Saturday, August 27, 2016

Why Not Now?

Change comes in life irrespective of your levels of preparation or desire for it - a matter of "when," not "if." It is often scary, typically difficult and frequently represents a serious mental mountain to be climbed. It is natural to make more of it than it actually is and it can be an even bigger misstep to underestimate the totality of it.

The inevitability of change also represents your typical lack of control over it, as most folks find comfort in routine and the familiar spaces of consciousness. That it will happen cannot be denied, but the way in which we respond to it is a reflection of our resilience and strength of spirit.

At times, it happens when you seek it. I submit to you that it nearly always happens when you need it, although you can't typically see that when it has arrived unexpectedly. That kind of change is a call to action and an undeniable motivator.

Self-authored change is the focus of this post, entitled with a question that's worth asking frequently:

Why Not Now?

That question is perhaps best accompanied by a series of follow-ups including (but not limited to) the following: How might it serve you to wait? How might it serve you to proceed as soon as possible? What will it cost, and what might you gain? Why have you waited? Why would you move forward with the change? And, the bottom line: Is the pain of changing greater than the pain you'll experience by staying the same?

Too often in this life, we wait to act until circumstances force our hand when we could author our own change if we're willing to see in an honest way how life is unfolding all around us.

For the addict, it seems that everyone around us can see our lives crumbling (sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly) yet we refuse to admit that truth until destruction is imminent or has arrived to visit its wrath upon us. We have to suffer the consequences before we can admit to ourselves that something's gotta give.

What if, by honesty, open-mindedness, willingness and courage we could set our own rock bottom? I believe wholeheartedly that we can do just that, as long as we are willing to humble ourselves enough to admit that our way isn't working - as addicts, our own best plans most often aren't in our best interests. Why test the limits of our resolve unnecessarily when in this case it is a life-or-death proposition?

I freely admit that it's pretty easy to look back from this side of the bottle and think of how obvious it was that for me, something had to change. It wasn't so clear at the time and some other things that happened prior to what is thus far the climactic event in my drinking and drugging could've or perhaps should've been the thing that catalyzed my sobriety. All that to say that what could be your bottom if you chose it won't really present itself as such in the moment. The insanity of the disease of addiction will speak as an internal voice saying that it isn't that bad and that you're still in control.

The final truth is that it will get just as bad as you're willing to allow. It will lower you into places you don't want to imagine and your descent won't stop until you take a stand or die. This disease only plays out in a few ways- you either change or you end. You either find and utilize the cure or it consumes you and you perish. Make the choice. 

Thursday, August 25, 2016

Dad

The truth is that I miss you Dad.

For as long as I am alive I will miss you. I don't think of you every day anymore, but I do think of you often. When one of my many "days" rolls around I remember that you aren't here to commemorate it and in fact, you have been one of my "days" for fourteen years now.

There's so much you haven't been here for and seven years from today you will have been gone from my life for as long as your earthly body was in it. I have so many memories with you, but as the years have passed I have experienced more without you and for a few of those years I hated you for it. I said goodbye to you only months after my 21st birthday and only a year after I'd almost died in my wreck. Things had only begun scratching the surface of normalcy for me when you got sick, and you were dead a few weeks later.

It hurts. The part of my heart where you are aches from all the ways I've missed you and from all the things we've missed out on. You didn't see me (finally) finish college. You weren't able to rejoice with your daughter the day she married the love of her life. You weren't there when I hit my bottom and decided that I had to pick myself up from it. You weren't there for my fight in Louisville. You weren't sitting beside me the first time I got to go to a Vikings game in Minnesota. You never met Erica. We can't talk about how different life is for me today and you won't meet the children we hope to someday have.

There are some things I am glad you weren't here to witness, such as my arrest and subsequent 5 day stay in the county jail or the behaviors that led me to being fired from three jobs in the span of 6 years. You weren't around either time I had to move back into your house to find shelter from the messes I'd made. You didn't have to live through the loss of your Mary Sunshine and for that I am grateful.

I'll always treasure the time we had together and I hope someday I can fully reconcile all the time we've spent apart. Until then you are always with me in my heart.

I miss you, Dad.