I look into the past
What do I see?
Truth
or Deception?
I wonder at times
What could have been
What should have been
What would have been
Not to dwell in the past
But to embrace its reality
Instead of floating in its deception
Because only by embracing
Will I be set free from its empty grip
Why?
Why did I lose my voice?
Why did I lose my soul?
Why did I lose myself?
In doing so, you consumed me
You consumed me with truth and lies
You consumed me with life and death
You consumed me with love and hate
You filled my emptiness with your own
Because I let you
My mind wants to recall the fun times
My heart wants to feel the intimacy
But I realize now that I seek this
To protect myself from the pain
To shield my heart from being alone
To deny what should have been
But that is the reality
That is the truth
That is what was
Not what could have been
What would have been
Had I been true to myself
An accurate memory that is authentic
Is better than a good one that is fake
A good memory is better than a bad picture
But a good picture does not replace a bad memory
Embrace the pain
Embrace what could have been
Embrace what should have been
Embrace what would have been
In doing so, I will find my voice
Reconnect with my soul
Rediscover myself
Be healed
Find Truth
Be Authentic
Move on
“The exquisite risk…[is near]…when the ache we’ve suppressed for weeks creeps into our throat, when silence appears at the edge of our exhaustion like an old friend we couldn’t find. Often, the exquisite risk is waiting on the other side of the curtains we draw and the invitations we decline. And sudden birds, if followed, will lead us there. If we only enter our picture of life and let go of the frame.”
Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had some amazing moments of being present, of connecting with life, of entering my picture of life. I’ve been sad, glad, mad and afraid. But, I’ve seen the sudden birds and followed them. And in those moments, I experienced the exquisite risk of which Mark speaks. I felt so alive, whether in pain or overflowing with musical joy. I’ve sung Beatles songs and songs of praise in my helmet, riding on my motorcycle on the interstate at 65 mph. I’ve dipped my toe in the water of deep sorrow, pain and regret, cleansing my aching soul with tears. That is life as I want to live it. That is being, not doing.
And, over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been human – broken and afraid, drifting back to comfortable patterns of running from the sorry, pain and regret. I’ve suppressed the ache, drawn the curtains and declined the invitations. But today, I celebrate those moments of weakness because despite them and through them, I’ve seen and accepted my humanness. With the grace of my higher power, I’ve gained insight and learning even through the “mistakes” I’ve made. The more authentically I embrace the exquisite risk, the more clear is the emptiness of the alternative choices. And for that clarity, I’m grateful.
I also choose to celebrate the gift of sobriety I’ve been given through those moments because despite returning to old patterns, I haven’t picked up a drink or a drug. I’ve used people, places and things to numb the pain, or to escape the reality of life on life’s terms. But, I’ve carried the lessons of my last relapse into each day and turned things over to my higher power, seeking enough strength amidst the escape to say no to mood or mind-altering substances. And for that gift of life, I’m grateful. It’s gift not of my strength, but of my weakness — not of my will, but of my submission.
Just for today, I will let it be. I will let go, and let God. I will enter my picture of life and let go of the frame.
Today ends my 40 day journey of experiencing life without Facebook. Like some other addictive behaviors I have, I was finding that time with Facebook was consuming more time than time alone, or time in meditation, or time with others, or time working on steps or reading recovery literature. I learned early in my recovery that addiction isn’t just about the dope, or the alcohol or the sex. It’s about any behavior that obscures my true self. It’s about anything I do compulsively or obsessively. It’s about people, places or things that get in the way of my relationship with my Higher Power, other people or my self. I found myself sometimes defining my reality by Facebook — if it wasn’t posted on Facebook, it wasn’t significant. I found myself consumed with a desire to update, to read, to surf. I found myself more apt to post something on Facebook than to pick up the phone and call somebody. So, in the spirit of my religious beliefs and as part of my spiritual life I gave up Facebook for Lent – and took on other behaviors in its stead.
I wanted to write more cards and letters during this period. I removed as many barriers to this new behavior by purchasing a 50-pack of notecards and a book of stamps. So I wouldn’t have the excuse of not having something to write on, or not finding stamps. Sometimes after my morning meditation or before bed, when I found myself with an extra 5-10 minutes, I took the time to quickly jot a thank you or short note to say hello. As soon as they were written, I wrote out the envelope, placed the stamp and attached the card to my mailbox for the postal worker. For all those times I “beat myself up” for not writing a thank you card, or for not reaching out to my 96-year old grandmother – I’m able to find peace and joy knowing that I’ve done so recently.
This morning, a family relationship which is strained greatly was on my mind. The two parties involved are not speaking to one another – and they are first generation blood relatives. I’ve thought about the one party, with whom I’ve always shared a close bond over the years. When I first came out of the closet, they were extremely supportive and asked questions, showed interest. When I hit bottom and admitted my addiction to drugs, they didn’t dance around the topic and avoid the 500 pound elephant in the room. They reached out and talked with me, once again demonstrating their unconditional love and lack of judgement. I’ve thought of them often during the course of this family breakdown and wanted to reach out – but combination of pride, sadness and pain kept me from doing so. This morning during my meditation and devotional time, the situation came to mind – and all of that melted away. I realized that in my selfish inaction, I was not demonstrating the unconditional love and freedom from judgement they had shared with me over the years. The details of the family discord are really of no concern of mine. I’m not responsible for mending the relationships or seeking reconciliation for the parties involved. That’s my codependent nature peeking through — my self-centered delusions of grandeur and power, somehow believing that I’m god and possess the power to fix, manage or control others.
I’m powerless.
But I am able to show love and compassion. I am able to be present and connected.
Without the weight of false responsibility on my shoulders, I found both a willingness and a freedom to write a simple note. There was no hidden motive, no grand attempt to say something that would spur reconciliation, no pressure to find the right words. There was simply the desire to express my love for them – my desire to see and be with them – and my empathy for the sad and painful situation in which they find themselves.
Beyond that gem of self-awareness, I find myself calmly aware that I can choose to reconnect on Facebook…but not rushing to it with a compulsive need. I want to continue my newly restored habit of writing and calling more. But, even there I’ll simply take on today – showing gratitude for the gentle rain – thankful for the chance to be alive and share that aliveness with others.
The Magical Storybook of Professor Peacock 