From Hopeless To Fatherhood

I haven’t always been a deep thinker. I believe I have always over-thought things, or thought more about things than what is normal, but I would never consider myself a deep thinker. I don’t ever recall looking for symbolism in things or seeing a deeper reason for things happening.

There was a point in my life where I looked at having to buy food as an inconvenience. Even food for myself. I would always rather spend my money on coke and dope. Oh, I gotta buy food for other people because they’re counting on me? Complete madness.

I took for granted the blessings of my life. I overlooked things in such a heavy fashion that I missed so many beautiful moments. I looked right passed the most valuable parts of life because I was so consumed with myself.

I want to make something clear here while I’m thinking about it. When I say things like I just did, I’m not beating myself up. I often hear people who are resistant to the 12 step model of recovery that they were turned off by the perceived self deprecation that these approaches promote. That’s not what’s happening here. I’m telling you these bad parts about my previous life to highlight why I am so grateful for my current life. When I say I was a scumbag, it’s because I was a scumbag. It’s not because I was taught to beat myself up in order to feel better later.

In any case, let me get back to my previous thought.

So prior to getting sober, anything that wasn’t about me getting high was a complete chore. Not 100% of the time, but most of the time. Gotta give my kid a bath instead of shooting dope? Chore. But a lot of the times giving my son a bath was the highlight of my day. The only pure example of love I experienced. But basically I didn’t look at it in any other light than I was giving my son a bath.

Yesterday my wife was making broccoli and cheese soup. We discussed when going shopping for the ingredients that we would have bread bowls with them. (that was my brilliant idea, hold your applause) So after work, I stopped at the store to find some. I called the store ahead of time to ask if they had any because the other day when we went shopping they didn’t. So the lady in the bakery department on the phone said they didn’t currently have any so I figured I would just go buy some other bread to eat with the soup.

When I got in the store I walked passed the hot bar and out the side of my eye I saw exactly 4 individually wrapped bread bowls. I grabbed them up and went home.

On my way home, out of nowhere, I started thinking about that. Why? I’m not 100% sure, but what I am sure about is that I invite God into my heart everyday. I know He’s already there, but this is my process so if you don’t like it, kick rocks. So I’m driving and thinking about the fact that even though I was told “No, there aren’t any bread bowls” I still found exactly 4. By the time I pulled into my driveway and realized that the 4 bread bowls available were for the 4 members of my family (including me) it carried over to the thought that any day now my daughter will be born.

I thought “By the time she is old enough to eat soup in a bread bowl, Canaan will more than likely not be in this house.”

It stung. It hurt. It made me feel a little bit empty. In that moment, hundreds of memories flashed through my head. Years of difficult memories and years of beautiful memories flashed through my brain as if I was watching them in a movie. It was powerful.

It also filled me up with joy. My son is almost grown enough to be on his own and that is possible because of the relationship that my wife and I have with God. There’s no other reason for it. If Kelli wasn’t God reliant, there would be no Kelli. If I wasn’t God reliant, there would be no me. That’s not dramatic, that’s very real. Canaan would not be who he is today.

The acknowledgement of that spiritual truth had me stop what I was doing and pray. Ok, ok, I know to the average person that sounds like stupid or something, but lately I have been praying all day…every….single…day. This wasn’t out of the ordinary. I said thank you to my God and I asked him to use me to carry His Spirit into my house and to help me share that Spirit with my family.

So back to the bread bowls. I’m having a daughter, which is one of the most exciting things in my life. My son who escaped through a very rough upbringing is becoming a man…and a good man. I went inside and carved up 3 of the 4 bread bowls (because my wife opted out) and we all sat at the table and ate a simple meal and talked and laughed. We laughed a lot. It was the perfect medicine for a very difficult day up until that point.

So yeah, I may have over thought my purchase, but it changed my perspective right before walking into my house and if that didn’t happen, I may have walked in there with a completely different attitude.

The blessings in my life are not taken for granted. I certainly don’t speak about them all, but I definitely feel them. I take note of them. I don’t forget them. I love them and the Reason behind them. I look at them as gifts. I share them with you in the hope that maybe your perspective shifts just a little bit.

Oh, and one last thing I want to mention. Disclaimer, this is both unrelated to the content of this entry but also very related to the content of this entry.

Today I received an email from Canaan’s school that he made the honor roll this semester. This is the first time in his high school career that he has done that because of several reasons (which I won’t get into) but just know it was big. Very big. A direct result of the Love for God that my wife and I try to carry into our doors everyday.

I’m not a fan of Christianity, just as I’m not a fan of Judaism. I’m not a fan of Atheism and I’m not a fan of the Muslim religion. The thing is, I’m not a fan of religion.

I am a big fan and believer in God and the relationship I have with Him.

Growing up I was exposed to the idea of God in parochial school. That didn’t work for me. I went to church and heard all the stories about a scary God. A punishing and shaming God. A God that would send people like my mother and my sponsor to hell to burn for eternity.

I was swatted at by nuns at my school. I was talked to like I was a bad human. I was exposed to a people who seemingly represented what God wanted and a God who didn’t like people like me. I formed an opinion of God based on what I was presented with and like any sane person would do, I resisted everything about it.

Eventually, I became so distant from anything God related that I backed myself into a corner and the only thing within arms reach of my position that could provide me with any relief were human powers. Reckless sex, drugs, alcohol, violence, shopping, attention, anger, money and power. I was only good at getting some of those things, I’ll let you sort out which ones.

So that little corner of the world that I lived in got lonely. It didn’t have any room for the love from my parents. It didn’t allow me to feel safe. It hardened me and made me feel like the world owed me something. If there was a God, He owed me something too.

So if you know me personally, or have spent any time reading the entries of this blog, you kinda know what the rest of my life looked like up until I got sober. It was dark and destructive. It was everything you would think someone who was addicted to heroin at the ripe old age of 16 would experience. It was the excuse I needed to continue using and it was the reason that had me consider to not use. But at that time in my life, it wasn’t about God or a lack of God. It was about me and my son being a family or not.

One thing I want to acknowledge is the prejudgement I had towards Christians specifically. Now I have read the Bible…Old Testament and New Testament. Not that I retained what I read but I’ve read it and more than once. I somewhat disregarded what I read however and put more stock in the people that claimed that religion. I really put the most stock in the craziest of people that claimed that religion.

[think street evangelists with bullhorns, TV faith healing preachers, the guy on the city street corner dressed as Jesus on roller skates screaming at people about the devil is coming, the priests in the news for touching little boys….all the Christians/Catholics that just seemed completely mental is who I thought ALL Christians were]

Why would I ever want to consider Jesus as an option to provide me happiness?

The short answer is, I wouldn’t and I didn’t. I despised organized religion even though I explored basically all of them as an adult.

I completely missed the mark.

About 20-24 months ago I started talking daily to a man named Tim. He had the most comforting approach to conversation about his God who happened to be Jesus. Now by this time I had already shifted to a place of open-mindedness and acknowledged that I didn’t know everything, so it was really perfect timing. As corny and cliche as it sounds, I consider the timing and circumstances to be divinely influenced and orchestrated. We really started talking about some tough subject matter and essentially verbally studied Jesus teachings. He ended up being the catalyst to the church I attend. He invited me to a church called Lighthouse. I went. Hated it. End of story.

jk, you guys.

I went, didn’t like the Jesus talk, the music or the people really…but I couldn’t deny the truth in the message. The guy on the stage was named Sammy. He is an ex-heroin addict like me. He dressed like me. Has a shoe addiction like me. Has a similar sense of humor as me…and probably the most important thing I saw that day was…he was honest like me. He was open and made himself vulnerable it seemed in front of a big room. Just like me. I have had to speak at so many meetings in the recovery based fellowship I belong to and there have been hundreds of attendees. I have cried in front of them. Put my dirt out for them. I have shared my strength in God for them…all in an effort to help them. This guy Sammy did the same that day and I left there very melancholy about Lighthouse church as a result. I wouldn’t return for months.

I ended up meeting a guy named Joe one day at work. He was very outspoken about Jesus. Had a very convicted approach when discussing it. The truth is, I was pretty put off by it. But one thing I couldn’t deny was he believed in what he was talking about and I secretly admired him for it. I liked him because of it, as I had the same conviction about God…just not Jesus. He told me one day at work that I am basically carrying myself as a follower of Jesus, I just don’t know it…

…yet.

Between these three interactions with these guys, I started reading the Bible again and other Jesus based literature. I had done this many many times in the past, but not with an open mind or an open heart. I more investigated Jesus in the past to poke holes in Christianity, not to really find any truth in it. But this time was different.

I started praying different. I started going back to Lighthouse. I persistently “fought” my way into Sammy’s office by being somewhat of a pest. I did this because I had an unexplainable pull to Jesus and I felt like Sammy was exactly the person who I should speak with about it. I hit him with some non-negotiable issues and questions I had about the Bible and Jesus and he handled them with grace.

I started having very very very (I can’t type “very” enough here, I promise) bizarre reactions to my search for some truth in Jesus. I have had an out of body experience during an alter call at a Lighthouse location in Catonsville, MD. A church that actually reminded me of my youth. An out of body experience that caused me to completely lose any control I had over my tear ducts. I mean the tears were rolling down my face and I could do nothing about it, in public mind you.

I have felt a temperature change in my hands while listening to worship music….more times than I can count.

I have asked for Jesus to show up and prove to me that he is the Solution for me and I have more examples than I can describe.

I have damn near lost control of my ability to stand on my own two feet after feeling completely overwhelmed by God all over and through my body.

There have been so many instances where I’ve experienced little “nudges” and “winks” from God while either talking about Jesus or making efforts to grow closer to Him.

I ended up having a meeting with Sammy’s mom one day and I experienced an energy coming off her that was so strong that I felt an instant connection to her. Might not have been mutual, but for me there was a level of comfort with her that would take most 20 years of a daily relationship to create.

All of these things, and more bizarre things have happened while I was following up on a pull towards Jesus that I finally surrendered to. I can’t explain it. I know it sounds like something that is made up. Years ago, I wouldn’t dare share any of this because my ideas about Christians and Jesus were so polluted with my past exposure to the subject that I would be ashamed.

I am different now.

I know that this way of life will come with difficult challenges. New oppositions and tough conversations.

I believe firmly that I have a self awareness now and a relationship with God that provides me with every ounce of Protection I need. I feel spiritually stronger than I ever have and I know in my heart that it is because I am filled with the Spirit. That’s right, kids…the Holy Spirit. [hands you a vomit bag]

Yesterday a guy overdosed on heroin/fentanyl in the back seat of a car while his parents were driving. I heard the madness over the phone. I heard the screaming. I heard the panic. I heard all of it.

It hit very close to home.

I said nothing when the phone hung up. I clasped my hands together and bowed my head and begged Jesus to help him.

He was narcanned back to life. Yes, the medicine brought him back to life. But there is a back story to this that only God could’ve assisted with. I don’t think my prayer saved his life, but I know God heard me.

About 40 minutes later without any effort from me, his mother was crying to me. I was looking her right in her tear filled eyes and she started talking about her church. About her Jesus and her faith in Him.

She asked me about myself and I was able to share my testimony about my past, and my journey and a real life example of how big God can truly be.

When I left her she hugged me and thanked me in a way that I haven’t heard in sometime. She left the conversation believing that her son, who was blue from lack of oxygen a few hours earlier may have the same outcome as me. She breathed in some much needed hope at the very moment that I exhaled it. That conversation happened because of God.

Dear Canaan,

When I look at you and who you are, it makes me the proudest person on earth. You are resilient at a level you should never have to be. Nobody should ever have to go through what you have gone through. You are strong and an inspiration to me. When I see how much you yearn to be like me, it solidifies my path…and I appreciate that. I know I am doing the right thing now. But it is also a reminder of who I was.

I doubt you remember much from the first seven years of your life. Candidly, I hope that you don’t. I know that you remember the repercussions of my actions during those years. You probably still battle with some of them and that’s ok. You are allowed to struggle. You are allowed to hurt. You are allowed to remember who I was.

While I don’t want you to have to remember the bad parts of your life prior to me getting sober, I hope you remember what I was like. Maybe not the specifics, but that I was different then. I hope that you never forget witnessing what God can and has done.

More than anything I want you to see what God can do. Who God is and how big He is. I want you to see that you have the choice to be happy or not. You have the choice to be free or not. You have the choice to have everything you ever need…or not.

I think without God you can achieve success, you can acquire all the worldly things that the world tells you you need to be happy, to be “adult.” I think without God you can go to college, get a good job, find a wife, have a family and make a ton of money. I think you can buy a nice house and drive a nice car. I think all of these things are available to you without God.

But I promise you that with Him, you will have freedom. You will be happy, truly happy without worldly things. And you will still get to enjoy worldly things when you are ready for them.

Canaan, I love you more than you will ever understand. I tell people all the time that you are the reason I got sober. You are the reason I was open to reliance on God. You are the reason I have spent so many hours sitting down with strangers trying to help them. You are the reason I have driven miles out of my way to go pick people up. You are why I crossed multiple state lines to speak at meetings. You are the motivation to continue when I want to give up. And son, I have wanted to give up. You see, the thing about cultivating and maintaining a relationship with God is that He doesn’t give up. He won’t let me give up. He always shows up when I need him. He is the model Father and He is who I try to be like when parenting you. I know I fall short. I know I’m not the best father, but I try and I will continue to try my best.

I don’t know if you will ever read this, but you are 18 now and I planned for the last ten years to share the link to these blogs when you became of age. I want you to see me at my worst and see me recovered. I never want you to go through the pain I went through. It’s not for you. You are pure. You are kind. Like I was as a child. Like I try to be now.

I want you to know how grateful I am for you. You bring me so much joy. It has happened countless times that I have hung up the phone after talking to you and I can’t stop myself from tearing up. I have had to leave the room that you’re in so you don’t see me cry. The growth you have shown over the past 11 years is breathtaking. I watched you go through really rough patches. Your parents breaking up. Your epilepsy. Our financial struggles. Moving multiple times. Switching schools. Leaving friends behind. Finding your voice. Missing your brother. Going through therapy. I have watched you battle and I have watched you win. You are strength. You just don’t see it yet. You should also know that Kelli has gone to bat for you more than you realize. I thought for certain that I would never find a woman that could love you like you were her own, but I was wrong. If you ever doubt that God is real, look at the love that He has provided us in her and the family that we are growing now.

Son, if you are reading this, know that you are the type of person that this world needs more of. Know that with God you will be unstoppable. Your impact will be huge and your mark in this world will be unforgettable.

Love,

Your Father

The idea of resurrection was always something I did not believe in.

It’s science fiction at best….an idea that foolish, weak-minded people latch onto in an effort to make a potentially made up story in the first place have a happy ending.

I used to walk the length of Lexington Market in Baltimore City to purchase Methadone and/or Suboxone when I didn’t want to shoot heroin anymore. The walk itself was something I encourage everyone to do that feels their life is difficult or they need a shot of gratitude for what they have.

When I used to walk it, I was in the same position as most of the people there struggling. My body was alive, meaning my heart was pumping blood and my lungs were breathing air, but my spirit was very much dead. Outside of my son, I had nothing to live for anyway. I only made that walk looking for methadone because I wanted to stay alive for Canaan. But I was dead. My eyes blatantly advertised it.

You can see life or lack of life in the eyes.

“The eyes are the window to your soul.” -William Shakespeare

My eyes were cloudy, my eyes were hazed over. No one could see in and I couldn’t properly see out. My soul was blocked off from the world and the world was blocked off from seeing my soul.

People move around like that all the time. Particularly in places like Lexington Market. One soulless, dead spirited human brushes up against other soulless, dead spirited humans all day long there and there’s no connection. I can say that as someone who was once one of them. I in no way am being demeaning when I say those words. Sometimes I look at things like this to remind myself of who I was and who I can be again. But it’s not just in shady, drug ridden places that you see this. It happens everywhere. You ever see someone who from the outside looks like they have it made? Good job, beautiful family, more money than anyone needs, expensive cars, host of friends, etc? You ever see them surrounded by people yet they seem completely alone? Just zoned out? Their eyes seem to be locked in to nothing at all. I would propose that they are lacking a spirited filled soul as well.

I can tell you that figuratively speaking I have personally experienced resurrection in the sense that I was a walking dead man and now I am more alive than I have ever felt.

But…

I can also say that I have been on the other side of my heart beating and my lungs breathing air. I have been laying on the side of the street, rain pouring down on me, not breathing for minutes. Heart not beating. No pulse. No breath…

…yet I am here now typing this testimony. Resurrection is real. It happens all the time. Not just from physical death to life, but from a spiritless, soulless existence to a life full of love.

For me, I believe that the love, belief and relationship I have with my God provides me with not only a beautiful life on this earth, but life eternal.

I just hope I stop aging when all that happens.

These writings, over the past 10 years, have always been about one thing. That one thing has been explained through my struggles and ultimately the successes over those struggles. I have no issues putting everything out there for you to read in the hope that one of you is helped by my experience. I have outlined in great detail how much of a scumbag I can be, how much pain I have endured, how much hurt and heartache I have caused and how Hope in itself has the capacity to overcome all of that. I don’t really care so much about being vulnerable, as long as it serves a purpose. That said, I also don’t really care so much about who or how many people read this. I know you have or are currently reading it and I know with 100% certainty that you have or are currently experiencing pain. You at least have some area of your current life that can stand to be improved. You wish you could mend that relationship. You yearn to have some more peace in your life. You regret saying those things to that person. You’re wishing that you could stay sober. You are confused how everyone else around you seems to possess the ability to be happy, yet you are constantly in a state of dark depression. Your anxiety consumes you while others around you seem to not have a care in the world. You wish you could’ve said “I love you” one more time before your loved one passed away. You are so remorseful that you let your child slip out of your grip and now they are struggling.

I have experience with all of these woes. I also have a Solution to all of them.

That’s the one thing these writings are about. They’re about God. They’re about God and what God can do for and to someone who seeks Him.

My concept of God has always been changing. Perhaps a more appropriate word to use is “growing.” My concept of God has always been growing. As a result of this growth, my approach to life, relationships, sobriety and these writings have also been growing. I believe that is what God wants to happen. I don’t think God wants me to rest in my beliefs. I think God wants me to be excited about growing closer to Him. I think events in my life have taken place specifically for that reason. I don’t think God has ever punished me, but I do believe God has allowed things to happen to help me learn something; in turn helped me reach out further for His love and protection.

So for the last 22-23 months I have had a shift in my beliefs towards who I think God is. Who I trust He is and what I am willing to accept about God. This growth has been slow and uncertain at times. I have allowed past beliefs to slow my growth. I have been slowly pulled in a specific direction and I know that God is the One doing the pulling. I also know that God knows me better than anyone. He knows that He needed to slowly pull me. He needed to provide me with tangible examples of who He is. He placed very specific people in my path (you know who you are) to assist in my growth. It’s been an amazing experience.

I used to think certain things that have recently been smashed. They are gone. They were chains holding me back from where and who I was designed to be. I used to think that followers of Jesus were sheep. Broken people who bought into a way of life that provided them false comfort. False hope and delusional ideas. I used to look down on Christians. They are just weak. They’re all Kool-Aid drinkers. The church was only there to rob these followers of their money. They are hypocrites. The priests and leaders of the church are a little too close to the alter boys. The list went on and on…

I believe now that these thoughts were just my fears manifested into reasons why I felt righteous about not believing that Jesus was who He said He was. They made it safe for me.

I know that I have a lot to learn about things still and I am excited by that. I’m well read when it comes to religion and spirituality. I have done more seeking in different religious ideas than most, however I have never done so with a true open mind. I always explored religious teachings based on me thinking it would provide me comfort so I sought out what I wanted.

When it comes to Jesus, it was quite the opposite.

He came for me.

And He patiently waited until He knew I was level-headed enough, open-minded enough and generally loving enough. He waited until I was 10 years sober and showed me how He can break every chain holding me back so that I can truly understand what it means to be free.

Today I was thinking about the lives I’ve lived. Intentional plural there, folks.

It’s crazy to look at where I’ve been and where I am in the same moment. It offers an aggressive clarity about why I’m choosing to live sober and moreover it offers strength to stay consistent in the tightest of moments. I really can’t imagine returning to the life I lived before. It’s almost as if it was a past life that I have the ability to glance at in a moment and transport back to reality. I’m basically a time traveler, you guys.

So today I remembered how I would bop down to the 3900 block of Wabash Ave at around 12am and post up with a crew of dope boys a couple nights a week. They befriended me probably because I didn’t care about life and would risk possible physical injury, possible arrest and my life in order to stay high. There were blocks of apartments where we would stand in the staircase and serve people coke and dope all night. They would “let” me run out and hand off the product and would give me drugs throughout the night. It was a great arrangement I thought. To think what could’ve happened to me is horrifying today, but then…in my previous life, it was nothing. It was easy. It was actually sought after. It was exciting. I felt like I was getting over on them.

I also remembered shooting dope up in the McDonald’s bathroom on Coldspring Lane, falling out on the floor and waking up to the paramedics standing over me and me basically just running out of the restaurant just to do it again.

There was a house on Park Heights known on the street as “Momma’s House.” You could go there and buy needles, heroin (even though it was stepped on) and crack. It was heated by the oven, which was sometimes my only source of warmth in the winter months. It was where I first used a needle. I was like 24 years old.

I was damn near a local in that part of town, the only one of my kind I thought. I would expect that 90% or more of the residents of that part of town wish they lived somewhere else, but I chose to be there. I embraced it.

It had everything I needed.

Or rather, it had both of the two things I needed. Cocaine & heroin.

It didn’t have my mother or father. It didn’t have my child. It didn’t have my brother or my uncles. It didn’t have my grandparents when they were alive and it didn’t have their memory after they died. It didn’t have my bills. It didn’t have any of my responsibilities. It didn’t have my regret and my shame. It didn’t have my warrants (it did, but I don’t think anyone cared about them) and it didn’t have hope. It was an empty existence and it is part of me. It’s in me as a constant reminder and lesson about the choices I make.

Today I was appalled by it. I was confused by it. I know people today who choose to live that life. You know them too. It is so sad to watch. People who have been exposed to a way out, and are trapped in a delusion that the solution that was placed at their feet was either too cumbersome to pick up or was never truly there in the first place. They look at their time in “recovery” as a waste of time and a disappointment. They believe that there is an easier or better way. They are convinced that there are human powers that are a sufficient substitute for God Reliance.

I wish them well. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m the one who has been tricked. Who knows? What I do know is that the life I live today offers freedom. It offers true happiness. It offers challenges, let downs, sadness, tough moments and it offers real pain. But it offers a Solution as well. A Solution that doesn’t wear off in 3 hours. A Solution that allows me to be present for my family even in the thick of it. A Solution that keeps me out of dangerous situations. A Solution that prevents me from waking up on a McDonalds bathroom floor with a belt around my bicep.

From my very first attempt at writing on this blog, I’ve always tried to make a point to be positive. I am vulnerable and candid. I have tried to detail my struggles and self imposed hardships. I highlighted what God has provided me, the freedom, the happiness….the gifts and the blessings. I have been graphic at times and I have been soft to the point of potential embarrassment. I have without a doubt, “put myself out there.”

Some of you have read what I’ve written and verbalized how it touched you. Some of you have read what I’ve written and intentionally kept your comments to yourself. You have shared it with others and some of you pretended like you have never clicked on the link that brings you here in the first place.

All of it is ok. Your love, hate, jealousy, disgust, pity, admiration, hope, gossip, character assassination…all of it is ok with me.

I write this blog for me. This has always been for me to one day look back on and recap my journey. I am very glad I started this writing almost 10 years ago. If it helps you, that is beautiful and I am grateful.

This evening I felt touched by God. I was overwhelmed with His Spirit. It happened in a way I would never have guessed.

My wife went to a birthday party and I was home with the dogs and the children. I was going to paint the nursery for our daughter coming in a couple months. This week has been abnormally difficult, at points…it was unbearably stressful. I won’t detail why, but for me to feel like I did this week, just trust shit was pretty wild in my life.

So anyway, I was in the soon to be nursery prepping walls. I was fixing nail holes, sanding, cutting in, putting drop cloth over our new carpet, wiping down the ceiling and walls, all the things you do to paint.

I was thinking about my life.

I took a quick break and read a message on facebook about a friend that needed help and I did my best to help him. I’m not saying that for the “look at me, I’m super helpful” piece. I am saying it because I almost immediately changed my perspective by doing it. I was no longer thinking about myself or my struggles.

Once I did what I could for this man, I went back to painting. I was listening to music and singing. The sun just started to go down and I was looking out the window at the kids playing up and down the street. I continued rolling on the paint.

The way the bright, orange light streamed into the room and hit the wall I was painting made me smile.

In that moment, I felt completely consumed by the awareness that God is protecting me. That my struggles aren’t that big. That my focus is on others. That everything I do is for something bigger than me. I looked hard at the color I was using and thought about my daughter on the way. It actually made my eyes tear up.

A daughter.

I will be responsible for a little girl.

It was crazy and beautiful at the same time. It felt amazing. To think that God sees me fit to look after another one of His kids was soul warming…and a little girl at that.

“I painted a pink wall for you, daughter. I will raise you in this room and I will encourage you to be the most amazing girl you can be. I will read to you. I will sing to you. I will paint pictures with you and I will play with dolls with you. I will laugh with you and I will dress you up in all the things you like. I will brush your hair. I will protect you like God protects me. I will never leave you. I will be as tough as I need to be and I will be as soft as this shade of pink. I will always love you.”

Breathing cold air can make me feel more alive. I’m talking about the coldest of air though, not that bullshit fifty degree air. The 32 degree or lower air that when you inhale, you’re forced to take notice of it. Air so cold that everything else stops for a second and you are only focusing on how it hits your lungs. I have a very vivid memory of it being about 2:30am, I was on the streets of Baltimore on foot and no one was out. It was just me and that air.

I was wearing sweatpants, jeans, two hoodies, boots that had the bottom blown out on one foot, a knit hat, gloves and a winter coat. I ended up sitting on bench, breathing in that cold air. I can almost feel how it hit my lungs. It slowed everything down in my life for about 10 minutes.

I sat on that bench in the middle of the night and thought about where I steered my life to. What my decision making had earned me. I thought about how even when I was abstinent from drugs and alcohol, I never felt free. I was always trapped. Weighted down. Locked up. I could clearly see that this was bigger than a heroin addiction. It was more than injecting cocaine. It was definitely bigger than drinking. I had a problem that was getting lost in the shuffle of life. It was caught up in the cycle. I lost sight of the real issue and turned the smallest bullshit issues into unmanageable problems.

Man it’s fucking cold.

If you put your gloved hands up to your mouth to breath into them to try and warm them up, they get wet from your hot breath. My breath was passing by teeth that haven’t been brushed in weeks probably. My gloves, beat up, yarn woven gloves smelled just like my hot breath. Smelled just like my lost dreams.

It’s getting old to talk about, I know. But in those moments, all I can think about is my son. Can’t believe I walked away from him. Can’t believe I turned into the man I told myself I’d never be. I wanted to always be there for my child and I convinced myself time after time that I could get high (well) for one more day and then I’d get my shit together.

You know when it’s the middle of winter and you’re breathing the coldest of air? Well, your eyes water when the wind hits em.

I may be naive, or delusional, or just flat out reaching here, but I think the events of nights like that were Orchestrated. I feel like the story was being written in such a way that I breathed air that slowed things down for me so I could step out of the everyday hustle of getting high for just long enough to think semi-clearly. To think about in the very least, why I was breathing in the first place.

To not think about myself for the first time in a long time. To think about my son and think about my reason for living. I needed to think about my choices and where they landed me.

It’s fucking freezing when that bus blows passed you, OMG.

So when I’m away from my family, like i am right now, it’s like the air I’m breathing is different. I believe my purpose is to be with them. My 2 boys and my wife. That’s where I belong. Being alone and away from them, breathing this air, even though it’s not cold has me realizing things like I did on that bench. My imperfections. My short-comings. Areas where I could simply be a better husband and a better father. I want to always be better.

I’m getting off this fucking bench.