Month: August 2010

My grandmother used to tell me that when I would stay at her house for the summer, I often woke up in the middle of the night…screaming. I would yearn for my mother in terror, tears pouring, confused and alone. It got so bad at times, that she would have to pretend to be my mom just so I could go back to sleep and to avoid waking up the whole house. Imagine, I was a small child, but not too small not to have experienced true fear. I have issues with my parents separating, and don’t understand why my mom would move out  and I would wake up, in a dark room, in my grandparent’s house from a terrifying nightmare, and all I wanted was my mom. In fact, I was convinced that the only thing that could make it better was my mom.

Now imagine being exposed to a drug addicted father. Imagine being 4, 5, and 6 years old and having a heroin addicted, alcoholic father. You’re constantly moving from this house to the next, your belongings turn up missing, your mom and dad often fight when he’s around. And when he’s not around, where is he? You are always told “no” when you want something from the store because your mommy and daddy don’t have the money, and you see your cousins getting everything they want. You change schools. Then, you change schools again. Your daddy disappears for 30 and 60 days. When he is home, he is your best friend one minute, and a complete monster the next. You often wake up and go downstairs to see your daddy passed out on the couch, or the floor…empty fifths of Southern Comfort near by. Then your daddy leaves.

He returns a “new man” only to change back to the same old bi-polaresque daddy you once knew. Then it all happens again. You are shuffled from house to house, either with your parents or without. With your brother or without. You are so confused, lost and alone. You are getting damaged.

Imagine then waking up in the middle of the night, almost every night, screaming from a nightmare. Screaming for your mommy. You are in a dark room, maybe in your grandparents house in another state, maybe at your cousin’s house…but not with your mom and dad.

This is what my son went through.

This is what I put my son through.

Last night, my son and I were asleep. He sleeps in a loft bed above my humble futon bed. I reach up and kiss him in it every night. So last night I heard him scream. He called for me. “DADDY!?!?!” The first cry was muffled in my ear, like a faint echoing request. But the second rung clear as a bell…”DADDY!?!?!?!” It was a fearful cry for help. It must’ve been the same type of cry he has always had. Only before, I wasn’t around to hear it. Last night, I was. I jumped up, I looked in his bed, and he was sitting there, straight up, legs crossed, confused and scared.

“What’s wrong, honey? Did you have a bad dream?”

“Yeah, Daddy…I did” He choked back tears.

“Do you want to come down in my bed and sleep with me?”

“Yes please”

He reached his arms out to me, much like he did when he was smaller and wanted to be picked up. I scooped him up, and he squeezed me tight, I grabbed his pillow, and tucked him in right next to me. He woke up this morning with a smile on his face. He touched my face, and we laughed. I made him a waffle with half a fun sized Butterfinger crushed up on top. He devoured it.

My G-d is big.

Picture this: You are at a rock concert, and twenty bands are playing. Only they don’t take turns, they all play at the same time. And twenty of your friends are trying to talk to you at the same time. And you are trying to solve a complicated math equation while trying to hear your favorite song.

My head screams at me. My thoughts race from one idea to the next. It’s as if I have no chance of completing a thought to get anything done ever. “You fucking loser! Get up, go do some laundry! Go kiss your baby! Wash the car, it’s fucking filthy! Call your dad, you haven’t…SHIT, I gotta throw…My fucking cell phone is gonna get shut off if I don’t…You’re gonna need to get up with Black before he goes…Where’s my wife, she’s going to…My P.O. is probably pissed off that I…etc…”

This is what’s it’s like. And it doesn’t matter where I am, or who I’m with, it’s just there constantly. Dinner with my family, it’s there. Playing on the floor with my son, it’s there. Driving my car, it’s there. At a job interview, it’s there. When I’m trying to go to sleep…it’s there, that’s when it’s the worst.

So tell me, how could you ever get anything done if that’s how your head worked? You couldn’t. And I am no exception. I couldn’t even brush my teeth without a hundred different thoughts buzzing through my head.

But when I fill that needle up, when I crack that bottle top, when I here that crackle in the end of a pipe…All of that stops. In fact, the only thought I have to shuffle into action is “Where and how will I get more.”

You would think that, that’s a good trade. Well, so did I. So that’s how I managed for years. But there are big problems with that way of thinking. I still didn’t get anything done. My son went hungry, he went without so much that he could’ve had. And once the pain got great enough from watching him suffer, from watching my wife suffer, from watching my step-son suffer, and not to mention all my family and friends suffer…I did more. I didn’t stop. It wasn’t enough. And then I got to a point where I wanted to stop and couldn’t. And I don’t need to be shooting heroin everyday to lose the power of choice. No, I just need a sip of alcohol, and sniff of dope, and it’s over.

This is who I am without the only solution that works. G-d is the thing that has been able to shut off that noise in my head. The only thing that has given me any purpose. The only thing that gives me peace and quiet. Today, I take time to quiet myself in the presence of Him. I just stop. I breathe. I wait. Then I start my day. And all those self seeking thoughts I used to battle with are substituted with thoughts of how I can help you. I assure you, I’m not wired to think this way, and I’m not sure when that changed. All I know is, it’s a lot easier to live like this, to be a Daddy to my son, than it is to live the way I used to.

Not too long ago, it was not uncommon to be in my presence and hear things like: “This is fuckin bullshit! That bitch can’t do that shit and get away with it!” or “You know what? I don’t give a fuck! How bout that?”

I spent a huge part of my life trying to be something I didn’t want to be, but rather what I thought I should be depending on the situation I was in. If I was around someone that I was trying to impress, I would act a certain way. If I was around someone I was trying to scare, I would act a different way. If I was around someone that I was trying to get money from, I would act an even different way. I was always so busy acting, I lost sight of who I really was. As a matter of fact, it got so bad, for so many years, that eventually…I had no idea who I actually was.

Let’s keep in mind I have a child whom is almost nine, and I have only truly found myself in the last year and a half give or take a few months.

So, when it was time to go home, I had to turn off the tough guy image, the “Look mother fucker, I’m so desperate for some dope, I’ll cut your bitch ass” image……..and be a father.

This was not an easy task however, I will say that when I was trying to be a daddy, that was when I felt the most genuine. Or when I was kissing my ex wife, or she was holding me, that was the closest I could get to being me. To being comfortable. But never, and I’m not proud to say this, but never was I completely able to be me. The real me. Something would happen and one of the multiple characters I had grown so accustom to playing, would surface. This usually happened at the most inopportune times. I really had no control over it. If you, including my son and step son, did something, even the smallest thing that I didn’t agree with, you were at risk. I would beat you one way or the other, verbally, physically, emotionally…whatever I needed to do.

After that, after I made you feel like a piece of shit, I felt like a piece of shit. I would never admit that, no. I would justify my actions for days usually. But since I felt so horrible, I got high. And then I got high again.

So who am I? I am someone who tries his best to be a good person. I try to be who G-d would have me be. I very rarely lose my temper today, and it would take an awful lot for me to put my hands on you. If I do something that causes you harm, I try to make it right. I don’t need to act a certain way either. I am a certain way. I’m not a tough guy, I’m not a womanizer, I’m not a psychopath or desperate. I am a child of G-d.

This realization is comforting. I am not who everybody wants me to be either. In some people’s eyes, mainly those who have eyes that saw me at my worst, eyes that saw the monster I once was, eyes that shed tear after tear due to my actions, I am still that man. This is the way life goes. Just because I got better, just because I live a certain way, a principled lifestyle…doesn’t mean that those whom I hurt are required to accept that. I am ok with that today, because I can not control people. That is one role I will never attempt to act out. Because that duty, belongs to G-d.

It’s amazing how easily I can go from one extreme to the other. It’s equally amazing how difficult it can be to go from one extreme to the other.

I was in the DMV yesterday with a friend. I needed to get a license because I lost mine and the lady who was working there let me look at my last 6 driver’s license pictures. WOW! It was disgusting to say the least. From long hair to short. From messy to manicured. From having a beard to clean cut. From foggy eyes, to bright eyes. I explained to my friend, and the lady behind the counter, that I was actually homeless when one of the pictures was taken, I think I needed a license to either pull off a scam of some sort or get a check cashed or something. The point is, I could see with my own two eyes, the change from hopeless to fatherhood.

When all the pictures were taken, I had a son. But it’s only the last two that I have been showing up as a father, as a daddy, as a friend and a teacher. It has been a long hard road to get to where I am. But the difficulty, and the time it took were a direct result of my actions. Or to put it better, my lack of action.

I spent a solid 40 minutes the other night sitting in my backyard. Alone. It was late and I felt as though I needed some alone time with G-d. I take time everyday to just be alone with Him, and often really devote myself to just breathing and being in the moment. But with the temporary absence of my little boy recently, I have experienced some major discomfort. This discomfort has been here before, it’s not new, and it’s not circumstantial. In fact, the specifics of its birth mean nothing. The emptiness that I feel has nothing to do with what’s going on in the world around me. I’m not uncomfortable because I’m homeless. I’m not uncomfortable because I’m broke. I’m not uncomfortable because she doesn’t love me anymore or because I lost a job, or I got locked up, or because I’m without my child. I’m uncomfortable because of a disconnection from G-d. And when I reconnect, I get centered again.  Just like that.

Sure I’m going to be bothered by certain things. A wise man told me once, “If you didn’t feel the way you do, then I’d be worried.” I pass that bit of awareness down the ladder to guys I work with often. It’s simple but puts things in perspective.

But today, when I am feeling down (which means I am just thinking about myself or that some sort of fear has moved into the number 1 position) I don’t have to go out and shoot dope and I don’t have to hurt myself or anyone else. I can just remind myself that G-d is with me through all of this, and He is the shot caller. Not me, and not you. Only Him. And I can sit quietly and breathe. I can go see where I can be helpful. I can pray. This works for me, someone who has a disconnection from G-d. I can just reconnect. I can be patient and trust that He knows what He’s doing, and that He always has. And within a matter of minutes, I can go from one extreme to the other. I can go from disconnected to connected. I can go from my own worst enemy, to a loving father.