From Hopeless To Fatherhood

I have been doing some reflecting lately. Forced reflection actually. There are times when I am exposed to a circumstance that triggers a memory or a path of thought that I’m certain wouldn’t have happened otherwise.

When these crop up with any type of consistency or rhythm, I pay extra attention to them. Heavy buildup to discuss something, I know.

So what am I actually talking about? I’m talking about the relationship a father has with his children. A relationship that is no doubt influenced by the relationship the father had with their father and so on…

This started with a conversation I had with a father struggling with his son. His son was missing. His son was strung out on drugs. His son had no money, no phone, no fixed address….nothing. This father spent a lot of time telling me about how much he loved his son but how helpless he felt. There was a moment in the conversation when the father actually accepted that his love on its own was not enough to help his son. This is the reason we ended up talking, but I don’t think he fully realized it prior to us starting the conversation.

Nobody talks about that before you have a child. I know it wasn’t discussed with me. If it was, I don’t remember it. If I did remember it, I know with great certainty that I wouldn’t fully understand the magnitude of loving a child not being enough to help them in certain situations.

One of my biggest problems as a parent (One being an important word) is that when the shit hits the fan with my children, I try to fix it. I always try to fix it. One way or the other I want to exhaust all options to protect my children. Often to my own mental breakdown, occasionally until I’m physically sick. I want my kids to know that Love is the answer. I will go to the grave believing that, but I want them to see the Power in it. I want them to know that more than anything, my life’s desires were being reliant on God for everything and sowing seeds of love along the way. I want them to know that there is no love greater than the love I have for them and my family.

But what happens when they’re in some real life shit that needs some real life solutions? What happens when they go through a bad break up? Is my love for them going to make it better? What happens when they are struggling financially? Is my love going to fix that? What happens if God forbid they make wrong decisions about drugs and alcohol like I did? Will the fact that I love them with my whole heart be enough to pull them out of the darkest place that they’ve ever been in?

I don’t believe it will.

I also don’t believe I won’t try.

This thought process had me reflect on what my actions must’ve done to the hope my parents had for me. Did my actions tarnish the love, or the ability to love that my parent’s had for me? The answer is no, but I’m sure my actions hurt them.

Let’s talk about my father for a minute. I don’t believe for a second that there was ever a lack of love, there was a lack of know-how as it relates to handling someone in the throws of heroin addiction. Not his fault, just the way it is. So in an effort to be brief, let’s just say that I am sure that my father had many many many moments of struggle watching me make terrible decision after terrible decision. He wanted for me what I want for my kids. He wanted me to be happy and full of love. He wanted to see me successful. He wanted to shield me from pain.

Unfortunately his love wasn’t enough to do that. It didn’t change me.

Yesterday he text messaged me to praise me for my accomplishments and to tell me how happy he was of the man I have grown to be. That didn’t erase the pain I caused him, but what it did do is solidify the idea that consistent love might be the only reason we have a relationship today and I am forever grateful for that. Same story with my mom. They both never stopped loving me and I feel like it paid off heavy.

If you are a parent, be a parent. Be there for your children. Be an example that love is the answer…even when it’s not.

In the past, when I wasn’t lying, I was exaggerating the truth. It was as if I could only be dishonest; incapable of honesty. Even when there wasn’t a reason to lie I did. I believe this was because I didn’t want people to know who I really was. It was also because I felt like I “had to” lie to get what I felt I needed. I literally wasn’t honest with a single person on this earth. That’s a very lonely place to be.

I started using heavy drugs at a fairly early age. I have shared this before, but I was a full blown heroin addict at 16 years old. Living that lifestyle doesn’t exactly yield a lot of opportunities to tell the truth.

Without honesty, there can never be trust. Ironically, even at my worst I was always seeking truth and craved trusting relationships, both ways. I wanted to trust you (which I didn’t) and I wanted you to trust me (which you didn’t.) By default, this pushed me further away from healthy relationships. This includes relationships with humans and God alike.

I say that to say this, until I was willing to be honest…with you, with me and with God, I was lying to myself about what I needed to do in order to be sober, to be at peace and to give and receive love. It was simply impossible for me to lie and get better at the same time.

If there’s one thing I’ve been consistent with in recovery (this time) is my allegiance to the truth. Ask my wife, she’ll tell you I will not lie. My kids will tell you the same. My close friends will all report the same.

Here’s a personal truth that I live by everyday:

If I don’t go “all in” with my recovery I will return to the drink and the needle eventually. My pain will grow and eventually my sobriety will be secondary to the relief that human powers will provide.

So what does “all in” look like? That’s a long list of things…I’ll try to shorten it.

I cannot be dishonest at anytime for any reason. (telling my son about Santa, protecting him from harmful “above his head” truths, or toxic information excluded)

I do my best to not speak on other people. If you ask me about someone I’m helping, I will not inform you of that person’s business.

I need to be of service to my brothers and sisters as often as I can with as many people as I can. All God’s kids are included in this. All of them.

I need to constantly try to cultivate my relationship with God. I do this through prayer/reading/talking to people about all things spiritual and helping nudge people closer to Him. This has changed from a need to a want over the years. It’s  actually an amazing thing for me.

I try to carry myself at all times in a manner consistent with whom I think God wants me to be. (I miss the mark on this almost daily, but I keep trying)

I do not put stock in human powers as a means for satisfaction or happiness. I enjoy nice things, but I do not need them to be happy. Without nice things/relationships/medication/drugs/money, etc... I am just fine.

I no longer use people. Never. I don’t need to use people as God provides me everything I need.

So basically that’s how I’ve stayed happy and sober for over a decade. It sounds pretty easy right?

That’s because it is. It is easy for me and can be just as easy for you. I simply chose to ask God for direction and I did/do what He tells my heart to do.

At this point in my life, I’m still very much amazed at where I’ve been vs where I am. That’s no humble brag, I’m not exactly setting the world on fire or anything but being relieved of the bondage I once had, is on its own, enough to celebrate.

I’m still very aware of what my life used to look like just as much as I’m aware of what it can return to. I am also very aware of the Source of the change in my life and I take little to no credit for that. I moved my feet and continue to do so…and that’s about all I do.

The change in my life was all part of the plan.  The moves that were made to produce it and shape it to look like it does today, the good and the bad, the hardships, struggles and moments of weakness, the victories, the ease and the comfort…all part of the plan. The intricacy of things, the simplicity of things…part of the plan. The moments of disbelief and the joyful tear producing moments of complete and utter reliance upon my Solution, both equally part of the plan.

A relationship with God has given me everything. My story is not unique in the circles of people I run with, but it is strongly steered by the complete proof that God exists. I owe Him everything. I want to. I love that relationship.

Removal of worldly things, of human powers as a solution to freedom was nothing short of a miracle. This includes sourcing happiness or comfort from the relationship I have with my wife, with my sons, with my parents, medication, drugs, alcohol, shopping, attention, violence, reckless sex, money, power, prestige, etc… I am able to enjoy worldly things and healthy relationships with my family and friends but I almost never have a reliance on anything on this planet as a source for my peace. When I do, the spiritual consequences follow.

This “spiritual cleaning” was part of a plan I would never have even considered before. Because I have put behind me (for the most part) human powers as a source for my happiness, any opposition to that happiness can not succeed.

I’ll say that again.

No opposition to my reliance on God, or to put it another way, nothing that tries to strip me of my happiness can win that fight because my happiness comes from the loving relationship that I have with my Creator and that Love is eternal. It is never unavailable. It’s always there.

I believe that my entire life was mapped out. I believe that without my struggles, I would never fully understand how good God is…

..and God is so good, you guys.

It really wasn’t that long ago when I had nowhere to call my home. There may have been couches I could crash on, sure. Maybe for a night or two I could stay at a friend’s house (that I haven’t spoken to in years). Maybe they hadn’t heard who I have become yet. I definitely wore out my welcome with any family members. Everyone of them knew I was a thief and a master manipulator. They all knew the lifestyle I was living. In hindsight, I recognize that there was never a lack of love, and candidly I believe most of my family just couldn’t stomach watching me kill myself anymore so they waited and hoped and prayed.

My days were all the same. I’ve spent too much time in this blog describing what they looked like, but for the purpose of this short story I will offer you a snippet because it’s relevant to recap.

I want to share with you that during my last couple years of getting high, my son suffered. He went without. He lacked the guidance that he deserved. He missed out on attention. He was robbed of security. He was lonely. He was unsure. He felt betrayed. He felt unloved. He compared himself to other children…and he ended up feeling less-than. He was deprived of the lessons only a father can teach their son. He was moved from house to house. From family member to family member. He moved from school to school. He cried. He felt lost.

Meanwhile, I was out everyday trying to get heroin and cocaine. I was out robbing people. Boosting from stores. Hurting others. I hurt so many people. I was stealing everything. I was selling drugs (real and fake). I was picking up strangers for money. When it comes to ways drug addicted people get money, I did everything except prostitute myself. Everything.

I thought of my son often and the pain I was causing him. In fact, not a day went by that I didn’t think of him but I wasn’t able to do anything about it at the time. At least on my own I wasn’t and I was very convinced that I was on my own.

Those days were filled with the darkest, most destructive, demonic type of pain anyone can experience. There is a loneliness that is coupled with drug addiction and it’s something that for some is big enough to intentionally end it all. Canaan is the only reason I refrained.

Last week my son, wife, our friend Courtney and I went to tour a house that we were thinking of buying. I just want to say that again because honestly it’s just so surreal to me.

Last week my son, wife, our friend Courtney and I went to tour a house that we were thinking of buying. We went in together but I broke off from the group because I was completely overwhelmed with emotion. Lately my son has made a point to be attached to my hip anywhere we go. I love it so much. We go to the store, he walks next to me. We are at the mall, he’s right next to me. We are in a restaurant waiting to be sat, he’s in my ear burning through story after story. In any case, I’m walking through this house inspecting it. I am a very visual person. I think I see the world differently than most. I was seeing my kids playing in this house that was completely empty, but I could see them jumping on the bed. I saw them running down the hall. I heard them laughing. I saw my special needs pit bull, Pig chasing his tail frantically for absolutely NO REASON AT ALL CONSTANTLY. I watched my wife cooking. I smelled the food. My imagination is childlike sometimes and I hope I never lose that. So here comes Canaan catching up to me and we’re both in awe of the house.

He tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Hey Dad, you know what’s cool about this house?” And I said “What’s that?”

He looked me dead in my eyes and said:

“That Keegan won’t have to grow up like I did.”

Normally you would think that would be a crushing blow, but it wasn’t. I responded that yes, he was right, but I have tried my best to be a good father to him since he was 7 (he’s 17 and a half now) and he agreed.

Then we both stopped and I said “But I want you to stop and think about something. Think about the first 7 years of your life and think about those struggles, and think about who I was and my struggles.”

His face started to change.

Then I said “Now stop and think about the last 10 and a half years and the trajectory of both of our lives. Think about how different things are. Think about that everything we have is a result of me simply relying on God and being the type of man I think He wants me to be. We could buy this house today and it is solely based on that.”

His eyes filled up, so did mine…as they are right now while I’m typing this. God has the ability to change lives in ways that we just don’t know. I can promise you that when I made the decision to ask God for help, I wasn’t expecting a fraction of what He’s done. I shortchanged the shit out of God.

Jeremiah 29:11

11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

When I was younger I was constantly curious and abnormally creative. My imagination was seemingly much larger than my peer’s. I was always questioned about it and encouraged to use it for my art. Eventually I opted to rely on my skill set rather than my imagination and I am happy about that as there has still never been a shortage of creativity in my life and my hand skill gets better every year that goes by.

There has been growth as a result of gained experience, influence from others, failures, dead ends, successes, addictions left behind and a relationship with God.

Yes, I believe God has gifted me something most don’t have. If you are offended or bored by that, stop reading now.

So, what’s my point? Why am I talking about my artistic talent, the progression of that and its connection to spiritual growth? Because the same factors that have polished my art have polished my life.

My spiritual condition is no exception.

When I was around 16 and a half years old I was severely addicted to heroin. I did it everyday. I did lots of drugs but heroin was the focus. I was living on my own and had no one to really stop me. I remember so many times that I would be in Baltimore looking around at my surroundings and how exciting it was. I watched the people. I admired them. They seemed so unconcerned with anything other than where they were heading. I would watch the cars fly by and embrace the wind from them. One thing about the city that has always touched me is how early in the morning it goes from very peaceful to extremely loud in a matter of minutes. I watched the birds flying above everything and thought about how desirable it would be to live free like that. It was beautiful. Then I would snap out of that and make very destructive decisions. I remember the danger involved in doing what I was doing and how that was almost as desired as the actual drug I was getting. I gained a lot of experience on how to handle myself in that way of life. I remember people showing me the ropes, the same ropes I would later show others. I remember getting threatened by people. I remember weapons drawn. I remember my car intentionally rammed by another car and the circular burn mark their tire left on my driver’s side door.  I remember my window getting kicked at a stop sign because “What the fuck you doing here, white boy?”  I remember being chased multiple times for many different reasons. I remember cops abusing me. I remember so many things. I remember escaping by the skin of my teeth countless times.

I remember avoiding death more times than any teenager should.

I remember priding myself with the idea that I was responsible for my own safety.

I remember an absence of God. I remember ego. 

Today it’s almost the opposite. I have been seeking God not out of pain (which has always been the catalyst in the past) but more out of curiosity. I think my creativity has shifted in me somehow and changed into open-mindedness. I have been revisiting the idea of God and who He is exclusively based on love fueled curiosity and imagination. I have been day dreaming of what it would be like to be even closer to God than I’ve been in the last 10 years. I used to think it was impossible to drift from my idea that I would never truly know who God is; only know He is real and it wouldn’t go any further than that.

I have been speaking with a friend of mine for almost two years about all things spiritual. About an old understanding of God with a fresh pair of glasses on and it has refueled an old flame. Not a flame that has dimmed, but a flame that deserves to be an enormous fire. The kind of fire that makes you shield your face with your inner arm simply from the heat. It’s exciting and just like I have grown my artistic skills after people told me I couldn’t get any better, I feel like I am growing my relationship with God in a way I never thought I could.  

The chosen title for this blog of mine came from what my life was at one point to what I thought was the top of what life could offer me. The truth is that I always wanted to be a good father. I’ve always had a connection with kids. I have always had an admiration for their innocence and ability to love blindly. I always thought that being a father would be my opportunity to truly shape a child into the type of person I always wanted to be but wasn’t able to be. A good, loving person.

Alcoholism was a huge hurdle to get over. The struggle of living with untreated alcoholism is something that can break down the strongest of wills. Walking through life with an absence of God (alcoholism) is a path that deterred me from being a father. It’s that strong. It convinced me that drugs and alcohol were the only thing that could provide me the relief I yearned for.

Today I have God. I love God and try to be the type of person that I think God wants me to be. I have a very very long way to go. I am on my phone way too much. I am distant in relationships. I find comfort in worldly things too much. I lose my temper. I am selfish. I get frustrated easily.

I am human.

The best part about knowing that I am protected by God and trying (keyword) to be the type of man God wants me to be is that my alcoholism stays in check. I can still be a present loving father. I still see the very same things in children as I always have. I remain hopeful that provided I continue to simply try to be a certain type of person I will continue to grow. Grow as a better person and grow as a better father.

Grow deeper in love with life.

My journey in recovery over the last decade has afforded me the sight to constantly see God working in my life. If it does nothing else…I am satisfied.

This week, as I mentioned in my last post, I took my son on an appointment at John’s Hopkins Pediatric Neurology. A place we have gone more times than I would care for. One thing that has always happened when the two of us go is that we bond. We have grown closer every time he had an appointment. It’s like that idea that crisis or bad times have the ability for people to grow closer together. It happens at least for me every time. Canaan sees that I am trying to be the type of man I think God wants me to be. He knows me. He knows who I was before having a relationship with God. He knows who I am since. We have stayed in this together. The 3 of us. Me, Canaan and God. Of course my wife has been amazing but scheduling restrictions usually have just Canaan and I going on these appointments…but we go every time with God.

It appears that we have endured the journey. Those days are over.

I received a call from his neurologist yesterday that he has beaten his epilepsy.

He simply outgrew it. I am comfortable enough to share that I immediately started crying the happiest tears of joy I have shed in a very long time. It moved me. It was a slap in the face that God has us protected. I believe that everything happens for a reason. I believe that one day Canaan will see that I walked with him confidently into every appointment with God in my heart. I believe that one day Canaan will see that even despite very serious uncertainties pertaining to his health, that I knew God would protect him.

I believe that by me, in those moments, walking with God, Canaan will connect the dots and see that I was trying to be the father he deserved. I hope that in my growth I will achieve that goal one day. I hope more than anything that I have and will continue to be an example to him that God’s Love has the ability to overcome any fear, obstacle and any hardship.

I hope that he finds a relationship with God without going through anymore pain first.

It seems like an eternity that I’ve been bringing my son to appointments like this. It hasn’t been an eternity at all, but it feels like it. I believe he had his first seizure at age 9 or so. I remember that like it was yesterday. I wrote about that experience before so I’m not going to do that again. It was a very traumatic experience at the time though. I was maybe 3 or 4 years sober and it was the first thing that really scared the living shit out of me in sobriety.

Throughout my life, the wisest of people always told me to be grateful that I had my health and that my kids were healthy. There are few instances prior to Canaan’s first seizure that I understood that. There are even less instances since, that I haven’t.

The wellbeing and overall health of my children is a constant point of concern of mine. A lot of people think I’m too overprotective, I think I’m just fine. I know they’ll experience pain in life, physical or otherwise but I just want to shield them from as much of it as I can while I can and still allow them to learn the lessons life needs them to learn.

We are currently hanging out in the waiting area at John’s Hopkins Neurology. If you have never spent any time in a neurology department, be thankful. There are some people in really bad shape here. There is a plus to it though, for me it reminds me of what I have to be grateful for.

So my son has generalized epilepsy. His particular epilepsy only causes him to have seizures while sleeping. We are here because we are hopeful that he has possibly outgrown it. His Neurologist advised us that he needed to be sleep deprived for this test so that he can sleep while getting it done.

He went to work with me today and has been nodding out all day from not going to bed before 4am and waking up at 7:30. He’s a real trooper. He has kept his personality light all day and he also got to see me working for the bulk of the day which I think he enjoyed.

So there’s nothing in this post that will be witty, humorous or anything like that. I’m just voicing that I am grateful for everything as it is. My son is epileptic, but he could be in far worse condition. He could also have out grown it and we should find out soon.

If you are a parent reading this, I wish you and your children the best of health. And listen, it’s not like epilepsy is really all that bad. It’s more inconvenient than anything…but I still want him to be free of it. Kids (especially this one) have enough to deal with in life.

I am most grateful that I have the ability to be present to support him today. That I can be the father I always wanted to be. That I feel God is here with us both at this very moment. It’s a beautiful thing to feel protected.

I am a huge proponent of the idea that just because I remain abstinent from drugs and alcohol does not mean that I am recovered…or really that there’s anything to “celebrate.” It simply means that I have not picked up drugs or alcohol…not that I am a good person. I fly that flag everywhere and anyone that knows me, knows that. Recovery from alcoholism isn’t about putting down the drink. The drink was never the problem. The drink and drugs have always been my solution. Sobriety without Love in my heart has been the problem. A lack of a connection with God has always been the problem. Lack of action in helping others with the goal of getting myself and others closer to God has always been the problem. Using human powers to treat a spiritual condition has always been the problem.

10 years ago today I shot my last bit of heroin, cocaine and took my last sip of booze.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

I was homeless. I hadn’t seen my son in awhile. I was completely broken. I was a brittle shell of a man physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. The only relationships I had consisted of people I could take from.

I was ashamed but hopeless at the same time so I thought I didn’t care about my own life. I had tried to get sober for the 10 years prior to that and could never get it right. I thought I could do some of the things I was shown but not all. I thought I could get away with certain things. I thought I could still be dishonest once in awhile. Eventually my failed attempts at sobriety left me in a very dangerous place.

I was convinced that I didn’t care about anyone except my son and I believed that even he would be better off without me. I didn’t care whether I lived or died. I even welcomed death. I craved it. I attempted to die countless times. I thought I would never be able to maintain sobriety and if I did I certainly wouldn’t be happy about it.

The experience I gained prior to January 2, 2009 was filled with pain and self induced loneliness. Complete darkness, mental illness and hopelessness. I spent a lot of time thinking about a better life but I thought I was doomed to a life of failure forever. I thought I had every excuse in the book to destroy myself. I was doing things and hurting people against my own will. I spent years believing that I would die a homeless drug addict…a criminal…void of any true happiness. And I would do that alone.

At the same time, I watched countless people in recovery enjoy their lives. I watched them get better. I saw with my own eyes that they were happy and sober at the same time and they tried to show me how to obtain that. I was just never convinced that I could achieve it.

I was wrong.

People always tell me that you have to get sober for yourself. You can’t do it for anyone else. For me, that’s just not my experience. I don’t believe that I got sober for myself or anyone else except my eldest child. I didn’t have a reason to outside of him. I lost every part of me that was loving, pure, honest, caring and thoughtful. That said, I do believe with all of my heart that God pulled me an inch closer to Him at the exact moment I needed it in order to catch a quick breath of Hope by using my son at a catalyst. I had a vision of my son at the very moment I was contemplating suicide and it deterred me. It gave me a splinter of Hope to pick up the phone and ask for help. It instantly convinced me that I needed to go “all in” in order to get well.

I am forever grateful to my son, my family, the fellowship I belong to and my sponsor, Steve. Especially my sponsor Steve for his constant support from day one until today. My family never stopped loving me, but they just weren’t able to touch my heart in the way that someone who has recovered from alcoholism could. That’s not due to a lack of effort or a lack of love. Simply a lack of experience.

These past 10 years of sobriety have been filled with ups and downs. I have had to face some very serious, very challenging times. I have had to do that at certain points with only God next to me. I endured difficulty knowing the entire time that God had my back. He was always there.

(Thank you, Tom for that talk in the car. It changed my perspective and life forever.)

Because of that, I have been able to experience true love for the first time in my life. I have everything, literally everything that I ever wanted. I have a supportive loving family. Two beautiful children. The most perfect wife any man could ever wish for. I have a life that money can’t buy. I have peace. I have complete comfort. I haven’t had the desire to drink or use drugs in 10 years. I have a host of friends that will and have put their lives on hold for me and I have a host of friends that I would do the same for. I have been given the gift of confidence that I am suitable to watch after my children, God’s children. I have the ability to be a good employee. A good husband. A good son. I am able to finally be a good younger brother. I am able to carry myself in a manner that is attractive to others to do what I do.

I have the Solution to alcoholism.

I have Love.

I have God.

I am so grateful for the life I have today as a result of blindly taking direction that I didn’t agree with nor believe in and for stopping the thoughts that I knew what was best for me.

An excerpt from page 164:

Abandon yourself to God as you understand God. Admit your faults to Him and to your fellows. Clear away the wreckage of your past. Give freely of what you find and join us. We shall be with you in the Fellowship of the Spirit, and you will surely meet some of us as you trudge the Road of Happy Destiny.

May God bless you and keep you-until then.

I once was captured by police on Park Heights Avenue. I remember I was hacking (picking up people for money for you folks not in the know) up and down Park Heights and Reisterstown Rd trying to get $40. If I’m being real I would’ve stopped at $20. I don’t remember much but I remember this day. I made a left on Park Heights from Coldspring. Got about 2-3 blocks and saw the lights. I had seen the lights in my rear view plenty of times before, but this time it just felt different. It felt like it meant something. There had been many times when I felt deep inside of me that it was time for a change. There had been many times that I stole from my family. Stole from my kid. Left for weeks and months at a time. Bounced in and out of my son’s life. There were even certain points in my life when I felt real human emotions still. Guilt. Shame. Things like that.

I would wake up in a rest stop bathroom or a vacant home in Bmore or in a freezing car, spitting up pieces of what I think was my lung and feel like it was time for a change. But that feeling only lasted long enough to realize that I was ill and needed my medicine. I did want to change, but just never thought it was possible. I had failed at it so many times before. Shit, there were people in the rooms that jokingly called me “Lost Cause” because I just could never stay.

Recognizing that it is time for a change is a completely different thing than taking the action to change. Go ahead and think that bullshit about “Well admitting it is the first step” but it’s not. Not for me at least. Shit, if that was the first step, there’s like a million steps in between that and the second step.

There’s evictions. There’s health problems. There’s crimes to commit. There’s suicidal thoughts. There’s stolen cars. There’s homelessness. There’s broken relationships. There’s sticking a knife in the heart of your family then twisting it and smiling. There’s complete psychotic episodes in public. There’s violence. There’s so much fucking violence. There’s theft and manipulation. There’s selfishness. There’s death. There’s fear. There’s obligatory “love.” There’s jail. There’s rehab after rehab after detox after detox. There’s losing jobs and losing hope. There’s the sacrifice of every shred of decency and morals you once had. There is without a doubt a complete lack of love. Not giving it and incapable of receiving it.

There’s the absence of God and a perfect understanding of loneliness. There’s so much darkness.

I have experienced all of that and more. I lived through all of that and still couldn’t take the proper steps AFTER admitting the problem.

Since getting sober I have been given the opposite of all that. I have been given the purest sense of love and peace. I sometimes forget that and then I get rocked with a dose of reality. I get curb stomped by something that forces me to remember what my life was like before and who I was.

This happened very recently.

I got hit so hard by something in my personal life that I was driven to tears, multiple times…as recently as today even.  Real tears…and I am the type of man that normally doesn’t have a need to cry. It usually is pointless unless I just have no way out of my feelings. There are certain things that can make me feel completely helpless and lost. Remind me that I don’t have control. Well, one of them happened and has been continuing to happen. Thank fucking God that I have good people in my corner…not to rely on, no. But people to point out reality while I am polluted with fear and delusion and to point me in the direction of God. My wife has been trying to do that. Thank God for my wife. Shit, if you know me, then you know what a good person she is for being able to tolerate me.

So today, when I recognize that it is time for a change, I don’t have to burn my whole life to the ground first. I just need to remember how I took the steps towards coughing up the ashes and how to wash off the soot.

I used to dread days like this. The guilt would consume me. The frantic search for money was too much. The begging, the borrowing…I always knew it wouldn’t work. I did still try though. That wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part of days like the day before my son’s birthday was when I finally had the money to buy him gifts and I would sit in my car if I had one, or on the metro, or at a bus stop and look at the cash in my hand and debate.

You know the choice I had to make. It’s the same choice I made everyday but today was always different. Any other day I would just know that my priority was to get well. The next priority was to get high…then I might think about feeding my kid or doing something semi-responsible. Usually not if I’m being real. But today was different. Today I looked at that money and thought about what I could buy him that he would really like. Something that might have him think differently of me. Something that might make him forget about how much of a monster I was. What can I buy that might have him mentally  escape from the world of pain that I caused just for the day? It’s his birthday tomorrow and I can’t do anything other than try to buy a moment’s worth of happiness.  $100 just didn’t seem like enough to accomplish any of those things. Guess $50 wouldn’t be that much different anyway. I’ll get a gram of raw and figure it out after. Shit, I doubt I could cause anymore heartache or disappointment anyway.

I remember 7 years of days just like this.

It’s different now.

Tomorrow my son will be 16. Six-fucking-teen. I spent a lot of time today comparing him to me when I was his age. I was very much physically addicted to heroin at 16 and was selling basically everything else on the market. I was getting in fights. Waking up in strange places. Running from police. Pissing on people’s living room floors. I was a disgrace at his age.

I just walked downstairs and heard him talking on the phone with my mother. He was so excited that she got him these Magic the Gathering cards he really wanted. That’s who my son is at 16. He’s amazing. He is one of my favorite people in this world. He is my heart. I would die for him. Much different from before when I was dying in front of him. Today he is surrounded by so much love. He has a very strong family in this house and I can’t think of a better gift to wake up to tomorrow than to have his family, his father included under the same roof as him. I can’t think of a better gift than to have a house with God protecting everyone in it.

It’s seriously amazing.

I can’t take back who I was for the first 7 years of his life. What I can say with a very high level of confidence is that I will never feel like I did at that bus stop looking at a palm’s worth of blood stained crumpled up twenty-dollar bills again. I honestly don’t give a fuck about what you think about me crossing the “Don’t ever think you got this” line. I don’t think I got anything except love in my heart, an awareness of what’s important, a family that needs me, two beautiful kids that look up to me, a fox of a wife that does nothing but support me and the biggest fucking God in my corner.

Oh…and the acceptance that I’m an old man with a 16-year-old son. Damn that was fast.