I Forgot

I remembered moving was a pain
the procuring of boxes
the assembling of boxes
the putting-items-in-boxes
the moving of boxes
the unpacking of boxes.

I remembered the physical effort
the sore legs and back
the shortness of breath
from running up and down stairs
the sweat running down into eyes, stinging
the truck rental and all its painful machinations.

I forgot the mental toll
the days spent living amid blank walls
the irritation from not knowing where necessities are
the discomfort from routine disruption
the adjustment for new accommodation quirks
the countless homeware odds and ends that need to be acquired.

I forgot I was leaving my home
the first place that felt like one since my parents house
the familiarity and the ownership quickly swept away
by the transfer of books, beds, and dressers
simple yet so jarring, this moving thing
I forgot it could be this hard.

Attrition 2

I've been feeling pretty depleted recently. A result of the weather mostly I think. Always wanting to sleep in, stay in, veg out. It's hard to combat, this prevalent lethargy and low-level apathy. As I've gotten more and more sober time I think I've become more sensitive. I damped down my emotions so long with booze it's still a relatively new experience dealing with them head on.

The first couple years I was sober the big challenge was dealing with people. Not giving in to anger, frustration, or petulance. Not lashing out. Learning to develop a moment of pause before reacting. Curbing or eliminating resentful words, unwarranted accusations, and unproductive attacks. I've made progress but it's something I'm always working on and aware of.

Emotions that come on for no particular reason, with no discernible source, not a direct reaction to something but a response to something more nebulous, maybe nothing whatsoever, that's what I've been struggling with the past couple weeks. When you're happy its not something you have to figure out you just enjoy it but when you're sad that's something you have to work through.

For a long time winter was just a protracted excuse for me to isolate and drink. I didn't feel anything above a low grade desperation because I was anesthetizing myself. As a sober man I've found myself just as susceptible to SAD as anyone else, if not more so. Sometimes I feel its unjust, feeling blue for no reason, other times I'm grateful I have the capacity to feel and process emotions at all. It's not as if its some crippling depression more like a vague sense of unease. It will pass, maybe today, maybe tomorrow, sometime soon.

Days get longer, time rolls on, spring approaches.

Discontent

Sadness would be easier to take
if it had sharper teeth
if it tore and pierced
instead of its slow
and plodding creep
like the abandoned
armchair
in your parents'
unfinished basement
quietly disintegrating
eaten but moths
and mold
unbeknownst to you
until you plop down
in its wetness
ill prepared, then resentful.

Ups And Downs

It's been overcast almost this entire week. Typically the weather doesn't effect my mood but after almost a month of sunny skies it's been hard to get motivated. I have a lot of free time currently, which is wonderful, but it can be difficult to fill it up. Difficult to get things done, difficult to get out and about with no real obligations. Doubly so when it is cloudy and chilly.

I've found when I'm feeling a bit low, either for a specific reason or no reason at all, the best thing to do is move through it as opposed to fight it or avoid it. To feel the feelings and keep moving forward. For me that's the only way for those periodic blues to pass. Not to try to drag myself out of it or think my way out of it or trick myself out of it. But to continue on. Keep making plans and showing up. To do the next right thing, as best I can. Moment to moment.

Eventually, like everything, it passes.

The Inside-Dark

We are all susceptible to darkness.
All of us prey to the periodic blues.
Lethargy, apathy, and depression
are not constant companions(for most)
but occasional and unwanted visitors
who sometimes stay long after our endurance has been eroded.
How do we purge this inky and viscous blackness
that clouds our eyes, pollutes our mind, and weights down our spirit?
Companionship, nature, the warm reassuring embrace of a loved one.
A heartfelt kiss, a sun-filled walk, a good book with a hot cup of tea.
Clichéd remedies, maybe, but even so- effective.
The light banishes the dark.
The artist, we acolytes of Dionysus, have other methods.
We spool, we spin, we weave the dark.
It spills from pen to paper, from paint to canvas, from mind to stage.
Even now I feel lighter, brighter, free.

Street Talk 24

I'm sitting on the steps of a church smoking, waiting to meet a friend. On Mondays the church sorts and packages clothes and food for donation. I notice on the side of the church there is an old man waiting by the side door. He is short and thin, his baggy cloths are dirty, his grey hair unwashed.

After a couple minutes he approaches the stairs where I am sitting.

Old Man: 'scuse me.

He sits on the stairs just below me. He has a to-go Styrofoam container with food in it which he begins to eat quietly. It's a Thanksgiving meal- turkey, stuffing, corn, and mashed potatoes. At first I'm nervous he'll ask me for money or a cigarette but he doesn't. We sit in silence. He eats, I smoke. We sit this way for about ten minutes.

It strikes me as incredibly sad. This old man eating a donated Thanksgiving dinner in the middle of summer. With the air so hot and humid I wonder how he could be enjoying it. I chastise myself, any food is welcome when you're hungry.

I wonder if he is waiting there for the same reason I am. I suspect he is not. I think if things were different I could be him. I think there was a time when the gutter held a certain glamour, a certain romance for me and that I am glad I am free from that delusion. I think his present could still be my future if I'm not diligent, if I'm not attentive, if I'm not wary. I silently thank him for his unconscious reminder.

He does not smell, he is not rude or pushy, he is not angry, he is simply sad. And the sadness follows him like a loyal dog. Regret too. I can feel the weight of his regret.

I think we are not much different him and I. Two men sitting on the steps of a church. One smoking, one eating.

Awareness & Acceptance

Since getting sober one of the things I've been taught and cultivated is a sense of self-awareness. Developed habits to pause before reacting in anger or frustration, to investigate the origin of feelings of discomfort, to bounce ideas and decisions off of others in order to clearly see motivations, destinations, and ramifications.

One of the most clear cut and institutional feeling tools is the acronym H.A.L.T.(hungry, angry, lonely, tired). An easy way to give yourself a quick once over if you're feeling restless or irritable. Sometimes the solution is as easy as a snack, company, or a nap. The key is simply getting in the habit of investigating how you're feeling if you find yourself acting unreasonably or saying mean stuff or generally doing things that are out of character for you that you may come to regret. If you can create a small window of reflection between thought and action you can generally live in a happier, more tranquil way.

This idea extends beyond immediate physical and emotional concerns to broader instances and circumstances. For example, currently I feel a bit over committed, there's a thing I'm apart of that I'm not getting much joy or fulfillment from that I'm thinking about quitting. Instead of making a snap decision I've talked to a couple people, flushed out my feelings, desires, and responsibility regarding this commitment, and got some suggestions and some guidance on how to proceed. After getting others' perspectives I can move forward with a lot more confidence and comfort than had I made some quick emotional decision and then immediately regretted it which was my MO in the past. By breaking down the how and why of a situation with another person I can get a clearer idea of what the right path is.

The other thing I've tried to work on is an attitude of acceptance. For a long time control, or more accurately the illusion of control, ruled a lot of what I did. I wanted to control people and situations, I wanted the world around me to conform to my selfish wants. I discovered this was not only impossible to do but an untenable way to live.

I can only control myself. I always feel my emotions but I can choose to process them and react with either grace or ugliness. I can walk through my life stomping and affronted or lightly and contented. Through practice, discipline, and guidance the choice is now mine to make.

The Subtlety Of Feeling

When I was drinking my emotional range was limited: elation, despair, rage. They didn't mix and although I felt each with some depth it was never terribly complicated. I used my dependable and constant friend Jim Beam to dampen and curb any other feelings, channeled them into my three acceptable modes of operation. To make things simple, to make them manageable, to curb my constant fear. When I was active in my addiction there was no texture to my mental state, no nuance, no variety, no range. I numbed out because I didn't know how to deal, all emotion, on some level, was too overwhelming to deal with.

A therapist once told me you stop maturing when you start using. That your emotional development is suspended by heavy use of drugs and alcohol. I certainly found that to be the case for me. Two years ago upon getting sober I felt like I had been reborn. Not in a religious sense but in the sense that almost all feelings and experiences were new. I had to learn and sometimes relearn how to navigate and deal with situations, people, and emotions I had never encountered with a clear head before. It's been a sometimes difficult, frequently surprising, always fulfilling journey.

This past week has been a rough one. A situation outside my control and experience has brought on a torrent of complicated and confusing emotions. Many feelings bound together- grief, regret, sadness, hope, absurdity, community. Each existing simultaneously with the others. None of them glaring and steady but each subtle and mystifying, flaring at times then cooling. Humming quietly but not diminishing.

As a sober man I have no recourse with substance. I cannot cushion or escape, I have to feel. It can be taxing or bewildering, being overwhelmed with this parade of emotional colors, but ultimately I am grateful. I have prayer, mediation, and many loving people I can talk to. I have the ability to feel my feelings, I no longer sit in fear of them. I can be present in this moment which seems so large and uncertain. Work through the shadows and shades of my feelings, participate and process, stand firm and witness. Be there for others to lean on and lean on them in return.

The Day Magic Died

I first read the Chronicles of Narnia when I was 7. They were the first books I read and enjoyed. They inspired in me a voracious desire to read. They magic and beauty of the books spoke to me in a way I didn't really understand. I wanted to find Narnia, I wanted to go there. I had a vivid imagination as a child and part of me, at 7, believed if I looked long enough, if I looked in the right places, I could find a way to get there. Every closet, every crawl space, every attic, every hidden nook and cranny I looked in for a doorway, a path. I was obsessive about it for years.

When I was 13 my family took a trip to visit my mother's high school friend Laurie. There was an honest-to-goodness wardrobe in the front hall of the house. At that point I had almost given up my search, realized the gap that separated fiction and the real world was impassable, realized I was too old to believe in Narnia anymore. But part of me still had hope, I had to check.

I waited for the adults to be occupied in the kitchen, snuck into the front hall, and opened the wardrobe. I reached my hand passed the coats and quickly hit the wooden back. At the same moment my mom and Laurie walked into the front hall.

Laurie: What's he doing?
Mom: He's looking for Narnia.
Laurie+Mom: (laugh)

I was crushed. Overwhelmed with anger, shame, and grief I sprinted up the stairs, slammed myself into a closet and cried.

After a time my mom followed me up stairs and told me she was sorry, they weren't laughing at me, they thought it was cute. I told her to leave me alone. To please leave me alone. And eventually she did.

I was embarrassed, felt stupid and childish. But sitting in that dark closet crying I realize now I wasn't so much up set with my mother or her friend. I was in mourning. I was grieving. A dream I cultivated so long was dead. There was no way to get to Narnia.

There never had been.

Cycles

One of the plants I have grows flowers which bud, bloom, and die within a couple days. It's been through probably a dozen cycles since I got it last spring. They're beautiful and fleeting and they keep coming back.

They're on a cycle just like everything. Ups then downs then ups again. The present is a fleeting thing: enjoy it or push through it accordingly.

New Years Through The Years

Last night was a great New Years. In the past I've always put a lot of pressure on doing something exciting which more often than not is a disappointment. When I think about it all I really want to do is spend some time with people I love. Yesterday I spent a nice relaxing afternoon with Punam, went out to dinner with Vince, Amy, Clayton, and Nicole, then met up with Punam at Second City for the count down. It's always nice to be around people and feel that celebratory atmosphere but this year there was no unreasonable expectation it was just fun. Getting older probably has something to do with it, figuring out what I want to do and doing it rather than buying into this New Years hype. The new year is a good time for reflection and I've been thinking about my new years past.

NYE 2011- Punam had a fun dinner party and later in the evening we watched movies and snuggled. It was a good new year but I was feeling angsty. I still had this pull or idea that I was fighting against- where's the place to be, lets do something momentous. At the time I don't think I was that comfortable in my own skin and that was a portent for a portion of the following year.

NYE 2010- I went to a friend of Alex's house in the suburbs, away from parties and the hustle and bustle. I remember it being very warm and laying in the grass and running around with dogs. It felt like an attempt to escape parties and craziness but I think that's what I still wanted to do or thought I should want to do.

NYE 2009- Alex had a party at his apartment. Matt was in town from Richmond and we had a nice time. I partied too hard and misplaced my watch which Alex didn't find until the following summer. I remember having fun but still feeling disappointed the next day. I had the thought- that's it? I want more!

NYE 2008- I came into Chicago and met HP at a house party where I felt extremely uncomfortable. Towards the end of the night I met Alex at a friend of his condo. Everyone had left the party at that point and it was just Alex, his friend Ted, and me. We talked and made jokes late into the night. I remember it being the best new years I had in a long time.

NYE 2007- A total bust. I think I was alone for the majority of it. I spent the countdown on Navy Pier and watched the fire works. I got split up with the people I was with and it took two hours to get back to my apartment by public transit.

NYE 2006- I had to work until late and then made my way to a friend of HP's party. I didn't know many people there and partied too hard as a result. I remember feeling foolish and scared.

NYE 2005- I drove from the Twin Cities to Normal by way of Downers Grove to pick up a friend. I remember being unsettled at the two different parties I was at. I remember feeling alone and empty. Like I didn't fit in anywhere.

NYE 2004- The first and only time I felt like I did New Years right. Not by my standards but by this platonic idea of New Years. I was in Normal with Beanpole and Bob. I drank a lot and partied hopped and kissed a lot of guys and girls.

NYE 2003- I was in Rockford. Some high school friends rented a hotel room where too many people were packed into one room. I remember feeling desperate and edgy and aggressive.

NYE 2002- My first college New Years. I was in Rockford and my group of high school guy friends partied at one of the guys older brothers apartment. At the time we were all fascinated by getting drunk, it was still new. I remember dancing and singing and wrestling.

New Years is a good time for reflection. I think I'm learning how to be a better person and I'm trying to act on what I've learned. It took me a long time to get to this place and I think I was very selfish for a long time. But this is a new year and anything is possible.

The slate is clean.

Dark And Light

It has been a dark week, across the US and in my small corner of the world. Tragic, unexplainable things happen all the time all over the world. Sometimes we don't know about it simply because of publicity, how big a story is makes the difference between known or unknown.

If a tragedy happens to someone you know it hits close to home. If a tragic event is broadcast on every news channel it brings it closer to our lives. But that doesn't mean tragedy's aren't happening everyday. That doesn't mean people aren't starving, being murdered, taken advantage of in every city through out the entire world. We just may not hear about it. Now I say that not to diminish anything. There are tragedies and they are sad, unfortunate, incomprehensible things. And if they propel people into action great. But living in tragedy, being bogged down by the sadness of the world, is a mistake.

People can be beautiful wondrous creatures. All over the world there are people helping each other, trading smiles and small talk, brightening each others days with simple words or deeds. Right now somewhere there are kids standing up to bullies, there are people volunteering to feed and rebuild, there are service workers smiling and engaging with people shopping for the holidays, people holding doors, people giving gifts for no particular reason, people taking in animals or orphans, people giving rides, people holding hands, people hugging, people listening and supporting each other, people working hard to solve problems that effect many, people writing to inspire and entertain. People simply being good people.

There is dark in this world. Sometimes it feels like it is overwhelmingly dark. But there is light too. Sometimes good positive actions are small, but there are lots of them. Add them all up and you have a world to be grateful for. Don't succumb to the dark, be a light in the world in whatever way you can. Smile, help where you can, free yourself up to what good there is and could be.

There is darkness but every day it is driven off by the light.

A Fable About Sorrow

There once was a shark who was tired of swimming.
He swam slower and slower and slower.
Hoping one day he would finally stop altogether.
More often than not he let the current carry him along.
One day, as he inched through the deep he realized he was not alone.
He saw an old sea turtle swimming with him.
The turtle looked at him and grinned.
"Move, son." he said "You have to move."
"Why? There's no point..." the shark replied.
"Oh but there is my son. Glories to see, morsels to eat, places to go, and creatures to meet."

Sorrow

From A Friend

Every time I cry, I have this thought... It's not really real, but in my brain I say that I wonder if this is the last time I cry. I then tell myself "probably not" and I wonder when the next time I cry is going to be. If it's going to be because I hurt myself, or because someone I love has died. I wonder if it'll be because my heart got broken. Or maybe it's just because of a movie. I wonder if I'll lose a family heirloom or if I'll hear a song from a time when things felt better.

And then I get this hope that I'll never cry again. That this is the last time I will ever be sad. And the hope is so strong and it almost becomes a real thing.

And then the dread sets in. The dread of knowing that of course this isn't the last time I'm going to cry. That a lot of the things that make me happy right now, at some point, will go away. And when they do I'll mourn them and I'll cry. And I have known only a fraction of the pain I will know. Of the humiliations I will suffer. Of the betrayals and the let downs and missed opportunities. I have so much more crying to do. And I don't want to do it.

To calm itself, my brain just makes it a math problem. I wager at how many times the average human cries in a year. How many years I'm likely to live... How age and other demographicy things might affect the amount of crying.... yadda yadda.

If it's numbers it's removed and numbers don't make me cry... Well, not anymore.

I assume I have a lot of cries to go before I die.