i got up okay, said prayers and did readings. i should have gotten my ass to the gym, but i woke feeling sort of funny. i went down the stairs and made fresh coffee for my mom and put water on so i could make a french press for myself, then i went to the basement to take my insulin and medicine. i found i'd left my computer on and i turned it off. there's no reason for that to occur. i came back upstairs, made my coffee and made myself an omelet. let's start there, because i know i overate today and i'm currently feeling pretty miserable as a result. i had breakfast, then i came up here and got myself dressed. i had planned to just get out of the house for a bit. i know it isn't really any problem for me to come and go, but i feel responsible all the time. i have felt that responsibility for the past 18 years of my life, and likely longer, being an inherent caretaker. but i needed some space. my mom was sleep, my aunt was gone, so i left.
i went to the library, took back the Walter Mosley and got Toni Morrison's last book and two Stephen Kings. i then went down into Mill Creek. i finished the Mario Puzo i was reading, and i just chilled. i had nothing else to do. when i left the park i was on Glenwood. i decided, for some reason, that i wanted to time travel a bit. i went left on Glenwood off Falls and turned onto Parkwood, where much of my adventure in recovery really took off, on the human side anyway.
i'll probably post the picture here tomorrow, but i came to the house where i lived for a time with my now ex-wife. she has a right to her anonymity as well. the house is a part of my history in so many ways. my great aunt lives next door, did when i was living there with my ex, did when i was still in my addiction and lived with my cousin across the street. in fact, a girl he was fucking lived in that house when i was still smoking weed and cocaine. just now realized that, just today. anyway, i started remembering. and the house made me sad, sad in a huge way, and i'm still sad. that house is condemned now. it is 'unfit for human occupancy', as the sign on the board that covers the front entryway says. all the ceiling wood from the front porch has been torn down. windows uncovered are broken. a tree has actually grown from underneath the back steps. the back door is off the house; entry has been gained. but how many years? at least 22, and likely more. time is malleable in human memory. when i met my ex, it was Christmas time. we were at the Fellowship Hall. she was coming back from a relapse and i was there being wonderful, as i pretty much was back then, always somewhere between savior and asshole. i started talking to her because a dude from Detroit was trying to get some sex and i was 'trying to keep her safe'...yeah. we danced, only ones on the floor. i was rebounding hard from the woman i had loved to the bottom of my being before she left Youngstown for a better life across the country. while i didn't start out to have a relationship with my ex, we got sexual, we got closer, i moved in. we were together for three increasingly bad years, we got married, and in three months i'd left her. but, as bad as things were, we had some pretty good times back then. the kids she had were adorable, though imbued with some truly bad habits. but taking care of them was a pleasure. we walked everywhere we could, down in the park and to the store, caught the bus. we did meetings, we had friends by, we spent time with her family, my friends, what have you. but when the bottom fell out, we kept falling with it. our relationship, definitely our marriage, was 'unfit for human occupancy'. but damned if we didn't have some pretty good times before then.
one more failure. one more thing that i brought my arrogance, my insecurities and my lack of any real understanding of human nature at that time to someone else's table. one more life i stopped giving a fuck about. she's doing well now. she's remarried twice over, has a good job, still clean. i wouldn't get back with her on a million dollar bet. but i remember. seeing the house, the window where we slept, where the kids rooms were. the back porch, where we'd sit out naked in the moonlight on hot summers, way back in the beginning. she helped me be okay with looking at me. i feel sad now. been feeling some of that for some weeks now. i don't know what comes next. i just know i have to get some breathing room, some kind of way to stretch more often and breathe away from the needs of the family. that would be nice. but maybe i don't deserve it. can't say for sure.. i know i'm glad that i'm alive, and i thank God for that.
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