From Hopeless To Fatherhood

I’ll never be the same as I was before that night. When I first felt that rush. My vision still isn’t the same. I see things differently now. I view the world in a whole new way. I see hand to hands on the street before anyone I know. I see things in slow motion sometimes. A cop can’t be within a half a mile from me or I’ll smell him. I see opportunities to rob people constantly. I see really quick ways to make fast cash all the time. Occasionally, I’ll even think “I could buy a g pack, flip it 5 times, and be set for a minute. I mean, I’m not gettin high, so I’ll make bank.”  It’s a fleeting thought, but it’s there. They’re there…more than I would like. My life is more valuable today, yes. But that wasn’t a big feat. I’m a fucking heroin addict. A coke head. A violent alcoholic. A liar, a loser, a thief, a drug dealer. I sold drugs on and off for a decade without my family knowing. Without ever catching a distribution charge. Sometimes I think I could still pull it off.

I get in these moods where I forget what’s important. I forget the consequences. I allow myself to have a very selective memory. I’ll be thinking about when I shot coke, how I could taste it in my mouth…and how much I would love that taste. How my body would get over taken with the best feeling in the world, a feeling only a junkie would know. I cannot compare it to anything else. I sometimes wish I could have that feeling without the consequences, but I know I can’t. This is very scary for me. I don’t ever want to go back to the way I was.

So, I pray. Lately, I’ve been praying sporadically. I can feel the difference. I am moody, irritated, selfish, self seeking and…angry. If you were to ever get to know me, to really know me, you would know that when I don’t have G-d in my life, I am the most angry person you will ever meet. I am prone to violence, I love it.

Today, meaning the present, not just today, I seem to have more “going on” in my life than I did when I was getting high. It’s one thing after the other. I get presented with an issue, it gets resolved, then I’m presented with another one without a fucking moment to breathe. My children aren’t excluded from this cycle. I fear for the safety of my children when I’m not connected.

I am currently not connected.

I aim to change that, that’s the good news. I refuse to revisit the past in the form of my actions, my thoughts will correct themselves after I take that action toward the Right. Until then, I will battle. That’s a choice. It’s a fucked up choice but it’s a choice. I never professed to be a spiritual giant, I hope I never do.

I used to think that if there was a G-d, He had no interest in me, that no matter what I did or didn’t do, life went on the same. I would feel the same. My discomfort or comfort was not related to anything other than what was done to me or wasn’t done for me. I was exposed to the idea of G-d at an early age. I even went to a private school for several years, after that I went to night classes to learn about G-d. There were a few problems with that. First of all, I wasn’t ready to accept the idea of G-d and secondly, it was pushed on me who G-d was.

When I got a bit older I decided there was no G-d.

I’m not sure if that was due to me thinking it was cool to not believe or if I honestly just didn’t believe. I was one of those people who said “If there is a G-d, why did He let my parents break up? Why does he allow people to get molested or starve to death? Why are there AIDS and cancer and other diseases if there is a G-d?” It just didn’t make sense to me. I was exposed to a lifestyle at an early age that I still feel I was too young to be exposed to. I was convinced that there was no G-d or He wouldn’t have let that happen.

That said, when I got heavily involved in the drink and drugs and crime and hopelessness, I always prayed for a way out when, and only when I needed a way out. When I hadn’t eaten in days but I couldn’t stop shitting water. When I would be hunched over the toilet and a stream of vomit would connect the toilet water to my mouth and I didn’t have the strength to spit it out. When I would hallucinate from lack of sleep. When the police pulled me over. When I was broke and needed dope. These are the times I would pray. And the prayers didn’t work…or maybe they did looking back.

So I trudged on through life…miserable and alone. Fighting the rest of the population, either in my head or literally. I can promise you that there is nothing joyous about a life like that. I hated everyone. My family was the last thing I wanted. Everyone pissed me off. The only time I would even want to speak to my parents was when I wanted something.

Then I got word I had a son on the way.

I tried to get better through reaching out to G-d. It worked. It will always work. I didn’t stay connected because I turned my back on G-d. I did me.

Tomorrow I will be spending the entire day at the hospital and a specialist’s office. Only I’m not going for me. My 4 month old son developed something called torticollis. This caused him to only be able to sleep on one side for the first few months he’s been alive. His skull is still soft so it ended up being flat on one side from only being able to sleep on one side. He has gone through physical therapy. He has seen doctor’s far too many times. He needs to have a helmet fitted tomorrow that he has to wear for 23 hours a day for 4 to 6 months…minimum. He also was showing signs of a possible brain concern. I had to take him to a pediatric neurologist. The neurologist said he needed to have an MRI. So tomorrow we’ll be in the hospital doing that for around 4 hours.

He needs to be sedated for the procedure.

He will be out of my sight during the MRI, unconscious.

I’m not sharing this for sympathy, I assure you. I’m sharing this because today, I know what G-d can do. I’m telling you this because my prayers are answered today. I know that my baby will be fine. Not because this is a simple procedure, which it is but anytime someone tells you as a parent your son may have a brain concern, needs to be put under with drugs and there isn’t really a choice in the matter, but because I have seen the Power of G-d. I don’t believe for one second that something will go wrong.

But…

…if something did happen to go wrong, I know that everything will be fine. That G-d hasn’t given me anything I can’t handle, and He’s not about to start now.

I’m on my way to pick up a Western Union I manipulated my grandmother into sending me. The same woman that put her life on hold every summer to look after my brother and I. The same woman that already raised three children of her own. The same woman that made sure my clothes were clean, my stomach was full, my life was good. I lied to her. I basically stole from her. I used her. She is an absolute angel, and I took advantage of her. I needed the money though. I needed to get dope. I needed to get a bottle. I needed to get cocaine and crack. I never once considered that she needed to buy herself food. That she needed medicine. That she needed to pay bills.

On my way to get the money my heart races. My palms sweat. It’s almost like the overwhelming illness I was suffering from moments before calling her was gone. Almost. But then I get the money. The woman behind the counter looks me up and down. My clothes are dirty. My sleeves stained with dried blood. My lip blistered. Fingernails caked with ashes. She asks me for my ID. I give it to her, corners torn, heroin and cocaine residue wedged in between the layers. I sign the 3 spots she tells me to, 2 on the front and the check itself and I’m out. I run to my car. The only white person in sight. I stick out like a sore thumb. I travel 6 blocks and park. I hop out in an area anyone with any sense would never travel through and if they did, they would most certainly lock their doors. I bop up the street behind an abandoned row of houses and cop my shit.

I don’t travel far before I pull over and mix it up. The anticipation is powerful. It’s like the world stopped spinning. The noise from the traffic is silenced. The streets are empty. I can barely hold my hands steady from the excitement. Nothing, absolutely nothing else in this world matters besides me getting it in. I no longer care about my family, my safety, my freedom, my health…nothing else matters. I can only concentrate on my drugs.

I push the plunger down and feel that relief.

Today, when I left work I had some traffic to fight. I also had to get a haircut and buy some shorts and shirts for my 9 year old. My 4 month old needed gear as well. I needed to get myself some pants and at least one new work shirt. The thing is, I wasn’t willing to go out of my way to get myself clothes because it would’ve taken too long. So I went to TJ Max or Ross, whatever it was and got my kids some gear and looked briefly for something for myself, which I couldn’t find. I spent a decent amount of cash on their stuff and rolled out. Quickly got a hair cut…

…and felt that same anticipation I had when I was on my way to get that money and those drugs. It was like I had blinders on again. Only I wasn’t focused on anything bad. I was just as excited to get to my two sons. I noticed how similar the feeling was to getting high when I was sick. It was the most important thing in the world. And when I kissed my oldest son, and hugged him…and when I picked up my baby and carried him…it was comparable to pushing down that plunger. Only way more rewarding. And trust me, that’s saying a lot. I felt how soft my baby’s hair was as it brushed up against my chin. I kissed his forehead and he giggled. And the world stopped. I heard nothing but that giggle. I filled up with love. Unless you’re a parent you can never understand this feeling. It is without a doubt the greatest feeling I have experienced to date.

The work day was over with. My “problems” were non existent. Nothing else mattered except those two little boys. My life today is something I never thought I would have. I am so fucking grateful.

Yesterday I drove through the hood. Traffic was bad on the highway, so I cut through West Baltimore. Ever since I have “woken up”, I see things clearer. Yesterday was no exception. I looked at the run down houses, the abandominiums…I saw the dope boys, they were still out. I saw the metro train run past. The knockers posting up. The dude on the step, shaking as he poured whatever liquor he had hidden in that black plastic bag that every corner store in the city has behind the counter, into his paper Pepsi cup. I saw the relief, the instant relief he felt as he swallowed it down. I saw the hand to hands. The blue lit cameras on the street lights. The desperate for money girls working. I saw it all.

The difference was, yesterday…I didn’t stop. I didn’t find a strategic place to park my car where neither the cops, nor the dope boys would see. I didn’t take that 3 block walk to the alley where the good dope shop was set up. I didn’t have to look over my shoulder. I didn’t have to make sure I had at least enough water in the car to fill a needle with. I didn’t check my money. I didn’t come up with a plan to short the dealer. I didn’t have to mix up anything to feel right.

I already felt it.

That comfort is constant today if I want it to be. Over the past two weeks I have been given far more examples of reasons to be grateful for my life than I needed. I saw a kid, a young kid in shock trauma, who’s head was swelled up to the size of an official NBA regulation basketball who I saw days prior completely fine and smiling. I got to see both my boys in the same place, at the same time, everyday. I got a tax refund that is still in the bank and is not circulating North West Baltimore. I rocked my baby to sleep more times than I can count. I saw a dear friend of mine get locked up as a direct result of his actions. I helped people. I heard a kid tell me his deepest, darkest secrets with confidence simply because he saw G-d in my eyes. I called my mother almost everyday, not because I needed anything, just because. I woke up happy and went to sleep…happy and at peace. I made it to work on time, everyday. I ate good. I paid bills. I laughed and more importantly, made people laugh. I was able to show up as a father. I actually am capable of playing the role of Daddy today. And guess what? There is nothing I’d rather be doing. My little baby is asleep right now, under my care…because G-d is letting me.

A little over 2 years ago, I would be on that corner. I would be tied off. I would be burning my fingers and lips. I would be vomiting. I would be ducking the knockers and the dope boys. I would be welcoming death…anyway I could get it. What changed? How did this transformation happen?

I asked for it. I asked for help. When I was shown a way, I ran with it. I stopped doing things the way I thought was best. I stopped being so selfish. I cleaned up my past. I prayed. I breathed. I tried to help.

That’s all.

There’s a certain feeling I get when my children fall asleep in my arms. It is unmatched by any other feeling. It changes over time the older they get. When they are at their smallest, I feel like the protector. I feel like a necessity. They could not fall asleep without me.

This idea, although comforting, is false. It is not a reality. It is a delusion I allow myself to suffer from at times because it makes me feel important.

The truth is, that they would fall asleep just fine without me…and often have.

When my oldest son was my youngest son’s age, I was a mess. I would be in the house, I would occasionally participate in the duties of a parent, but not even close to what I should’ve.

I can only imagine how many opportunities I missed to hold my son until he fell asleep. How many chances I had to be there to “protect” him. How many times I was “needed”, but didn’t show up. I slept through my fatherly duties. I did the minimum. Although I never loved my son any less than I do today, the majority of the time that I carried him at night, I did so to avoid a fight.

My youngest son will be 15 weeks old tomorrow. He has never seen me drunk. He has never been forced to inhale the Southern Comfort polluted breath that his father is capable of exhaling. He has never tasted beer soaked lips. And he never will.

There are some nay sayers out there in the world that say, “never say never”. I pray for them. I refuse to live that way. My children will never see that side of me. My youngest son never will…and my oldest son never will again. You see, today I have an option. I can either do what I have to do to remain close to G-d…or not. If I choose to turn my back on Him, it is only a matter of time before I turn my back on them. That’s just the way it is. We all have choices, we all have people in our lives we can either hurt or help. Everyone does. It’s just that some of us hurt them all until they are gone. What will you do? Will you lay down and let your selfishness get the best of you? That question isn’t just for alcoholics. It’s for all the parents out there. It’s for all the brothers and sisters. All the neighbors, employees, strangers…everyone. We all have the opportunity to carry someone else. There is always someone who needs help. This is why I can say my children will never have to witness the man that I once was.

I rocked my baby to sleep today and a needle never gave me that kind of relief.

I haven’t posted anything on here for awhile and I have no intention of keeping up with this like I was before. For some reason though, I find myself logging in to post some thoughts.

The other day, someone told me that the people that post status updates on their facebook page, only do so because they want people to pay attention to them. They want people to read, “like” and/or comment on what they have to say. This was said to me like it was asinine. Perhaps it is, perhaps no one wants to be the person that starves for attention but does everything they can do to receive that attention. I believe I am somewhere in the middle. I don’t wish to be ignored, but I also have no intentions on being the star of the show anymore. I think the need to be the center of attention goes away with a little dose of G-d reliance. I was taught to help in silence but be quick to tell those still suffering how to get out of misery. I do my best with that. I guess just by saying that in a public forum makes me a bit of a hypocrite, but I don’t really care.

My children constantly crave attention and I constantly give them mine. They deserve it. I think on some level we all do. I think if I were to tell you I never need to be given attention on some level, you could rightfully call me a liar.

I am a kid at heart. I am wise enough to not act out for attention, but grateful enough of this life I have been given to embrace it when it comes. I think that’s why I give my sons all the attention I can…because I want so much for them to taste the life I live. I want my life, with G-d included to be attractive to them.

I spent the last hour at least holding my 3 month old son. He went from screaming and crying at first, to gently sleeping in my arms. It took the whole hour for him to go from one extreme to the other, but he eventually was at peace.

My life was exactly that way. I lived so long being restless. Crying. Panic stricken. Hungry for something. Only to finally submit. One day finally having enough of being miserable and just closing my eyes and being at peace.

The wind is blowing and the sun is out. The trees seem to sparkle from the reflection of the sun on its leaves. The mail truck stops, and starts again. The neighbor down the street waters his flowers. I inhale and exhale on my front step. My thoughts are consumed with what I’m doing, what I should be doing. I’m trying to stay in the moment. I’m trying to focus on right now. I cannot change the past, what I’ve done or haven’t done. All I can control is what I do right now. Tomorrow is just that, tomorrow. I can do minor things to prepare for tomorrow, but I can’t be in tomorrow until it comes. My son is constantly on my brain…

I want to be a certain kind of man. I don’t feel that I am yet, I just want to be who G-d wants me to be. I spend way too much time trying to figure out who that is I think. When I notice  I’m doing that, doing something that cannot be accomplished…trying to figure out G-d or what He wants, I lose time. So I make two phone calls. I call two guys that can help me redirect my thinking to something productive. I talk briefly with them, and get up. My room gets cleaned, and toys get gathered. And still all I can think about is my son. Am I doing everything I can for him?

I work at a dead end job.

I could be giving him so much more.

I do have faith that will change sooner than later, but for right now…that is reality. I don’t wallow in self pity, but I allow myself to be aware of the situation for exactly what it is. My life right now has room for improvement, and that is exactly what I intend to do. Move my feet toward improving my life for my family. However broken up it is.

If you would’ve caught me just 2 years ago, I would still be thinking. I would still be consumed with thought, as I always have been. I would’ve noticed the need for improvement.

The difference is…it wouldn’t have been approachable. The void of comfort would’ve seemed too large to do anything about. And I would’ve drawn up the water. I would’ve made that potion in that little plastic cap or spoon. I would’ve stalled the inevitable. My son would still be misplaced, and it would’ve filled my eyes with tears. My clothes would still be dirty, and I would just be hopeless and alone.

I like to think that my thoughts are less directed toward my discomfort today, and more towards my son’s comfort. This in itself is a huge improvement. This is how my G-d touches me. I receive enough motivation to move, but not be spoiled. I move in the direction of Him, I move to get closer to Him. In doing this, my son gets provided for. I notice the wind. I appreciate the sun and its tricks on the leaves. The harmony of the earth and its inhabitants. My situation improves.

I have an overwhelming thirst to be a certain kind of man, and for the first time in my life…it has nothing to do with me.

Do you know how many times in my life the world was ending? Well I can tell you it was more than I could count. I was always wrestling with problems. Everything was permanent. If rent was late, it was never gonna get paid, thus my family and I would be permanently homeless. If I crashed my car, I would never get a new one and I would be walking permanently. If she and I got in a fight, and we broke up…I would be permanently alone. I made the choice to walk away from my son, and I was certain I would only be able to visit with him at best, permanently. And that loneliness, the emptiness, desperation, pain, anxiety, and hopelessness associated with that type of thinking would have remained present in my head permanently had I not found a solution. A permanent solution.

There is only One Solution that I have found any permanence in. Only One Option. There is One Force that promises me happiness, peace, love and permanence without ever causing harm to myself and those around me, and that is G-d.

With this new found solution in my heart, directing my thinking and blessing me with whatever I need, I can have a purpose. Along with that comes an understanding that there are really no big deals. The thought that the world is crashing on my shoulders hasn’t been with me since I have let G-d be with me. I have had many hardships, many hurdles to overcome. And I am pleased to report that I did, with His help. I am also pleased to report that I can continue to do so provided that I stay close to Him. Oh, and some more good news, you can too. My son can too. You can have a purpose, just as I do.

My job is not my career, but I am hopeful that if and when I am supposed to go elsewhere, an opportunity will present itself. I am without a partner, but I trust and believe that when I am able to bring something to the table in a relationship, she will be there. I cannot fully provide everything my son needs at the moment, but it’s just that…a moment. And I am in that moment, providing him with everything I can. My car is not the best, I would love another one, but I can’t afford it. I am ok with that, because I have a car. When I am to have another one, I will.

I often fall short of this ideal also. I can create so much turmoil in my life, and do so often. I do cause harm to my brothers and sisters. I just do it less and less as time goes on. I do this, I slip…and I pick myself up, or if I am too crippled to do so, I ask Him to pick me up. And it works.

All things of this world are temporary. Some people even believe death is temporary. I can promise you though, if you can find the love of G-d, and you will if you search, you can hold on to the only beautifully permanent thing out there. Call it peace. Call it centeredness. Call it love. Call it whatever you want, but search for it. Everyday…please.

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.