Category Archives: recovery

The Last Son

 

 

 

 The Last Son

 

 

 

A while ago I was sitting down by my mom’s side.

She was bedridden due to a sickness she had had for many years.

Not a bad night.

No rain, no heat, just a day.

Well it was night and she was dying.

My father and my partner were out for a break and it was my turn to watch over my mom.

Watch, like she was some kind of child or something.

My mom was very with it that night while I was there.

We talked and talked.

About everything and nothing really, just talked.

When I was a child.

When she was one.

She had no regrets, she told me.

She didn’t want any anyway.

Life is too short she told me.

“Mom, can I get you anything?”

I asked, as I got up from my chair.

“Yes, please. Some water would be nice,” she had said.

Looking down at my mom I thought.

“What a strong person she is.”

Dad said early that she didn’t know who he was or where she was this afternoon.

Sitting back down in the chair beside her with her water in my hand I asked.

“Mom, do you know who I am?”

“Of course! You’re my son,” she said.

“I have two.” She added.

“Your brother was my first and you were my last.”

We must have talked for hours it seemed.

She told me how proud she was of me.

But that she was proud to have me sober and in recovery.

That the last four and a half years she had her son back in her life.

She told me that she had prayed for me every day that I was out there using.

“Don’t use this as a reason to go out and start drinking again.” She said to me that night.

“Not to go out.” I thought.

God, if there was ever one this would be it.

“No, mom, I won’t.” I said.

She took a couple of sips from the glass I was holding up to her lips.

“God, please be with my mom.” I thought.

My mom used to say that life was like a giant book with all the stories already written down.

Stories of those who came before.

Stories that are being read right now and still many stories yet to come.

“You know?” She said to me.

“Going to heaven is the biggest classroom of them all.

All our questions will be answered that you asked in life.”

As she looked up at me with eyes so clear.

“I’m going to school tomorrow.” She said.

“Mom, is there anything else I can get you?” I asked.

“Yes, give me a hug.” She said.

So I did.

I sat with her ‘til my father and partner came home.

I told them what she had said about tomorrow.

Dad said she’s been like that all day with him.

We decided to stay home from work that next day to be with her.

10:43 a.m. my mom had some breakfast.

At 11:30 a.m. she said to us that she loved us.

“What’s the weather outside?” She wanted to know.

“It’s a great day, Ma.” Dad told her.

“A great day to be alive.”

11:48 a.m. my mother died with us holding her hands.

“Now she knows.” I thought.

I was the last son she talked to.

The last son to hold her hand.

For the rest of us, all we can do is turn the page.

From the beginning to the end,

she was always with me.

I can’t think of a better gift to give my mom,

then being there at that moment,

from her Last Son….

I thought I knew…

 I thought I knew

 

 

Long ago before I even came into the halls of recovery

I thought that my life was somewhat okay.

Way before I had that first drink.

There were times that I did know some things.

I knew how to do the simple things.

Like eat, get dressed and even tie my own shoes.

But most of these I had to learn.

Being shown by my parents or my older brother.

As I grew a little bit older, I started doing these things on my own.

But there were other things that I slowly started to pick up.

Like the habit of lying.

Playing one parent against one another.

The fine art of getting what I wanted, when I wanted.

All these behaviors that I thought were very individual, just to me.

Time passed – I found alcohol – that should’ve been the end of the story.

But it wasn’t.

Just the beginning of more things that I would pick up along the way of my using.

More time passed – I had had enough.

Enough of living in the way that I was.

The lying, cheating and manipulating people to get what I needed.

It just didn’t work anymore.

Coming into a program of recovery and still holding on to some, if not most of my

so-called individual habits.

Being mad that it was over.

Feeling relief in hearing that I was not alone.

Learning that I didn’t know – but that I could learn.

Going from the, “Ya buts.” To the, “I know.”  Back to, “Ya but if.”

To later saying, “ I didn’t know.”

Hearing that there was hope.

Learning a new way of living and being willing to change.

Picking up new things to help me stay sober and happy.

To clean house.

Letting go.

A higher power.

How not to drink one day at time and being okay with me today.

Laughing at myself.

Time passed some more – Today, right now. I can look back in light of this and laugh at the things I would say to my sponsor like,

“If you only knew?”

My sponsor would look at me and shake his head,

‘til I’d stop and say,

“I thought I knew…”

 

 

                                                                                                 

Never, Never Prayer

Never, Never Prayer

I don’t know how many times I’ve used this prayer.
Probably more times then I care to think about, never mind being honest about it.
What I never even knew was that’s what I was doing when I was using it.
As far back as I can think it was there.
Being told to wake up – it’s time for school. Rolling over and pulling the sheets over my head, to hoping my Mom didn’t come back in – she did and it turned out worse than the first time.
Should’ve gotten up on time looking back now and seeing that small young man saying, “When I grow up I’ll never have to do this again”, and when I got older that’s just what I did.
I stopped, never looking back. ‘Til I came in to the program and started to change.
Not finishing school was just one of the beginnings that was a long train of wreckage in my life.
Being late for work and having my boss tell me – “One more time, we start at 6:30 around here. Don’t be late again.”
I can still see me saying, “Absolutely, never, never again.”
Well, I lost that job too – but it wasn’t because of me. They just didn’t see the bigger picture that was my life.
But you know they did – trying to help me, and I shut the door on their faces.
You’ll never see me again – boasting as I walked out the door.
I can’t even tell you how many times I swore that I’d never get high any more, never having any fronted to me, never get behind the wheel to go home from the bar that was two streets from my home.
Didn’t I say that I could just walk.
Never seeing the look on my mom’s face as she stood in the door – looking out at me. Thinking – “Would you just go back in. You’re embarrassing me.”
As I would get into my friend’s car looking for more.
Before she passed away she told me that she prayed to God that – and get this – the never, never prayer.
Please may I never get that phone call she told me.
I know today that that prayer doesn’t have to be said by someone like me in the halls of recovery.
People often tell me that they have used this type of prayer, too.
There are those that I worked with that don’t even know about me, that I hear them saying those same never prayers.
Telling their bosses that they’ll never be late.
Saying to co-workers could’ya just tell them I stayed ‘til 4:00, and I have to laugh at myself – cause truly there I am – staring right back at myself.
Seeing my friends come in on Monday – late and looking like I did – and all I can say is “Never, never again. Please God,” and go about my day. Hoping for the best.
I’ve been in the program now for over ten years and mom’s been gone almost ten years, too. I can still see her lying in bed as we talked about life – having her tell me, no, saying to me “Never have I been so proud of you.”
Seeing now that that prayer isn’t always used to getting me out of trouble.
Seeing it used with faith today.
I hope to God that I never lose sight of that.
Just one of the lessons I’ve learned and still try to apply when my defects pop up.
Never taking this disease for granted.
Seeing too many folks just giving up.
May I never get to that point where the pain is so great that I won’t want to use that prayer. We all have our bottoms – we all have our way of saying our prayers – and I know I have a lot of yets’.
But it’s the agains’ that bring me to my knees.
Asking God’s help.
For the strength with my Never, Never Prayer…

Apples and Ostriches…

Apples and Ostriches

It’s as plan as that – these two completely different things – it seems I’m completely drawn to.
I mean really – when I first heard the saying, “The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.” I thought that they were giving me a compliment as I was bringing the pitcher of beer over to the table that Dad and I were sitting at. Not even looking for trouble when my Dad told the guys around the bar – here he is, boys – just like me, the old man.
Feeling embarrassed on being put on the spot – hiding my head – better yet, my feelings.
So they don’t think less of me.
When I know even then that I was no mere drinker.
Something about wanting more than what was on the table.
Isn’t that why I got up to fetch the beer in the first place.
Feeling less than the people I was with always made me run from confrontation – any confrontations, even when I was with – oh, I don’t know – say, everybody.
When someone said something I didn’t like or disagreed with – I would turn away or hide my head.
There were only a few times I’d speak up, for the most part I hid my head like that ostrich. Hoping that it would just go away.
When I start ignoring the things I have to do – placing my head in the sand or taking someone else’s inventory, pointing out their apple. Life seems so much harder.
Half measures – hell, I wasn’t doing even that.
When I was drinking a lot of things didn’t happen due to me hiding my head or just looking the other way.
Keep low as I would put it. Not sticking my head out there.
Why draw attention to me and my using. Heck, I know how bad I was – well some, I didn’t need you to tell me.
Years later I’m in recovery, and left to my own I can still hide my head in the sand – not taking chances or putting myself out there for change.
Even to look at all of me, good or bad.
The things that stand out most about these two are that I’m just like them in certain circumstances.
In the program we hear about the apple on our heads – or don’t put your head in the sand. Like the ostrich I can – at times – not look at myself.
Not having that faith at times to walk through what life has given me at that moment and that’s just it, it’s a moment.
A moment that will pass.
Avoiding it doesn’t help or make it go away. It’s what I used to do.
Hide, run.
Just someone make it go away, I’d say.
The farther I stuck my head in the sand – the more the problem seemed to get big. ‘Til I take my head out and look – really look at the situation or problem.
Learning to have faith, when there is none.
It’s not going away when I put my hands up to my face to cover my eyes saying la la la. It’s not happening, it’s not happening.
I’ve spent too much time wasted in my using past doing this.
But here in the fellowship I’ve learned that we don’t have to hide our heads in the sand – like that ostrich.
Then there’s the apple.
The one I can see on everybody else’s head but mine.
You can see mine – I can see yours, kind of weird don’t’cha think?
But it’s there nevertheless.
That apple.
I’d like to think that my apple is nice and shiny, full of life. But just looking back at my life, at a young age – heck, even as I’m writing this down now the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
I don’t have to be carrying a pitcher of beer back to the table to start looking at others wrongly. Picking them apart just so I could feel better. Hell, the time I get back to really looking at myself my apple is pointed out by my friends that it’s grown into an orchard.
See how, “They live not living to let live,” to the point of things in my life just start slipping away from me.
I’ve been shown that there is the program and the fellowship. Two very different things. The more I stick around the more I hear, “Live in the solution and not the problem.” “Learn to live with it or let it go.” Oh, and one of my favorites, “Do you want to be happy or do you want to be right.”
With the help of the program I can take care of my apple and learn to leave others alone. The same can be said for the fellowship, where this is the place I can learn that I don’t have to hide my head in the sand.
Take some action, either doing the next right thing, having healthier boundaries, cleaning up the wreckage of my past with those creditors.
Life’s going to happen regardless if I have my head in the sand or looking at others and not staying on my side of the street.
All I can do is really just work on me and keep a look out for those hiccups on this road of changes I’d like to call Apples and Ostriches…

Unstuffed Pepper Soup…

 Here’s a cool recipe that was given to me by a friend at bingo. you can’t beat some of these old lady’s at bingo or it seems – even in there knowledge in cooking…enjoy!

         “Unstuffed Pepper Soup”

From: housonbluelawn

Prep Time: 30 mins                                            Servings Size:  8 – 10
                                                             servings
Ingredients:

1 ½ lbs ground beef                              1 – 2 cups water
3 lrg. green peppers chopped                2 cans tomato soup
1 lrg. onion chopped                             28oz. can crushed tomato’s
6 cups beef broth                                   4oz can mushrooms – drained
1 ½ cups cooked rice

Instructions:

In a very large soup pot , brown beef with chopped peppers and onion. When done, drain and return to soup pot. Add your stock, soup, tomato’s, water, mushrooms, and rice. Bring to boil than reduce heat. Cover and simmer for 30 mins. Stir occasionally. Let sit for 10 to 15 mins. Then call some friends, cause you’ll have enough to pass along…

colors…

Colors

Most of us have seen a rainbow at least once in our lives and a few sunsets on a hot summer’s day.
I can still hear my parents say “Don’t look directly into the sun.”
But I did – now waiting for those sun spots to dissipate. Should’ve listened – but I had to find out for myself.
Like most things in life.
Oh, sure I’ve been told by my parents to do certain things, like hold on to my hand while waiting for the lights to turn from green to red so we could walk across the street.
Like most, I’ve seen colors since I was born.
I’m very lucky for that.
But it’s not ‘til I came into a program on recovery that I really started to see.
There was a time when I was taught about colors.
Not just the simple color wheel, but the colors of life and I’m not saying the colors of people either.
My mother was a big influence with me with colors.
Seeing beyond the surface, she’d say.
Looking at the whole picture or at least trying to today.
Most people don’t even see the colors of living, too caught up in their daily lives, and when you see it, it’s usually due to the negative things we see or hear about.
Those people – what a shame.
We then see the colors, don’t we – including me.
How often I hear in life, “Are you blue,”
“So mad I can see red,”
“Green with envy,” or “White as a ghost.”
Even as a young man trying to fit in with the crowd – hearing “I dare yah, what are yah, chicken, you must be yellow.”
So I would do whatever they asked so I could fit in.
Now in recovery I try to see the colors of life that are helpful to me.
Hearing in the meeting that I attended, “To stay green.”
Hearing about that, “Pink cloud,” and hearing how dark resentments make one drink.
You could almost see how black that thought pattern is.
I ‘d hear, “I was beat up ‘til I was black and blue from using.”
But as time goes by I’m starting to see what my mom was trying to tell me.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover; don’t judge a person just by their appearance.”
Most people can’t or maybe even won’t see the colors around them and I’m not talking about someone who’s blind.
I have a friend who’s blind and he tells me about colors all the time.
He tells me that they’re beautiful to look at, and I shake my head, thinking that most people even with 20/20 vision including me won’t see how beautiful they are.
I hear, “Stay with the winners.”
“Not hanging out at the old haunts.”
Those black places of my mind.
My own Room Six.
Do these things have color?
Maybe not ones I can see – but the ones that I can feel most certainly.  
When I know today that I’m doing something that I’m not too sure about, I feel bad, sick – brindle brown.
Feeling low – being blue.
Doing something for someone without them knowing it or for the ones that we love. Feeling happy, content – being red as roses.
To finding that silver lining in those storm clouds of life.
When I started this journey the only color I seemed to see was black – well, maybe gray, due to the drinking and using ‘til I started to change.
What I thought was a light at the end of the tunnel didn’t turn out to be the headlight of the train coming at me, but the light of day on this seemingly, hopeless life.
When the change started to happen, so did my awareness of the colors around me.
Seeing with new eyes it seems, when I looked at life and all its beautiful Colors…