*Cha-Ching* as the cash register rings up my purchase of ‘Appetite for Destruction’, the debut album by Guns-N-Roses (back in the olden days, you know the 80s). By the way, that album and ones by The Cure, N.W.A. and others were life changing during that time.
But that’s not the type of purchase I’m referring to. I’m talking about footing, grip. Finding a firm stance. I’m talking about life.
Purchase
Noun: a firm grip or grasp, footing, etc., on something.
So let’s talk about shoes. There is one area that I have no problem spending money on, and that is footwear. I want to be able to feel comfortable, feel secure when I step, know that I have the ability to do whatever function I’m undertaking. Walking, hiking, working for a full day doing construction, cozy hard-bottom slippers to walk out to the mailbox or to see what’s going on in the alley behind my house (and there is always something going on in the alley behind my place). A pair of cowboy boots that only come out on special occasions. My everyday “kicks” that I love when getting out casual. Every pair I own, regardless of activity have to make me feel secure in my step. Not fearful of losing traction on the smallest puddle or loose terrain.
Or drywall. Whenever I patch it, I look for places the piece that’s being replaced can grab hold of - hopefully a stud or crossbeam in the wall or ceiling. A place to find purchase. Otherwise I have to build up a mount behind to help hold it and give it strength.
And then there’s this week. I’ve felt unsteady. Restless (irritable and discontent - for my new friends!). My ‘footing’ has been anything but firm. Quite like the 'Lightning Sand’ from 'The Princess Bride'.
I found myself lashing out verbally at two of my biggest supporters - one while in the back aisles of Home Depot (God, I embarrassed myself). I saw past hurts creep in during the weakest times of my day. Reminding me that I still am so raw and new to all of this. I was called out by a friend for insensitivity towards a visitor in our group. I kept slipping.
So I walked. In the midst of all this, I put on my hiking shoes - $86 Merrells that I’ve had for a while now. I haven’t walked or hiked enough to wear them out. Typically I’d go through a pair or two a year, but recently I’ve had the same pair. So I put them on and grabbed my raincoat and set off. The tears came as my emotions became a cacophony of past sins, recent hurts, failed relationships and loss. I am still on the verge of tears. It’s hard. It’s so goddam hard to face all this without the old habits that would numb or take me into unconsciousness. Even in the midst of so many new voices that show love, tolerance and HOPE, I still muddy myself inside my head and don’t want to let go – much less forgive myself.
And I looked at my days. 120 days of clean. That’s Friday the 19th. 4 months. I’m celebrating, even when my insides are mush and knuckled up with emotions. I am thankful. Thankful for the knowledge of what it looks like to be clean. To be levelheaded (well as levelheaded as I’ve ever been).
I wanted to give up this week. So much. I wanted to run and hide back in the bottle or wherever I could find a release. I lashed out, I spat at the program and everything that it stands for. Which for me means lashing out at God. My spiritual heart has been weeping and longing for some F*ing relief. And then I got the reminder. IN AN INSTANT. Just like November 19th. The clouds broke. The sun broke through the clouds and shattered my heart. I can’t do this alone. I can’t do this without you God. Without the people you’ve surrounded me with. Without relying on this moment. Not the hurts from yesterday or the worries about tomorrow. I can’t do this without help.
And he keeps sending me these messages when I get here. I’m not ok, but I’m here. I’m not healed, but I’m healing. I’m not strong, I am weak. And I cast all my hopes and longings his way. I will be here tomorrow. I will be alive (God willing) and clean. I’ll piss some of you off with my over-the-top antics, but if you take the time to look inside you might just see the deep well that holds the remnants of my heart. I don’t show it to many, but I’m trying. I still fear that most of all.
Being truly seen. Being real.
Being me.
And that’s who I am.
Me.
~ Peace
Chad
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