning now, I look over and see my wife most mornings. There’s usually a bottle of water on my nightstand and my phone and watch charging. I try to remember to start the day by asking for direction, but admittedly, most mornings I open my eyes thinking about work. What do I have to do today, and then I get my day started. It almost never happens that I don’t eventually get to prayer, but I make a practice of being honest, and some days I miss the mark.

The thing about recovery is, I get to put my motivation to be a good father, husband, friend, etc… at the forefront of my thoughts because I recognize that my relationship with God provides me that ability. I do not stack my job above my God, nor do I prioritize my family over God. God comes first and in turn, everything else takes care of itself.

I like to see where I can help, when I can help and it’s served me well.

I don’t have to fake relationships, I know who has my back and who doesn’t. I keep my circle small and support my people. I feel like this understanding that I don’t have to be liked by everyone was God given as well. I try not to hurt anyone, and I try to be honest. If you don’t like that, that is fine.

So I have learned to be a friend, father, husband and son all by giving up myself.

I’m not exactly sure what my motives were initially when I started writing this blog like 12 years ago. I know that there was a time in my early recovery when my sponsor recommended it. I think the catalyst, my initial motive was to share my story in a very real way. A way that maybe one person could benefit from. That said, when I first started writing it, I had never really written anything that I wasn’t forced to, and if I wrote for myself, I never finished anything. I also wasn’t sure I would actually share it with anyone. The other reasons I think I started writing it was because I had hoped one day, when the time was right, when he was at an appropriate age, I would share it with Canaan. I also started writing it to help me heal.

I have yet to share this website with Canaan, but for the first time since starting it 12 years ago, Tonight… I thought it may be a good idea.

As many people know, I often tell people that Canaan was the reason I got sober…that he saved my life. In turn, he was the only reason I was willing to change my life. He was the only shred of hope I had in my heart after years and years of drug abuse and alcoholism. The only reason I had to breathe another breath was for him. I had no other reason to live anymore. I had almost a decade of failed attempts at sobriety. I had seemingly ruined every relationship that meant anything to me. I had sacrificed my integrity. I had hurt people. I had given up in every area across the board. I walked away from my son more times than I care to admit. I stole from him, I lied to him, I abused him.

I was homeless, wanted by the law and dead ass broke. My health wasn’t great, I wasn’t eating, I was constantly sleeping in 3 days worth of clothing just to stay warm. I put myself in the absolute most dangerous parts of Baltimore city on a daily basis and around the most dangerous people. I shot heroin and cocaine in my veins all day. I drank liquor and beer instead of feeding myself.

I was the worst kind of man you could be short of being a rapist or pedophile.

That was me and that was who I saw in the mirror everyday.

And Canaan was there, waiting for the father he deserved that I just couldn’t be no matter how hard I tried because I was too trapped in the lifestyle I was living.

There was no God for me.

There was no love for me.

There was no peace, no comfort, no meaningful relationships…there was nothing.

And then I had a moment when I made a decision to change that by submitting completely. It’s crazy that the only thing I needed to do after all those years in order to be happy was to quit fighting.

I gave the entirety of myself to God and a 12 step fellowship. I gave my thoughts and my actions to it. I gave my wants, desires, money, time, liberties, everything to God and that fellowship.

There was no part of me left that thought I had the answers to happiness any longer.

And wouldn’t you know? It worked. I became happy quite quickly. I became free in every way possible. The only thing left that I had to do as far as I was concerned, was to show up for Canaan and try to be his dad.

After 9 months of being away from him in Florida, I returned to Maryland and did the best job I could for him. I promised him I would never abandon him again and that I would always be there for him. After struggling financially, struggling to manage time, jobs, after a final breakup with his birth mother, after a custody battle, after not getting help from her, after doing it all on my own for a period time with 2 children…I can tell you that I kept my word. This isn’t so you can say “good job” either. Being present for your children is something you should do, no matter what. I didn’t do anything special. I’m writing this because that’s how my story was played out. And it’s a beautiful story and a testimony of what God can do.

That’s it.

So I was thinking that this might be the last time I write an entry in this blog. It may not be, but I think I might just be good here. I might just send this link to Canaan and never write in it again.

Today I packed up my truck with Canaan’s belongings and he and I moved him into his new apartment in Philly.

Today I packed up my truck with Canaan’s belongings and he and I moved him into his new apartment in Philly.

I had to say that again because I am still having a hard time believing it. It’s, well…difficult. We drove up, we unpacked the truck, I fed him and then I went out and bought all the things a 20 year would forget about when moving into their own place. Lamps, bathroom trashcan, paper towel holder, power strips, kitchen towels, things like that. I was able to be there for him in that way. I prepped myself for this very moment for the last 9 months.

The exact amount of time I spent in Florida in 2009 when I first got sober…for him.

Tonight my son hugged me goodbye with tears in his eyes. He hugged me tightly and I hugged him. I cradled the back of his head like I did the first time I ever held him.

He said he loved me and thanked me.

It’s my belief that he wasn’t thanking me for moving him up to Philly.

He was thanking me for being the father he deserved. He was thanking me for sacrificing myself for his betterment. He was thanking me for showing him how powerful love can be.

Thank you for reading this and I truly hope it helped at least one person.

As a child, you have no idea how your pain affects your parents. It’s like a concept that doesn’t even exist in a kid. You may become aware of how your actions and decisions affect them, but not really your pain. It’s like once kissing a boo boo stops working to relieve pain, the awareness that your pain makes your parents hurt, also disappears.

As a parent, my kid’s pain murders me. Doesn’t matter if it’s my eldest, middle or youngest child… when they are hurting I am too. That really goes for anyone I love, not just my kids…but when it’s the kids, the pain is intensified.

This goes for physical or emotional pain and so far, I’ve witnessed both in all 3 of my children. My two boys had to maneuver through emotional pain that no child should have to go through. They’re still processing certain things that took place years ago.

Then there is health stuff. That may be the worst on the parents, just due to the uncertainty of it all. Canaan had some seriously tight moments with epilepsy, Keegan had some visits with the pediatric neurology folks as well. Luna has FPIES. My wife and I were talking about how outside of the box their health stuff has been, and I have friends with kids that have far more serious health issues with their kids. As a parent it’s all encompassing and damn near impossible to focus on anything else.

One reason I’m writing all this down is to remind myself one day where I found the strength to get through this most recent battle. If you don’t like to hear about God, you may want to go ahead and “X” outta this little window right about now….

I must’ve prayed around 10-15 times and hour between 9pm Friday evening and Sunday morning. I think the last time I was that concerned for my child’s well being is when Canaan had his first seizure.

I’m going to share what happened.

2 weeks ago, Luna was sick. She got an ear and sinus infection and was given penicillin. I’m allergic to that stuff, but she’s taken it successfully one time so I didn’t think anything of it at first. Then 7 days after she started taking it, she broke out in a rash. We took her to the doctor and ceased the medication. Turns out she was allergic to it as well. Gave her some steroids and Cortisone cream. No harm, no foul.

Then this past Friday night we were eating dinner, I looked at Luna and it looked like she had 2 black eyes. I mean it was that quick. Then we looked at her hands, then her feet. She was swelling up fast and aggressively. She was struggling to even walk. She was crying…hard. We were concerned about her breathing so we tried to contact her doctor but couldn’t get to him fast enough. Everybody got in my truck and we left for the hospital.

I heard Keegan say to Kelli from the backseat, “Heckerrrrrr….we’re at triple digits!” while looking at the speedometer. Kelli calmly said “Just look at your phone” lol. Got to the ER and went straight back. Luna looked like the Michelin Man at this point…but much cuter obviously.

Canaan came and picked up Keegan. Kelli and I had no idea what we were in for. We both thought they’d give her something and we’d be on our way.

Nope.

Not even close.

They did all the vitals and all that, we saw the pediatrician and they wanted to give her an IV. Kelli knew I shouldn’t be in the room for that because I have a very bizarre tendency for violence when someone hurts my kids, even if they’re trying to help them. So I agreed and went out to get my ipad for her. By the time I got back, they were still trying…and failing.

I went in and protested. I said they need to give her oral meds to calm down the swelling first but they wanted to try the IV because if they needed to administer medicine quickly for serious reasoning, it needed to be available.

Panic mode initiated.

Luna could not be consoled. We would go on to try and give her an IV a total of 4 times over the next 4 hours. Even the sonogram IV specialist came in twice with her machine, trying to find a vein using a sonogram machine and failed. Her veins were collapsed and she was too swollen. Every time they tried again Luna was shaking and hyperventilating. Her eyes would roll back in her head and she looked lost.

At one point Kelli asked the doctor how concerned we should be on a scale of 1-10. The doctor told us between 6 and 7.

SIX AND SEVEN?!?! Say, 2 and 3 or something. DO NOT SAY SIX AND SEVEN!

He also told us that the seriousness of her condition may require a transport to Hopkins or the ICU. He also told us that all the Maryland ICU was full and she may need to be flown out of state.

Our little baby girl might need to be flown out of state to the ICU? I can tell you that my prayers were never ending during this time. My wife had a full blown panic attack. At one point I had her in my arms tighter than I would have an opponent at Jiujitsu. It was horrifying.

You think the worst in these moments. Well, at least you are aware of the worst case scenario. I went back and forth on that one. Kelli would ask me how I was so calm, to which I replied “Because she’s going to be fine”

Kelli said “But bad things happen to good people!”

“She will be fine”

The truth is, one moment I was ok, I felt that God was present in that room and I knew with everything I had in me that we were protected by Him. And that never went away, but I was also aware that I don’t know what God’s plan is.

I just knew everything would be ok.

I broke down at times. Kelli broke down at times. It was very crazy in that room.

Eventually (the next day) they advised that she was stable enough that we could stay there. They changed our room and we waited to see her progress. Her arm and leg swelling improved. Her rash changed to bruising all over her little body. Her hands, arms and feet were bruised from the intensity of her swelling.

Then, just when we thought everything was close to being under control, her face blew up like she had just fought in an MMA match.

It was all very scary, very frustrating and it left us feeling extremely helpless. Our friends and family were stopping by to drop things off for us…toys, food, clothes….we were running off very little sleep. I slept maybe 4 hours in a 36 hour time period or something like that. My pastor called and prayed for us.

It was absolute insanity.

But my faith never wavered. I was scared, of course…but I think the love that is present in my family and my relationship with Jesus were the only things holding me together. I am so grateful for that.

She improved. She became stable with oral meds by Sunday evening and they discharged us. In the latter hours of our stay there, we had some tough decisions to make but we got through it. My wife is the exact definition of “Tiger Mom” and I love every bit of that part of her.

We are home monitoring her now and she will go to her pediatrician tomorrow.

She was diagnosed with Serum Sickness and Rhinovirus. This could be a result of the allergic reaction to the penicillin, or her FPIES or the Serum Sickness could’ve happened from the Rhinovirus. Orrrr, a combination of those things.

I was driving today and actually had a moment of tears because of how scary everything was but also how thankful I was that we were through the worst of it. If you were a part of our support system, we thank you so much for your help.

There are some things I take for granted that often reveal themselves from something tragic happening. They are almost always things that were once important, sought after or prioritized to obtain only to lose their luster over time, to be replaced by other “things” or less important, motive based relationships.

The most important parts of life that I am talking about are things like family, friends, making memories, etc…

I am not talking about money, possessions, fancy jobs, etc…

[cue clip from the Bob Marley interview when he says “Possessions make ya rich? I don’t have that type of richness. My richness is life, forever.”]

It’s ok to want all of those things, but when tragedy happens…I promise you it won’t be the latter that you care about. You will not care about your fancy car, your important job, the number of digits in your bank account, how many stupid ass facebook likes you have. In fact, I would bet you anything that you will be willing to trade it all for 5 more minutes with a lost loved one.

Look, I’m guilty of it too. I am saying this from my experience. There’s no judgement if any of this applies to you.

I grew up in Maryland in the winters and Bethany Beach, DE in the summers. I made more memories with people in the 3 months of the summer than I did all of fall, winter and spring. I did attend school in Delaware as well for my first half of high school. There were good and bad parts of that, just like any time of my life. I treasured my friendships at the beach but didn’t truly grasp how important those friendships were until….well…yesterday.

This sounds ridiculous to me while I write it. And it certainly doesn’t merit making my eyes water up a bit. But here I am struggling to read the words I’m typing.

We just lost a very good person. A 45 year old mother and wife. A believer in God and a woman who made it her business to help others through prayer. A staple in the group of friends I made at the beach. The wife of another friend. Simply put, a complete and total tragedy happened.

This loss caused us all to reunite to not only celebrate her life, but to support our friends and family who were directly impacted by it. People drove for hours and hours. People jumped on planes. It was a tangible example of the soul that grows in that small town in Delaware.

While we were there for those reasons, we also shared laughs and love with each other. We ate together. We drank together. They had booze, I had water but we drank together nonetheless lol.

In almost all of these moments, friends I have had for a lifetime all approached me with the same message…

They all expressed how proud they were of me. How happy they were for me. How inspired they were by me. I gotta tell you, it was kind of overwhelming. But it was genuine and it was natural. It was love.

It’s a love that I don’t share with many friends. It’s a special kind of love that I think is exclusive to people that grew up together in Sussex County. We all seemed to have picked up right where we left off, even if that “off” was 20 years ago. I don’t ever recall getting better hugs in my life than I did from my friend Nino. I don’t remember the last time someone was as interested in hearing about my life more than my friend Brad. I just felt right at home. Every single friend I encountered brought something different to the table. And we all tried to heal together.

I admittedly have taken these friendships for granted my whole life. I have let the memories we made together fade and dull out. It’s sad really.

But I was reminded through tragedy how important we all are to each other. It was very comforting and I hope that I was able to offer some comfort to the ones that were hurting.

To my friends from the beach, my lifelong friends, the people that grew up in different houses that I consider family…I love you and I am here for you. If you ever need me in any capacity, I am here.

It’s not often that I expose my vulnerabilities. I feel something like that is only merited or valuable under very specific circumstances. This may not be the case for you, or your beliefs and that’s fine. You may think that being vulnerable only leads to a better mutual understanding amongst people, better communication, an overall “healthier” lifestyle. That’s fine too. Sometimes I am that way as well, but normally not. 

I don’t care much to talk about my problems, my fears or my insecurities unless I am hunting for a solution. I am so hellbent on being this way that I often project that outlook on others and I come across as lacking empathy for other people’s feelings. I don’t really care so much about feelings. I care about fixing problems. But I know my heart is big, I know I am probably more willing than most to try and help you find the solution to your problems. It doesn’t mean that I am dismissive of your feelings, it simply means that I believe that the feelings you are struggling with will go away when a solution is implemented and not from talking about them.  

I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. I do recognize that it pushes people away sometimes. I do know that it makes me come across as “cold” sometimes. I see that it makes me appear to be arrogant as well. 

This is obviously not good. 

This morning on my drive to work I started thinking about a lot of things. I thought about some issues that people in my life are struggling with and what I can do to help. I thought about some issues that I’m struggling with and what I can do to help myself. 

I also thought about what my life was like before I got sober and the problems I faced then. I thought about the problems I caused for others then. I thought about how focused on problems I was and how dismissive I was of seemingly possible solutions to those problems. 

I would wake up consumed with problems. There was one problem which always trumped all the other problems, but problems on top of problems nonetheless. I would be completely unconcerned with not only other people’s problems, but so overwhelmed with my own set of struggles that I would never consider the idea that I could have possibly helped anyone with their problems because my life was so upside down. (I see that I could have worded that cleaner, but there’s only like 3 people reading this anyway, so who cares)

It’s not that way today, and that’s a win. I have been rewired. I’m not void of empathy, I’m not cold, I’m not dismissive…I care in my own way. I try in my own way. I see things in my own way and I am happy with the work that God is doing on me. I am solution oriented, efficient and I may get to a solution in a different way than you, but that doesn’t mean that your way is right and mine is wrong, just as it doesn’t mean that my way is right and yours is wrong. It means that we are going about life in our own way. In the best way we can. 

I make mistakes. I overlook people’s feelings sometimes. I do this and it occasionally hurts people. It is never intentional and it is never overlooked. When it happens I try to learn a lesson and grow. I try to change. But I am who I am. I am fashioned in the image of God and I am still learning how to be more like Jesus. 

I am VERRRRRRY far away from where I want to be. But I recognize that God isn’t done with molding me and I hope that you can offer me the same grace that He does. 

So my vulnerability in this post is highlighting areas that I know I can improve on. I know I have things to change, approaches to polish, “warming up” to do, edges to soften, passive aggressiveness to sort out…I get it. That said, I feel like what sobriety has afforded me and how God is grooming me is a million miles away from who I was prior to getting sober and this sometimes slow process is looked at as a good thing to me. 

You can cast your judgement, and you can be as perfect as you think you are. I’ll just be over here being a student with a lot of learning to do. [intentional hypocritical passive aggressiveness for ironic humor…relax]

“We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.”

While that may be true, there are plenty of things I kinda wish I would’ve done differently. I know that I am who I am today because of things in the past though. So, if I didn’t do or say certain things, I may not have learned the lessons I needed to learn in order to see the world in the way I do today. I made some really really bad decisions growing up, most of which resulted in a lot of pain for me and pain for my loved ones. My grandfather was no exception.

There is one thing I wish was different. I wish I would’ve gotten sober before my grandfather passed away. I don’t think I regret that things didn’t play out that way, and I feel like he is proud of who I am today. But I wish he would’ve seen me like I am now. I wish he would’ve seen me raise my kids instead of walking out on 1 of them. I wish he could’ve learned of my accomplishments. My successes. I wish he could’ve seen how hard I fought and how with God, I was able to come out on the other side.

I wish he could’ve known me as a family man. Someone who will fight for honesty and doing the right thing. Someone who works hard to provide a better life for his family. But that never happened with any consistency. I showed up sober before, of course. But he moved on May 18, 2004 and I didn’t get sober for good until January 2nd, 2009. I wish I would’ve been able to sit at the table with him, seeing him through the lens that I see the world with today. I wish I could laugh with him again.

• 

He was silently funny. Abnormally clever, but quiet. What I remember is that he didn’t say much, but when he did say something, it was well thought out and smart. It was often sarcastic, which is how my family seems to be naturally. He was an amazing man.

I have crawled under plenty of houses with him doing plumbing work. I would smoke cigarettes in the truck with him. I watched him grasp my grandmother’s hand every night before bed. I watched him do the dishes after we all ate. I saw him enjoy his life.

But I caused him harm while he was here, and I would love to be able to make that right. The only thing that I can do now is to continue to be the type of man that I think God wants me to be. I feel like my Pop wanted me to be happy, wanted me to provide for my family, wanted me to be a good man.

I feel like I am these things. I feel like I couldn’t be trying any harder most of the time. So now I will just wait with these feelings until I see him again.

And I believe I will see him again. I believe I will have a chance to sit at the table with him and laugh. I believe that I will hear him say how proud of me he was.